It was around 5:00 P.M. Everything was searched in the La Salle Mossard property for two days, although very thorough, seemed unsuccessful in terms of finding evidence which proved serious enough to accuse the whole La Salle Mossard community as being anti-revolutionary.

Brother Francois Anh had been obliged to sign the document that the police had written, listing in a manner too exaggerated, the items that policemen had found in that property. But Brother Francois refused to sign, arguing that, for example, “If you count bullet after bullet, the total number cannot exceed fifty, the number of rusty bullets included, but your documents claimed: ‘more than five thousand bullets.’ In addition, the discovery of the 16mm film reel found in the kitchen for which you accuse us for anti-revolution views, has to be cleared up, etc.”

The chief of police cut short Brother Francois’s argument in shouting, “It doesn’t matter to sign or to not sign!” Then he ordered other policemen, “Comrades! Drive all these revolutionaries to the temporary detention center #1, except Mr. Anh who must be driven to the detention center. Three comrades stay here to stand guard.”

***

Some Brothers and Juniors, who had been detained at the temporary detention #1, welcomed us. We were put into a large room (6mx8m) whose walls were made of iron hinges, the ceiling was of barbed wire net, and floor was cemented with little brisling holes almost everywhere. A bullet container used as a latrine was put in a corner. Everywhere along the wall could be used for urinating. What about water? - Hum!...

In a normal family, dinner time is the best moment to gather all members of the family at table. So we did, at about 6:30 P.M. Two young men brought to us our first dinner in jail. We circled on floor, around the big pot full of sweet potatoes, looking at each other. That was the menu of the day. As a family, even though on a very special occasion and at a special “home,” prison, we, Brothers Gervais, Jerome, Augustin, Valery, and the Juniors Thanh, Thang, Minh, BoBo Hoang, Vinh, and 2 little boys Chau and Thanh, tried to smile, not saying a word. Anyway, a sign of cross was a good signal “Let’s start!” So we began to talk about “Where Brother X and Brother Y, could be?” No one knew.

While we “enjoyed the first welcoming dinner in jail,” Mr. Cang, crying his eyes out, was pushed into the room. I couldn’t retain shouting some expletives, “...” [God forgive me!] I hugged Mr. Cang in my arms, too moved - and too angry - to be able to say a word. I understood his pains and sufferings, heartbroken. “How can he stand it,” I thought, “since his wife just gave birth, less than a week before, to a tender baby, who might ‘feel’ her daddy in jail?” It was the first night at the “thousand stars hotel,” I couldn’t sleep, even though I was so tired, so stressed and depressed, mind and body. Mr. Cang, too, passed the night, a broken soul, lamenting in mind and heart for his lovely family.

***

The next morning, the police investigator gathered everyone in a large pavilion. There were long tables and seats, like pews in any church. The investigator assigned each one to a seat. At the same time, I suspected that Rev. Hien, chaplain in his 80’s, Brother Francois, Director, and the oldest Brother, Brother Etienne, were put in a small room annexed to ours. Other Brothers and Tien, the Junior, might be in different detention centers.

A policeman distributed to each detainee a pile of documents to fill in: personal curriculum vitae including many details, such as full names of grand-parents, parents, brothers and sisters, i.e. a genealogy of about three generations. My two nephews were sitting at either side of me. They asked me, “Uncle, how do we answer this question? What about that question?...” I told them , “In those cases, just write: ‘I don’t know!’ Even to the question, ‘What is the job of your parents?’ and mine, too, say I don’t know.”

Every time a policeman passed by, Mr. Cang cried and entreated, “Please let me go! I really know nothing. Please let me go home because my wife just gave birth, she needs my assistance and help for our baby...” And every time, the policeman passed by, indifferent, seemingly deaf and dumb.

In the afternoon, the investigator called me. He used almost the same questions he had asked me the first time at the police station at Thu Duc. Thanks to having attended several sessions of political studies in previous years, I knew how to remember what I had “confessed”, written or oral. If there were “new” questions that I might be not sure of or still doubtful about, I remembered that the only sure and safest answer should be “I don’t know!” or “I am not sure!”on the basis Toute Veùriteù n’est pas bonne aø dire! (Not all truth is good to be told.)

When the investigator told me, “The establishments of La Salle Mossard had been built quite grandiose and modernized; certainly you guys plundered from the tears and blood of poor people...” I shook my head. He threatened me by tapping hard his hand on the table, and then shouted, “Do not shake your head! Just answer ‘yes!’ or ‘no!’ to my questions!” I stood calm, looking straight at his eyes, more or less indifferently. “You guys are rich, too rich!” He continued, “Look around you, are there people owning large and high houses like you? Surely you received subsidies from capitalist countries, or at least you were paid by the CIA for your works...” I still stood calm, maybe too calm, looking at his eyes without winking so that from time to time, I guessed, he avoided mine. It seemed that he was waiting for my “Yes!” or “No!” I still kept silent, just looking at him, without winking. I didn’t know what he was thinking. Anyway, “Less Talk, Much Better!”

***

The next morning, another “sincerely confessing all sins against the revolution” was set for everyone in the temporary detention center #1. To tell the truth, the same questions were to be answered. For the Brothers and High School Juniors, it would take more time because they had to be very careful in responding to the questions, although they were the same. The most important concern for all was to write exactly the same answers they had done yesterday. But for my 2 nephews, perhaps they had more time to sleep, their heads bent down on the table.

In the afternoon, Mr. Cang was called to the office. Every one thought he would be released from jail. Indeed, in a few minutes, he came back, face radiant with smiles. Everyone clapped hands in congratulations and joy for him. He handed me the small plastic bag, the only luggage he could bring with him when he was forced to join us at “Number 1”. He said while holding my hands, “Brother, please keep this one, for you or for anyone who would need it. God bless you all. May Saint De la Salle pray for everyone of you.”

About 15 minutes later, a policeman called me to the office. In turn, every one was excited, thinking that “good news” would be for me, and for everyone. I hoped so, because I had all the necessary legal documents attesting that I was out of the city during the whole month of December, 1977. Things didn’t happen as everyone had thought and hoped!

I met the same investigator, had to answer the same questions and, of course, said the exactly same answers. In the end, he firmly asked, “Do you dare swear, hands on the Bible?” I suddenly remembered a verse in the Psalm, ”...whose mouths are full of lies, whose right hands are deceitful.” And I felt really not comfortable. However, I looked at him, and broke out, “You don’t believe in my ‘confession’, you don’t believe in the Bible, either. So what’s the reason for placing my hands on the Bible and to swear?” In turn, he gazed at me with some amazement. I knew he was angry, but he recognized that he was weak at the duel of reasoning. For a while, he kept silent, then as if overcoming his anger, he continued, “If so, why are you guys always against us? Against our government?”
- “No! It’s not true!” I promptly replied. “Not one of us is involved in politics. Furthermore not one of us enjoys getting into politics. We just committed our lives to the education for young people. It’s our life and our joy. Thus, you cannot say that we are against you, or doing politics.”
- ”You are against us,” he said, “not by actions, but we are sure you are against us in spirit, in your mind!”

I didn’t have the opportunity to reply. He ordered a guard to bring me back to the room.

Two more days in jail passed. Nothing special happened.