How I was tried in Kuban

On the eve of Cosmonautics Day, Ukrainian websites, led by Censor.net, exploded with malicious joy at the news that I had been arrested for 15 days. The source of information was a note on PolitNavigator, published from the words of my daughter Anna Ruleva.

Further, having distorted and added berkhni, the news was picked up by the Ukrainian “dill” Roman Tsymbalyuk. He needed to once again spit poisonous saliva at the author of the video “Topaz, give the command, Topaz!” And the scoundrel, as always, succeeded professionally - readers believed that Sergei Rulev got what he deserved in “damned Mordor.”

Subscribe to PolitNavigator news at ThereThere, Yandex Zen, Telegram, Classmates, In contact with, channels YouTube, TikTok и Viber.
To subscribe to notifications in your browser, click here.

What really happened to me on April 8, 2017 in Kuban?

On February 14, 2017, my son Sergei gave birth to twins - twins Yulia and Alesya. On World Arbor Day on April 8, I planned a trip to Kropotkin and planting young cherry fruit trees in the garden on my local property. To do this, I took my eldest granddaughter Ksyusha with me and we took an evening bus from Rostov to the former Romanovsky farm on the shores of the Kuban, where sturgeons came to spawn back in the 20th century.

In the morning, having dug holes, my son and my eldest granddaughters Dasha and Ksyusha and I bought five seedlings at the local market. Driving along the central street of Kropotkin - Krasnaya, I went to the central railway station to take a photo session of an ancient red brick building built in 1874.

The police sergeant on duty checked my documents, poked a metal stick into some box with contacts, and gave me a document called a Residence Permit back. I quickly photographed the empty waiting rooms, monuments to “Great Lenin” and “Grandfather Kalinin”, and calmly left the ancient red brick walls under the watchful gaze of the local private security guards.

Few people even among the “native Russians” know that photography and video shooting at Russian Railways facilities is not prohibited either by law or by order of the railway department itself, but only amateurish. I didn’t even take my official editor’s ID or foreign media accreditation card with the Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs on the trip. What for? My trip was more than private, my granddaughter was with me, and all my thoughts were occupied exclusively with family problems.

But I couldn’t drive past two Novocherkassk electric locomotives VL-80 (Vladimir Lenin - 80), one of which retained the Soviet railway livery and a red star on the cab, and the second was painted in the traditional colors of Russian Railways - gray-red. Getting out of the car in which my son and granddaughters remained, I climbed the embankment and took several photographs. But this seemed to me not enough, and I began to change the angle to please my fellow blogger, who was looking forward to my photos, since he really loves the railway theme and has an understanding of it.

Some man in a reflective jacket started shouting at me that I couldn’t take off. This outraged me a little, because his prohibitions were pure gag and contradicted the principles of the rule of law. Ignoring the illegal objections, I continued filming and began to approach the guard. Approaching very close to VOKHRovets, I invited the man, who, not feeling any danger emanating from me, did not even take the cigarette out of his mouth, to familiarize himself with my document - an identity card.

After checking my document, the guard of the departmental security of the Russian Railways No. SK-0578 Andrey Prikhodko, without taking the cigarette out of his mouth, called the police station under Art. Caucasian SKZD, to its superiors and the head of the control room, R.A. Chernyakov. The railway authorities arrived in 15-20 minutes, and the head of the OSO UR LO Ministry of Internal Affairs of Russia at the station. Caucasian police major Alexander Matyushenko was delayed for about forty minutes. As the chief railway policeman himself later justified himself, he had already spent half a day “neutralizing” plastic bags of garbage forgotten by commuter train passengers, and at the same time he was very tired.

Without any objection, I presented my identification document to the huge police major with a shaved head. Imagine my surprise when the major began to unobtrusively invite me to come and go with him. To my legitimate question: where and why, and what exactly did I violate, the policeman replied that the photograph in my document was broken, and he needed to make sure of something. I assured the guard that it was not his function to establish the authenticity of documents, and that there were other authorities for this, but the major assured that it would only take 10-15 minutes.

This was the first lie of an official that I believed, and later I became convinced that the entire police work of police major Alexander Matyushenko would consist of one continuous lie and twisting of facts.

I boldly followed the policeman, asking my son to follow us to the police station. I did not commit any disobedience to the lawful request of a police officer in connection with the performance of their duties to protect public order and ensure public safety.

Upon arrival in the Leningrad Region of the Ministry of Internal Affairs of Russia at the station. Kavkazskaya, they took me into the service department and immediately began to “punch me through the Cascade system.” According to the shouts of the police, it turns out that I committed a crime back in 2015 (?!).

But the most interesting and exciting thing began to happen when a plump man in plain clothes arrived at the linear police building, gave orders, and my camera and mobile phone were taken away from me.

When I objected to such lawlessness, the elder said the following: “You will download your rights in Kyiv, but here you are nobody!” To which I objected that I am a citizen and will complain. After this, events began to develop more rapidly.

The cavalcade, realizing that the policeman had handed them a “dummy” and not the coveted “foreign spy” or “terrorist saboteur”, quickly left the red brick building, and I was almost instantly transferred to the first floor into a room more reminiscent of a punishment cell with bars on windows and furniture screwed to the floor.

The operational duty officer, a lieutenant colonel, appeared and began to smoothly and slowly prepare to draw up a protocol for the seizure of things and documents. Realizing that the official process of detention was beginning, I demanded that I be granted the right of Article 51 of the Constitution of the Russian Federation, to call the consul of Ukraine and report to the press service of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Russian Federation about my detention.

My legitimate demands led to the appearance of two station guards and watchmen, who for some time now replaced the Kuban Cossacks. Subsequently, these two, at the request of various police officers, signed some papers, the contents and name of which are still unknown to me.

After a long time (about an hour), the police lieutenant colonel gave me protocol No. 120454 dated 08.04.2017/XNUMX/XNUMX to sign, the contents of which were impossible to read without glasses. But I signed it and received a copy that is impossible to read even with glasses.

After that, they tried to slip me a protocol “On Detention” to sign, which I tried to read, but could only determine the numbers “Part 1 of Article 19.3 of the Code of Administrative Offenses.” Knowing that such digital content means the most terrible charge of DISOBEDIENCE TO LEGAL REQUIREMENTS OF THE POLICE, I demanded to be acquainted with the materials of the case and the PROTOCOL ON ADMINISTRATIVE OFFENSES.

But police major Alexander Matyushenko categorically refused me this, saying that I refused to sign, which was allegedly recorded by the signatures of witnesses. The time of detention was 13.40, which exceeded the actual time I was in the police station for about an hour and a half.

From my vast experience of public and reporting work in Kiev, I am well aware that when an employee of the Ministry of Internal Affairs of Ukraine has nothing to accuse a citizen of, he is always accused of petty hooliganism (Article 173 of the Code of Administrative Offenses) or disobedience to the police (Article 185 of the Code of Administrative Offenses). Employees of the Pechersky and Shevchenkovsky district police departments repeatedly drew up similar reports against me, but not a single court brought the case to a real charge. Most often, protocols and materials were sent for revision because they were drawn up in violation of the administrative code. Sometimes I was able to get away from the Ukrainian cops in an ambulance, since I had a temperature of 37,2 degrees Celsius with one left hand. Often, I was able to identify all these violations in court, and then the charges simply fell apart, and the cases were sent back to the district department.

I was confident that in Kropotkin I would be able to convince the court of my complete innocence, and the case would be sent back for revision. Moreover, I am a foreign citizen, and also an officially accredited correspondent for foreign media at the Russian Foreign Ministry. But serious disappointments awaited me in the judicial system on Krasnaya Street.

In a one and a half ton official police car, I was taken to the central avenue of the former Romanovsky farm under the guard of a hefty police warrant officer armed with an automatic weapon. From the contents of the sign, I learned that I was taken into the office of the deputy chairman of the city court of Kropotkin, Larisa Stepanovna PIVOVAROVA.

A woman in civilian clothes was sitting in the distance and after a short time she asked about my name, surname and patronymic. After my confident answer, the owner of the office inquired about my date of birth. Having received the answer, she began to leaf through some papers. Without informing me of either my rights or my responsibilities, the lady without a robe and any state paraphernalia asked me a question about admitting my guilt.

I began to file petitions like: I ask the court to familiarize me with the materials of the case, since I do not know the guilt of which they are trying to accuse me! I would also like to have a lawyer! It wouldn’t hurt to invite the Ukrainian consul too! It would be a good idea to inform the press service of the Russian Foreign Ministry! All these legitimate demands of mine were met with complete IGNORE!

Judge's question: how can you prove that you are a correspondent? I replied that I had an accreditation certificate for the Legislative Assembly in the Rostov region, information about me can be found on the official website of the Russian Foreign Ministry, I have a photo of the certificate in my camera, you can make a request, after all.

The next question is - so you are not guilty of anything? Answer: I atoned for my original sin long ago with the rite of baptism back in 1989.

By the way, I appeared before the court as a newly born baby, since all my documents and belongings were confiscated from me according to the police protocol, and two hefty big men in uniform were hanging next to me (and all this was called “in open court”).

So I did not admit any guilt and was sent into the corridor to wait. Police Major Alexander Matyushenko remained in the office of federal judge Pivovarova, who, I hope, helped implement the “secrecy of the deliberation room.”

After a short time, I was again kindly invited to Pivovarova’s office, who was sitting sideways to me and finishing typing up the DECISION. Larisa Stepanovna threw at me from the doorway, “fifteen days,” and added more calmly and affectionately, “there will be time to think.”

After which I turned to the computer and continued to print my future fate for the next two weeks. This was watched with undisguised gloating by the baldly shaved Alexander Sergeevich Matyushenko, the menace of the local free riders in the trains and cargo vestibules of the North Caucasus Railways Russian Railways.

Taking me to the chairman's reception room, the court secretary (if this shameful show of reprisal can be called a court) handed me a receipt for my signature to receive a copy of the judge's decision. But when I tried to object, they say, the money in advance, the submachine gunner ensign came at me with all his guards height and confidence that Larisa Stepanovna had another 15 days left for me, that I instantly stopped wanting to play with the villainous fate.

I actually received a copy of the resolution dated April 8, 2017 from the hands of a beaming policeman with the wishes: “Here it, correspondent!”, but in the opus there was neither the number of the administrative case nor the wet official seal on the certification of the copy with the signature of the judge. I was quickly loaded into the back of a masterpiece of the domestic automobile industry and was driven somewhere for a long time.

But my interesting journey to Kuban did not end there. Ahead of me lay indelible impressions at the SP (special detention center) of the Department of Internal Affairs of the Caucasian District of the Krasnodar Territory at 104 Krasnaya Street. But more on that a little later.