Ben Stewart - Don't Trust, Don't Fear, Don't Beg

Colin smiles. He’s still wearing the battered blue sweatshirt he had on when the ship was seized nine weeks ago. His grey hair is combed back, he’s wearing a thick beard and steel-rimmed glasses that rest on the end of his nose.

‘It’s all good,’ he says to the supporters, who are jostling with journalists in the hallway. ‘All good. Hello, everybody.’

The guards direct him through a door and a moment later he’s being uncuffed and locked in a cage in the courtroom. A female judge in a black robe is sitting in a huge leather high-backed throne behind a table on a raised platform, the Russian flag draped from a pole to her side. She is young, late thirties maybe, with tied-back dyed blonde hair and black thick-framed spectacles. In the corner a bank of TV cameras is facing the cage, maybe twenty-five journalists. There’s a row of spider plants along the wall below a broad window. A young female guard all in black, long hair under a baseball cap, stands in the very middle of the courtroom, between the media and the prisoner.

The campaign hubs have people stationed at court using Skype to keep them updated on the multiple simultaneous hearings.

Jan Beránek: UPDATE: Colin just arrived at the courtroom.

Jan Beránek: UPDATE Colin’s hearing: Investigator argues that reasons of detention are still active, so IC asks for detention. ‘Colin could disturb the investigation and hide evidences.’ He asks for a detention until 24 February.

Jan Beránek: UPDATE Colin’s hearing: Prosecutor agrees with investigation. Based on Leninsky court decision, the detention is legal. Prosecutor says Colin could escape.

The prosecutor claims there was a violent attack on the oil platform and that Colin should be held for at least three more months while the investigation continues. He says Colin needs to remain in jail because he could flee Russia and escape justice.

Jan Beránek: QUOTE from Colin’s hearing:

Lawyer: ‘Will you escape the court?’

Colin: ‘I’m innocent, I have nothing to run from.’

The judge looks up. She folds the file closed and announces a recess while she considers her judgement, then she leaves the courtroom. She retires to her chambers, where normally in the course of Russian justice – such as it is – a judge might check their emails or perhaps call Moscow to find out what the ruling in their hearing should be. Thirty minutes later she’s back.

Jan Beránek: IMP UPDATE Colin’s hearing: The judge is now reading the verdict. With very weak voice.

Jan Beránek: Get ready to contact Colin’s relatives.

She’s mumbling through the words in barely audible Russian. Thousands of miles away, on every continent bar Antarctica, families and campaigners are staring at their screens. It’s coming. Any moment now.

Jan Beránek: IMP UPDATE COLIN: Verdict = DETENTION UNTIL 24 FEB

Jan Beránek: No bail. Detention.

Colin shrugs and shakes his head as hearts sink in cities across the world. He gets to his feet and makes a V sign for the cameras, which by now are clustered around the cage. And he says, ‘Thank you to the world for coming to our cause. I want to thank you. Everybody around the world, thank you, thank you. You’re all beautiful people.’ His face breaks into a grin. ‘I love you all. I love everybody. I am not a criminal.’

The fur hats cuff Colin’s wrists and lead him out, and as he’s taken down the corridor, with supporters clapping as he passes, he says, ‘Thank you, everybody. You’re all good. All good.’

At SIZO-5 Sini is in a meeting room waiting for a guard to take her back to her cell. There’s a little window in the door and she can see Alex in her purple ski jacket going into a meeting room with her own lawyer. Sini waves at her and Alex waves back. Then Sini sees that Alex is crying. Alex’s lawyer comes to the window and shows Sini three fingers and mouths the words, ‘Three months. Colin. Three months.’

Alex wipes her eyes. Sini is making a shape with her hands. Alex squints to see better. Sini has made a heart with her fingers and she’s mouthing the words, ‘I love you.’ Sini quickly scribbles a note and gives it to the translator, who walks through to the other room and passes it to Alex. It says, It will be okay. Be strong. I love you.

Dima is watching the television news. He stares at the screen, at pictures of Colin. He shakes his head as the reporter explains the Greenpeace prisoners are staying in jail, then he sits down and writes a letter to his son Lev on the Pacific island of Vanuatu.

Dima has put off this moment for as long as he could, but now he knows it’s at least three more months, and possibly years in jail. He knows Lev will take the letter well, he’s a good kid, he has some of his grandfather inside him, and a lot of his great-grandfather and namesake, the famous dissident Lev Kopelev.

As he holds the pen above a sheet of paper, Dima’s mind slips back many years to when Lev was just a kid, maybe thirteen. The family was living in Sweden and one night there was a power outage. Lev couldn’t play computer games so he disappeared outside with his friends. At 2 a.m. he still hadn’t returned. Dima was frantic. Then at 3 a.m. bang bang bang on the door. Two burly policemen stood there with skimpy little Lev between them. Anitta broke into tears, Dima asked what was going on. The cops said they found him on the roof of his school, they said Lev had talked back to them, some wiseguy stuff. Dima asked Lev, ‘Did you? Did you speak back to the officers?’ And Lev said, ‘Well, I just said to them that as long as police violence is portrayed as justice then the justice of the proletariat is going to look like violence.’

Dima smiles at the memory. He bends over the paper and starts to write.

As you will have heard, I ran into a bit of trouble in the motherland. Been here a couple of months, and it looks like I’ll be staying a bit longer. Question is how much longer. There is a risk that it will take quite a few months. And if things don’t improve, years. Now, I personally am fine. It’s no Club Med, but it’s no Auschwitz either. My biggest concern is Mom and Luke. I’m really worried that if things extend on she’ll REALLY get fucked up. Already she looks (on a newspaper foto) very skinny and depressed. Her messages to me are sounding desperate. SO, I know you got a travel plan but I wonder if I can ask you to change it? I am going to a hearing this week that should extend my imprisonment to February 24th. Who knows what happens after. It would be very good if you would consider coming home for a few months to be with your mom. Of course we can help to pay for your ticket. Sorry to dump this on you, but as you understand it’s a bit of an extraordinary situation. Please don’t tell mom I’ve asked you to do this. Anyway I hope you’re having an EXCELLENT adventure so far. Hugs hugs and love to Nigh-Nush. Love you tons. Hugs and kisses from the Gulags.

In the cell next door, Pete Willcox opens his diary and pulls the lid off his pen.

Three month extensions for detention. My heart did a nosedive, and I crawled up on my bunk and stared at the ceiling, which is only three inches away. Totally bummed.

In the Room of Doom the campaigners are chewing their lips and staring into the middle distance, their eyes are red and wet. When they try to smile their lips quiver and they fight back tears. Nobody is saying much. Then a Skype message lands from St Petersburg.

Jan Beránek: IMP UPDATE from Katya’s hearing: Prosecutor said he is NOT against a bail in case of Ekaterina. The judge interrupted the hearing so that she can prepare the decision.

Katya Zaspa is the ship’s 37-year-old doctor from Moscow.

Jan Beránek: UNCONFIRMED: Katya’s lawyer got information that her bail will be accepted. But we still need to wait for judge to pronounce her decision.