APPENDIX 2

Letter from Dmitri Chikunov to his Mother, 1999, translation Human Rights Watch.

"Hello dear mama! I don't know if this letter will reach you. But you must know the truth, even if you and I never see each other again. I am writing this to you because I am not guilty of this crime. They forced me under torture to sign this confessional testimony. Please don't hold me in contempt. I have sinned before you, but I could not stand it all.

Immediately after arrest, even before we arrived at the UVD, one of the operativniks (later I learned that his last name is Grigorian) caught my head in the car door and kicked me several times in the abdomen. I didn't do anything, even though, as you know, I am able to defend myself. I thought it would all be sorted out. When we arrived--throughout the whole way he beat me with all his might with his fists and elbows--they led me to a big office where there were seven or eight operativniki. Without letting me say one word they tore off my necktie and pressed me up against the wall to beat me--each of them beat me in any way he could. They even hit me with an empty Coca-Cola bottle. There were so many of them that after a couple of minutes I lost consciousness, and a blow knocked my head against the wall. The last thing that I remember is the voice of two of them--Grigorian and one other (later I learned that this was the investigator Makhamatkulov)--they were shouting at me that I was faking it, and that they should give me some more. I came to my senses from the horrible pain, and because I was starting to gasp for air. I found that they had tied my hands behind my back and placed a gas mask on my head. Makhamatkulov closed off the breathing tube and shouted at me to confess that I am a murderer, and cursed at me. I don't remember how long this went on. His terrible shouts are still ringing in my ears. As I recall, I started to suffocate immediately. I was repeating the whole time that I was not guilty, that I saw it but I took no part. But none listened to me. I don't remember who, but I think it was Grigorian who said that since I was "such a stubborn [skotina]" that they would drag you in, mommy, and before my eyes would "have a gang bang," in other words, rape you, and if that didn't help then the window is right here and I can "accidentally" fall out, as had happened several times, and then they would write that I committed suicide. I begged them not to touch you, and pleaded with them to let me out. I told them that I was not guilty, and that they should do whatever they wanted with me, instead.

But just then Makhamatkulov and other UVD staff walked in. Makhamatkulov yelled at everyone, "Beat him, the pederast!" They again began to beat me and kick me with their feet, fists, with truncheons, and I couldn't even resist, because my hands were tied behind my back. Makhamatkulov was screaming that since I am not married, I must be a pederast, and now they're going to finish (as he put it) the "press conference" and give me what I want, since I am a homosexual (in other words, they would rape me). At the same time he was beating me on the back of the head with a stick in the form of a male sex organ, carved out of stone. They called in a photographer and, while beating me all the while, tried to pull off my pants. I tried to resist in whatever way I could. Then they threw me down on the floor and someone sat on my neck, someone on my arms and someone on my back, shouting: "Now we'll shove this prick up your ass and take a picture, and send it with you to prison. They love guys like you in there!" Then the one who was sitting on my back jumped up and with all his might jumped with both his feet on my spine. The breath was knocked out of me from the pain, and then they dragged off my pants and broke the zipper. But they didn't rape me, just started to beat my legs and feet with their truncheons. The whole time they were screaming "we know that you're the murderer, admit it and we'll stop!" I told them that I had done nothing, that I am not guilty, but they just kept beating me. Then they picked me up and let me put on my pants. They untied my hands but then tied me up to the radiator, and started to kick me and beat me with their truncheons on my back and ribs. One of them said "We're gonna kill you and nothing will happen to us. If there are any marks from the blows we'll say that you got in a fight." I told him that "everything that I know I've already told you--I didn't kill anyone." I fell over, but they kept pulling me up and beating me. Then they said that for stubborn types they have an even better method, so they would show me the "swallow" [lastochka]. They untied me from the radiator, and once more fastened my hands behind my back with handcuffs. Then they all took me by my shoulders and legs and started to heave me up and down, until they threw me up towards the ceiling and stepped back. I fell on my back on the floor, and after that I don't remember what happened from the pain. I couldn't speak--it's as if I was paralyzed. They did that four times.

Then there was a break, and when I came to, I saw an investigator standing beside me. He asked me, "so, are you going to confess?" I could only nod my head. Forgive me, mommy dear, but I just couldn't stand any more. How longthis all went on I can't say. Then they let me wash and they gave me a cigarette. Then, after hearing what I had said to them again, they started to argue among themselves (this was Makhamatkulov and another investigator) that they should make me the organizer of the crime. After that they questioned me about where I went to school, in what city. Then they wrote down my "confession," and warned me: "don't pull any tricks. The `elder' (whom I don't remember) is going to come in now and ask you questions while we tape you on video, so you answer, and if you don't know the answer just read the paper." That is basically what happened, but when I gave the answers to this person, he didn't believe me. He told them to turn off the camera, and to bring me out into the hallway. When he was alone with them he started to yell at them that he needs the facts, and that this was not a confession but just a bunch of chatter. That he could "investigate" the case like that himself, with his fists, if he wanted to. And that he doesn't believe for a minute that I am guilty! Right after that he left, and I never saw him again.

They brought me into the office again, and when I saw their faces I knew that they would pour all of their anger out on me. They beat me again, yelling that I had "screwed everything up," and that now they would kill me. Then, after conferring, they told me that "now we have no other choice" and that they would "rub me out" in a supposed escape attempt, and you can hang whatever you want on a corpse. They led me out of the office and out of the building on to the street. A car was waiting--there were four of them in the car, Makhamatkulov in the front seat, someone else behind the wheel (whom I understood to be the occupant of the office [where Chikunov had just been held - trans.]). In the back seat with me there was an investigator and an operativnik. We went to the scene of the crime, and the whole way they were humiliating me, cursing, and saying that they could make one phone call and everything that they threatened before would happen to you, mommy. I wasn't afraid to die, I just begged them to leave you alone. When we arrived at the place they brought me out of the car and led me in front of it, with the headlights shining on me, and turned my back to them. One of them walked up to me and I heard him cock the trigger on a pistol. Then, he put the barrel of the gun to the back of my head. I was silent, and I heard "Sasha" make a telephone call and give the command to go find you. I sank to my knees and begged them not to touch you. Then they said that from that moment I must act completely according to their commands. I must do everything they told me, and say only that which they told me to ahead of time. I agreed. They congratulated each other, and kissed each other after the Uzbek custom. We all drove back to the UVD. All the rest you know.

Mommy, you are the very dearest thing I have in this life. I beg you to comprehend, I could not have acted otherwise. Forgive me please, and please understand: I did not commit that crime. Let them shoot me, but I could not let them touch you.

After that they held me in the UVD for another twenty days, and every day they interrogated me. They hardly let me sleep, and constantly beat me with truncheons, kicked me, and even spit on me. They told me that I was now their slave! And while they wouldn't shoot me they would make me pay for it one hundred times over. Many times at night, for no reason, without any interrogation, they would take me out of the cell and beat me. Grigorian and Makhamatkulov were in charge of the others. I wanted to kill myself, but I couldn't. They didn't bring me to the prison until May 4. I didn't even have time to rest, when on May 6 they brought me back [to GUVD]. And then hell commenced again. More beatings, and for the slightest possible reason they would start to threaten you again. The whole time lies, and filth. I cannot comprehend all the ways in which they demeaned and humiliated me. Once they even said that you had hanged yourself, or rather, that they had "helped" you. And when I threw myself at them, after that for two days they tortured me, doing everything all over again from the "gas mask" to the "swallow." They held me there for more than ten days, and at the end of the twelfth day they sent me back to prison. They didn't let me stay in prison long, fearing that I would start to talk.

I beg you, my dear mommy, if you do receive this letter, be very careful--these people are capable of anything! Please, I beg you to forgive me. If fate does not bring us together again, remember that I am not guilty. I did not shed blood! I would sooner die than allow anyone to harm you. I love you very much; you are the only person in the world who is dear to me. Please always think of me. With all my love, your son Dmitri

Dmitri Chikunov was executed July 10, 2000.