They will say something about potatoes

On October 19, 2015, the Ryazan District Court of the Ryazan Region granted a petition for the parole Alexei Polikhovich, convicted of riots, allegedly taking place on Bolotnaya Square on May 6, 2012. After 10 days, he was released, having served in prison for three years and three months from 3.5 years. Most of this time Polikhovich was in the Moscow pre-trial detention center, and then was sent to the IK-6 of the Ryazan region, where other defendants in the “swamp business” Andrei Barabanov, Artem Savelov and Alexander Margolin also served his sentence. The colony administration submitted documents to the court, which spoke about the inappropriateness of the release of the convict ahead of schedule and that Polikhovich did not repent and did not realize the “social danger” of his actions. Work in the sewing production, regular rewards and sustainable social ties at large, according to the colony, was not enough. In February 2015, the court refused Polikhovich to Udo, and shortly before the consideration of a new application, the concluded was reprimanded for “the absence of industrial zones in the dining room during lunch” - the colony clearly did not want to let him go. And only the efforts of human rights defenders, in particular, Ella Pamfilova, who at that moment was the Commissioner for Human Rights in the Russian Federation, allowed the "Prisoner of Bolotnaya" to be released on October 30. OVD-Info publishes the story of Alexei Polikhovich about the colony, parole and potatoes.

In short, they brought us potatoes. More precisely, they were brought by trucks and trucks for several months. A whole huge workshop was littered with mountains of potatoes. Zekov caught up with her to sort out. Naturally, she was mercilessly fucked. Naturally, the administration promised Egyptian executions to those who come across. The potato was everywhere. It was cooked in plastic containers, connecting boiling water to the network, from which sewing machines worked. It was fried on home-made pans and tiles in the back rooms, skirmers (places where you can hide (from the naval jargon) -OVD-info ), in warehouses and everywhere-VEST in the industrial zone, where a prisoner from the garbage gaze could hide. She was carried into a vein (residential zone- OVD-info ) to cook in relative comfort and security in the evening. Fried potatoes in a colony, where there is practically no fried, is a dream. In addition, it was an act of struggle bringing you closer to the history of the resistance of the Russian prison.

So. At first I did it carefully. In a group of persons by prior conspiracy. Then for some time they cooked potatoes directly in the industrial, without taking it to the vein through the shmon. It was necessary not to take out at the end of the work, when they usually search everyone, and when you were called, for example, to pick up newspapers, or a letter, or to the headquarters, at the wrong time there was a chance to slip through the deserted parade ground past the on duty. Well, I carried it. Black packet of red potatoes. I measured time for a long time, calculated the path. As a result, right at the gate of the industrial zone came across security guards who went to the industrial of someone to take phones. Safetyrs are those who are just responsible for all sorts of prohibitions and shmons. Well, of course, I attracted their attention-with a package, to the eyeballs stuffed with potatoes. They called, the package was taken away, the surname was recorded.

This was a week and a half before the first meeting (which was then postponed). And on the 19th, I was waiting for the administration when the administration would begin to talk about potatoes and how this act characterizes me-from the negative side, of course. I thought: here is a pancake, fly with parole because of a package of potatoes. That is, they will refuse, for sure, they will say something about potatoes. And then the media will write this in the headlines. Not that I would be ashamed for it. It was funny and somewhat embarrassed, like this life of mine - not heroic, not prison, not historical, but quite normal (for prison) - with one long jump over the package of potatoes overcame, overcame and replaced the image of me as a sufferer. But there were no potatoes. There was a stupid invented act with Sasha (Margolin- OTD-info ), which the prosecutor canceled right in court. There were old acts closed with incentives and time. And there were no potatoes. And they sent me home.

PS In the photo I and 6 riot police are trying to help the dude in a green T -shirt, which suddenly became ill. May 6, 2012.