Anthony Duff.com - Mr Cruel

Mr Cruel: A serial killer active in the Eastern Suburbs of Melbourne, After the 1980's there seemed to be no further abduction / murders of young people. His victims were young teenage girls from the eastern suburbs of Melbourne. The wikipedia entry wikipedia.org/Wiki/Mr_Cruel contains what some could call "Misleading" and "Subliminal".

The knowledge of Mr Cruel's identity is not as important as the fact that he was a police officer, and a cover up protecting the reputation of the Victoria Police had occurred.

Late 80's: 131 Park Rd, Donvale, 3111.

I was in grade 4 or 5 at the time. At home, I experienced the strangest day as a child. I heard a voice, in my mind, a female spiritual voice, saying to me, in a calm yet parental / concerned / stern way "Whatever you do, don't go to sleep tonight. Stay up! OK? " Again and again and again. "Now move your bed against the far wall". The same voice "Move it away from the doorway, OK!" instructing me to move my bed, from the wall it was facing to the wall that had a window and sliding door. The same voice I moved my bed against the windowed wall, and heard the same voice repeating the same cautious message. "Don't go to sleep tonight, Stay awake."

Night time arrived, and as I lay on my bed, I felt weird and anxious. The woman who had been telling me all day to not go to sleep started torepeat it again and again, with more urgency and intensity in her voice.

"Whatever you do, don't go to sleep" ...... "Stay awake, Anthony. Whatever you do, don't go to sleep"......."Don't go to sleep"......."

"Don't go to sleep".....

"Stay Awake"....

... It was pitch dark when a person appeared in my doorway, shining a penlight on me, holding it over-shoulder, flashing the beam in my face. I had to cover my eyes with my hands. . I thought the person my brother and said "James, Is that you?" No answer. "James, it's not funny".... "James?...." Fear hit me. Sickening fear. The Intruder left my room and I was able to hide between my bed and the window, having moved my bed to the window / door wall that day. I half scattered the doona on the bed, half covering me.

For what seemed like hours, I experienced intense fear, wondering what was going to happen to me, my parents and my brother. It was a fear without knowing what could possibly happen. Eventually a police officer ripped the doona off the bed and said "He's here" My parents had thought that I had run to a neighbours place. The intruder had also walked upstairs into my parent's room, and then left. There was a discussion between my parents and the police in the driveway, I recall two police cars, and they said that it was "Just a burglar" however I sense their tone was nervous. I used to think about it often. And still do.

Trying to report the Incident ( A week or so before Labor day Early 2021 )

I remember reading a novel about how crime scene evidence was kept frozen, as far back as in the 1970's, in anticipation of the development of technology being able to take a DNA sample, and compare it to an individual. I was staying in a boarding house in Footscray, and It was the evening, and I flew into a rage, and went screaming through the middle of Footscray, screaming out "You cops have got RATS in your RANKS!!!!" "I KNOW it was a COP who killed "Karmein <REDACTED>!", "How long have you CUNTS been keeping DNA in storage?" "FUUCK YOU, YOU SICK FUCKING PIGGS" "AAAAGGHHH".

A police officer was outside the front of the Footscray Police station, as if he had anticipated my arrival, and would not let me enter the station to speak to anyone. I tried to ask him "How long have you been storing the DNA of Police officers for?" I was physically pushed away, and told to leave.

Interrogation.

On 13 March, Labor Day, 2021, I went back to the Footscray police Station. While walking there, a very decent guy gave me a look of empathy and concern. I thought nothing of it, at the time. When I got to the station, a young white woman entered into the door that leads to the counter area. She looked nervous. I saw some cut up Corn Flakes boxes, and milk crates... It was after 7 P.M. and none of the officers would speak with me.

After almost an hour of waiting, I left the station, pissed, and an officer in the street approached me, and called to me. "Hey, what are you doing?" I responded with "What's your fucking problem?". He simply sprayed capsicum foam up and down on me, without reason, and I was dragged through the Station into the garage. I was screaming, asking were are you taking me, "AAAHHH!!!!!!!!!"

I was forced to stay sitting, as the capsicum spray started to burn, shaking in pain, unable to open my eyes, scared as fuck. My face felt as though it was melting off, and the thought entered my mind that I would need plastic surgery. I was told by a nice Indian guy that I can open my eyes, the foam has no effect on them. The foam was a light blue, and it kept on expanding in my mouth, so I had to spit it out. I was forced to undress, Front cuffed, and sit, not lie on the ground, while for an hour two guards were using a weed sprayer pump, with water in it, to slowly spray me down with water. They would ask me where I wanted the water sprayed, My face, my mouth. (As if to make a point about water being a scarce resource).

From outside the station, some Abriginals asked me some questions to. I suppose, validate that I was infact an Australian. "Describe what is a Kangaroo?!!", which I explained, "What's a Wallaby!!?".... "I don't know.... I know what a possum is! it's got 5 like fingers claws and aaaah..... they". I was glad to sense in their inner voices that they didn't like what I was going through, and appreciated that.

Most of the time I kept on turning to the left, It must be a natural instinct.

I was asked "Where does it burn?"

-" My Neck!" Redneck huh.

-"My Armpits" A thought of sunbathers on the beach.

"Where is there pain?"

-"My left shoulder!"

After about an hour, the pain was still constant, so I started to ride through the pain. "Ruum, ruuuum, ruum...." Trying to outrun it helped. I constantly turned to the left. There were two paramedics, one female, who was trying to get me to look at her clevage, and a male, who was a bit camp. One of the Paramedics in the Garage asked... "Anthony... your Mum and Dad want to inject Ketamine into your bum. Is that O.K.?" "Well, I suppose so, hang on does it have to be Ketamine? Can't I have something else?"... They weren't there though.

It wasn't Ketamine, Whatever they injected into me, it was a psychedelic drug. I saw space and time, Black and White juxtopositioned, everything to my left was black, and and I ranted a bit before being laid ont a gurney, where I said "Hang on, I have to say this" I saw a grid, projected above me. It was a hologram, visible in the Air, a grid with rectangles, 12 rectangles wide by 14 high.

"It's a wizzle a puzzle, anigma, a ruse a FuckYa, whoaaaaa,, fsssh fssh sssh ... Kantong Krayon karma Ion, Its last, Fasting, fast, fizzle..... Shit like that.

and as I said each word in this this bizarre rant, a Green diagonal line / would pass through each rectangle, from the top left to the lower right, 4 of the rectangles had red horizontal lines \, as if I said some gibberish that was wrong . So I said 144 or 156 words all up.

The diagram below indicates exactly when I said "I'm Alive", and "Japan".

I thought I had spouted some A grade baloney, very rhythmic nosense, worthy of praise and applayse. The three people observing me said, nonplussed and without any emotion. "Yep, sounds about right...." "Uh-huh" "Ok...." I looked at them incredulously.I passed out after an hour and a half, and woke up the next day in the Footscray hospital.

Regarding this unresolved issue.

As I am in a social experiment, and am familiar with the voice signatures of many of the female psychologists who observe me, one of them conveyed to me, in thought that: {he "Mr Cruel" died of a "Self Inflicted Gunshot would to the Head"}
Out of respect & privacy, I have redacted name(s).
Regarding any reward: I simply flew into a rage when it dawned on me that a cover up had hapened. Reward money goes against my socialist / communist / anti-capitalist agenda. Reward money for unsolved crimes have a negative affect towards crimes that don't have reward money. A person who has information is likely to not disclose it beacuse for them comparatively, there is no monetary incentive for them to do so.