Is Journalism Worth Dying For?: Final Dispatches (14 page)

From 1991, Chairman of the Union of Theatre Workers of Chechnya and Board Member of the UTW of Russia.

From 1994, Minister of Culture of Chechnya.

From 1995, from the beginning of the First Chechen War, Commander of the Urus Martan Front. Subsequently Brigadier-General, Aide to the President of Ichkeria for National Security, member of the delegation preparing the Khasavyurt Agreements [which ended the First Chechen War in 1996].

Stood in 1997 for the presidency of Chechnya.

From 1998, Deputy Prime Minister. From the start of the Second Chechen War, commander of a special operations brigade.

In March 2000, wounded and evacuated from Chechnya.

From 2001, Special Representative of President Aslan Maskhadov.

A request to Interpol for Zakayev’s extradition was issued by the Russian Prosecutor-General’s Office. This led to his arrest for the first time on October 30, 2002 in Copenhagen. On December 3, 2002 he was freed by the Danish courts, which refused extradition on the grounds of inadequate evidence. On December 5, 2002 Zakayev arrived in London, where he was again arrested at Heathrow Airport but released on bail three hours later. After a number of technical sessions, the hearing of the case began at Bow Street Magistrates Court in London on June 9, 2003.

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A short Chechen advances towards the witness box to the right of the judge. His legs are unnaturally straight and he is forcing his recalcitrant feet forward, trying not to look at anybody and doing his best to conceal the difficulty he has in walking. This is Duk-Vakha Dushuyev. Though we are in London, the Second Chechen War has trained me to recognise the problem immediately: Duk-Vakha walks exactly the way many other men in Chechnya do who have survived the “anti-terrorist operation” but been left with limbs first fractured and then badly set.

“What do I have to swear on?” the witness asks the translator, reaching the stand, and his smile doesn’t seem real. It is mask-like. “On the Bible or the Quran?”

“As you please.”

Having taken the oath, Duk-Vakha explains that he was born in 1968, so he is only 35, although he looks nearer 50.

Barrister Edward Fitzgerald, QC, begins the cross-examination for Zakayev’s defence:

“Did you testify against Mr Zakayev on December 2, 2002?”

“Yes.”

“Is this the testimony?”

Duk-Vakha is shown the case materials sent to London by the Prosecutor-General’s Office and confirms to the court that this is the record of his own questioning in Grozny by Junior Judicial Counsellor Konstantin Krivorotov, Investigator of Particularly Serious Cases of the Chechen Prosecutor’s Office. It reads:

“In approximately October 1996 I learned that it would be possible to become a bodyguard in the Ministry of Culture of the Chechen Republic. For approximately four months I took shifts guarding the building of the Ministry of Culture. In approximately February 1997 (name obliterated) invited me to work as Zakayev’s bodyguard. I agreed and from February 1997 to February 2000 was beside Zakayev virtually all the time. On one of Zakayev’s visits to Urus Martan, I was tasked with accompanying him together with (obliterated). Even before this I had observed a white metal chain worn by (obliterated) on his trousers. I asked him where he got this chain, to which (obliterated)
replied that he had taken it from an Orthodox priest who had worn an Orthodox cross on it. (Obliterated) told me that in 1995 two priests had arrived in Urus Martan to negotiate the release of Russian servicemen. Zakayev ordered that the priests should be kidnapped with the aim of obtaining ransom of $500,000 to finance weapons and equipment for the resistance fighters.

“Carrying out Zakayev’s orders, (obliterated) recruited five or six members of Zakayev’s bodyguard to take part in the kidnapping. In order to implement the plan successfully (obliterated) himself changed clothes and had his subordinates change into militia uniforms. I asked (obliterated) who could pay such a huge amount for freeing the priests, to which I received the reply that the Pope was prepared to pay $1 million, and also $500,000 had been promised by [Russian Orthodox] Patriarch Alexiy II. I understood from his account that Zakayev failed to obtain the ransom. From the beginning of the counter-terrorist operation, that is from 1999, Zakayev was in charge of the so-called Chernorechiye Front which offered armed resistance to the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation on the approaches to Grozny. During that period I was constantly beside Zakayev. We offered armed resistance to Russian troops until February 2000 when there was a mass retreat from Grozny. At that time Zakayev was paralysed. That is where I saw Zakayev for the last time.”

“Yes, that is my testimony.”

“You said then that Mr Zakayev gave orders to kidnap two priests?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Is that the truth?”

“No, it is not true.”

“So why did you do that?”

“I was forced to.”

“But why? What preceded this?”

“I lived in Grozny. Some time in November 2002 I and a comrade were stopped at a checkpoint. We showed our documents. Two armoured military vehicles were standing nearby. Armed men in masks jumped out of them, pinioned us, not explaining anything, handcuffed us, put bags over our heads, and threw us into the vehicles. One
of the soldiers sat on me and they took us off. We drove for 20 to 25 minutes.”

“Where did they take you?”

“I don’t know exactly, but I think it was Khankala. There I was lifted by the arms and dragged for some 30 metres. They told me to raise my legs, threw me into a pit and sealed it with a metal lid. They kept me there for about six days.”

“Were you interrogated during this time?”

“Yes, every day.”

“By whom?”

“I do not know exactly – I had a hood on my head the whole time – but they were Russians. Then I discovered they were from the FSB. I was dragged out of the pit and led to some premises. At the first interrogation they warned me that I should not use the words, ‘I don’t know’ or ‘No’ because if I did they would immediately kill me.”

“Did they know you were acquainted with Zakayev?”

“Yes. They told me to tell them how I had fought with Zakayev in Dagestan, and also in the Islamic Jamaat battalion which Zakayev commanded. ‘You cut the heads off Russian soldiers!’ When I said that had not happened, they said, ‘What difference does it make?’ and began their torture.”

“How were you tortured?”

“With electricity, and they kicked me, and probably used truncheons. I could no longer see what with. At one of the interrogations they asked whether I knew Zakayev’s telephone number. I said no. Zakayev was at that time already under arrest in Denmark. They told me that they had telephone equipment and the telephone number. They tied me to the chair, attached something to my feet, one dialled a number saying this was a call to my friend in Copenhagen, and the electricity started. That went on every day. When this procedure ended they threw me back into the pit, and I was there the whole time.”

“In November?”

“Yes, it was already winter. It was cold. The pit was too small to stand up in. Your head was pressing against the metal hatch, and you also couldn’t sit – there was water on the ground. Eventually I told
them I would do anything they wanted. I could no longer stand the torture. You have to understand, I am human. Please understand.”

There is a shocked silence in the court. Everybody is motionless. The judge is no longer shuffling papers in front of him and, like everybody else, is looking directly at Duk-Vakha. Does he not believe him?

“They told me to sign a statement that Zakayev had ordered his bodyguards to kidnap priests. I told them, ‘I didn’t know Zakayev then and I don’t know what he did then.’ They said, ‘That doesn’t matter. We know. All you have to do is sign.’ They warned me that if I should ever think of withdrawing my testimony, ‘We will skin you alive.’ Then they drove me to the FSB’s Chechen headquarters in the center of Grozny. There, for the first time, they took the handcuffs off and the hood off my head. I signed what they gave me.”

“Including the bit about the Pope?”

“Yes.”

“While you were signing were you being filmed with a video camera?”

“They told me beforehand to learn by heart the text they gave me to sign. They warned me not to hesitate in front of the camera when they started asking questions. I would be pretending to reply. They led me into a room. There were seven or eight soldiers there and two civilians. One of them introduced himself to me as being from NTV, from the program
Top Secret.”

“All this took place in the FSB building in Grozny?”

“Yes.”

“Where were you taken after the recording?”

“To prison in Grozny, but first to the court. They organised documents of some sort. I was in a very bad state, completely beaten up, covered in bruises, but the judge (in the Staropromyslovsky District Court) did not ask me anything, he just placed me under arrest for 10 days, to give time for my injuries to heal. After that they took me to the prison, but they wouldn’t accept me because they said I would die there and they would be held responsible. They took me that evening to a different prison which did accept me and I was there for two months.”

“Did you know that your evidence against Zakayev had been televised?”

“Yes, the prison guards told me it had been shown on all channels. Two months later I was taken back to court. There was a member of the FSB, a Chechen, there. I know him, we went to school together. He warned me, ‘Do you know why they are freeing you now? So they can kill you and blame it on Zakayev. They will say he murders people who give evidence against him. If you want to live, get out of Grozny today.’ That’s what I did.”

The British judge is very good at keeping his thoughts to himself. Judges are not expected to say much, just “Yes” or “No,” and possibly, “Mr Zakayev, the next hearing will be on such and such a date. If you are not here at 10 a.m. you will be arrested.” But the traditional British reserve was ruffled by this insight into Russian justice. The judge was moved to remark, “This is an extraordinary situation, a dramatic turn of events.” He demanded a prompt response to a number of fundamental questions. For example, why had the Russian Prosecutor-General’s Office been assuring the court that witness Dushuyev was in danger from Zakayev and that this was why his name had been obliterated in the extradition papers delivered to Britain, when in fact Dushuyev was in prison and hence in the custody of those making these claims? Had the Prosecution deliberately misled the court? The judge was outraged.

Misleading the court constitutes grave professional misconduct in Britain. The system works in a way which means that Zakayev has defence lawyers and the Prosecutor-General’s Office has lawyers supporting its demand for extradition. They are appointed by the Crown Prosecution Service, which works with the Prosecutor-General’s Office. If it transpires that there has been a deliberate attempt to provoke a miscarriage of justice, which the lawyers of the Crown Prosecution Service failed to detect through being unduly trusting of their Russian colleagues, they [the CPS] will face a disciplinary investigation and penalties. This would be a severe blow to their reputations which the profession would not forgive, a blot on their entire careers. Britain does not tolerate such games.

Accordingly, the lawyers of the Crown Prosecution Service were also thrown into disarray. They found themselves obliged to defend their own reputation, which was in jeopardy. What the court was now discussing was this sample of Kremlin justice, and the fact that even in Stalin-era trials such a thing had been unheard of. The lawyers humbly asked the judge to allow them an adjournment until September 8, repeating, “These are very serious charges. We are not prepared … We have no comment to make today …” The judge however insisted on a reply “today, without fail,” and gave them just two hours to contact Moscow (probably Fridinsky). When Judge Workman heard the replies he would decide how the trial should proceed.

Two hours proved insufficient and Judge Workman relented, agreeing to give the Prosecutor-General’s Office until September 1 to provide explanations in writing, and warning that the case would resume on September 8. He added unambiguously that hearings would continue for no more than four or five days, after which he would retire to consider his verdict.

What have we just witnessed? We have tried to spill out into Europe our corrupt legal practice of fabricating cases whenever and however the state authorities decree, and we have fallen flat on our faces.

The Russian state didn’t get away with it in Britain. There was no way it could, because the British have no reason to allow this virus of ours to infect them. Who can blame them? But what of us now, the citizens of Russia, with our law enforcement gangsters ranged against us? The British will survive our invasion. They will merely note for the record the kind of people they are dealing with in the Russian legal system, and of course they will not extradite Zakayev.

But what about us? We citizens must make ourselves heard, not just keep our heads down. If you don’t feel moved to defend Zakayev, then at least rise to your own defence. The state system poses a deadly threat. Anyone can be tortured. These are terrorist acts perpetrated by the regime against us all.

CHECHNYA–LONDON: ANOTHER COURTROOM MARVEL IN THE ZAKAYEV CASE

September 11, 2003

In London, in Bow Street Magistrates Court, at the hearings concerning the extradition to Russia of Akhmed Zakayev which resumed on September 8, marvels of getting at the truth about the Chechen War through the law continued. This is something we rarely are treated to in Russia, hence our interest. On this occasion Mr Justice Timothy Workman was presented with information about the stranglehold in which the Russian Prosecution Service and other federal law enforcement institutions have the administration of justice in Chechnya, and why as a result of their stewardship we need recourse to the British legal system.