And now back to the show...

I hope you stayed tuned...

Veronica Mazzina looked at me as she turned the doorknob. "We're here." The door opened to a stairwell leading down into darkness. Vernonica flipped a light switch. We walked down the old wooden stairs. The walls were wooden, finished. Maybe mahogany. Beautiful, whatever it was.

At the end of the stairs there was another doorway. No door. Another hallway. This one more like a hallway you'd expect to find in a European castle. There was even a suit of armor holding a sword next to the door at the end. A huge iron door. Veronica knocked and said "It's me." The door opened. We walked inside.

It was a dungeon. There's no other way to describe it. There were men on racks, beds of nails, dangling by wrists or ankles--and in one case a wrist and an ankle--from chains hanging from the ceiling. Wails of pain. Screams. And the stench. Urine and feces. Sweat and blood. We walked through the suffering humanity being imprisoned and tortured to another doorway on the other side of the room. Veronica opened the door and I followed her inside. There was a man lying naked strapped to a table. Big leather straps, two inches across, about six of them across his ankles, knees, thighs, waist, chest, and forehead, pinning him down. His wrists and elbows were strapped separately. He couldn't move except to wiggle a bit. There was a gag in his mouth. He tried to turn his head to look at us, but he couldn't. He shifted his eyes down and to his left so he could see us. His eyes were wild, crazy, scared, and angry. Humiliated and hateful. Frantic, desperate. I could see him shift from emotion to emotion and sometimes it looked like he was overwhelmed by all of them at once. He sobbed. Tears were gushing from his eyes. Snot bubbled from his nostrils.

He blew his nose. Again. Then again. More and more feverishly. He was struggling to breath. Mucus sprayed from his nose across his chin, neck, and chest. I turned to Veronica. It was her husband, after all, so I wanted to watch her reaction. Her mouth slowly widened into a smile as she watched.

Veronica turned to me. "It's not yet time. I just wanted you to see him. Come." I followed her through yet another door and up a flight of stairs that seemed to rise several floors. We entered a bedroom through what seemed to be a closet. A little girl's bedroom, apparently. Walls pink, tiny bed with a lavender blanket and pink Barbie pillowcases, a dresser covered with stuffed animals on top. I looked out the second story window and saw a man on the sidewalk talking with a police officer, a woman. Veronica grabbed my arm and gave me a tug toward the doorway.



--more to come