In my line of work, I often had to correspond with various authorities: internal affairs agencies, prosecutors, courts, and various agencies, from which I received information about citizens whose fates, it must be said, were anything but ordinary. Typically, these were former prisoners, destitute elderly people, and simply unfortunate souls abandoned by society, and for whom no one cared.
The group I personally interacted with consisted primarily of people with prior criminal records, homeless, and familyless. To somehow ease their existence in our bureaucratic society, our organization helped them restore documents, calculate pensions, and receive benefits—minimal, but sufficient to keep them from starving in these troubled times.
While gathering another set of documents for a grandfather, I requested a copy of the court verdict; Grandpa was quite eccentric in his youth and managed to spend time in almost every penal colony and prison in the Republic of Mordovia. His last sentence was for a serious crime—the murder of two of his "buddies," alcoholics and former inmates like himself.
Then one day, a copy of the court verdict was placed on my desk, with that same old man as the main character. I'll tell you that our entire department gathered to read the eight-page verdict, stitched and sealed, as that old man was such a fascinating character—his adventure-filled life was very interesting to many of us.
I won't quote the entire verdict—the language, peppered with legal jargon, will seem dull and dry. I'll briefly tell the story of one particular crime. Perhaps, like me, you'll find it a little odd.
After returning from "places not so distant," Mikhalych (let's call him that) decided to celebrate the occasion with a few spirits. Having settled in a small town with an old acquaintance, he sold her family watch while she was at work and bought four bottles of low-quality alcohol. He decided against drinking in town for a perfectly understandable reason, and instead retreated to a forest belt on the outskirts of town. Along the way, he encountered some fellow "dealers," got into a conversation, and decided to drink together to life and freedom.
The three of them celebrated for a short time: somewhere around the second bottle, a fourth joined them. This fourth turned out to be a local worker, a worker from the local brick factory, who toiled in the workshop from 9:00 AM to 6:00 PM and, like many others, enjoyed taking a break from the hardships of life with a shot of vodka after a hard day's work. It was payday, and while his wife was at the store, he snuck into the woods for a couple of drinks, and then found suitable company.
From Mikhalych's testimony: "The new acquaintance was dressed quite decently, he didn't look like an alcoholic: he had a signet ring with a precious stone, a watch on a leather strap, a good jacket, and polished shoes."
The men happily welcomed him into their company, considering the fact that he hadn't arrived empty-handed; wrapped in newspaper were homemade chicken Kiev, a slice of black bread, and a frosty bottle of "Bel'enka," apparently fresh from the freezer.
The defendant admitted that they had accepted the local into their company for only one purpose—easy money. The plan was simple, and therefore always worked: get him drunk and rob him. But something went wrong...
The worker drank little, chatted more and more, asking a lot about their lives, who had been in prison where and for what, how they had gotten to this point, and what they were planning to do next. He smiled strangely and didn't eat at all. The former prisoners, on the other hand, were overjoyed and drank heavily, already mentally dividing up the spoils.
The defendant recounted what happened next in a confused, clearly nervous manner: after throwing the last bottle into the bushes, the guest suddenly stood up and, pointing to one of the "dealers," said, "You come with me!" Then he turned and walked toward the forest. The man the local had pointed to did indeed rise and, with a staggering gait, silently followed. A minute later, they returned, and the worker dragged his next drinking companion into the forest to "talk."
Looking at his returning "buddies," Mikhalych couldn't recognize them: they'd gone into the forest drunk, barely able to walk, and returned completely sober, apparently, sitting by the fire in sullen silence, staring into the flames. Our hero sobered up, mostly out of amazement, not understanding what was happening. Without thinking twice, he jumped up and was about to attack the strange guest when one of his drinking companions struck him hard in the kidneys from behind. A scuffle ensued; the two who had returned from the forest, their faces fierce, dealt blow after blow, while the guest sat by the fire, silently watching the proceedings from under his brows, watching and smiling.
The defendant described how he was being beaten quite vividly, in order to explain to the court the reason for his actions: at the moment when his acquaintances were already sitting on him and tearing him to shreds, he snatched a pistol hidden in his pants.He grabbed a glass and struck first one, then the other. The blows were fatal, and both fell to the ground. The killer looked around for the worker, but finding no one, quickly gathered his things and fled the scene. The defendant was at a loss to explain where the fourth drinking companion had disappeared to, and asked that it be taken into account that there had been no malicious intent in his actions, but rather self-defense, as his new acquaintances had suddenly and for no apparent reason attacked him and nearly killed him.
That would have been the end of this story of ordinary drunkenness, but the verdict continued with testimony from an expert and a member of the task force, which showed that there was no fourth person in the group of drunken criminals. No traces, footprints, or belongings left behind by him were found—not even the newspaper in which the chicken Kievs had been wrapped. Furthermore, medical examiners claim that no food remains were found in the stomachs of the victims during the autopsies. Also, only four empty bottles of vodka were found at the crime scene, not five as claimed by the defendant. As for the identity of the fourth, a composite sketch was created based on the defendant's description, but none of the brick factory employees were able to identify him.
The theory about a strange individual in the company fell apart and was not accepted for consideration: there were signs of beatings on the defendant's body, but, according to doctors, they were self-inflicted. The two unfortunate men were brutally murdered in a drunken brawl for no apparent reason. The result: eleven years in prison and no leniency.
Who this strange individual was, or whether he even existed, remains anyone's guess. The day after the verdict was read, I summoned Mikhalych and, of course, asked him about what had happened. He answered reluctantly, citing forgetfulness and the passage of time. He couldn't explain anything clearly and asked for his documents to be quickly forwarded to the passport office and the pension fund. This was our last meeting. A couple of weeks later, a prosecutor and a local police officer showed up at our office. It turned out that Mikhalych's body had been discovered not far from us, near some trash cans, next to another unfortunate man. A drunken brawl that ended in a stabbing—a common occurrence. Except for one "but." The killer, arrested at the scene, insisted that four people, not three, had been drinking, and that the fourth had fled in an unknown direction, leaving no trace. According to the description, he was a well-dressed man with a signet ring and polished shoes...
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