Flight from the USSR

The End

It was no wonder that the elderly witness was not brought back after the break.

Although two people had mentioned death earlier that day, the severe verdict read out by the judge came as a shock not only for the accused and their parents, but even for the KGB officers present at the trial: Tina was sentenced to fourteen years in prison, the rest of them—to death by shooting.

Immediately after the verdict was announced, the accused were led out of the courtroom. Gega searched for his mother, who stood motionless. She only saw the back of her son as he was taken somewhere. She refused to believe it was true, that he would be executed.

None of Gega’s friends believed it either, and they still believed there was a last chance to save them—a pardon that the government sometimes granted to death row convicts. It was now necessary to write a letter that would be signed by the most reputable Georgians of the time. It had to be addressed to the authorities with an appeal to spare the lives of the young people who had gone astray. Several people drafted the letter contained and secured the signatures, but they were not enough. They then began to search for help from well-known and highly respected public figures all over Georgia.

Since it was the middle of August, most of them were vacationing on the beaches of the Black Sea in Abkhazia. Gega’s friends and some volunteers combed the beaches looking for sunbathing representatives of the Georgian intelligentsia, beach by beach. They talked to them in whispers on the waterfront. Some intellectuals were motivated to sign the appeal because they were deeply moved with sympathy for Gega’s fate. Others had to be secretly told that the idea of the letter came from the government itself to encourage their support.

The appeal for pardon was to be sent to Moscow, since it was believed, sincerely and naively, that the decision to sentence the hijackers to death had been taken in Moscow, and that the local Georgian government only carried out orders from Russia. In reality, everything was the other way round. When Georgian authorities discovered that several Georgian scientists, directors or actors who either cooperated with them, or were loyal to them, had signed the appeal they were indignant. They worried about the reaction of Kremlin, who would undoubtedly be concerned that the local intelligentsia was so openly and boldly defending anti-Soviet individuals. It could be viewed in Moscow as a sign that the government of Georgia did not have sufficient control of its intelligentsia. The Georgian Central Committee Secretaries were incensed that a group they had given apartments, cars and summerhouses would betray them and sign a pardon without seeking approval.

After the verdict was passed on August 13th, a TV special entitled The Bandits, was aired ten days later. Over the ten days between the verdict and the inaugural broadcast, material from the trial was edited in such a way that the viewers would not have even the slightest doubt they were looking at hardened criminals, cynical murderers and bona fide terrorists who deserved to be executed.

There were, however, details that caused certain disagreement among the filmmakers. For instance, there was a necessity to include the Iverieli brothers’ motivation for leaving the USSR. According to the investigation, their lifestyle was utterly immoral; full of sexual adventures and their real objective was to continue these exploits in the west. In truth, the brothers hoped to open their own clinic. This was not included in the film for fear it would not sound plausible and could antagonize the public.

The film also included other small details to illustrate the heartlessness of the hijackers. The group was accused of denying passengers the right to use the toilet on board the plane. In reality, the hijackers only appealed to passengers to remain seated when the plane was under heavy gunfire from the outside.

Several members of the intelligentsia, who had signed the pardon appeal, withdrew their signatures of support. Those who did not were summoned to the Central Committee and forced to withdraw support after threats and other methods of influence were issued. Some had to not only take back their signatures, but also write letters of explanation that apologized for the mistake they had committed against the government and the Communist Party. Yet, there were others who sacrificed their privileges and refused to revoke their signatures, maintaining their opinion that Gega and his friends should be pardoned. The wait for any pardon would be in vain. The authorities had made their decision.

Public opinion considered the decision so ruthless that they started to make up legends about Shevardnadze’s cruelty. This was one of the only means of revenge for the Georgian public back then. There was a story about how Shevardnadze summoned Paata and Kakhaberber’s father to talk about the death of his son. Whether the following story was true or not, it accurately reflects the pervasive public attitude at the time.

Paata’s and Kakhaberber’s father was a well-known Georgian physician and scientist who Shevardnadze knew personally. He was fired the day after his sons’ arrest. Three weeks after the trial, he was summoned to see the First Secretary of the Central Committee.

Needless to say, Vazha Iverieli understood what, or more precisely who, the conversation would focus on. For the meeting, in the Central Committee of Georgia, where the fate of his sons was being decided, he deliberately chose to wear jeans. Vazha did not have a pair of his own, but found them in the boys’ room. It was not an easy task to find them since his sons’ room had been turned it upside down so many times during searches that the family gave up tidying it. After some time, he found the jeans, which smelled of his sons, put them on in front of a mirror and went to the Central Committee.

When a pass was given to him at the Central Committee, both low and high-ranking officials looked dumbfounded at the man who was going to meet with Shevardnadze wearing jeans—he was the first to show such daring.

Shevardnadze was looking down at his desk and did not hear the man’s greeting on entering. What he certainly noticed was Vazha’s jeans. Without raising his head, he pointed to a chair for the visitor to take and had a closer look at his jeans. He might have been angry and probably thought that this was a protest against the verdict passed on his children.

“You probably understand why I summoned you?”

“I don’t know. I can only guess the talk will concern my sons.”

“So, you do know.”

“I am listening.”

“No, I am listening to you.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“But you may have something to ask.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your sons, of course.”

“I cannot ask you anything for my sons.”

“Why? You have no hopes for our mercy?”

“I have no right to ask you only for the life of my children. The others haven’t done more wrong than my sons.”

“So, you are asking me to change the verdict for all of them?”

“If that’s why you have summoned me, then yes. But I cannot ask you to save only my boys, because I wouldn’t be doing the right thing to others’ parents, who don’t know you in person and cannot come here, like myself, in order to save their children.”

“The others have different circumstances.”

“We are all in the same situation now.”

“But they are about to lose one child each, while you are going to lose both, unless they are pardoned.”

“Who is supposed to pardon them?”

“Moscow.”

“Is there a chance?”

“We are doing everything in our power, but very often they make decisions and don’t consult us. Had it been up to me, you know…”

“I know,” said Vazha, despite the fact that he was not sure what this man would have done if the decision to change the verdict depended on him. Both were silent for a little while. Also, Vazha, did not tell Shevardnadze the truth, because there still was some hope to save his sons. It was Shevardnadze who broke the silence.

“There is a very little chance of altering the verdict for everyone, but I can manage to save one of your sons, at least. We have known each other for so many years and you have never asked me anything, until now…”

“I have not asked that, either.”

“That’s why I want to save at least one of the brothers. I’ve already talked to Moscow about it.”

“How’s that?”

“They’ll probably change the verdict of the one who deserves his sentence to be changed.”

Vazha got to his feet and was about to say something, but all of a sudden his throat went dry and he was unable to speak. Shevardnadze thought his guest wanted to thank him and made a gesture with his hand, as if to say “not at all.” Vazha tried again to get the words out, but without any result, so he started slowly towards the door. When he opened the door, Shevardnadze stood up, approached Vazha and, almost in a whisper, casually asked him:

“By the way, which one do you prefer?”

Vazha understood that he would die, right then and there, if Shevardnadze said anything more to him, so he slammed the door hard behind him. Slammed the door and left.

Whether the story was fiction or not, the author remains unknown.

After her conviction, Tina was to be transferred to a women’s penitentiary, while the others were to be moved to the dungeons of a very old prison in Ortachala where death row convicts were kept. There was only one night left in the KGB prison before the transfers were to be made. The monk approached the guard, who he had secretly given St. John’s Gospel, with his last wish:

“You won’t see me anymore. They’re moving me tomorrow.”

“I know.”

“To the death row.”

“I know.”

To wait for my execution.”

“I know.”

“Everyone should have their last wish fulfilled, right?”

“Tell me and I’ll try to help.”

“You know which cell Gega’s in?”

“Yes.”

“And Tina?”

“Yes, I know the girl’s cell too.”

“Can you let them see each other?”

“Tonight?”

“It’s the last night here. They will never be able to see each other again. This is my last wish, too.”

“The women’s floor isn’t my zone and I can’t go in there without a key.”

“Love opens all doors.”

“When can we talk about that book, Father?”

“After you open the first door of love. It’s right here, on the upper floor…”

“Are there many such doors waiting for me?”

“Many, but some of them you are going to open more easily.”

“The first door is always more difficult, isn’t it Father?”

“I’ve meant to ask you for a long time and I keep forgetting. How come you work here? It keeps surprising me and I keep forgetting to ask.”

“I’ll tell you that when I come back Father.”

The guard looked at his watch, then smiled at the monk.

“I’ll go upstairs now. It seems a good time, Father.”

“It’s always a good time, always,” said the monk, more to himself.

He made the sign of the cross as the guard walked away. The guard consulted his wristwatch again and quickened his step. He strode down the passage, turned right, went up the stairs and noisily put St. John’s Gospel on the table, in front of his superior, who had fallen asleep at the desk.

“What’s this?” asked the superior as he looked at the cover.

“It’s a book.”

“I can see it’s a book.”

“I’ve confiscated it from a prisoner.”

“Will prayers help them now? My grandfather was a deacon and what? Nothing. He spent his whole time praying in church and now he’s lying in the churchyard, at the end of our village. I wish he’d lived long enough to see what a great man I have become. He’d only been to the city twice.”

“Sir, I need the key to the upstairs toilet, I have to take a prisoner up there. His stomach’s upset and his toilet is clogged. The plumber won’t be in until tomorrow.”

“Which prisoner?”

“I don’t remember his last name, the one who’s here because of the cannery case.”

“Is he one of yours?”

“Yes, one of mine.”

“What did you feed him, then?”

“His own canned food.”

The superior laughed heartily and took out the key from his desk drawer.

“Hurry up. It’s already midnight, and you know it’s against the rules.”

“But if something happens to him, they’ll blame us and that’ll be worse.”

“You’ve become very smart lately. Are you aiming at my position, by any chance? Want to be the boss, boy?”

The guard laughed at the quip, but not as heartily as his superior, and continued on his way. He reached the end of the passage and went up the stairs to the upper floor. Then he turned left and began to count the cells. He stopped at the seventh on the right, looked back first, into the half-lit passage, then knocked on the door with the key. He didn’t wait for the answer, unlocked and unbolted the door. Gega was standing in the cell.

“Come out, quick,” the guard whispered.

“What’s going on?”

“I am doing a favour for the monk. His last request.”

Gega and the guard quickly passed the corridor, turned right and ascended the stairs. The upper floor security, utterly amazed, asked where he was taking the prisoner at such late hour.

“His wife’s in number 19. Only five minutes and I’ll take him back again.”

“You realize what punishment you’re going to get for this?”

“If they don’t see each other now, they never will. He got a death sentence today and is being transferred to death row.”

“If he is, you might get his cell starting tomorrow.”

“You refused to give me the key and I took it by force. That’s what you can report if they ask for an explanation.”

He snatched the cell key from the guard on duty and went down the corridor with Gega. Gega was more surprised than the guard on duty.

“You know, I didn’t go to see the monk, even once,” he whispered.

“When?”

“Before I was arrested. He kept waiting for me…”

“It’s here,” said the guard, stopping at cell 19. He knocked quietly, turned the key, opened the door and let Gega inside.

Tina was sitting on the bed, barefoot, wearing a white chemise. The bed was at the wall facing the door. The cell had a small, heavily barred window with another, faded brick wall beyond it.

Tina sat on the bed without saying anything. She only listened to Gega as he sat next to her. He carefully, very carefully, stroked Tina’s fingers.

“Don’t worry about it… My granddad was also sentenced to death, but he survived. My other granddad, who I’m named after, was also 23 when he was sentenced to death, and he told Lavrentiy Beria while speaking Mingrelian: “I’m not afraid of death, you’ll follow me there and we can talk then.” They brought him out of the Metekhi prison, at night, made him stand with his back to the river. My granddad asked them not to shoot him in the back, as he preferred to look death into the eyes. And so they aimed at him directly, shot and missed on purpose, because they had Beria’s had orders to do so. As I was told, my granddad used to say afterwards that Beria did something much worse to him than death by keeping him alive… He’s still alive, you probably remember him—at our wedding he was kissing you on the forehead all the time and crying… They won’t shoot me either, don’t worry, something will finally happen and they won’t shoot me…”

There was a timid knock on the door and Gega stood up.

“I’m coming,” he said in a very low voice.

He sat down again, strongly clasped Tina’s fingers, which he had missed so much, with his right hand. Then he started to cry.

Then, before the guard locked the door, Gega threw a final glance at Tina still sitting on the bed. Her face seemed to glow and that was how Gega would remembered her forever– sitting on the cell bed, barefoot with wet eyes…