My Fellow Prisoners

Alexei’s Story

These days there are very strong feelings against paedophiles among the public, which is not surprising. It’s an appalling crime, the result of a depraved and twisted mind that believes itself to be above the law.

Politicians, as is their wont, will use any situation to try to boost their ratings. But the ‘quota system’ (whereby people are arrested to meet a predetermined level of arrests), given the lack of genuine judicial protection, has resulted in abuses that are no less appalling and have tragic outcomes.

I got to know a guy who was doing time for a paedophilia-related crime and who was consistently refused all requests for parole and a reduced sentence.

Alexei had ended up in prison at the age of nineteen. He’s now twenty-two – a nice young guy who doesn’t have any tattoos or other ‘peculiarities’ that often characterize prisoners. He’s hard-working and does amazing things on the old metal-turning lathe.

His story is simple. As a teenager he was given a suspended sentence for robbery. It was pretty run-of-the-mill – he had one too many, nicked a mobile phone from an acquaintance, an hour later found himself in custody. He got four years suspended.

To this day he gets very embarrassed when I call him a ‘bandit’ and ask him to explain why he did it.

He’s clearly ashamed about the whole thing, and doesn’t even want to talk about it.

Two years went by; he was still going to school. Aged eighteen he met a girl, Ira, at a disco. She was underage. They started living together, at her parents’ home. They hoped to get married as soon as they could. But then the campaign against paedophilia started. The town they lived in wasn’t big, everyone knew everything that went on. The local police officer received his ‘quota’ demand, and so he went into action. The parents of the girl wrote letters, the bride-to-be sobbed in the courtroom, but it was all to no avail. The judge ‘understood everything’ but she too had a quota to fill and a campaign to adhere to.

The result: five years, taking into account the suspended sentence.

It was the minimum sentence the judge could impose, if you ignore the fact that the verdict was completely unfair in the first place.

For two years Ira waited for Alexei. They hoped that the court would reconsider his case, that he would be released on parole. But, alas, it became clear that none of these bureaucrats was prepared to go against the grain.

Even visits were impossible.

After two years Alexei wrote to Ira telling her not to wait for him. And he stopped replying to her letters.

I look into his eyes. No, there are no tears, just a well-hidden, deep-rooted despair.

He’s a strong, good-natured guy, like so many other strong, uncomplicated people. They took away not just his freedom but also his happiness. He doesn’t complain, he accepts those who are his seniors, his ‘bosses’, as a force of nature. He was caught up by a wave and thrown on to the shore – alone, without a home, without a family.

What can you do?

But I am left feeling angry and bitter about this hopelessness, about the cruelty of our system, about the cries of people who don’t want to know the truth and demand only one thing: ‘Crucify him!’

Everyone needs to stop; look around you! Not everything is that simple and unambiguous.

During my time in prison I’ve met a good number of such unfortunate people. Some of them have their partners waiting for them. They have a long wait. Some get married in prison. Children come along. And the fathers are still there behind bars, condemned as ‘paedophiles’.

What sort of people are we, if we allow such a thing?