August 18

An hour ago they picked me up at the exit from the special detention center, and now I was taken to the Troitsk police department. The duty officer meticulously formalizes the detention before sending me to a cell for two days until trial.

“So... Laces, phone, Troika card,” he lays out the contents of my pockets on the table. - Look like that's it?"

The convoy points in the direction of the camera.

“Stop, stop,” the operative observing the process intervenes. - What about the belt ? You forgot your belt."

And they really forgot. It’s bad without a belt, but there’s nothing to do: I obey. The duty officer notices my dissatisfaction.

“Those are the rules,” he grins. “What if you want to hang yourself on the bars?”

“It’s unlikely,” I get irritated. “You won’t wait.”

At the exit from the special detention center, he was again detained by soldiers of the 2nd operational regiment pic.twitter.com/zjTo1hHVLx

— Ilya Yashin (@IlyaYashin) August 18, 2019

At these words, the senior officer, who had arrived from Glavka for control, perked up. A big bald guy.

“You are wrong here, Ilya Valerievich,” he shook his head. - We are not interested at all. Can you imagine how many papers we will have to write if something happens to you here?”

“You’re just like Putin,” I say. - Remember how he proved his non-involvement in the murder of Politkovskaya? Like, she caused him more problems dead than alive.”

The officer straightened his shoulders proudly.

"Heard? - He nodded to the duty officer. “I’m like Putin!”

August 24

Yesterday I was escorted to the Moscow City Court beautifully. Five policemen, led by a major, handcuffed on both hands, and in the paddy wagon - a dog handler with a dog. Such a seasoned shepherd with smart eyes.

We are shaking on the way to the meeting.

“Why a dog ? - I ask. — Are we going to look for drugs? Or weapons?

“No,” explains the dog handler. - This is a guard dog. Trained to catch fugitives.”

I look at the senior officer with bewilderment. He seems to be embarrassed himself.

“Well, what about me ? - spreads his hands. “The authorities believe that you are prone to escape and are demanding stronger measures.” And right now I’d rather sit at home on the couch.”

This is what I want to say.

Dear police authorities! Have you lost your mind there? What other escape? It's a lot of honor to run from you.

And in the paddy wagon it’s stuffy, by the way, and the dog is suffering. Stop abusing animals.

August 28

“Apparently, see you later,” the officer on duty returns my personal belongings, looking out the window. A paddy wagon is already waiting there, and several policemen are shifting from foot to foot.

I'm going to the exit.

“Don’t rush,” the head of the special detention center stands at the door.

We look at each other.

“What’s the matter ?” - I ask.

“You’re released at 2:20 p.m., right?” - he clarifies. I nod.

The boss shows the clock: 14:18.

We wait.

***

On the threshold are soldiers in black uniforms of the 2nd operational regiment of the Ministry of Internal Affairs. The elder cheerfully reports that I was detained for calling for a rally, and for some reason he smiles all the time. I film his performance and publish it on social networks.

An hour later we are already at the police department, and the same fighter, in his own way, sits down next to me on the chair.

“I read your Facebook,” he says. “Well, where did you put me out?”

"And How? Liked?"

“What do you like there? I just smiled, and there he was. And they really insult me."

I look at him with interest: it looks like he’s really worried.

"Got upset?" - I ask.

“Damn it, if you don’t smile, it’s bad, if you smile, it’s bad again,” the fighter complains. — Have you seen American films? The police there smile all the time, no one insults them. And I smiled, and away we go: the animal is smiling...”

"Don't be sad, Sergeant."

And again, at the exit from the special detention center, I was detained by police officers. Apparently, there will be a fifth administrative arrest in a row. pic.twitter.com/zSxxjaCUCf

— Ilya Yashin (@IlyaYashin) August 28, 2019

The charming captain Maria at the Tverskoye police station introduces me to the case materials. I read the report: “The crowd shouted “Putin...!” and did not obey the police.

“What kind of slogan is this? — I’ll clarify. “Putin and the dots.”

“Well, they seemed to be shouting that Putin is a thief. It was simply missed,” Masha is embarrassed.

“So let me finish writing,” I take the pen.

Maria grabs the paper.

“You can’t, what are you talking about!”

***

“You’re itching, Ilya,” the operative shakes his head at the door of the bullpen where I will spend the night.

"In terms of?"

“Well, I would have served my time quietly and walked free.”

“Am I sitting restlessly?”

“What, calm? about the elections I wrote something communist , I got involved with some , who had to be removed after that...”

Opens the cell door.

“It’s like you really like to anger your bosses,” the operator frowns.

Honestly, yes: I like it.

***

The cell is tiny: no windows, no bed. You feel like you're in a stone bag. But the inscription “Ingush strength!” is proudly displayed on the wall.

“Are you completely stupid?!” the duty officer yells behind the door. Someone answers him, confusing Russian and, it seems, Uzbek words.

“And I’m telling you again,” the officer freaks out. “Until you pay the fine, you will sit in a cage.”

"No money, commander..."

“Hold the phone. Call your fellow countrymen. Shegelme-begelme , your mother."

***

As night approaches, they start knocking on the door in the next cell. They ask for food: “We haven’t eaten for two days...” The duty officer yells that this is not a restaurant, be patient.

About 20 minutes later he comes to me and asks me to sign for the mattress. I ask about the neighbors.

“Yes, there are three Kyrgyz sitting there, don’t pay attention,” the policeman waves him off. “I gave them biscuits from the dry ration, so they won’t die of hunger.”

I have three bags of food from supporters in my cell: far more than I can eat. I’m collecting water, bread, cold cuts - please pass them on. The duty officer reluctantly agrees.

“From the heart, brother! From the heart!” - the Kyrgyz shout over the wall. After dinner, they begin to sing. At first, the department employees get angry and bang on the door to make them shut up; but in the end they reconciled.

The Kyrgyz sing with soul.

***

“But you still didn’t remember me, did you?” - Captain Masha smiled in the morning, escorting me to court. She says that she processed me in 2010 after an opposition rally. I also know Navalny and Udaltsov.

“Since then I’ve already given birth to two,” says Masha and strokes her belly. “I’m waiting for the third.”

Life is everywhere.

4 September

Usually I was taken to the appeal to the Moscow City Court by a paddy wagon. It’s uncomfortable: you have to sit on a wooden bench, and every bump feels like a blow to your back.

On Tuesday they sent a car with a flashing light and a couple of intelligent guards. Very polite guys.

“Ilya, there is still time before the trial,” said one of them. “Do you mind if we help out a colleague along the way?”

A colleague turned out to be a warrant officer whose car had broken down. It was necessary to grab him from a car service center and drop him off at the police department on the way to the meeting.

“Hello, I’m Zhenya,” the ensign greeted me, settling into the front seat. “I watched your videos on YouTube.”

"And what do you think?" - I’m interested.

"Positively! - Zhenya approved. — I don’t approve of Sobyanin either. You and I are... how can I say ?... fellow soldiers!”

“Maybe then I’ll give you my bunk in the special detention center, fellow soldier?”

Neighing. The ensign turned out to be sociable. He looks about fifty years old, has a potato nose, wrinkles and Ray Ban sunglasses, creating a strange contrast with his police uniform.

“Okay, now Putin will leave,” he played his trump card. - And who then?

We discussed Navalny. The warrant officer sympathizes with him and watches the investigation. But he is afraid: what if this is the new Yeltsin? He, they say, was also a democrat at the beginning and rode the tram, and then “that’s how it all turned out.”

“I know everything, for whom? - speaks. - For Grudinin! But he disappeared somewhere after the elections..."

I briefly described to him where exactly after the elections all these candidates go, and said that what is more important is not who replaces Putin, but what.

“The main thing is control over the president and turnover,” I explain. - You can put anyone in this place, even Grudinin, even you. Anyone without control will turn into Putin. Understand?"

Zhenya scratched his chin thoughtfully. At that moment, the car abruptly changed lanes into the bus lane and, turning on the siren, rushed forward. The ensign's police cap flew off his head.

“Kostya, for fuck’s sake, let’s go without the second cosmic speed,” he cursed at the driver. He snapped back without malice: they’re done with their politics.

“Well, how do you knock them off ? - Evgeniy turned to me again. - Well, Sechin is the same. there There's some money . So they will disperse you and close you down.”

“You’re a cop yourself,” I say. - So tell me, how much can you accelerate? Well, ten thousand, right? Well fifty? And if the people are finally fed up and a million come out, will it be possible to disperse them?”

“Hardly a million,” agreed the ensign. “But by then, I hope, I will already be retired.”

The car stopped not far from the police department.

“When you come to power, don’t forget about the police ,” Zhenya said, pulling on his cap.

“Well, of course,” I answer. “The police don’t remember much about us.” So we won’t forget either.”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Especially about the operational regiment and riot police.”

The ensign went out into the street and walked briskly in his ridiculous Ray Ban glasses.

Soulful guy.