PACIFIC PERSPECTIVE : Beijing Continues to Assault the Spirit of Press Independence : Rights: ‘I screamed with all my energy because of pain and fear.’ I wondered whether they were roughest on me because they thought I was Chinese.

It was an hour after midnight when the paramilitary police jeeps stopped in front of us on a glass-littered street near the Beijing University campus.

That evening, students had thrown bottles from their dormitory windows in a protest marking the anniversary of last year’s Beijing massacre.

Many foreign journalists had heard of the bottle-throwing incident and come to the site. Things were quiet here now, and most had already left. I and my husband, David Holley, The Times’ correspondent in China, were also talking of going home.

Then the police in their green uniforms, wearing helmets and armed with AK-47 semi-automatic rifles, jumped out of the jeeps, pointed their guns at us and yelled “Zou! Zou!” (“Get out of here!”) We dashed toward our car, but I was surrounded by police. I heard Dave trying to protect me, screaming in Chinese: “She’s my wife!” But he was shoved away and knocked down.

The police held me from both sides. One grabbed my handbag and camera. Another pulled at me, grabbing my blouse, popping the first button and baring my left shoulder. I was pushed down and hit. My back hurt the most. I’m not sure whether the blows from behind were mostly punches or kicks, but my worst injury apparently came from a rifle butt.

I screamed with all my energy because of pain and fear of being killed.

Then I saw Dave running to me, and they stopped hitting. I grabbed back my handbag and camera, pulled the film from the camera and threw it to them. We ran to our car and drove off.

Before long, we saw that we were being tailed. It soon became clear they weren’t just tailing us but intended to stop us. They edged in front and began to brake. My husband screeched to a stop.

A helmeted policeman leaped out, ran toward Dave and pointed a pistol at him, yelling for proof of identification.

Dave gave his ID card. They ordered us out, then grabbed my handbag and camera from the car.

The policeman was looking for more film. He dumped everything out. I begged him not to break my lens. He took only film, and I put everything else back in the bag. My back started aching badly.

They ordered us to get back in our car and follow them. Another police car followed us, as we were led back to the university gate. The street was blocked by police jeeps. We were ordered to park and get out.

For the first time, they asked for my ID card. As they examined our cards, Dave repeatedly asked them why they beat me. But they did not answer, saying that we had to wait until a higher-ranking person saw our IDs. I am Japanese and could only wonder whether they were roughest on me because they thought I was Chinese.

We waited for about 10 minutes. As I lost my energy, my back became very painful, and anger replaced my fear. Finally, they gave us back our ID cards and told us to leave.

As we drove, I started worrying about broken bones. We stopped at a hospital, and I saw my back in a mirror for the first time. Below my left shoulder blade, I had a red welt about four inches long and one-half inch wide; the area around it had swollen up. The doctor took an X-ray, which showed no fractures. He gave me some medicine for the pain and we went home.