One letter said, “Mike, you deserve the flogging. You did it, and I’m glad you got flogged.” There are people out there who felt I was guilty. But I’m innocent, and now that I can speak out and try to clear my name, I hope they’ll change their minds.

It began last October when a Hong Kong Chinese boy, Shiu Chi Ho, [was] picked up by police and questioned. He gave my name and several others to the Criminal Investigation Department [CID]; he had a grudge against us. At my house the police found a lot of bubble gum. Singapore has banned the sale of chewing gum, you know . . . so I said, “Sir, I don’t sell it. I just chew it.” One officer swore at me. They also took some street signs from my room.

When I was taken to Tanglin police station with several other kids, the first question I was asked was “Michael, what do you know about the vandalism we’ve had here?” I denied vandalizing any cars. Yes, I took some street signs, but nothing with cars. They said, “Don’t lie.” One guy from the CID pulled me up by my hair, out of my seat, and yanked me around. He slapped me very hard. Two other times I was hit hard on the head or back. That night we weren’t allowed to sleep – they’d yell to wake us up. I spent the night awake, sitting on the floor, really scared.

I saw another American boy being beaten. They ganged up, punching him, kicking his legs. They hit him with the street signs from my room. I also saw a Malaysian boy come out of interrogation dabbing blood from his nose. He said, “I can’t hear out of my ear.” Later a doctor confirmed the eardrum had been busted.

People are stripped, given a cold shower, put in a really cold room and then hit on the fingers with a metal stick. I saw a few local boys go in and heard the sound of the stick. After 10 or 20 minutes they came out in their underwear, shivering. On the second day I was brought [clothed] into the air-con room. A Chinese man came up and said, “you motherf—–, you white trash.” After 10 minutes they brought me out, shivering. I kept whispering, “I can’t believe this.”

After several days they said, “We’re going to beat you until you tell the truth. We can start with the air-con room.” I heard a little voice in my head that said, “Mike, you might as well say you did it.” They immediately drove me around to places [where] they said cars had been vandalized, and then had me sign a confession.

If I’d said I was innocent, the government would’ve come down on me even harder . . . The Hong Kong boy Chi Ho pleaded innocent. He was sentenced to eight months and 12 strokes, so we were right to think it could have been worse. [Chi Ho’s caning, reduced to six lashes, was carried out last week.]

At the time I was in a psychiatric ward [being treated for depression] and under medication. I had some conversations that I don’t remember now.

On May 5 I learned that the sentence was lowered to four strokes from six because of Clinton’s appeal. I thank President Clinton for that, and hope to tell him in person. About 2:30 p.m. they brought me down a hall handcuffed; they stripped me and put rubber-lined padding around my sides, leaving the buttocks bare. Otherwise I was completely naked.

He was young, very fit. My ankles and wrists were buckled to the trestle. Someone said, “Count one,” and he took three steps, swinging the [cane] back and forth, before hitting me on the third step. He relaxed for 15 seconds and did it again. The four lashes were over in about a minute.

I felt a deep burning sensation throughout my body, real pain. The flesh was ripped open. Now on one side there are brown blotches, about 2 inches in diameter, where the flesh was torn. On the other side are four straight lines. A doctor changed the dressings on the wounds every day. I tried not to think of the pain.

To show that I’d kept my pride. He works for the government; that’s his job.