Вил Мирзаянов - State Secrets - An Insider's Chronicle of the Russian Chemical Weapons Program

That old veteran nicely and effectively performed the task assigned to him by Attorney General Aleksei Kazannik. It turned out that when he received an order from above, he could be objective after all and use all the bungling and blunders that Investigator Shkarin had made while he was fabricating my case.

I closely observed the reactions of the judges while I was listening to the speech of the prosecutor. Not one of them concealed their bewilderment. They were shocked by the prosecutor’s statement. I also saw how my lawyer reacted to Pankratov’s speech. It seemed to me that Asnis was triumphant, although he was usually imperturbable and didn’t show his emotions. He smiled slightly and cast glances in my direction. Of course I understood what colossal efforts Asnis had made leading up to this prosecutor’s speech. I admired the talent of my lawyer. Alexander managed to put everything that had been expressed in the numerous public campaigns for my defense, into legal order so that such an opinion had formed. He gave numerous interviews to foreign and Russian reporters, sparing no effort or time. My friends Gale Colby and Irene Goldman – organizers and coordinators of the U.S. movement in my defense – constantly called on him at any time of the day to get information about my case and to ask advice about further action. Asnis was always clear and concise. And he worked for only a token fee from Moscow News .

As soon as the prosecutor finished his stunning speech, the judge announced that the hearing was closed. The next court session was scheduled for February 11 th. My lawyer came up to me before the guard took me away, and said that he would file his motion to have me released from jail, along with the prosecutor’s written appeal to send the case for additional investigation. I agreed.

It wasn’t so cold on my way to jail. I even started imagining that I would be released the next day. I would come out to meet with a lot of journalists who had been writing about my case and people who had come to support me, and I would express my warm gratitude to them. However, my life experience as a scientist and experimenter has taught me not to prepare myself for victory ahead of time. Often disappointments are caused by unpredictable circumstances. I returned to the cell and told my cellmates about the events in court without any special excitement, and it wasn’t due to any artificial restraint.

The February 10 thissue of Izvestia , which had been brought to our cell, contained an article published by Valery Yakov. [342] Valery Yakov, “The Mirzayanov Case Continues to Arouse Protest”, Izvestia , February 10, 1994. He gave a review of readers’ letters supporting me. Among them, was a letter by a group of Russian scientists (20 professors, PhD’s, and master’s of science) that was also categorical in its judgment. Although it wasn’t addressed to President Yeltsin, they signed a statement which reads, “We consider the prosecution of V. Mirzayanov to be an illegal attempt on the part of the military-industrial complex to hide their inhumane actions.”

Three renowned academicians of the Russian Academy of Sciences, Sergei Zalygin, Victor Maslov, and Boris Sokolov, presented concise, logical and convincing arguments for their protest. First of all, they asserted that secrets of any technical problem are specific formulas and blueprints, diagrams, and other technical indices. I hadn’t disclosed anything like this. Second, by considering the case about disclosing state secrets, the court confirmed that I told the truth, and that the information I disclosed had truly been concealed from the public. Third, when scientists and specialists sign a non-disclosure agreement they assume definite obligations, but they must be relieved of them, if such fundamental issues as ecological violations connected with life and human health are at stake. In this way, the games played with state secrets during the Chernobyl tragedy led to irreparable calamity for many thousands of innocent citizens, and nobody was held responsible for this. 342

On the morning of February 11 th, I was taken to the basement of the court as usual. However, after I arrived in the courtroom, Alexander Asnis said that the hearing would not take place that day. Judge Sazonov was either ill or busy with more important business. The next hearing was scheduled for Monday, February 14, 1994. I was very upset, but I tried to comfort myself.

When I was taken back to the basement and my handcuffs were removed, they asked me which cell I was from, and I pointed to the nearest one where the voices of prisoners were coming from. This wasn’t my cell, but I was a little curious and wanted to see some inmates. I entered a long narrow cell where a few young people under 25 were smoking and animatedly discussing prisoners’ issues. I understood from their conversation that one of them was a member of the Lyuberetskaya gang which had defiantly murdered a few people. There was also a Muscovite there, a recently discharged soldier who had shot a few policemen while resisting arrest. I just listened and didn’t ask any questions. Finally, one of the young prisoners got interested in me and asked, “What’s your name, Father, and how did you get here?”

I briefly tried to explain it to him, but my story didn’t move him at all.

He said condescendingly, “Well, you are a Doctor of Sciences. How much did you make? I suppose 500-600 rubles,” he answered right away instead of me. I confirmed that his answer was very close.

“You know I dished out much more for one night in a restaurant with my chicks than you were paid for several months,” he boasted. “Don’t worry, I worked, too. Only you were sitting in your laboratory and I was a janitor. I cleansed the society of those who rob people blind,” philosophized the young prisoner. However, it was obvious he didn’t believe what he was saying.

I noticed that all the prisoners were adamant about their innocence, and all of them justified their crimes in every way possible, by some self-invented theories.

How simple everything in the world is! And it is the same everywhere. Everybody behaves in this way, from Fascists and Communists to God-seekers and murderers. But what could I say, for example, to this young and healthy fellow with eyes drowsy, as if he were drunk? He was saying indignantly that everyone in court was lying, including the victims.

“Just imagine, the victim says that I took his money and valuables without his consent. But these are just lies. He gave all of this to me willingly,” complained the bandit. Then he added with a grin, “How could he not, if I kept him hanging upside down from the ceiling for half an hour?”

Then a soldier came up to the doors of the cell and the young people rushed over to him. I heard them bargaining for “weed”, and it turned out that it was a name for marijuana. They swore terribly, saying that these bastards had no conscience and they were robbing them blind. However, they did come up with the money and bought the stuff. The weed was packed in matchboxes. A prisoner, who didn’t have enough money for it, quickly scribbled a note and asked the guard to give it to a woman who he described in the courtroom. She was to hand over the money. Strange but true! A while later another soldier came up to our cell and gave the prisoner his weed and the change. It was clear that the soldiers were just carrying out the job, but it was the officers and guards, who desperately want to avoid being photographed by journalists, who managed this “business.” As soon as the soldier went away, everyone started smoking. The young cop-killer was also offered a smoke. Before this he had stared at a spot on the ceiling, obstinately silent and deep in his thoughts. Finally, the marijuana made him relax, and he started telling me his horrible story.