Translated material
My March 5th
The crowd grew, Limonov’s men came up, grabbed someone and dragged them into a paddy wagon (perhaps Limonov himself?) - in general, things became more lively. The cops began to proclaim something like “citizens are pedestrians, do not disturb pedestrians,” then the cosmonauts began to push away pedestrian citizens, as is usually done on Triumfalnaya, insistently suggesting that they go to the metro. journalists jumped up to me with a microphone Some , it seems from the German Channel 1 , and while I was arguing in front of them that the elections would have been illegitimate even without “carousels” and falsifications (for what kind of elections are these, to which only those , who was personally selected by the main candidate?) and that it was time to move on to actions of civil disobedience - a column of cops appeared, which cut me off in a group of journalists from the main forces of the protesters - they found themselves on the other side of the column, at the fence separating the construction site on the corner of Maly Cherkassky. It was annoying, especially since our people had already started chanting. Finally reunited with them. I look - Nikitin is hanging on the fence and chanting: “Russia without Putin! Putin will be executed!” I joined in, clinging to the fence.
This is where the screwing started. They pulled me away from the fence, jabbing me by the hair, and then carried me by my arms and legs into a paddy wagon. They dragged me into the paddy wagon - I grabbed the handrail by the door and tried to tear it off. Meanwhile, they bring new ones, swearing: “So your mother, four men cannot cope with one woman!” After this, the face of the “woman” appears in front of me - it turns out, Nizovkina. I was somewhat surprised: “But you were screwed earlier!” Clutching each other, we for some completely blocked the entrance time, until Nizovkina was finally torn off and thrown onto the seat, and two or three riot policemen piled on her and held her the whole way, pressing her to the seat. I remained holding on to the handrail at the entrance and, seizing the moment, even jumped out of the paddy wagon and shouted several times “Putin will be executed”! Once I was brought back, they decided not to bother dragging me into the prisoner’s quarters, but handcuffed me to the handrail - and so I drove. Along the way, I discovered that in the process of screwing I had lost my hat and scarf (a Parisian scarf, a gift from Countess Uvarova - it’s a pity); and I almost lost my phone, but it was handed over from the prison department through the window - it turned out that Ira Kalmykova picked it up, thanks to her.
We went to the Zamoskovorechye police station, but since the driver didn’t know the road, we circled around for quite a long time and finally, almost through the Moscow Ring Road, we got to Pyatnitskaya. Meanwhile, we agreed: not to cooperate with the cops in any way, not to give information, etc. Finally we arrived at the place, a riot policeman came up with the keys: “Turn your hand, I’ll take off the handcuff.” I don't react. “Do you really want to drive around with a handcuff?” - “Yeah.” They forcibly bent my hand, dragged me by the hair and dragged me to the department. They offer to empty everything from my pockets; of course, I don’t react. They started chatting under the camera, talking about passive disobedience and Article 19.3 (this was at a time when the cop had to unlace my shoes with his own hands). Only later did one district police officer think of asking using the form: “Please show the contents of your bag.” I say (actually for the camera): “I was not detained, they did not introduce themselves to me, they did not tell me the reason for the detention, your demands are illegal.” They dragged me to the bullpen.
The bullpen in “Zamoskovorechye” (as in “Tverskoy” and, apparently, in other old departments) is of Soviet and almost Stalinist type: a cell about 10 meters, no windows, no ventilation, no furniture (only boardwalk for most of the cell, like in old toilets, where you are invited to sleep) and with a light bulb above the door that burns the same way all 24 hours. I was alone. After a while, a young cop comes in, hands me my asthma inhaler, and says in a polite and friendly tone: “You’ll need this.” I thank him with a nod of my head. He said in a different tone, official: “First name, last name?” Smiling, I silently go to the corner and sit down on the flooring. “I understand your position,” he slammed the book and left. Smart man, though.
Most of the “refuseniks” were stuffed into a monkey cage, including Nizovkina, Lavreshina, Ira Travkina, Ira Kalmykova, and with them Semyon Kolobaeva (a young photographer from the Khimki activists, who was beaten more than once by the security forces in Khimki). According to their stories, the monkey barn was packed: there was no room to turn around, sit down, or stand up, so I could consider myself comfortable. I could hear them singing revolutionary songs (and Kadieva, as always, sang along), I sang along. They shout to me: “We are starving dry!” “I knew it,” I answer, “me too!” To lift the spirit, in turn, he began to sing all sorts of songs: White Guard, Polish partisan, Makhnovist. So, just when I began to draw attention to the words of Father Makhno:
Curse me, curse me
If I lied to you even a word,
Remember me, remember
I fought for the truth, for you!
— the door opens and a cop appears. And he offers to put me in solitary confinement with the people (in the tone of a tempter: “there are women there!”) if I myself take off and give him the chain with the keys. I refuse. “But you know, we’ll take it away anyway!” “Take it away by force, but I won’t give it up voluntarily.” “Come on, more fussing... no one will know, let’s say they took it away by force!” Instead of answering, I continued singing:
For you, oppressed brotherhood
For the people deceived by the authorities,
I hated swagger and lordship,
There was a machine gun with me!
The cop leaves, leaving the door open - which was smart on his part, because as a result I myself left and went into the hall, where the monkey cage was located and all our people in it, who greeted me with greetings. Here, accordingly, they pounced on me, fucked me again, took off the notorious chain and generally took everything out of my pockets, and then threw me into the bullpen, but this time it was different, where Stroganov and Nikitin were. Stroganov was in fighting shape: his trouser leg was torn, his jacket was torn on the back, and in addition he had been hit hard in the kidneys, which caused a bruise on half his side; His side was obviously very painful, and from time to time he began to grunt and curse. For their own reasons, they decided not to go on a hunger strike, and when they brought the package, they began to eat and drink (I tried not to look). Stroganov, however, was not given cigarettes for refusing to identify himself, which is essentially torture too (as the head of the department explained, smoking is not the first necessity, but if you get a drug addict, do you order them to give him drugs? Although drug addicts, by the way, are given medicines).
As a reminder of our stay, the iron door of the cell was decorated with the inscription: “Putin will be executed!” There was also scratched on the wall: “Putin is a thief!”, as greetings from previous guests.
They say that those administratively detained for more than 24 hours are entitled to bedding, hot food and something like that, but this must be somewhere on another planet. We slept on bare boards, with our own clothes under our heads.
The next morning, when they took me to the toilet, I talked with those sitting in the monkey barn and, having forgotten myself, when asked “Who is with you in the cell,” I gave the names of Stroganov and Nikitin. The cops, of course, overheard and rushed to break through, for some reason, the criminal database, but since they didn’t hear Stroganov’s name well, a happy cop soon comes in: “Strokov So-and-So Takayatovich, come out and introduce yourself, we still know you!” You are wanted, you have Article 160 (embezzlement and embezzlement)!" No, we say, the person is not the same and the last name is not the same. He left.
Suddenly Kolobaev was brought into our cell for a few minutes, after which he was taken out together with Nikitin. As it turned out later, Kolobaev was removed from the monkey bar, and beaten at the same time, as punishment for... Vera Lavreshina, for her bad behavior.
We naturally lost track of time; we could only have the vaguest idea of what was happening outside the cell. You can hear screams - yeah, the women have been taken to court. We have to wait for them to take us (they never did). Again there was noise and screams - the women, therefore, were brought back, I wonder how much they gave and when they will be taken to the special detention center? Kadieva’s loud voice, shouts “Don’t hit the woman! Fascists! - “Come on, handcuffs!” Handcuffs!" - Kadieva is being beaten. I start banging on the door furiously, a sort of gorilla in a gray uniform opens, I yell at her: “What’s going on here?” - the gorilla punches me in the stomach: “You’ll die here, dog!”
After some time, the gorilla distinguished himself again. Stroganov began banging on the door, they didn’t open it for a long time, then the gorilla opened it: “What is it?” - “Take me to the toilet.” - “Do you deserve to be taken to the toilet? You don’t want to be identified, but take them to the toilet.” Me: “Do your duties!” - for which I immediately receive it. Stroganov is finally taken out, the gorilla again enters the “hut” and inflicts several rather painful blows on me, accompanying them with moralizing abuse. He left and took the book, the brute: “And so you have a sanatorium here!” If I were full of strength and energy, then from boredom and lack of reading, I would probably be ready to hang myself; but since the hunger strike began to take its toll (weakness, slight dizziness), then, in general, all that was left was to lie down and doze, from time to time exchanging curses and ridicule with Stroganov against the “drain” leaders.
When, according to our calculations, it was already the morning of the second day, Kolobaev and Nikitin were released - they agreed to sign something there. The head of the department came in and seduced us: “We know you anyway, here you are Stroganov, and you (to me) are Serov. Sign an undertaking to appear in court - and you are free, especially since there is another commotion at Manezhka, they have already brought 15 people, go there and make a commotion.” They refused. In response to Stroganov’s words “my friend was beaten” (about me), the boss cordially suggested writing a complaint, adding in a threatening tone: “However, if the complaint is not confirmed...” (Obviously, he was referring to the article on false denunciation.) “Oh, don’t you want to? Well, you have one more day to sit here until 48 hours." - “What day? A few hours, it’s the morning of the 7th !” - “No, it’s 9 o’clock in the evening on the 6th ". Here’s to you, grandma, and St. George’s day! We’re left to sit for another 24 hours, ready for the fact that the next day they’ll be taken to court, where our good friend Stekliev will assign him to a special detention center. But one word, one signature is enough... but oh well.
The next day, however, they found out information about me and came in and boasted that they knew everything about me. Moreover, “everything” turned out to be taken from an extremely biased article in Wikireality, composed by my opponents on Wikipedia. “They say you don’t like the USSR and you don’t like Russia.”
At about one o'clock in the afternoon on March 7, they began to release them normally. First they released the women, then me and Stroganov, replacing our signatures with the signatures of witnesses. They did draw up protocols against us under Article 19.3 (disobedience to the police). Before leaving, they asked me to take a paper to appear in court (the trial was scheduled for the 12th or 13th), I politely refused, explaining that I didn’t intend to go to any of their courts anyway.
Returning the phone and leaving, I began to call, find out what was happening in the world these two days - and only then, upon leaving, did I learn about the events on Pushkin Square and that Tatyana Kadieva was taken to 1st Gradskaya with a broken nose.
In the LJ community “Namarsh.ru” our release was reported with a summary: “The police surrendered to the mercy of the radicals.”
Author - Pavel Shekhtman