"All right.". Walk in step. As I thought, I followed the line like a machine. Show's on, guys. I walked like a model prisoner. I was ushered into a windowless, bare room, dark except for the spotlit platform where my "friends" and I stood. I glanced nervously into the darkness. I could see nothing but a few shadows swaying back and forth. There was something called a one-way mirror in front of the shadows. "Number three!" A voice suddenly called. "Stand down!" Pause. Number three. You. Come out "Who?"? I I asked. The man called was number three on either side of the five criminals. That's right, you! I took a tame step forward, my legs trembling slightly. Start. I command you to say your name loud and clear. I was angry and hungry, and everyone's eyes were on me. I stood there with my mouth tightly shut. Speak. The director who cast the scene exclaimed, "This is the first and last time I will do a voice audition for a role I don't want to play." What's your name Silence Speak quickly! "Say!"! Or we'll help you pull your tongue out! A voice threatened me in the dark. Oh, sir, er (my) name is Sjosay? Jimmy Ai "My face twitched and I laughed.". The flower you asked for (what you said) is hard to hear and hard to hear. "Cut out his tongue!" One of the hoodlums in the front row shouted that if there weren't so many people present, he would like to help cut out my tongue. "Ah, Yi, are you the third?" I said in Yiddish numbers, playing a little joke on them. "And he, boss?" There was a hint of racism in my voice. All right. Number three, return to the team. "Oh no, I'm not coming back.". Since you want me to speak, I will speak. My face was as red as a beet head, and the sweat of anger ran down my cheeks. Oh no, gentlemen,30ml Dropper Bottle, you are not going to get rid of me so easily. Now I'm going to ask all of you a few questions. For example, "I'm on fire," what about my rights? What about my civil rights? What about my human rights? "Return to the team!" Of course, I will return to the team, but what about my constitutional rights? What about the Miranda principle? Where's my lawyer? Where's my belt? How do you expect me to walk up and down the counter without a belt? If I drop my pants, you'll arrest me for humiliating public exposure. This is a false accusation. I've made it clear. It's up to you! You arrested me for a reason, right? Come on up. I'll give you a reason. I want all of you to know -- all of you here today -- that you will regret this. I'm going to have you arrested for conspiring to deprive me of my citizenship. I'm going to sue, not just the city department and the police department, but every single one of you. I want to take off your medals, withhold your wages, and I want.. Number three kept talking, glass cream jars ,16 Oz Clear Plastic Bottles With Caps, and he was dragged off the stage by two strong men like cattle, dragged out of the waiting team and sent back to the detention room. Innocent arrest, conspiracy, savagery! You can all testify. I will summon each and every one of you.. (1) The Supreme Court of the United States stipulates that before interrogating a suspect in custody, investigators must inform the other party of the right to remain silent, not to make self-incriminating confessions, to hire a lawyer and to require the presence of a lawyer during interrogation. On the way back to the holding cell, my guardians beat and kicked me; they vented their frustration lest I forget them. When I came back, I was hurriedly taken out of the cage before I could stay. What's the matter? I asked. They led me to a table where all my business, which had been detained the night before, was spread out. The charges are over. Said the thin, grey-faced guard. Is it over? I asked in surprise, grabbing my belt and shoelaces and tying them. Is it over? Just like that? I was surprised and suddenly thought that there must be a good man with authority who was helping me. Sign here, they said. I scribbled my name and hurried down the stairs behind the guard through the last few doors. What's the next step? I thought as I vomited. My heart gave a sudden jump. Who do I see? It was none other than the businessman and writer, the good man Bernie? Kaufman 。 He was standing at the far end of the room, staring at the tips of his shoes and thinking intently. Bernie! I said happily as I walked quickly toward him, who looked absently at the freed prisoner who was ready to embrace his rescuer — Mr. Kaufman looked pale, haggard, and ugly, as if he had not yet recovered from the shock. Seeing me with unkempt hair, the business tycoon who always speaks with fervor and assurance, the English language master, stammered his mouth. Fa--fa--what--what--what happened? He said with a stammer. He looked me up and down, his face red and white like a neon sign of alarm and surprise. Look, I'm really sorry I had to call you here. I apologized for dragging Bernie into the mire of my life. Did the police do that to you? He asked, taking a step back, perhaps to stand in a safer place, perhaps to see my rags and wounds — it's hard to say why. No. No. Compared with what I've experienced, it's a pleasure to be with them. It was there, both of us standing on the concrete floor of the police station, that I told him all about the series of unfortunate events that had taken place yesterday: how I had been beaten and robbed, how the hooligans had not given me any money and had taken away my bus ticket, how I had wandered around the subway at a loss, and how I had been taken away by the police. How they accused me of hooliganism and all the fabricated charges. I really don't know how to thank you. I called all my friends in the city, but I couldn't find anyone. I tried again and again,Empty Glass Foundation Bottle, and so on. Wait. Wait. Even my lawyer went on holiday to Hawaii-can you imagine? "At the end of the day, you're the only one I can get in touch with," I said with all my praise. "I'm very sorry to have to.." 。 penghuangbottle.com