I killed the abuser husband

I started relations with the prince on a white horse. But everything has changed quickly

Muscovite Olga Simonova believed that she was married to a "prince on a white horse." She took care of him, spared him and gave birth to a child. And then she killed him. How this happened and what happened next, Olga told the “cold”.

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This photo was taken in January 2011, when, after the next beating, I and my son hid from my husband in Pskov. Three months before, we celebrated my husband’s birthday in Italy, arrived in their car and stopped in a small town near Lechch. In the morning after his birthday, the husband came home drunk and evil. He began to scream at me and accuse me of closing the bars in the morning. Despite the fact that I held our son in the arms of our son, he hit me with a fist in the nose, so I felt the taste of blood in my mouth.

I waited until he calmed down, put on dark glasses so that he did not see that I was crying and was scared, put him in the car and took him to the lechch. There she rented a room in the hotel, waited for him to fall asleep, left him Simka and drove the car to the north of Poland to get into Helsinki on a ferry and pass the border as soon as possible. I did not know how my husband would act, but I knew that he could again put me on the federal wanted list for taking the child (as he had already done earlier), and therefore was in a hurry to cross the border.

Once in Russia, I decided to go to Pskov, a small city, where, I thought, he would not find me. Hiding from him in Moscow was an empty venture, as well as to go to St. Petersburg. There I was already hiding from him, and he found me.

I changed the phone number, did not get in touch with my husband and stopped being afraid that he would find us. I was sure that this time I would be able to start a new life - I was looking for work in a new place and a kindergarten to my son. On the New Year holidays, my mother came to us from Saratov, and we went for a walk in the Pushkin Mountains. I did not know that my husband calculated our address at the tracking sensor installed in our car, and came to Pskov while we were photographed in Pushkino.

At that time, he did not wait for us and went back to Moscow, but returned the next day with flowers and sleds for his son. I saw him from the window of a rented apartment and froze with fear. At that moment my hands dropped. I realized that, no matter how I tried to run away and break away from him, he would return me anyway.

Over the next two months, he came to us every week: he asked for forgiveness, he said that this would not happen again. Once again he talked about his complex childhood, reminded me how it was like I myself was growing without a father. He said that he wanted to be next to his son. And once again I believed.

I returned, and after eight months, what happened forever changed my life. I killed my husband.

Everything is fast and easy

At 18, I began to play on the stock exchange and, as they say, got into the stream. By the age of 20, I moved from Saratov to Moscow, bought a car and an apartment. Then in the 2000s, like many, I had the feeling that everything depends only on me. I am capable and cool, and everything will turn out for me exactly as it should.

Mom at the same time, no matter how cool my career develops, she always asked me when I get married. Women in our family very early got married and gave birth to children, and at 22 years old I already felt that "the hours were ticking." I got up early, went to work, went in for sports - and I really liked such a life. But in the subcortex, the realization that I was 22, and I was still not married, and quietly lifted me up.

Therefore, when Alexei, whom we met in a nightclub, invited me to marry him in the third month of our relationship, I immediately agreed. Such a rapid development of events was quite filed in a stereotypical picture: he is a prince on a white horse, I am a smart girl who has a career, that the family is quickly and easily.

Alexey made a very strong impression on me. In the evening of our acquaintance, he said that I have an unmary dress: they say, all the girls wear a short one and in a blazing, and mine looks like a bag of potatoes. It clung to me, but not so. I was not offended, but I thought: "It's great that a person is sincere with me, funny." I liked it, and we began to communicate. Could discuss books for hours long. He told me that he did not drink, works as a lawyer, speaks English and Spanish, that he was twice, as he said then, "successfully married."

The fact that he was older than me was 36 at the time of our meeting, and I was 22 - like the fact that he had children, I did not scare me. On the contrary, I rejoiced, thought, a person was walking, seriously configured, ready to create a family, loves children, knows how to find a common language with them. I planned our life together with great optimism, I was glad to dissolve in these relations.

In our family, a respectful attitude towards men was caught in our family, and I did not have to ask me to engage in economics, take care of my husband, spend all my time with him. I did it all voluntarily and did not feel any discomfort. Moreover, at first I had the feeling that everything that happens to me is considered to be my opinion not because my husband makes, but because I want it so.

It was not Alexey that made me refuse to communicate with other people, I did not want to meet anyone; He did not force me to show him my correspondence and profile in social networks, but just I trusted him and did not put the password on the phone.

Violence with us was not considered something forbidden

Three or four days after the wedding, he first hit me. Then I collected things and wanted to leave, but my mother returned me, saying: "The first time it is not considered, if it beats, it means loves." Her father was beaten, grandfather beat her grandmother, so in our family violence was not considered something forbidden. So when Alexey hit me, it did not seem something out of the ordinary. I should listen to his apologies, the screams under the windows did not have to: as if I knew in advance that I would remain in the end. And stayed.

After that, he had not beat me for a long time. Instead, he told me a lot about his unhappy childhood. Father left them with their mother when Alexei was very small, his mother washed down, there was nothing to eat at home, and he early took on the role of the breadwinner. I climbed the rubble, I was looking for glass bottles, I bought potatoes for their delivery. He stole the products, for which he was brought to the children's room of the police. There he became friends with a policeman who fed him boiled beets.

He also often talked about how his previous wife cheated on him. These stories in me developed a rescuer complex. I really appreciated that he shared his experiences with me, and wanted to surround him with care, to make him no longer bad.

At some point, I, however, began to understand that no matter how hard I try, it does not work out for me. Nothing radically changed in our life, but I began to notice that the nature of our relationship had changed. The energy, the time that I invested in us, my husband ceased to appreciate and began to demand for granted.

Everything became very bad when the children of Alexei from the previous marriage submitted an application to custody (I don’t know how exactly they did it, I believe that with the help of their mother), in which they said that Alexey was a complex, inadequate and aggressive person and they no longer want to communicate with him. Then Alexei began to try to sue them from their mother and began to drink a lot . So much that I had to call a team of droppers to the house more than once.

I only gave birth to then, and I had to not only take care of my son and manage to combine motherhood with work, but also listen to the nights long, as my husband complains that his mother did not love him, that the children refused him, at work everything threw and betrayed.

The pain returned me to reality

At the same time, my husband also often accused me of betrayal. After the birth of my son, I quickly came into shape and lost weight. Alexei did not suit it. My appearance did not correspond to his idea of ​​how the woman who had just gave way to look, and he often arranged drunken thrashes to me. He said that I lost weight for the sake of a lover, in a fit of jealousy to swing or painfully pushing me.

Once in 2010, Alexei, while not the first day drunk, burst into the nursery and became painful and hit my hands hard. I stood by the crib in which my son was sleeping, and silently suffered beatings. It was as if it was paralyzed. Previously, Alexei had never beat me like that: he could come and hit, push, wave his fists, shout and leave, but never inflicted so many blows in a row.

It was very painful and scary. But physical pain seemed to return me to reality, and I had to admit to myself that what is happening to me is not normal . The next day I arrived at the emergency room, said that my husband was beating me. The section was examined without much participation and examined the male doctor, wrote out a certificate, said to take it to the police. In the police, I put a certificate in the window behind bars. A man in uniform studied her and said to wait for consideration.

All this time in the police department, I did not leave the feeling that this is a meaningless occupation - to ask men in the form of protection from another man.

The doctor and policeman looked at me like an alien. Apparently, they are used to the fact that if they offend them , they can give back or, if the enemy is stronger, leave.

When I realized that the police were unlikely to help me, I went with my son to my mother in Saratov. Just a couple of days after our departure, my husband began to come there.

He brought me my favorite flowers, asked how we are doing. It was unbearable to see him, so I left my son to my mother and moved to St. Petersburg to look for a rented apartment next to the kindergarten and work. She sat there in a rented apartment and tried to lean out less: with the help of my acquaintances, he ensured that I was quite quickly put on the federal wanted list for taking the child.

Then I first called him, asked not to put me sticks in the wheels, because I would still leave him. In response, instead of threats, he said that he would commit suicide if I did not return. He said that he had already drawn up a testament. I was scared that it might not be bluff, took my son from my mother and returned with him to Moscow. And she took a statement about beating from the police.

At all costs save the family

Instead of saying: “No, it’s impossible with me, you behave incorrectly”, I returned and tried to prove to him that I was good, obedient and do not deserve such an attitude. Also an important factor was a child for me: I did not want him, like me, to grow without a father. My dad went missing when I was eight years old, and I really lacked him very much. I thought that the boy would hit the boy even more.

A few months after my return, my husband and I were fine. He assured me that he began life from scratch, and really quit drinking and began to be interested in the child, went for a walk with us to the playground. But this serene period did not last long.

On his birthday, Alexey broke, got drunk and hit me again. I went on the run again. This time in Pskov - it is then that the photo was taken at the beginning of this text.

Then everyone in our environment knew what was happening - even his half -sister and ex -wives (civil and official). My mother was very worried about me, hid from my husband when I asked her about it, but her position remained unchanged: she still stood on what it was important to save the family at all costs. My sister, with whom we always had a very close relationship, said that what my husband does with me was unacceptable, but left the right to choose for me. She was seven years younger than me and looked at the question of domestic violence in a completely different way than I then. She always said that it would not end in anything good.

And was right. Alexey, being drunk, rushed at me with fists as soon as I returned from Pskov. He said that I am running from him to different cities not because I feel bad at home, but because I have lovers there. I went to my mother in Saratov, Alexei went after me. He rented an apartment on a neighboring street and how to go to work at the entrance of my mother’s house. He stood there for hours in ankle in a puddle, like a monument of unshakability. At first he persuaded, using the arguments familiar to me about “I will correct” and the non -prosecutor. Then direct threats were used: Alexei threatened me that he would throw me a bag of drugs in a junk car, they would put me down and I will never see my son again.

These threats did not sound groundlessly: Alexei really had connections in the police. I was scared and went back to Moscow, deciding that I would no longer run away. I am tired of existing inside a closed circle: when I return, he beats me again-I run again and take a three-year-old child back and forth. It was difficult to endure this not only physically, but also emotionally. Because every time I gained hope that I got out, as soon as I thought that all the most difficult behind, he overtook us again, and all these dreams of normal life collapsed.

I knew that Alexei had another girl and he rented her an apartment near our house. I decided that I would just wait until he leaves for her and leaves me and my son alone. I thought that the sooner I would stop playing with him in the catch -ups and upgrade his hunting instinct, the sooner this will happen.

I think I killed my husband

In November 2011, our son was diagnosed with easy autism. The husband said that the son grew up as an autistic, I was to blame because I deprived the child of normal childhood: I dragged him in different cities in search of relations on the side. As a result, Alexei went into a binge so that I did not see him either day or night. I just called from different police departments. As it turned out, the husband first lost his wallet of a taxi and accused the taxi driver of his theft, and then arranged a drunken fight by the metro, for which he was taken for the night in the HYSD. The taxi driver then showed the video to the investigator, from which it was clear that he had not stolen anything, and Alexei wanted to ask why he gave false testimonies. I was asked to call back as soon as my husband appeared home.

So I did, and behind my husband in the morning, when he returned home, the police arrived. True, after just a few hours he was released from the department. He was again at home and began to show me for handing it to the garbage. Allegedly, I did this to tighten with an investigator whom I did not even see in the face.

Alexey began to demand that I write to him a receipt that she cheated on him. Naturally, I did not want to do this, but he insisted, shouted and waved his hands. Then I sat down and wrote to him this receipt, thinking that he would lag behind me. But he only furious even more, began to scream terribly at me, run after me around the apartment.

I wanted to run away from him to the kitchen, take a large pistor in the form of a baseball bat located there. I did not think to beat her, just hoped that he would see her in my hands and would not get closer to me. But I did not have time to take the pistor, in the kitchen he caught up with me, began to beat and strangle me. I picked up a thick cutting board and began to brush it off from it, hit it several times. But how many strokes I inflicted, I don’t remember exactly how I don’t remember how long I waved her. No matter how much I try to restore the events of that evening in my memory, I never managed to collect a common picture bit by bit.

I only remember fragments. How surprised that the board split and I had a board in each hand. As I thought that I still had to run to the poll, but I couldn’t do this, because my husband continued to wave his arms, beat me and scream. I remember how surprised when I felt that the knife entered somewhere like butter. Like a knife with Fariy later, a bloody foam drained from him, how she put him back in a knife rack.

It seems that I did not understand that she had wounded her husband, killed him. I moved the child from the bedroom to the far room with the thought that he will be further from his father, when he wakes up in the kitchen drunk and will yell. I had no doubt that my husband would wake up the next morning. I specifically brought and threw a pillow and a blanket to the floor so that he would not complain that I did not think about him, did not take him to the bed.

I had bad forebodings only when it was already dawn. The husband drank a lot the day before, but never got up and did not go to the toilet overnight. It seemed strange to me, but I did not have enough courage to open the door to the kitchen. I was in some kind of stupor, on the autopilot I called my sister, asked her to sit on the nearest flight to Moscow, because I understood that it would be necessary to call the police, but I did not want to stay alone with them.

I realized that my sister would not get to me quickly, and called the lawyer who worked in my company, asked me to come. I remember then I first looked at my watch - I waited 10 in the morning, the start of the working day to call him.

When he arrived, he asked me half -heard: "Olga Gennadievna, and why are you so pale, who died?" I asked him if he would be coffee, after which she said: “I think I killed my husband.” He said that it was worth calling the police. I went and called, and after a few minutes I was already interrogated by police.

I was confused and immediately began to tell the police how everything was, I remember from yesterday, without waiting for a lawyer. Then much of what I said was used in court against me. Меня спрашивали: «Логично же, что раз вы помните, как поставили нож обратно в подставку, то вы его оттуда и взяли?» Я отвечала, что логично, да. А говорить этого мне, как выяснилось потом, не стоило, потому что я не помнила, как брала нож.

Киборг-убийца

Все время до суда я провела в СИЗО. Моя мама предлагала большую сумму, чтобы меня выпустили под залог, но следователь не стал меня отпускать: он счел звонок сестре попыткой скрыться с места преступления. В итоге меня приговорили к шести годам колонии по 1 части 105 статьи. Моим адвокатам не удалось доказать, что я убила мужа, превысив самооборону, — мне вменили умышленное убийство на почве неприязненных личных отношений.

Это сейчас я знаю, что из-за отсутствия закона о домашнем насилии в нашей стране большинство женщин, которые убивают партнеров из самозащиты, сажают за преднамеренное убийство. Тогда я этого не знала, и верила, что следователь, как женщина, обязательно меня выслушает, во всем разберется, поймет, что я только защищалась и не хотела никого убивать.

Если бы на меня накинулся посторонний человек и я бы защищалась от него, это бы квалифицировали как убийство из превышения пределов самообороны. Но поскольку я защищалась от мужа, обутого в домашние тапочки, произошедшее сочли убийством на фоне неприязненных личных отношений. Я сразу в глазах государства из слабой женщины, которая приходила за помощью от домашнего насилия и была проигнорирована в милицейском участке, превратилась в киборга-убийцу, которой не понравилось, как муж чихнул, и она его убила.

Неважно, что соседи свидетельствовали, что слышали мои крики через стену, что сводная сестра и бывшие жены Алексея поначалу говорили, что нередко видели меня с синяками. Потом они, правда, изменили свои показания и стали рассказывать, что это я Алексея спаивала, а он всегда был отличным братом, мужем и отцом. Я полагаю, что сделали они это, потому что им адвокаты разъяснили, что, если меня осудят по 105 статье, я не смогу претендовать на наследство Алексея. Так что они не просто так меня оклеветали, а постарались ради своих детей, чтобы им больше досталось.

Я просила отсрочить наказание, пока сыну не исполнится 14 лет. Для любого ребенка важна мать, а для детей с аутизмом мама часто является единственным проводником во внешнюю жизнь, их особенно важно не разлучать со значимым взрослым. Но мне в этом было отказано, поэтому я отправилась в колонию, а моя сестра оформила опеку над сыном.

Вторую часть истории Ольги Симоновой, в которой она проходит через тюремный опыт, возвращается к нормальной жизни и начинает стендап-карьеру, читайте тут .