"The most terrible day in my life": how Tatyana Puchkova was moved from a two-room flat to a two-room flat

News
"The most terrible day in my life": how Tatyana Puchkova was moved from a two-room flat to a two-room flat
"The most terrible day in my life": how Tatyana Puchkova was moved from a two-room flat to a two-room flat
14 April, 13:52City
As a result of the forcible resettlement, a Muscovite Tatyana Puchkova lost her two-room apartment in a brick house at 48 Ryazansky Prospekt, and was forcibly expelled to an unusable "kopeck piece" in a new building on the street.

Academician Skryabin, 8 and at the same time suffered property losses in the amount of more than a million rubles.

Lyudmila Butuzova

Татьяна Пучкова после переезда

Some of her belongings were hopelessly spoiled during the forced deportation, some, including the old Weienboch piano, stolen, cabinets and other heavy furniture remained at the mercy of homeless people.

It happens in the 126th block Ryazan district of the capital, sold back in 2006 TEN corporation under the reconstruction program. There are nine strong brick five-story buildings, which will stand for another hundred years, are doomed to be demolished. Residents, like serfs, are forcibly settled in new skyscrapers. To date, five houses have been fully or half vacated. Tatyana Puchkova has lived alone in house no. 48 for the last 6 months. The woman told Novye Izvestia how, with the help of the law, she was smoked out of her own apartment and how she was robbed in full view of the bailiffs, the council, representatives of the heating element, DGI and Housing.

ЭApril 2 will remain a terrible day in my life. In the morning I still woke up in my apartment, in which I had lived all my life, from birth, by the evening there were only fragments of it. And no one even asked: "Tanya, where are you going to spend the night?", - says Puchkova.

There is nowhere, gentlemen, to sleep or wash. In that apartment on Skryabin, 8, which I was given to "improve my living conditions", there is knee-deep dirt, windows do not close, cracks on the walls, there is no water and - sorry, a toilet bowl full of feces left over from workers who used this an apartment for a change house. I even think that this is a kind of revenge on the part of the TEN corporation: I didn't want to move, I was suing - get it! The council's lawyer Alexander, the only one of the entire team of evictions, who accompanied me to my “new place of residence”, looked around the apartment and did not find any censorship words. I didn't have any at all, all day I was in deep stress from what happened.

The day before, on April 1, the bailiff Andrey Filatov called me: “Tomorrow I will be in your area, we will go to the apartment on Skryabin Street, see the renovation, and let’s get ready quietly.” The renovation in the "new" apartment has been going on since October 2, 2020, more precisely, since October 2018, when the Kuzminsky District Court, on the claims of the heating element, began to make decisions on the forced relocation of residents of brick five-story buildings to a new panel building. Several owners, including myself, protested the decision in the Moscow City Court.

It turned out that the developer had no right to evict forcibly, only by exchange agreement. But who willingly would agree to change the awl for soap! The resettlement has stalled. TEN suffered losses, the mayor's office came to his rescue. The city property department grabbed hold of us and the court cases went on the second round.

We have lost all courts, appeals and cassations on the claims of the DGI. By October last year, the decision on the forced eviction had come into legal force. I was left alone against this whole car - heating element, city hall, bailiffs. Not only did they take away a good apartment from me, they also, hiding behind the law, wanted to punish me by putting me in a natural homeless man. Wherever they did not apply to resolve their housing issues - the prefecture, the prosecutor's office, deputies of the State Duma of the Russian Federation, the presidential administration, the answers come as a blueprint - "not in our competence". There were about twenty kilograms of unsubscriptions, and all to the delight of my persecutors.

They populated with terrible force. I stood my ground: until you repair and put the apartment on Scriabin in order, I will not go anywhere. In October last year, a commission was finally assembled, an act on the sanitary-technical condition of the apartment was drawn up. Remarks - 2 pages in small handwriting. We agreed this way: after the elimination of the imperfections and the act on the performance of work, I enter. Yes, I already had nowhere to go. How long can you withstand alone in an empty house, even if it's scary to enter the entrance?

With the onset of darkness and until the morning, stairwells become a haven for homeless people and drug addicts - scraps and syringes, even with the Vedas, rake out. The police are reluctant to come - building 48, 50 and 52 on Ryazansky Prospect are already considered "resettled", empty apartments belong to TEN, and he does not complain about homeless people. The batteries in the apartments are cut off, the taps are torn off - there is a flood in the entrance, then a short circuit.

A month, two, three months pass - nothing is done in the apartment on Skryabin Street. As much as I was not disgusted, but I myself began to seek repairs in this hated apartment. I have addressed the head of the department, Andrey Kiselev, countless times. He told me: "Don't worry, I have everything under control." Controlled for six months... I went to work to the head of the municipal district Anatoly Evseyev. They are already throwing me out of the apartment, and he complains to me: “What do you want? I'm a pathetic deputy. I have no powers... The law is on their side. " Under Anatoly Dmitrievich, when he was the head of the council, in our area they got confused with the heating element, general director Romanov was dragged into deputies. There was enough authority for this, there was no longer any oversight of repairs in the ill-fated Tenovska apartment.

Now I think that no one was going to do this repair. They just had to seize my apartment, leave me on the street, and then out of hopelessness and "according to the law" I will accept his filthy "gift" from the heating element. The operation was played out like clockwork, and even the bailiff Andrei Filatov acted not in his usual "frightening" role, but as a consultant for repairs in the apartment on Skryabin. I warned that there was no repair there and had not started. He told me: “I just called DGI, they said that everything was long done. Let's see!" This was my first mistake - to agree with the bailiff, who, in principle, works exactly against me.

In the morning, long before the appointment, I left the entrance. And they are all already here - bailiffs, DGI, administration, heating element, Zhilishnik, a welder with an apparatus and a Gazelle with loaders. "Don't worry, go up to the act and we will immediately go to inspect the apartment on Scriabin Street." And again I believed ... I go up to my apartment, a second has not passed, -human screams and thunder at the door - “Open immediately! Forced eviction! " Did they sneak after me, or what? I have a musical ear, but the steps behind my back could not be heard. I open it. The bailiff tears the door on himself and their whole campaign - 10 people - bursts into the apartment.

Further as in a fog. I am alone, completely helpless against this gang of raiders.

Who of them who - did not introduce themselves, everyone rushes about, grabs whatever comes under the arm and throws them into black bags. They brought a whole bale with them. I see with horror that my father's old books - I collected all my life - are flying into one bag with street shoes. Shoes, by the way, remained in the bag, but not a single book. Bohemian vases last seen out of the corner of my eye before they were taken away somewhere. I didn't notice where the Tefal set of dishes went, out of five I got one pan.

Some people joke around in the mezzanine, there are many antiques and household supplies. But I have to keep an eye on the room where the sofa is being dismembered and something heavy is being thrown on the piano. The mahogany lid groans and cracks. I myself almost cry, the instrument is a hundred years old, such barbarism has never happened to it. Father's plates fall from the mezzanine. "I will take?" asks the lawyer from the council. Take it... In gratitude, he then took my fur coats to a safe place and escorted me to my new apartment. Several hard workers put their eyes on the butcher's ax - a reward item of my late father - “Give it back! Give it back! " I said no! This is memory". The ax vanished, along with the tools that my father collected all his life. A silver tray with glasses, cutlery and silver jewelry disappeared without a trace. Some of the evictions had a good taste - they resisted French cosmetics and perfumes, they left me a cheap "Clean Line".

Some valuable things, many of which are our family heirlooms, the memory of my deceased parents, will be missing that evening in my “new” apartment. It just caught my eye that they were taking out full bags from the old one, and in the new one they were half-empty. From home to home 250 meters, lost weight, apparently on the road. The concierge found my two chairs at the entrance... I found the bitten pieces of chocolate myself - they treated themselves on the windowsills and right on the bags, what they didn't eat - they took with them.

From two refrigerators, which, by the way, are completely broken, all delicacies, condensed milk, summer cakes, and even pancakes with meat, which I made in the morning, have disappeared. To whose hands a 5-kilogram bag of coffee stuck - I can't imagine...

There were two ladies in charge of the collection in the apartment, in the absence of the bailiff, who ran here and there, representing the supreme power here. One turned out to be a lawyer from the DGI, the second - Filatov's assistant. The ladies undertook to pack glass and crystal, then entered the role and began to mock the situation, trying to make me look like a curmudgeon, - “What are you going to take away the crystal chandeliers? - There are light bulbs in the new apartment. What, are you lucky enough to have a washing powder and two packs of soap? Why do you need such a stock? " And parental carpets are no longer fashionable, and my notes in Egyptian are rubbish, and 20 albums with family photos only take up space. A hail of ridicule made me want to remove the beech flooring. Well, of course, in a new apartment there is linoleum with holes, this is undoubtedly more practical, you don't have to mop the floor every day. I underestimated their humor.

At five o'clock I was kicked out of the apartment, and that was the last day I saw my parquet floor, two wardrobes, a Weienboch piano and a bunch of other things that were beyond the movers' ability, because they had run out of their working day.

The bailiff also ran out of it, and he left the battlefield without even sealing the apartment. That his duties included the inventory of property, the invitation of attesting witnesses and the police, no one told me. And I, excuse me, didn’t know this - I have had a forced eviction for the first time in my life, thank you for not fainting.

The keys to the apartment in some strange way disappeared in the first minute of the raid. They lay as usual on the bedside table, who took it - it is not known. In Zhilishnik they answer that they, perhaps, are in the council, are pointing at the employees of the heating element, the heating element - at the DGI, but the arrows will most likely be transferred to the loaders, and those are already gone. To the question "What to do with the things not taken out?" bailiff Frolov shrugged his shoulders - "I have no idea, I have done my job, sign that there are no complaints." I just had complaints, but there is no one to present it to anyone - at exactly five o'clock the “commission” left the premises, without even bothering to check whether my property had reached the new apartment. Stay in the old one for at least a couple of hours and were not allowed to clean up - "according to the law, it is not allowed." They just put me out of the door as an object they didn't need.

The next morning I went to the place of emergency, my soul hurts - the apartment is wide open, what's with the furniture?

“Your piano is gone,” said the janitor. "They dragged it away yesterday". What else they dragged away - I did not see. And I can't look - the entrance door is welded.

I went to the authorities to look for ends. My defenders from the council only do not push in the neck: “Why are you all walking and walking? We have already moved, start a new life". Damage worth a million? - Yes, you yourself are to blame, you should have followed and not delayed the move...

I wrote a statement to the police, the Prosecutor General's Office, the Investigative Committee, and the presidential administration. The police are shocked, they promise to open a criminal case after the assessment of the lost property. A request was sent to the bailiff service of the South-Eastern Administrative District regarding the legality of the actions of the bailiff Filatov during my eviction from Ryazansky Prospect. An answer came, signed by the head of the department, Ekaterina Solokhnenko - “Enforcement proceedings are closed. The procedure went smoothly. "

It is possible that after a while the entire commission will be presented for a reward for my "legal" eviction from the apartment.

I blame myself for not being able to preserve it, could not preserve the parental inheritance. And the head tells - "You just could not overcome the system." Yes, it is so built in our country that the rights of citizens, their opinions and feelings do not mean absolutely nothing! But I will not give up and will fight against this wall until it cracks.

PS.

Tatyana Puchkova filed a lawsuit with the Supreme Court against the actions of the Moscow officials. The case was accepted for production. The process promises to be interesting for the army of forced migrants.

Found a typo in the text? Select it and press ctrl + enter