Thursday, February 28, 2013

No Fear, No Favour, No Heritage towards England...........

Boeremag trialist Wilhelm Pretorius describes VERIFIED
SAPS torture - trial now in its tenth year
19:29 Feb 25 2013 Pretoria High Court
PRETORIA HIGH COURT Feb 23 2013 - Boeremag treason trialist Wilhelm Pretorius testifies to
'barbarian torture' at the hands of the SAPS in custody: - statement: Boeremag trial-awaiting
prisoner Wilhelm Pretorius describes his torture at hands of the SAPS:
======================= "That barbarian methods of torturing used by police is one
hundred percent correct. I can personally testify to this. On 10 December 2002, I, Wilhelm
Pretorius, a 25 year old student, was arrested on political and especially weapons-related
charges, including high treason and conspiracy to a coup d’état. The charges were essentially
similar to those for which a group of ANC-members [African National Congress] consisting of
most current South African Members of Parliament [of the “new” Republic of South Africa (RSA)
were charged during the apartheid years. I was arrested at 20h00 (8:00 pm) in a park in
Pretoria while it was drizzling. My hands were tied behind my back with thick, strong plastic
cables, in such a way that the blood supply to my hands was denied. For approximately two
hours I lay on the ground on my stomach. During this time, one of the policemen came and
stood on my neck. After approximately two hours, Captain Johan Vice [Johannes Cornelius Vice
– an Afrikaans-speaking white at the service of the imperial police] took me to a Venture vehicle
belonging to the police that had dark-tinted windows. When I got into the vehicle, which was
driven by a white woman, Capt Vice was seated directly behind me, and one Lotter, another
policeman, on the right-hand side of the seat behind mine. My hands were still tightly bound, so
that my hands were already feeling numb. The next thing I knew was Capt Vice throwing his
shirt over my head and pulling it back sharply, with the obvious intention of strangling me. I
struggled violently and managed to free my head from the shirt, totally dazed by what had just
happened. I still was not prepared for the barbarism that would follow. He pulled the shirt over
my eyes to blind me. Capt Vice is approximately 2 m (6’6”) tall. He is a large man with massive
hands. With his gigantic hands, he grabbed me around my throat, pushing in my Adam’s apple
to shut off my windpipe so that I simply could not breathe. I squirmed and struggled, but his
hands were firmly anchored around my throat, like the paws of a lion around the throat of an
impala. I struggled for breath so vehemently that I eventually landed on the middle seat of the
Venture. I was now virtually lying on his lap, with my hands still bound behind my back. Using
his fist, he repeatedly hit me on the side of my face asking where my brothers were. At that
stage, they were still wanted by the police for the same case. This process continued for a long
time. He also forcefully pushed his finger into my ear. At one stage, we stopped next to the road
Vice threatened that if I would try to remove the shirt from my eyes, he would kill me. He said to
me that he had made special arrangements for a so called “Kaffir” (black man) to rape me.
“They have been craving nice white flesh for quite some time now,” he sneered. Somebody with
alcohol on his breath then bent over me, as I was lying on the middle seat of the Venture, while
the door was open. This person spoke in isiZulu and repeatedly tampered with my trousers
and my belt. He also repeatedly slapped me in the face. I did not understand what he was
saying. Sometimes he spoke near to me so that I could smell the odour of alcohol on his
stinking breath. I later recognized the person from his voice as one of the policemen who much
later interrogated me again. Again I was hit on the side of my face by Capt Vice, again and
again. I was also repeatedly asked if I were a “virgin,” referring to the fact that I was going to be
raped. This was continuously repeated to me. They then took me out of the car and made me
lie on a plastic sheet next to the road. It sounded to me as if it were a deserted place. I was still
blindfolded and could not see where I was. The plastic cables started cutting into the flesh of
my arms and my hands were totally numb, Capt Vice came and sat on me and forced a rubbery
piece of material over my mouth and nose. I could get no breath. I initially kicked and struggled,
but quickly realized that it only caused me to waste more breath. This process continued while
they shouted and swore at me. I lay on my numb hands and gasped for breath. Sometimes I
just gave up and let go so that I could die, at other times I just saw stars before my eyes. My
lungs felt as if they would burst, while my whole body was exhausted from being deprived of
oxygen. They continued cursing me and threatening to kill me. “Didn’t you sh** in your pants
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2/27/13 Boeremag trialist Wilhelm Pretorius describes SAPS torture - trial now in its tenth year | FarmiTracker 2/3
yet?” and other similar remarks were shouted at me. During the struggle I landed on my
stomach after having rid myself of the blindfold. I could then see who the savage was who had
carried out his barbarian acts on me. The same man came and sat on me. He put the inner
tube over my mouth and nose, and pulled my neck backwards, using brute force. Every second
it felt as if my neck would break. I was helpless and could not do anything except endure it. I got
no breath, my whole back and neck felt as if they would break at any moment. There were times
when I just gave up and thought to myself that if my neck had to be broken, then let it be. Initially
I struggled against this murderer with all my power, but later I just gave up and let go. “If my
neck breaks now, it would at least be the end of this hell,” I found myself thinking. I then relaxed
my whole body so that my neck could break. I was to find out afterwards that one of the AWB
men, Phil Kloppers, who is still in jail today in a wheelchair, had been paralyzed by similar
police torture. After this session, the person stood on my lower back while he violently forced my
hands upwards. It felt as if my arms were being torn out of their sockets. My head was against
the ground, and my neck was stretched in such a way that once again I could not breathe. This
continued the whole time while they yelled questions at me about where my brothers were, how
we communicated, and when I was supposed to see them again. I did not know where they
were and had to think up a story of how we communicated and where they were, in order to get
them to allow me some rest. They did not allow me any rest, however. After this torture session,
my shoulders hurt so much that I could not lift them. For two weeks afterwards, I was unable to
lift my arms above my shoulders, and two years afterwards, my shoulder still gave me
problems during exercises. My torturer had completely strained my shoulder ligaments. I again
landed on my back and was again suffocated with the rubber inner tube. At one stage, this was
replaced by a plastic sheet. He then also repeatedly rubbed his knuckles violently on my
breastbone. After I breathed for a moment, he would pick me up and put me on my feet.
Approximately 8-10 times he hit me in the stomach with full force, so that I fell to the ground.
There was an unknown grey-haired policeman whom I will be able to recognize, who held me
while the other one beat me up. I was picked up and hit in the stomach again and again. After
this session had finished, I was again blindfolded, this time with striped police barrier tape, the
kind they use for roping off crime areas. This tape was wound tightly around my face. I can
remember Vice and Lotter, and saw that there were two bakkies (light trucks) While this
episode lasted, I heard them opening beer cans. In the bakkie there were a lot of empty beer
cans. They put me in the car again, finally believing that I would meet my brothers that night and
that they would hide a message for me or I would hide one for them under a stone at an old fort
which I knew well. We then drove to the fort, but they did not stop torturing me. On the way there,
Capt Vice hit me on the elbow with the butt of his pistol and again hit me on the side of my face
and pushed his finger into my ear. He also started hitting me on my thigh repeatedly. At that
time, I had no feeling left in my hands. Even the blows to my head only made me see stars, but I
actually did not feel the blows any more. The fact that I could breathe again was valuable to me.
I was lying on the middle seat of the bakkie. I heard them cocking their 9 mm pistols and
running towards the fort. They shouted that they had seen tracks there and that my brothers
probably were there. This was not so however, as people regularly visit that fort, and my
brothers would never meet me there. We had not arranged to meet, and I did not know where
they were. We drove off again. I now promised that I would cooperate, in order to get a break to
rest a little. My mind was tired, my throat bone dry, my hands were numb, and my whole being
was blunted. Vice now cut off the plastic cords, using his pocket knife, and in the process, he
also caused a cut in my left wrist. In spite of the fact that the cables had been removed, I still
had no feeling. They bought me a Coke. My throat was so dry that the gas stuck to my throat. We
drove to their offices in the Piet Joubert building in Visagie Street. Here I was ordered to wash
my face. I was startled to see my face in the mirror. My nose was covered with blood, and my
face was so swollen that it looked like a pumpkin. We walked upstairs to an office. Here, they
peppered me with questions. Every time I gave an answer they did not like, they repeatedly
slapped my head. Again, it was Capt Vice, Lotter, and the grey-haired policeman whose voice I
recognized as the one who had pretended to be the black man who would rape me. There was
a Zulu present as well. At one stage, when they started screaming at me again, they said that I
had to go with the Zulu, because they knew how to make people talk. One Colonel Van Rooyen
[another Afrikaans-speaking white at the service of the imperial police] then entered and took
me aside. He had come to tell me that his father shares my views on politics. I had to cooperate
with these people, though. He tried to convince me. When I asked him whether I did not have a
right to remain silent, he became more aggressive and said that a criminal does not have the
right to remain silent. Once a person has committed a crime, he no longer has a right to remain
silent. He took me back to the others. Again they slapped me several times if they were not
satisfied with the answers I provided. One commissioner Pruis and another commissioner
then arrived. Also they peppered me with questions. We left the offices at approximately 10:00
(am). The policemen were in a jovial mood. I was not handcuffed. We got into the bakkie. It was
the same bakkie in which we had driven there, and I also saw the pieces of barrier tape which
they had used to blindfold me. We then drove to Hartebeesfontein police station, approximately
300 km (200 miles) west van Pretoria. On the way there, we stopped at a liquor store in a town.
The same three policemen asked me if I would go and buy liquor for them. I realized that if I did
this, they could allege that I was trying to escape, and would able to shoot me dead. I refused,
but tried to seem amicable. Lotter, who sat next to me in the back, then went to buy the beer.
They also gave me some beer, while they opened one beer after another. On the way to
Potchefstroom, we passed through a roadblock, which made them very nervous, as they had
drunk quite a lot. My legal representative, Jaco van der Wateren in the meantime had traced me
to Vice’s cell phone and I at last had an opportunity to talk to him. I also later phoned him from
the police station. Vice told me that, if I cooperated nicely, they would look after me, otherwise
they would “put me in with some Kaffirs.” “The Kaffirs are going to f**k you. Are you still a virgin,
Willempie?” he sneeringly mocked me. When we arrived at the police station, I immediately
phoned my attorney, who recommended that I file charges right away. I then made a statement
without delay. That night, I was locked up alone in an ice cold cell without being provided with
any warm garments. My whole body was in a state of shock. The hairy, dirty blanket was
insufficient. My neck was completely limp, and I to keep my head up was difficult. I carried my
arms in front of me in a folded position, because I was unable to lift them. I started to
experience a pins-and-needles feeling in my hands. I had pain-reliever tablets. My throat was
so swollen from the strangulation that I could not eat anything. I could swallow with great
difficulty only. I was locked up in the cell without water. I could not reach my wife on the
telephone and was to learn afterwards that she had also been arrested, and one of my friends
as well. I spent the night without painkillers or any other medication. Only the next morning did a
policeman from Hartebeesfontein take me to a district surgeon. The DS examined me in the
presence of the policeman, and I made sure that he made proper notes of all my injuries. I was
later informed that my wife’s door was kicked off while she was standing within sight of the
police, phoning her attorney. They assaulted her and plucked the phone from her hand. A friend
of mine who arrived on the scene was manhandled, and when he arrived at his car, he found
that rivets had been shot into his tyres in order to prevent him from following them to see where
2/27/13 Boeremag trialist Wilhelm Pretorius describes SAPS torture - trial now in its tenth year | FarmiTracker 3/3
they were taking my wife. Capt Vice and Lotter still form part of the investigation team of the
criminal case brought against me and others, which has been serving before a court of law for
almost three years now. To date, nothing has come of the complaint filed by me. I have never
yet met the investigating officer. In fact, no investigation has yet been done at all. Au contraire,
Capt Vice sits in court daily. He handles all written evidence of the accused, handles our
security in jail, and is in charge of visits by our families. He sits in court daily and leers at us. Is
this not a highly irregular arrangement under any legal system? The ANC regularly complains
that its members had been tortured by these monsters, yet the ANC has knowingly turned the
self-same “policemen” [including a good number of Afrikaans-speaking whites] loose upon its
political opponents. Their members just turn their heads away while similar and worse
violations are perpetrated against us [the Boers]. This report mentions only the torture
perpetrated against me personally. This does not even touch upon the refined psychic torture to
which we are subjected day and night in jail. Justice and righteousness cannot be relied upon
in this country any longer. The monster of police brutality is a reality which is perpetuated by
politically motivated silence.


Censorbugbear Reports from Holland


This is what some White South Africans had to endure since 1994.

Now the truth is coming out, 11 years later!

Is this why Britain has again adopted South Africa and the ANC?

I prefer the history of the IRISH!!




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