200622 - Kenny and the Alphanumeric Fingerprint Reveal

The Quran is my furqan

[44:56] They do not taste death therein except for the FIRST (aka, only) "death", and He has spared them the retribution of Hell.

200622MON - Kenny and the Alphanumeric Fingerprint Reveal

CONTAINS ERRORS

Status: draft 1.0

Al'hamdulilah. To God belongs all praises. Subhan'allah. Perfection perceived, glory to God. God is Al'alim ul'Hakim, the knowledgeable, the wise.

Today is Monday, June 22, 2020 Gregorian and day 60 of my custody with the Toronto Police on 3 allegations.

1. Assault with a weapon (2)
2. Assault on police and threatening to use a weapon (4)
3. Possession of a weapon (1)

Yesterday, I drafted notes on the interview process of Toronto police and their colleagues at the Toronto South Detention Centre where I am being held on behalf of the Toronto police at the moment.

Fingerprint Fellows

The transition to the Toronto police night shift from the officer who was bald and beautiful was pretty seamless. I would not have been able to infer that “this is your last chance”, and that, “the night shift is beginning” warning meant that 2. Psychological Intervention was about to begin!

The main difference I noticed was that there were new faces. One of the faces that popped up was Toronto police officer Dan who later fingerprinted me along with Toronto police officer named ≃ Mahmoud, if I recall correctly. Officer Dan looked pretty good for his age. In fact, I called him Dr. Dan because he was just missing a white lab coat. He was presentable looking, a sorta George Clooney of the evil bunch who are meant to serve and protect. Officer Dan had pepper and salt hair, straight. He was a Caucasian male and about 5 feet and 10 inches tall. Trim.

Officer ≃ Mahmoud on the other hand was most likely of Arab decent. Dark black stubble, hairy arms, and probably a back that looks like a bear in the wild. He sported short hair and his girth would probably need a pant with waist 60. He was heavy set, and seemed less relaxed that officer Dan.

These are the two individuals who ended up fingerprinting me on Sunday, April 26, 2020, Gregorian. It was a big deal, which I pray God allows me to explain to you today, of course I'lla Ayn Yasha Allah, unless God wills, perhaps something even better. I found 18:23 and 18:24 very inspiring along with the story of Moses later in surah 18 of the Quran.

Lawyer: Division 31 Cell 2 Unit 6

Unknown to me, there's nothing to snack on for the entire weekend. The fact that I had asked to speak with a lawyer, and the lawyer I spoke with didn't or knew better not to accept the case right away, meant that I was still waiting for a phone call with a lawyer.

That technically is exciting, however that call didn't happen until ≃ Tuesday, April 28, 2020 where I spoke with a Marissa, no last name, who casually informed me that I was not in prison. The duplicity of Marissa's claim was a little too much for me to handle so I politely informed her while I was being held in Unit 6 that I subscribe to the Quran, and that honesty was the best policy; no thank you, I will not be needing your services. The Ontario Legal Aid lawyer I am working with now is one Mr. Allan Horton and I had my first conversation with him on ≃ Thursday, April 30, 2020 or on ≃ Friday, May 1, 2020. When I spoke with Mr. Horton, he was gasping and sounded glad that he had reached me. He seemed like the first honest human being up until that point.

Night Shift and Weekend Treatment

I was tired in Unit 1, my first holding cell, and rather than sleep on the dark blue mesh metal "bed", I decided to rest on the floor that I thought was clean. My clothes were clean I knew that, and so was my body because I was still 5:6 of the Quran friendly.

Over the course of the next few hours I recited scripture. The acoustics of the prison lend themselves to sound effects and if you can recite scripture or sing, the sound that emanates from you carries beautifully with all the echo effects and so on.

I tried to speak with Kenny the black prisoner in Unit 3, and tried to encourage him to stay positive. My "audio notes" to Kenny must be on record because there were cameras recording my every movement, and I would be baffled if the audio wasn't also recorded. No food Friday, Saturday, nor Sunday, to my recollection. I was offered a disgusting sandwich which I refused to eat on Monday April 24, 2020 when I was transferred to Unit 6.

So what was that like? I was in a cage. Reciting scripture. Police were walking back and forth all the time. I saw at least 50 or more unique individuals go by, and the full Toronto diversity was on display. All races and languages is what it felt like. I was being broken psychologically. I cried. I kicked the bars in front of me. I was exhausted. I called to God and well..., I'm sure Toronto police has footage that you can carefully examine with a Freedom of Information Request, perhaps.

Officer Pitbull and His Covid-19 Muzzle

At one point over the course of the weekend, several cops taunted me when I was calling for assistance. This may have been Saturday or perhaps even Sunday, April 26, 2020. I was aggressed upon from the outside of my prison cell, and I asked one of the officers to bring it on.

Soon there was a mean looking officer who must be using steroids, or perhaps God has blessed him with the time and diligence of sculpting his body to what looks like an aggressive mixed martial arts fighter that's popular in some circles. He had ink all over and yeah..., he was rough and tough looking alright. This officer was wearing a covid-19 mask and he incited me from outside the cage. Fortunately for me, and perhaps unfortunately for him, he got close enough for me to embarrass him. How? I yanked his covid-19 mask off his face without giving him a scratch and folded it neatly and left it on the dark blue mesh metal bed I was meant to snooze and catch some zzz's on.

Al'hamdulilah! To God belongs the praises. The-god is Al'ali, the mighty! God in surah 56 of the Quran speaks of raising and debasing, and indeed king Nebuchadnezzar in the book of Daniel from the Holy Bible compilation also had to testify to the same in chapter 4.

The Murder of Kenny

Over the weekend, over all the kicking and screaming, and scripture reciting, and crying, Kenny was literally put to sleep. A soft spoken doctor or someone like that inquired about how Kenny was feeling and I could overhear that he was giving Kenny something. Perhaps to help Kenny with his headache or his sleep.

The acoustic anchor points like the beeping sound of a large truck backing up and literally a handful of others were employed on Kenny and myself the entire weekend. About 5 unique and distinct sound patterns were employed. The pattern? Somewhat resonant with "the mood" in the cells. I say this with great caution and honesty before my maker, King of the true day of reckoning stated in 1:4 of the Quran. When I was exhausted from kicking the cages for example, I would be on the floor, and around this time the beeping sounds would trigger and lull me to a drowsy state. Similarly there were four other acoustic effects that would be employed when needed for some other affect or mood pattern. That's what I remember, until of course what I experienced first hand in the psychological torture chamber employed by Sandy Simpson from the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health and their work at the Toronto South Detention Centre. The sound effects and acoustics there are next level.

Kenny of course had complained that he had a splitting headache. Some of his complaints is what led me to speak with him and ask him how he was doing and I also requested him not to cuss or something to that effect. One pet peeve I have is foul language and I hate to employ it, even if in a Stephen Pinker dysphemistic capacity. Regrettably, dehumanizing and psychological intervention was in progress on me, unknown to me at the time; and I couldn't help but kick the cages and make loud sounds. The echo effect in the prison cannot be emphasized enough, and I'm sorry I couldn't accommodate a quiet prison for Kenny the black prison inmate sorta sharing a space with me.

Kenny complained. I complained. Kenny stopped complaining. I kept complaining. And on and on the hours went. Sometime over the course of the weekend Kenny and some other prisoner were moved to a more distant prison cell. It was dark, so it was evening or early early morning. Here I think the prisoners were offered something to drink, etc. It was almost as if these prisoners and human cruelty administrators were past 6 or more cells away from me. It is here that Kenny was put to sleep after a few promises were made to him.

One of the corrections officers I met along the way by name Bruce ≃ Chacauski would not have been surprised by this one bit. Indeed, co Chacauski informed me about what the RCMP used to as recently as the 2000s and even 1990s in Winnipeg with co Douglas present with me when I was being held at the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health at the College Street and Spadina Avenue location on the 5th Floor GPUA Unit 505. From what I could tell co Douglas had scruples and co ≃ Chacauski was gritty. The horrors that co Chacauski described against first nations people were pretty intense. The horrors upon inmates of the Toronto police "night shift" plus #TSDC are similar but different.

How was Kenny put to sleep? First of all, you might be wondering, why do I feel so strongly about what happened to the prisoner named Kenny. For one, I spent more than a couple of hours with him. Next, I got to observe him alive and asleep. Meaning, at some point I heard him snore rhythmically, then wake up and talk, etc. When Kenny was taken to the far end of the prison, he went to sleep and woke up later to speak with the doctor or prison administrator. Then Kenny went back to sleep, and later began to snore, and later, stopped snoring.

Later, the rhythmic snoring pattern of Kenny would resume every time I kicked the cages or recited scripture or called for help. Basically, it appeared, to my senses other than vision, that Kenny had been put on a respirator. And Toronto police, I am not joking, were turning on the respirator as if it was another sound effect they were managing. From 4 or 5 unique sound effects, they now had one more..., snoring human that they employed several times during my weekend 2. Psychological Intervention.

Despicable. Unlawful. Haraam. Yes, this is what I allege happened, and I know it won't matter because c'est la vie when corrupt individuals on the public dime are entrusted with little to no oversight to serve and protect. Simply not true, I know this for a fact. I sincerely mean no offence to good officers who have somehow managed to keep their values intact working within the crime syndicate of the many police forces within Canada.

Fingerprint Time with Dr. Dan

The dehumanizing and maltreatment of me (Rahi Delvi) began in full swing sometime on Friday, April 24, 2020 and is still in progress although the magnitude of the disgrace has drastically reduced. Nonetheless, late in the evening of April 26, 2020 officer ≃ Mahmoud and officer Dan asked me to step out of Unit 1 and walk with them to the reception area. They didn't inform me that my fingerprints on record was the activity ahead of us.

It was just officer Dan and officer ≃ Mahmoud. Officer Dan manned the digital fingerprint machine and officer ≃ Mahmoud, the uncomfortable one, was simply the second officer probably there to guard against anything unexpected. I was coorperative. Indeed I was excited to be out and seeing a room filled with light again and so on, and to my knowledge all of this was happening late on Sunday, April 26, 2020.

I asked officer Dan a few questions. I don't know if I asked him, however, I know it occurred to me to ask what the different signs on the wall were about and whether or not Dan had a responsibility of reading them to me. At this point I also commented on officer Dan being better suited to Dr. Dan. No comment about officer ≃ Mahmoud.

Officer Dan explained a few things to me, and began the process of fingerprinting me.

Here is what we saw. Subhan'allah. Glory to God, perfection. This was a moment of redemption for me. What? In addition to my fingerprint ridges that look like baked fish that separates nicely, note I am looking at a super high resolution zoomed digital image of my fingerprints, I also see the following

1. Uppercase combination of letters between A-Z
2. Hindu Arabic numerals with decimal 1.9 or 1.8

I ask myself, and certainly exclaim aloud, "is this how God made me?" You know? How did those alphanumeric characters get engraved on me? They're on me right now... "technically" on the grand assumption that those apparent alphanumeric engravings were not superimposed on the digital fingerprints that I saw on Sunday, April 26, 2020. It was too realistic and rendered in real time for me to think it was superimposed. In other words, the engravings are on me and can either be verified by getting another copy of my fingerprints or simply asking the Toronto police for my digital fingerprints file.

Subhan'allah indeed. Indeed, perfection perceived, glory to God.

Why is this important to me? I have for as long as I remember in Canada testified over and over that I am not insane. I do not have bipolar disorder, or schizophrenia, or schizo-whatever disorder is available in the Diagnostics and Statistics Manual's latest edition.

My hypothesis of what's going on? Dr. Zhadki from the William Osler Centre west of Kipling Ave and Finch Ave from my 2003 overdose "episode" due to the experimental and dangerous drug called acutane that wasn't administered by me. However, those engravings on my fingerprints could have arrived anytime between 2003 and 2019, and God knows perfectly well who is behind the illegal branding of my person.

William Osler Centre in 2003

In 2003, I was 21 years old. Tender, and Tinder the app wasn't even a thing yet, however, attraction to the opposite sex was a thing well..., for as long as humans have been around. Isn't it love that keeps the world spinning and Al'wadudh the love, the beloved that keeps our earth, and other planets in orbit and glitch free, in perfect harmony?

I had an acne problem and the antibiotic minocycline hydrochloride wasn't working effectively against the bacteria plaguing my face. Ugh. Acutane was the hot new drug on the Canadian landscape that doctors were nervous and eager to recommend. The packaging on the box said if you are pregnant, DO NOT consume acutane else suicide risk. Other fine print on the box instructions sheet.

Acutane works the following way. Bacteria need food to survive. The oily skin, sebum from the body nourishes the bacteria I was informed, and acutane would cut off the sebum or related oil production supplies. Anti-bacterial options like minocycline hydrochloride would not target oil production, but the bacterial oil consumers. Minocycline hydrochloride would kill bacteria. Acutane would starve bacteria to death.

In 2003 I was referred to a skin specialist by Dr. Sajo who still, in all likelihood, practices at the Woburn Medical Centre in Scarborough. Dr. Sajo used to practice in the west just beside the William Osler Centre in Etobicoke. The skin specialist that Dr. Sajo referred me to gave me a large and psychologically lethal dose of acutane after he noticed that the drug was working as intended. Regrettably, for me, I experienced my first drug trip. I spoke incessantly. I cried while watching bombs go off on Iraqi people when George W. Bush launched his preemptive attack against Saddam Hussain and his dubious threat to employ the weapons of mass destruction he had bought from united nations security council members. I was also studying psychology and philosophy at York University. First drug trip that was not marijuana nor lysergic acid diethylamide. Side note, marijuana and lysergic acid diethylamide are the only "street drugs" I've voluntarily tried, and frankly endorse if sourced responsibly. I have observed someone on ecstasy and think I may have ingested ecstasy at the Toronto South Detention Centre. Indeed, nurse Peena from #TSDC was relieved to know that I didn't have experience with street drugs considering what was happening on the prison floors and cells, and above all, her see oh colleagues.

My acutane drug trip on 2003 resulted in cops being called by me and they then brought me to the William Osler Centre where I had the gross misfortune of meeting one Dr. Zhadki. Fortunately, one Dr. Stanislov Patmanidas was his sidekick and Dr. Patmanidas and I have met a few times, and as recently as the summer of 2012. Between 2003 and 2008 I had a grad total of 5 so-called manic episodes. It was simply me telling people I am not crazy, and then people labelling me such after looking at my Canadian police records. Allah hu'Akbar. The-god is greater. Between 2008 and 2018, I had zero "episodes". And between January 2019 and May 2019 I had five episodes apparently. What is opaque to most people was the following

• I joined Grantbook as employee 1 in October 2012 when the company didn't have two pennies to rub together
• I very painfully and reluctantly announced my departure from Grantbook in September 2018 after the most difficult year of my technical consulting work due to the ponzi business the company had become
  • More details to follow, I'lla Ayn Yasha Allah or unless God wills otherwise
• Dolce, Claire Vuco_____ and I have our Prius totaled by a T-bone accident on November 30, 2018
  • The 3 of us get out without a scratch
  • Images of the accident are still on twitter to my knowledge, I have the resource bookmarked at home
• I leave Grantbook very reluctantly on December 14, 2018
  • The send off party does not have coconut water
  • Sniff, boo hoo
• In January 2019 I reach out to trusted female colleagues and inform them of a serious problem at home on the domestic front regarding Dolce
  • All Grantbook staff I reach out to let me down
  • Bon voyage! Adios muchachos! See yah!
• Dolce places 4 calls to police between January 2019 and April 2019
  • In April 2019 Toronto police drag me out of a Doubletree Hilton despite the evidence of me being far far far away from my spouse at the time
  • Adam Tasca of the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health proceeds to systematically break me
• May 2019 I am released from the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health
  • Adam Tasca tells my mother, who is now the substitute decision maker on my file that the diagnosis that Rahi Delvi has seems to be incorrect
  • Adam Tasca does not inform me of this
  • My mother informs me of Adam Tasca's comment to her in October of 2019
• May of 2019 I buy my first set of marijuana joints legally from the Ontario Cannabis Store
  • My mother abhors smoking and calls the cops on me
  • Toronto police do the usual, they drop me off at Toronto Western Hospital under the care of Dr. Delowel
  • I'm put in restraints yet again...

Of course, Allah hu'Akbar. The-god is greater!

To find out who was behind my alphanumeric engravings and nonconsensual body branding I need to ask police, presumably, to first look at Dr. Zhadki from the William Osler Centre and work their way to Dr. Delowel from Toronto Western hospital who wreaked his damage on me, along with the cruel Toronto police in May 2019. Adam Tasca of the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health broke me completely between April and May of 2019 when the flame of my life called the cops to "check-in" in me when I was miles and miles away from her safely put up in the Doubletree Hilton opposite Masjid Toronto next to St. Patrick subway station. Dolce, mother of Claire Vuco_____, will be happy to testify to my innocence in this ordeal. The paper trail of my innocence pervades almost everything I do, and Grantbook the company I helped build from the ground up will also need to be investigated in the process sooner or later.

This is a big deal for me.

Game Over Next Level

I know its game over for Toronto police as it relates to my file, and indeed all the criminals who have psychologically lacerated me. No, I don't for a minute think that it's going to be one grand winning ceremony. Not at all. I am expecting things to continue as they are right now, slowly and incrementally. However, I'm relieved to know that indeed, nothing is wrong with me. This is the case of it's you, not me.

[68:1] ن, the pen, and what they write.

[68:2] You are not, by the blessing of your Lord, crazy.

[68:3] And you will have a reward that will not end.

[68:4] And you are of a high moral character.

[68:5] So you will see, and they will see.

[68:6] Which of you are condemned.

[68:7] Your Lord is fully aware of those who strayed off His path, and He is fully aware of those who are guided.

The ن or noon muqatta'at is a very meaningful index for me, just like ا or alif. ن signifies to me that people have always been labelled as crazy despite the obvious being true.

200622MON - 200623TUE

• 1.n
• 1.1 jan to may 2019 timeline
• 1.0 rc
• 0.2 murder of kenny notes
• 0.1 draft

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