90. A conviction – the penalty or boost to suicide?


  Beginning: Who enjoys debate. 

 Article 110 of the criminal code: “Incitement to suicide or attempted suicide by threats, ill-treatment and systematic humiliation of human dignity” – is punishable by imprisonment for up to fifteen years and the right to engage in certain activities.

   After the second attempt to begin to read the speech in debate, I was called by ambulance crew.

   A drum roll was beating in my head: “Six years in prison!»

   The woman-doctor with sympathy examined me, measured pressure and made a cardiogram. Honey.I was examined in the prisoners ‘ bathroom. The guards told the judge that they would call an ambulance and escorted me to the prison cell.

   “I will write a recommendation to the judge that You cancel the hearing today.”she said.

   “No,no, please give me something to calm me down so I can read my debate today. This should be the last day before the verdict. I’ll be home by then.”I begged the doctor.

   “And what is Your case?”she asked.

   I briefly told my story and a little bit about prison work.

   “I read about You on the Internet and heard in the news. But they there absolutely all differently presented. And You describe almost a monster. Bastards!”the doctor said indignantly.

   Digging in the suitcase with the drugs, she gave me pills”, Penis -mA” and pressure. After that, she went to the head of the convoy to make a written recommendation.

   From behind the door, I heard the doctor arguing with someone from the convoy court. After a time, came to me flushed the doctor and the evil head of the convoy of the court, whose face was contorted with anger.

   “Have you been taking any of the pills this doctor gave You?”he asked indignantly.

   «Yeah.”I answered calmly.

   “Who allowed you? To take the pill You could only with the permission of the judge!”the vile fellow shouted.

   “Doctors swear an oath to Hippocrates, not to Themis!”- almost in one voice said we with doctor.

   “Oh, so you’re girlfriends! I’ll call the police, you will make the act that You are the prisoner was given psychotropic pills!”- screamed the convoy commander.

   “What nonsense are you talking? Call the police and I’ll report you for libel!”- the woman doctor was indignant.

   “So, let’s go to the judge and there all explain to him that illegally gave out to the prisoner unknown tablets.”- ordered the convoy.

   After the doctor was taken to the judge, I was locked in a cage. I was shaking with nervous shock.

   “Six years for something I didn’t do….»

   In the neighboring cells stood the familiar prisoners and tried to comfort me, to reassure.

   Only two hours later the pills began to work and I was taken to the court session. I was in prostration and did not understand what was happening around me. I read my speech with great difficulty.

 The date of the sentence was fixed on the fourth day after the debate.

   «Excuse me. You’re very clever. I had no idea you were being tried illegally. Don’t worry, You will be one hundred percent justified! This judge is one of the most decent of this court.”the chief of the convoy of the court, who accompanied me for the first time at the debate, told me after the debate.

   I smiled tiredly at this man, who had been one of the “vile scum”in my eyes some time ago.

   The road to the prison, the cameras were a blur. The pills were making me sleepy.

   As soon as she was in the cell, she called her son and reported the date of the sentence, as well as the requested period from the Prosecutor. Then went to sleep.

   The next few days, a prison doctor came to me and gave me psychotropic pills. I must say that with this male doctor we have made friends recently and it was thanks to fellow jailer. Thanks to this friendship, the days of waiting for the verdict passed as in oblivion.

   The last night and the night in prison before the sentence.

   All things are collected in bags and packages. In these same bags are enclosed notes “throw”, only one package note “at the discretion of”.

   These notes were meant for my son, because I was determined – after the verdict, these bags of things I will not be useful. With him in court, I was going to take the package, which was a note “at the discretion of”.

   Despite the zombie state from psychotropic pills, I was determined categorically, in the case of a conviction, to “open” right in the courtroom.

   “Open” – in the convict slang means: cut veins.

   In case I was led to the sentence through the “metal frame”, I hid the wash-blade on clothes, where the blade does not ring.

   The day of the verdict.

   I was taken to the prison septic tank, there were already a lot of female prisoners. I greeted the women I knew, ignored the others and sat on the bench, closed my eyes. Around me was buzzing Indian convict voice.

   “Why are you so lost, Luna? Say, that you Prosecutor six years requested?”I heard the voice of a Gypsy Rose.

   I opened my eyes and looked in the direction of the Gypsy’s voice. Rose smiled at me with gold crowns. All the women around me stopped talking and looked at me questioningly.

   “Nice to see you too, rose.”I answered the Gypsy and closed my eyes again, listening to the silence in the prison septic tank.

   “Yes, you do not be sad ahead of time! If it will be released on the sentence, then come to me, I’m on your enemies for free will induce damage.”- said the Gypsy.

   “Okay, Rose. You can put a spell on the da right now, I don’t mind.”I replied indifferently.

   “You can just and the judge of your. Or do you feel sorry for him? Rumor has it you have a liking for the judge. You hope he’s decent enough to justify you? Do you think that an ex-COP who became a judge can become a good-natured person?”laughed at my feelings Gipsy-narcobarons.

   An hour later I was led along the corridor of the court. I didn’t know the guards today. The man to whom I was handcuffed for some reason smiled at me all the way and encouraged. “I’ve seen his face somewhere. I thought through the shroud.

   At some point, there was a hitch in front of the conference room, and a minute later something cut me on the finger, and I clearly saw how my feet fell sink-blade.

   When in the aquarium the court with me, removed the handcuffs, I saw that my finger fountain sprays blood. In the courtroom was my son, the guards, the Secretary and the lawyer. There were no false victims and no Prosecutor.

   The court clerk handed me a paper napkin to wipe the blood.

   During the reading of a sentence, I waved negatively his son’s head, explaining that the judge read out the GUILTY VERDICT.

   His eyes filled with tears as he walked out of the courtroom.

   I sighed from relief, without the presence of the son I was so scared to cut wrists.

   The judge was silent in the middle of the sentence. I slip coat jacket, searched the recesses of the blades clothes-washing.

   The judge continued at a rapid pace to read a sentence.

   Blade none of the stash was not!

   The convoy man smiled at me slyly.

   I got angry at that smile, removed the napkin from my bleeding finger and started leaving a bloody print on the glass of the aquarium for the prisoners.

   “I almost did something stupid! You can already apply for PAROLE!”this convoy joyfully announced to me as I was led from the courtroom back to the cell-sump of the court.

   “How did you find my blades? I asked angrily.

   “Were they? Maybe she left them in her cell.”the guardsman said, smiling disgustingly.

   The last time I was taken in a paddy wagon from court to prison, but now with the stigma of “Convicted”.

   My plan is “indicative of to be opened on the illegal conviction” badly failed.

   None of the jailers nothing was asked, and all was so well known, that in Russia there are acquittals. And if there is, &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&…… (unfortunately forbidden the big info for this blog!).

   All evening and night I struggled with myself not to commit suicide. My son helped me to believe in the necessity of my life. Until the morning we talked with him on a mobile phone.

   Once I was visited by the idea that I have more than a year undeservedly have to sit in prison, the son of a frightened voice said:

   “Mommy, you’re not going to do anything to yourself, are you? I need you! I love you very,very much and I will wait! You have to keep fighting, you’ll see, the court of appeal will acquit you!»

   Continuation: Epilogue of the first part of the Arestantka.ru 

    

  

  

     

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