Historian Kamil Galeyev shared in his publication an extremely informative experience for any oppositionist:
“On January 31, in the morning, the eshniki (employees of the Main Directorate for Countering Extremism of the Ministry of Internal Affairs of Russia, - editor's note) came to my house. They detained me and took me to the nearest police station, where they drew up a protocol on an administrative offense. As it turned out, CCTV cameras recorded my face on Tverskaya on the 23rd. About half an hour later, a trial took place, where I was given 10 days. It's funny that the court order mentioned my articles in Novaya Gazeta and for Radio Svoboda (a media performing the functions of a foreign agent, ed.) - that is, from the point of view of our state, all of this is an aggravating circumstance.
On the way from the court, the police asked me how much they still pay for participating in the rallies. It's funny that a little later, already in Sakharovo, I was asked the same question by a recidivist thief who violated the conditions of parole and was sent to a special detention center for this. I got the impression that neither cops nor thieves are able to understand how people can go to rallies for free. Perhaps this is some kind of professional deformation.
First, I was taken to the Moscow special detention center number 2. The company in the cell was motley. There were political activists, for example, the municipal deputy Jankauskas. There were just those who went to the rally or came to meet Navalny at the airport. Surprisingly, there were many completely left-wing people. For example, a Yandex courier was sitting with me. Food ", which the riot police raked into the paddy wagon right with the bag during the delivery of the order. The court refused to consider the mark on the order in the attachment as evidence and he was given 7 days. In general, one gets the impression that, if before they tried not to touch those who were completely uninvolved, now they are rowing in general everyone who turned up under the arm.
I spent a day in special detention center number 2, after which we were all sent to Sakharovo. Material conditions there differed for the worse - and were very close to the conditions of the usual zone. But the company is good. I remember they took us for a walk to a cage directly adjacent to the building, and then a girl from the second floor window shouted: "Who is there from HSE (Higher School of Economics, - noted by the ed.)?" She answered:
- Oriental studies!
I must say that Sakharovo was not originally intended for the political prisoners. It was built for migrants awaiting deportation. So the guards are accustomed to a completely unrequited and defenseless people, and therefore they react nervously to any swing of rights. They go into the cell during the morning round, ask if there are any questions. I told them:
- I want to appeal.
- Submit what?
I nevertheless filed an appeal, but it turned out to be completely useless. Many people filed appeals, but during my entire stay in Sakharovo, only one guy with epilepsy was cut off. The rest are rejected essentially automatically. Some appeal judges simply ask:
- Prosecutor, defense lawyer, witnesses? (in terms of complaints about the first hearing, where the prosecutor was not present, the defense lawyer was not present and the witnesses were not questioned)
Returning to the topic of migrants. It was only in Sakharovo that I realized the entire darkness of the Russian FMS. People who have not committed any crimes are actually kept in prison conditions - and kept for a long time. On my bunk was scratched “Andijan 25.03.2018-29.06.2018”. That is, the person was in prison for more than three months. And this is not the worst case. As I learned from my lawyer, one of his clients has been kept in Sakharovo for two years now - without any trial. That is, the country has debugged the mechanism of an extrajudicial long-term mass incarceration (eng: mass imprisonment).
Another thing that I felt in Sakharovo is the depth of social inequality within the country. Moscow prisoners were overwhelmed with parcels. Of course, we put them in a common fund and shared with people from other cities, but they still sometimes reacted nervously. A cellmate, an installer from the Tula region, could not understand why we strain our family and friends so much, introducing them into unnecessary expenses. Of course, I have seen wild poverty more than once, traveling through the interior of the country, but behind bars, inequality in terms of material and social capital is felt even more clearly..."