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damiantriton · 4 months ago

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This is not a suicide letter

It was going to be, but it's not. I packed my things, quit my day job at the hostel where I was staying, and travelled as far away as I could afford. This was my last shot at being happy before saying goodbye to this cruel world on the anniversary of the second worst day of my life - the day I was born. After a thorough research of painless suicide methods, I decided to overdose on medication and go to sleep, hoping I would never wake up. I found comfort in the thought that I would be missed. The last handful of people I’m still in contact with know what I’ve been through and it most likely wouldn’t surprise them that I finally gave up the battle with crippling lifelong depression. They would know the final nail in the coffin for me was getting raped. Since that day, I have pretty much lost all my remaining will to live.

When I received the investigation outcome of my case, I instinctively knew it was being swept under the rug. From the way they titled it, it was clear to me they were handing me an excuse to ignore the evidence and close the case. The consequences of brushing aside a homeless gay sex worker’s accusation are next to none compared to consequences and resulting implications of discovering a heinous organised crime perpetrated by the very people which the state appointed to prevent and detect such crimes. I told my friend, who was aware of my suicidal tendencies, that this might just be it for me. I don’t want to live in a world where the police can get away with raping me and who knows how many others. He said, why would I waste my life because of somebody else’s crime? And somehow that made me see things differently. Giving up the fight now would mean letting them get their way. And that’s the last thing I want to do.

It is with intense displeasure that I am going to once again relive and describe the most painful and dehumanising experience of my entire life. I almost wish I had instead sustained drug-induced amnesia like the investigators assumed I did. But I know I will never forget this. I still get flashbacks. The trauma follows me everywhere I go and creeps back into my mind whenever I start to believe that I could be happy again one day.

At the time, I lived in London, where I worked as a cleaner. I had attended a few porn shoots in Prague before in November 2023 and I was still in touch with the agent. My porn career didn’t go as well as I hoped, and I had to return to full-time work. I asked if there was any more work for me and they offered me a new scene, nearly a year later, which I accepted. It was an opportunity to return to porn and continue building on it. I booked a flight to Prague for 8th October and a return flight on the 12th the same week. I arrived on Tuesday evening and was accompanied to the clinic the next morning for a blood test, as my last STI test results were from over a month ago. There was some sort of technical accident and my sample was one of the last ones they accepted before the interruption. The results were available hours later at the porn shoot location, as expected, but they were inconclusive. This meant further testing was required, and I could not fully participate in the scene.

The next day, 10th of October 2024, I was feeling very low. I got paid an eighth of the original rate for only masturbating in the scene, which I spent on cosmetics in DM Drogerie opposite Karlovo náměstí. There was a cannabis shop next door selling shroom gummies with an illustrative image clearly resembling psilocybin mushrooms on their menu poster. As it later turned out, the image was misleading as well as the title, with magic mashrooms being routinely referred to as shrooms. Sadly, I did not pay attention to the Latin name of the mushroom - Amanita Muscaria, which is in fact a poisonous mushroom. One of the first things I was taught about mushrooms as a kid in school was to avoid it. Had I been told its Czech name (Muchomůrka červená), I would not only have never even considered purchasing these edibles, I would have reported them to the police for selling a poisonous substance. Obviously, they used a loophole by claiming this product is not meant for consumption, despite its edible form.

I had a decent amount of experience with psilocybin and I felt in that moment it would provide a much needed fresh perspective on life and spiritual guidance, as it always has in the past. Having previously done research on its positive effects during clinical trials for treatment of chronic depression and suicidal ideation, I gravitated towards it as a natural alternative to the conventional treatment involving antidepressants. I have tried several antidepressants in the past, and I always hated how they made me feel lifeless and zombie-like. Despite some cautionary tales about psychedelics, I have never had a bad trip from consuming psilocybin and I was confident that, over time, it will help me significantly improve my mental health and get my life back on track. Not being fully aware of the laws surrounding it in Czech Republic, but having been able to obtain it legally during my last trip abroad, I assumed it was available here under the guise of a decorative product.

I spoke to the cashier about the presumed magic mushroom edibles, which he confirmed they were, and I showed him a chart for psilocybin dosage asking about the content in micrograms. He vaguely pointed at the chart, saying it should produce the desired effects at such-and-such amount. I purchased three packs containing three gummies each, and I ate one entire park in the nearby park. From my previous experience, I knew to expect the effects to begin in 1-2 hours’ time. Most psilocybin users and experts advise that the best way to ensure a good trip is by finding a safe natural environment. I walked from the park down to Charles Bridge, because I wanted to be near the water. From there, I walked to the nearest park/island called Kampa. By the time I entered the park, I started to feel extremely nauseous and confused. I immediately knew that something was wrong, because I have never felt this way before.

I messaged my friend to say I was unwell. My brain felt like a carousel. There was a firefighter van nearby. I walked over to the person next to it, told him I was feeling sick, and showed him one of the last two packets of gummies I had. He nodded, apparently having seen this before, and said that I will be sick for a while now. I tried to sit down on the nearby bench, but I couldn’t keep still. I kept standing up and sitting down, holding my backpack, feeling my heart race and panicking. In retrospect, it was clear to see that I was experiencing a drug-induced seizure. Soon, a group of school kids arrived at the van, possibly for a fire safety training, and the teacher approached me asking me to leave, as I was obviously drugged. I staggered off to a nearby restaurant by the river. I could barely speak or walk. I fell over and hit my face on the curb while I was trying to make myself throw up, displacing my front tooth. One of the restaurant workers asked me if I wanted them to call me an ambulance, to which I nodded and lost consciousness shortly after.

Next, I find myself on a stretcher with a catheter attached to my arm. I was still feeling lightheaded, but I was more aware of my surroundings. There were two men in there, a paramedic and a police officer, having a conversation. They talked about me as if I wasn’t there and I hadn’t realised at first that the faggot and prostitute they were referring to was actually me. When it hit me, I didn’t understand how they knew I was gay and how that was relevant to me needing medical care. I also thought, I’m not a prostitute, but what makes them assume I am? They talked about how I must have been taking a lot of dick. I started to feel very uncomfortable. Then they mentioned some Italian guy that needed an ambulance last time and what they did to him. I immediately understood they were going to do the same to me. I tried to remove the catheter and stand up, at which point I was seized and forced to lie down on my stomach.

I was strapped to the stretcher with my hands cuffed behind my back. My jeans were pulled down and so was my underwear. Someone injected me with something and I could no longer feel my lower body. I started begging them not to do it. The paramedic asked me if I had any friends or family in Prague. I said I had nobody. I said I came from London. Then someone walked up behind me. I could feel them climb on top of me. I thrashed around, screaming and crying and begging, to no avail. They were holding me down and I kept trying to break free the whole time. The handcuffs were tightening around my wrists until it felt like they were cutting into my flesh, yet I wouldn’t stop squirming and twisting. I kept begging them to stop and saying I was in horrible pain. It went on for so long that I felt like I was stuck in an endless time loop. When it stopped for a little while, it then started again shortly after. At some point, I’d reached a conclusion that I had died and gone to hell where I was being tortured by demons for an eternity. I couldn’t think of anything I’ve ever done to have deserved this. I kept screaming the entire time. When I finally accepted that pleading with them was useless, I started calling for God to save me. Someone responded that God won’t help me here. I thought it would never stop. The ambulance was stationary the entire time.

When it finally stopped and the ambulance door opened, there was a middle-aged bald man in a uniform standing there. I could also see someone walking in the far distance of the park. I realised we haven’t left Kampa. I asked to be let out for some fresh air and instead I was offered a sick bag, at which point I screamed for help, saying I was raped and asking them to call the police. The door was shut immediately, and someone laughed and said there was no use for that because the police were already here. I started begging again. I worried they would continue raping me, so I told them about the inconclusive test result and said I might have HIV or syphilis. Unsure if that would dissuade them, I asked if they could use a lubricant because I did not want to get hurt. The paramedic said there was no need to worry about that now. I was told if I cooperate, I will not be charged with drug possession. I could tell they went through my backpack and found the THC edibles, which I had purchased legally.

Then the ambulance set off. I was not told where we were going, and I started panicking. I heard the paramedic saying that I am like a tiger, I shouldn’t be so with it after such a high dose of whatever I was injected with. It seemed they didn’t expect me to be fully aware of what was happening to me. Once they saw I would not keep it to myself, I began wondering what else they could do to me. If they could get away with raping me, could they also get away with killing me? I pleaded with them, saying I wouldn’t tell anyone. The whole time, the paramedic was trying to calm me down, asking me to cooperate. He told me to tell the doctor everything when we arrive at the hospital. I didn’t understand why he would want me to do that, so I reassured him I won’t tell anyone when we get there.

As soon as I was wheeled in on the stretcher into the hospital hallway, I started screaming for help. I was convinced they were going to take me into some hidden back room, inject me with something, and euthanize me. The restraints were removed, and I was trying to escape. There were patients sitting in the hallway and there was someone at the reception desk. I screamed my address and my full name multiple times and I said they were trying to kill me. The stretcher tipped over and I fell to the ground. Two police officers immediately tackled me and held me down, while there was another younger, anxious-looking officer kneeling next to me, who wasn’t touching me. Someone exclaimed that he just pissed himself. Then I was injected with something and I quickly lost consciousness.

I woke up restraint in bed in the intensive care unit with an IV needle in my arm and electrode pads attached to my chest. It was 6 or 7 PM in the evening, according to the clock on the wall. I was naked underneath the hospital gown. There were other patients behind the curtains to my left and right, and there was an office in front of me. A nurse came, and I asked when I would be released. I was told that we need to wait and offered a jug to urinate in when I asked to use the bathroom. Later, the nurse informed me about the results of my blood drug screen test and told me off for being stupid enough to experiment with fly agaric. That’s when I first found out what substance I had actually taken. There were also traces of THC in my blood from an edible I had consumed the day before, and traces of opioid, which I assumed were contained in the tranquilliser.

A couple hours later, I was told that I will not be released until the head doctor examines me the next morning, and so I was determined to stay up all night. Remembering how the paramedic wanted me to tell the doctor all about the rape, I was intent on not doing exactly what the person who got me raped advised me to, and did not tell anyone the entire time I was at the hospital. My conclusion was that they would either deem me delirious and postpone my release, or I would be taken to the police station. I asked the nurse on duty whether they could untie me and give me my phone. They could see I did not pose any danger and so agreed, but warned me they would call the police if I tried to escape. I immediately took photos, messaged several of my friends, sent them my location and told them everything I remembered about the incident.

The next day, after the head doctor examined me and proclaimed me mentally and physically stable enough for the release, a lady approached me to ask if I had insurance. I explained I was only insured in the UK and I had no travel insurance, as I did not expect to require medical care during my 5-day trip to Prague. When I accepted that I was responsible for the hospital bill, I got back my clothes and my backpack. The only thing that was missing was my underwear. When I asked for it, I was told it was nowhere to be found and that it may have been disposed of by accident. They suggested I can use the shower before I go, which I respectfully declined, saying I would rather shower when I get back to my accommodation. In order to be released, I had to sign a debt acknowledgement form, and we agreed I will pay it off in instalments, as I did not have enough finances at present. We exchanged contact numbers with the lady who had me sign the forms and later that day I called her and told her I was raped in the ambulance.

My friend advised me to go to the British embassy the next day to get help with reporting the crime, and so I went there straight from the hospital. I rang the doorbell and told the person on the intercom that I lived in the UK and I needed to report a crime. They said they cannot help me, because I was not a British citizen. When I arrived back at the hostel, I spent the next few hours talking to my friends and trying to cope. One of my friends lived in Prague and offered to accompany me to the police station to report the crime if I did not feel comfortable going alone, which I declined because the thought of dealing with colleagues of the perpetrators or even the perpetrators themselves was terrifying. Instead, I contacted the British rape support line and told them every detail of the incident that I could remember. They advised me that if I did not feel comfortable reporting the crime at a local police station, I should wait until I return to London and go to the police there, which I said I would much prefer. They asked if I had showered yet and I said I did not. They told me it is crucial that I do not shower until I attend an appointment with the sexual assault referral centre. It was Friday the 11th and my return flight was the next day.

As soon as I landed in London on Saturday at 7 PM, I called the police and arranged an appointment at a local police station, where I arrived around 9PM. Two female officers took me to a private room and began recording my statement, and after a while they handed the case over to two male officers, as it was the end of their shift. Approximately 2-3 hours later, after finishing my statement and answering all the questions, I went to the bathroom to collect surface samples from the assaulted area and to get changed and hand in all my clothes that I wore during the incident as evidence. The police then drove me home. It was around 2AM.

Over the next several days, I was off sick. I hadn’t showered since the incident on Thursday the 10th until my appointment at The Havens on Monday the 14th, where I underwent a forensic examination for sexual assault. The clinic staff collected all the necessary samples and swabs, as well as photos of all the bruises all over my body. Consequently, I got tested for STIs in light of the inconclusive blood test that I underwent in Prague, I attended a dental appointment for my displaced front tooth, and I consulted my doctor regarding my cracked ribs from the officer kneeling on my chest.

On 6th of November, I received a reference number for the case transfer. This meant all the collected evidence was now being sent off to a Czech government agency dedicated to investigating the crimes of Czech police, called General Inspectorate of Security Forces (GIBS). Both police and GIBS are Czech law enforcement agencies. The only contact I have had with them was when they emailed me on 25th November requesting consent to release the medical report from my hospitalisation, which I provided. I was already aware of what was in that report and I described it in my statement. None of it contradicted any of my statement. The agency never asked me any questions about the case.

On 11th of February 2025 they sent me an email with a document titled ‘Notice to informant’. It outlined the conclusion of their investigation and informed me that the case was now being closed. There was no mention of the rape kit. They claim they reviewed security footage from the scene of intervention, personal security cameras of the police officers and the ambulance itself. However, they did not specify whether the ambulance footage had captured the entirety of the intervention, and they failed to describe exactly the content of said footage. Instead, to disprove my statement, they used witness statements of the restaurant staff that did not actually witness the assault, and the statements of the perpetrators themselves. Based on these, the investigators alleged that the use of force was professional and adequate because I was uncooperative and aggressive. The perpetrators claimed my statement was ‘absurd, absolute nonsense and a lie’. Honestly, I don’t know what else did they expect the rapists accused of rape to say.

They questioned that I did not disclose the incident to the staff at the hospital (where the paramedics work), or that I did not report the assault locally (where the police officers work) when I already explained in my statement why I did not feel comfortable doing so, if that wasn’t obvious enough. There was no explanation for why I was lying on my stomach and not on my back while I was still having a drug-induced seizure. There was no explanation for why the intervention took as long as it did when I was already restrained and unable to resist the entire time. There was no explanation for why my underwear was disposed of by the hospital staff that undressed me. Instead, they focused only on the fact that I was drugged, which I had already described in my statement from the very beginning. They disregarded my entire statement due to me being under the influence of a substance ‘generally know for their hallucinogenic properties’, yet there was no expert opinion on what specifically these properties were and whether, considering the consumed dose, it was at all possible for me to regain awareness at any point during the incident.

All it took was making sure the security footage from the place of the assault was available at full length, from my admittance to the ambulance to me being wheeled into the hospital. Ideally an expert would have reviewed it and confirmed it was not manipulated. And if that is not the case, that alone should compel the investigators to make use of the forensic evidence available, which they ignored entirely, because they chose to believe the statements of the perpetrators themselves. If they had nothing to hide, they may have easily offered to have swabs taken and tested, but they did not. They assumed I was a prostitute. They did not know I hadn’t had sex for weeks prior to the incident. I went all those days without showering, knowing that was the only way to convict them and that without that it would just be my word against theirs. Now the most concrete piece of evidence in the entire case is likely being thrown in the bin, because they just concluded I must have been too high to really remember or understand what was happening to me.

I call into question the legitimacy of this investigation. Disregarding the only available physical evidence in favour of the perpetrators’ statements alone makes no sense. It is a known fact, proven time and time again, that abusers are attracted to positions of power, because it provides them with the resources to cover up their abuse. This is the entire reason an agency that investigates police crime even exists. The officers know the crime investigation protocol from the inside well enough to manipulate evidence and are able to intimidate their victims, which they undoubtedly would have attempted had I resided in their country. Most of all, rape perpetrated by the police, although particularly hard to prove, is not at all unprecedented.

I have decided to open up publicly about my case, because the official channels have failed me. I know there were other victims, and I’m worried that there will be more if the investigators do not tighten their protocol and start taking rape reports of any kind seriously. At the moment, I cannot afford a lawyer, as I can barely afford a temporary roof over my head and food, and even that won’t be for too long. If anyone with a legal background would like to send me any advice on the case as a gesture of goodwill, I would be eternally grateful. I’m well aware that my hospitalisation debt, which I had already started paying off, might be deemed as a motivation for the entire accusation, therefore I focused on the concrete evidence. I also intend on paying off the debt as soon as I regain income, but I refuse to pay for the ambulance in which I was raped. And to add to that, I want everyone to know that herein: I EXPLICITLY DISSENT TO RECEIVING AMBULANCE CARE EVER AGAIN EVEN IF MY LIFE DEPENDED ON IT.

I am hoping my story will reach as many people as possible to help raise awareness of police crime, improve the effectiveness of its detection and lead to more respect for all the rape victims that were dismissed and let down by the system. Now I know I have survived all of this for a reason. I went through hell, so that I can dedicate my life to making sure others won’t have to.

#true story

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