Sitting in the courtroom looking at the stern official, I felt nervous. My hands were clammy and my stomach was grumbling because of all the coffee I had downed in an attempt to keep alert. Fortunately, it was not me facing prosecution, but the owners of a pig slaughterhouse in Poland. A few months earlier I had been inside one of their facilities with a colleague. I remember the place vividly. On that day, I witnessed a live pig dropped into a tank of boiling water. Believe me when I say that’s not something you can ever forget. ​​​​​​​

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