Raided

They came at 7.45am. I'd had little sleep. It was timed for maximum disorientation.
"Mister Murray Hurry Up"
I'm rushing to the door.
"We have a warrant to search the place.You can stay, but if you interfere you'll be removed. Do you understand?"
"OK"
The uniforms go about their work and the first plain clothes introduces herself.
"I'm Sylvia"
She sounds like a social worker.
Her partner, Alan, chimes in.
"This situation's got out of control. It's got to stop."
I'm feeling patronised.
"We'll look after you" Says Sylvia, "We're your guardian angels."
Alarm bells are going off in my head.
I look around to see my computer being taken out the front door.
I go into the kitchen. Every tin of yellow paint is being opened.
"What are you looking for?"
A uniform shows me the warrant.
" Orange/yellow paint, brake fluid boots."
I'm not thinking straight because they're siezing a lot more than that.
"We're taking your swords", says Alan,"until this is all over.
They're taking my antique swords. Even the wooden training swords I made myself are going.
"Leave me the baseball bat"
"No, it's going too."
"How am I supposed to defend myself?"
"If your house is attacked just call us
"You won't get here in time"
"Yes we will"
They're taking the piss. I'd be dead before I got through to the station.
Alan's prattling again.
"If this doesn't stop someone's going to get killed here"
They don't know the half of it
"You know why we're here. These bin fires have got to stop."
"You think I'm in the frame"
"The dogs in the street know you did it. You're out of control. people are afraid of you."
He's pouring it on like hot butter.
Sylvia approaches me.
"We're arresting you on suspicion of arson with intent to endanger life. You do not have to say anything, but anything you do not say, but reveal later can be held against you in a court of law."
"Can I take my medication?"
"We'll take it with us Our Doctor can administer it."
I put my tablets into a bag.
We're about to go. I need to get dressed.
"Where are my boots?"
"They've been siezed"
I put on my trainers.
"We have to put cuffs on you"
" Front or back?"
"Back"
They're uncomfortable. They make it difficult to squeeze into the Police car, and I have to sit forward in the seat as we drive to the station.

The Holding cell has piss on the floor.I shake with cold and fear while I munch on a mars bar.
After a while they take me for processing. They take my wallet, my gloves , my hat, my belt. They let me keep the bounty bar.
As the sargeant's taking my details my bowels are about to burst.
"I can't hold it sarge!!"
"OK just run"
I make it barely in time and squat above a stainless bowl pulling my cheeks apart while the world falls ouy of my backside. It's the first of many visits to the "customers" toilet.
I sit in a cell with my shoes outside.
"In case you hang yourself with the laces"
Well whatever.
I wait. And wait. And wait.
The door opens.
"Your solicitor's on the phone"
My solicitor, Julie has known me for seventeen years. She tells me to eat something. Lunch is on its way soon and she'll be there not long after.
In between lunch and frequent visits to the toilet I try to relax.Hours have passed. I was raided before 8am. It's now 2pm.
My solicitor arrives. Alan, or Detective Sargeant Piper to his friends, takes her aside for a chat about my mental health. I think he's trying to convince her I'm crazy. She's no dozer. He'll make fools of neither of us.
I tell Julie I know nothing about the fires in No2 Jerusalem St, and, with me being innocent the Police have no forensic evidence.
At 3pm the interviews begin. We will not finish till 8pm.
"What did you do that day?"
"I got up, I can't remember when. It was late. Afternoon sometime. I went into town. I got food. I came home.I said hello to the workmen at the front door of No2. I went inside. I went out the back and saw them dumping a huge pile of rubbish in the entry. I made my tea later on. I went for a walk late. I noticed that the windows of No2 were broken. I came back. I watched more TV. I had a bath and played music I went to bed."
"Did you hear any noise?"
"Its the Holyland there's always noise."
" Did you hear the fire brigade?"
"I was in the bath . I heard diesel engines. I thought it was the fire brigade coming to put out a eurobin."
"A what?", says Alan, feigning stupidity.
"Those big steel bins. They get burnt all the time."
"You didn't hear anything else?"
"I was playing loud music."
It's time to go over the evidence collected.
"What's this large tube of glue for?"
"It's general purpose, but it's perfect for round the bath. You've seen the sealant. It needs replaced."
"You haven't used it to seal up locks?"
"No"
"What about this superglue?"
"I have a house full of model kits. It's ideal for them. It's better than polystyrene cement. You've seen the large model tank stored in a biscuit tin I've been working on."
Neil, the evidence guy nods.
Now it's the yellow paint.
"That cream colour's for the living room floor. The others I found in skips or the entry. That large empty tub, turn it upside down.You see the coloured paint? I mount figures on it while I'm painting them."
"You haven't used these to paint X's on people's windows?"
"No"
"We'll be doing forensics on these. Will they match?"
"Well, paints can be very generic, but it's most unlikely."
" Can you tell us what this large stencil says?"Neill's feeling pompous.
"RICH SCUM GO HOME"
"What does that mean?"
" Well, let's see. I'm surrounded by people who've come up here for a three year long party, all the while abusing education. Look at my course. It's one of the best in the UK. It has a 50% non-attendance rate. These people come up here, go apeshit and you people do nothing about it. You just drive on by and legitimise their behaviour."
"What would you have us do?"
"I've spent all day in a cell called a "Drunk cell". There's an offence called "Drunk and Disorderly". Park a meat wagon in the Holylands, fill it up and process these people at the end of the night. They come up here, torment working class people and drive around in brand new cars that mummy and daddy bought them. And no, I didn't paintstripper their cars!!!"
Julie cuts in.
"I think we should take a break here. You're getting Quite upset."
"Thank's Julie. You're right. I just don't think I have anything to apologise for."
We take a break. Dinner arrives.It's suitably tasteless. The ordinary officers in the station are, I have to say, very decent to me.It must be refreshing for them to have a polite customer. Events in the interview room are of course most unpleasant. The whole business of being raided, arrested and grilled is increadibly threatening. The sense of ontological terror is overwelming.
While I eat chips my solicitor tells me the cops are on a fishing expedition. They have nothing. I know they're trying to pin all the resistance activity on me, as if a whole community isn't in revolt.
We have many breaks during the interviews. They're going on for hours. The cops are trying to trip me up or break me. I'm an innocent man. But they have to try don't they. My innocence or guilt is irrelevant. They need to make an example of someone.
More interviews. They've siezed the handbills I've been circulating with the address and phone number of Douglas Bailie, the landlord of No2 Jerusalen St on them. Later they'll caution me with harrassment for circulating his details and instruct me to take them off this website. They don't want me putting a list of his other properties in the area on here either or, for that matter, Declan Boyle's details. They seek to protect power from accountability.
"What can you tell us about these boots?"
"They're boots. they keep my feet dry in the rain and warm in the winter."
"We won't find any evidence on them?"
"I walked through the glass outside that house. I,ve done that with these trainers as well."
"Well, we'll have to confiscate them too"
They give me a pair of oversize plimsoles. Neill, feeling clever, says I look like Krusty the Clown. Beleive it or not, that wee boy has a psychology degree.
I'm finally released. Julie gives me a lift home. It's just as well. I'd have had to trudge through the rain in Krusty the Clown Plimsoles on a wet November night.
The next day I see the article in the South Belfast News. The fake residents group have been stitching up their neighbours. Go figure.

Postscript.
This happened in November. It's now the end of march and the cops still have my computer. They needn't pretend they're holding it as part of an investigation. They're trying to
silence me.

I went back twice to be reinterviewed. They had nothing to put to me. The second time Neill, the Krusty the Clown guy, told me they'd be holding my computer. I said why don't you copy the hard drive and return it to me. He answers with some words of wisdom.
"You can buy a new hard drive for a couple of hundred quid."
"A...couple ..of hundred..quid..?"
The couple next to me are sniggering
"Well, Neill why don't you lend me a couple of hundred quid?"
"No" His smile's slipping away.
"I didn't think so."
"Well I'm not burning down houses in the Holyland"
Calmly I say " Neither am I"
His smile's gone now.
"Am I free to go?"
"Yes you're free to go"
We part company. Now I'm Smiling.