Subjective sensations from the hamsud of a defense witness

You probably know very well how the legal chaos perpetrated in the hamsud by the “khamovnik judge” M. Syrova ended. Of the 17 defense witnesses listed on the list, whom the court was OBLIGED to hear, only three were called and questioned. Everyone else spent two days in the courthouse, in the corridors and in the courtyard. I was eighth on the list of witnesses, as, probably, the only real qualified employee of the Church in this process, who has been working in it for many years not as a candle maker or an altar boy or even a keymaster, but as the head of the missionary department of an entire diocese, a practical temple catechist with a higher theological education , ready to appear in court as a private person as a qualified expert, religious scholar. The only consolation is the wonderful company of people with whom I spent two days in the corridors of the court and outside them. From Lyudmila Ulitskaya, Heydar Dzhemal, relatives of Katya Samutsevich, Mitya Aleshkovsky to excellent lawyers, Volkova, Polozov and Feigin. And an equally wonderful support group, who were on duty in the courtyard all the time and staged a performance on Friday on the canopy of the store, right opposite the windows of the courtroom, in balaclavas, with flares and songs about freedom). Since I was not allowed to speak in court, relying on the theological knowledge of certain candle makers and other service personnel, I decided in a series of posts to outline the main points of my speech in defense of PR, which, realizing that they would no longer allow me to speak, I stated in a lengthy speech in front of television cameras and writing journalists in the courtyard, leaving it on Friday evening and organizing an impromptu press conference there.

But first, a few personal observations. Maybe a few fragmentary ones, not connected in time, but extremely curious.

The meaninglessness of the so-called work security These are guards, police, bailiffs, and some children in black jackets (playing “war games”) with “special forces” written on the back. I still don’t understand the purpose of their constant movements in time and space. Their mutually exclusive shouting commands towards visiting journalists, respected cultural figures and even representatives of diplomatic embassies of the world and the European Union.

On the first day, we sat calmly next to the door to that same ill-fated hall No. 7, on the third floor (where Danilkin judged MBH) and had a nice conversation with Heydar and Ulitskaya about life, religion and politics, and everything was fine. On the second day of the trial (Friday), for some reason all of us, defense witnesses and experts, were herded down to the level between the second and third floors. First the passage to the fourth floor was open, then, for some reason, people in black (these special forces) blocked it with benches, not allowing even the lawyers to pass. Violeta Volkova, in irritation, almost turns over the bench with the “guards” sprawled on them and quickly goes into the hall. The police in the yard are no less strange. Some kind of endless walking. On duty where no one seems to go. At the same time, when people with flares on their visors begin to chant “Freedom of PR!”, all the police “with something resembling saggy bellies” line up and look at the show with open mouths. “You see, Valera,” Ulitskaya tells me, only one person really works in this court, the old barmaid, who baked very tasty pies today.”

Humiliation. It is also unclear why such humiliation of the accused is necessary. The heart bleeds when the girls are led down the corridor to the toilet. This is a must see. Handcuffed to lady policemen, to put it mildly, respectable in shape, with batons tied to shaking on their large loin parts of the body, accompanied by a motorcade of special forces, a convoy and even a dog handler with a huge dog without a muzzle, the unfortunate people walk along the corridor. Why “this show”? Why this dog that constantly barks? Apart from thoughts about deliberate intimidation and humiliation of girls, no thoughts come to mind. And the fact that they still hold on and joke is absolutely natural. This is the only way not to go crazy in this rude madness. By the way, these same dogs have already become the talk of the town here. The moral suffering of the victims was apparently so great that it was passed on to the first dog. At the end of the meeting, she could not stand it and vomited on the floor of the meeting room. She was urgently “hospitalized.”

The second one “understood something about the accusatory bias of the investigation.” She continuously barked at the prosecutor. And to spare the prosecution from animal criticism, the second Baskerville dog was also taken away. And now, finally, they have found the most suitable one, which can sense from a distance those who undermine the “centuries-old spiritual foundations of Russian statehood.” This one barks only at the accused and lawyers as soon as they try to contradict Judge Syrova or the prosecution. "The right dog." Perhaps over time he will be some kind of “plenipotentiary representative”)))

Lie. The whole atmosphere of the court case is saturated with it. Even without being present in the hall (we have no right as witnesses who have not yet been interrogated), you can literally feel it physically. Thursday. Violeta Volkova finds Judge Syrova having a sweet and intimate conversation with the prosecution. Immediately denouncing the judge and demanding her recusal. Syrova “with a blue eye: “I am not me and the horse is not mine.” Friday. Let's go out for some air. The list of 17 defense witnesses seems to have been approved (“Glory to Putin?!”). Everyone is allowed into the court premises, incl. some of the defense witnesses. Ulitskaya and I are the last to go. On the turntable is a stop list, which turned into a list of witnesses issued to the bailiffs by the defense itself. The bailiffs are for us. You are witnesses. You will be called. One at a time. Wait here or outside. We are waiting. The vice-rector of the university will go first, then someone else, then Ulitskaya, then somewhere sixth or eighth, I hope, me. The first witness is led away by Polozov. Suddenly it turns out that the list of priority for the release of witnesses has turned into a list of those who are prohibited from being allowed through the checkpoint at all. At this time, in the courtroom, as we learn, there is a scandal. The judge violated the Code of Criminal Procedure. Witnesses in the courthouse. They must be questioned. ALL. Syrova: so they are not indoors. Volkova: So the bailiffs won’t let them in. Syrova: I don’t command the bailiffs. We are standing below. Suddenly it dawns on the bailiffs that, standing at the turntable, we are, after all, in the courthouse. And Syrova's version doesn't work. He orders us all to be driven outside and the door closed so that we, defense witnesses, are physically outside the walls of the courthouse. At this time, the bailiff on duty confesses to Volkova on video that he received the order not to allow witnesses into the courthouse PERSONALLY from Judge Syrova. Navalny appears in the yard. There is a stir among the journalists on the street. We are still allowed to the “turntable”, but no further. Lawyer Nikolai Polozov unsuccessfully tries to get Navalny inside the court. I joke: “Alexey, when will you restore order in the country?” Navalny also jokes gloomily: “Next week.” Suddenly Violeta flies out, makes signs to me and literally by force, with her hands, tries to drag me through the special forces into the court. Shouts: “This is my witness. He's on the list. You are breaking the law." Doesn't work. The atmosphere is tense to the limit. A little more and, it seems, a brawl between lawyers and bailiffs will break out. I intuitively feel that something extraordinary needs to be done. I shout to the senior bailiff: “I am from the Russian Orthodox Church. You've fooled everything here. Do you want problems with the Church? You will get them! It's strange, but this is exactly what works. The bailiff is confused. “Oh, you’re from the Church.” They let me in. A little later, all the witnesses are released. Including Navalny. But we will soon find out that we are no longer witnesses. Of the 17 witnesses, Syrova left only three. Special forces in black want to drive us out into the street. You are not witnesses. Me: wait, if we are not witnesses, then we are ordinary visitors to the court and have the right to be here. Special forces: but the working day is over. Me: How did it end? The process is still ongoing. Special Forces: But you won't get there. What are you going to do here on the thresholds? Me: Let's stay on the steps and pray for the girls. Do you want problems with the Russian Church? It’s strange, but this is the second time the reminder about the Church has worked. They leave us alone. The witnesses are gradually leaving. I go out into the courtyard and hold an impromptu press conference. I say everything I wanted to say in court and even more. I give interviews to anyone who wants. I'm no longer a witness. Hours of communication with activists. People thank me for coming to court. And the constant question: “Why didn’t any of the priests come to simply remind us of forgiveness and love?” I don’t have an answer to this question.
(to be continued).