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Quote by Steven Magee

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Steven Magee

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“I would always show up on Sunday morning, looking like hell after having partied all through the weekend without sleep. When I arrived, they would prime my inebriated carcass for church and drag me with them. And I’d prime myself by taking some sort of upper. Sometimes I’d still fall asleep on the pew, but luckily, I was not the only one. After church, I would smile and strut my charm with the doting church mothers. I was so cunning about my addiction that most of them didn’t have a clue, other than the occasional rumor of an arrest, but those could easily be blamed on bad company. When I got home, I would sleep through the rest of the day and night until I finally awoke for school on Monday.”

“Suddenly, from behind the frosted glass of an adjacent room, a colleague appears. He's senior in rank, a captain. The captain holds out his hand for the passport and then starts brusquely looking through it. Yulia gives me a wry smile, as if to say, here we go. "Alexei Anatolievich, please come with me," the captain says. The expression on our lawyer's face reflects what she is thinking about the failure of our cunning plan. She is standing literally centimeters away, but already on the far side of the barrier that symbolizes the state border. She tries to open it and come back in, but it is obviously locked and can only be opened by pressing a button in the border guard's cubicle. "Why do you want me to go with you?" I ask. "We need to establish certain details." "Well, what's the problem with establishing them here?" "You need to come with me." Do you take me for a complete fool? I think. If you've decided to arrest me, bring out your cops, of whom you doubtless have a squad at the ready. They want to avoid a photograph of the police taking me away. "I don't have to go anywhere with you," I say. "Here is my lawyer. I insist you establish your details or whatever it is in her presence." We bicker some more, and I can see the pain in the captain's eyes. He is under instructions to get me to walk through that adjacent door-with no photos of policemen-but he is clearly not going to be able to deliver. He mutters something into his handset, and six policemen magically appear. Olga begins attacking the barrier even more energetically, demanding to be let back in. Just in case, I move Yulia, who is standing between me and the police, behind my back. Heaven knows what they may have in mind. The altercation continues, now with a police major, and by now I am on autopilot. This routine of "Come with me," "No," "Come," "No, I don't have to. Here is my lawyer," "No, come with me" is something I know so well I could repeat it in my sleep. What is important right now is to think strategically. I have a single-use mobile phone in my pocket (I feel it). Kira has the backpack with the laptop. I give the suitcase to Yulia; it is unlikely she will be detained too. That seems to be everything. I am ready. I say goodbye to Yulia, kissing her on the cheek. The standard dialogue has already reached the stage of "If you refuse to comply with the instructions of police officers, forcible action will be taken." There is no point in refusing to go with them and be dragged off by the arms and legs like at protest rallies. What if all they are planning to do is hand me a summons to appear in court? In fifteen minutes the whole confrontation would look pretty silly. I kiss Yulia again and go on my way, accompanied by an escort of police.”

“This routine of "Come with me," "No," "Come," "No, I don't have to. Here is my lawyer," "No, come with me" is something I know so well I could repeat it in my sleep. What is important right now is to think strategically. I have a single-use mobile phone in my pocket (I feel it). Kira has the backpack with the laptop. I give the suitcase to Yulia; it is unlikely she will be detained too. That seems to be everything. I am ready. I say goodbye to Yulia, kissing her on the cheek. The standard dialogue has already reached the stage of "If you refuse to comply with the instructions of police officers, forcible action will be taken." There is no point in refusing to go with them and be dragged off by the arms and legs like at protest rallies. What if all they are planning to do is hand me a summons to appear in court? In fifteen minutes the whole confrontation would look pretty silly. I kiss Yulia again and go on my way, accompanied by an escort of police.... Everyone in Russia is familiar with the phrase "a theater performance for one spectator." It starts within a few seconds. Two characters in plain clothes turn on cameras, while a third (you call tell he is in charge from his jacket) produces some papers, goes over to the major, and begins solemnly intoning, "Comrade blah blah blah, I report that in the case of blah blah blah there is blah blah blah evidence, blah blah blah Navalny, blah blah blah search." Having absorbed this, the major turns to the border guard, who reports that based on a review of blah blah blah documents citizen Navalny has been identified. At this I start laughing at them. "Why are you behaving like lunatics? Who are you putting this shown on for? There's only me here; relax and speak normally," I say. They cannot relax, however, because of those two cameras filming the proceedings. Their superiors, who have scripted this performance, are invisibly present in their camera proxies. Nobody reacts to my words.”

“He had no alibi for the night of November 8, 1974, and he argued, "If I cannot remember precisely what occurred on a date which is now eighteen and one-half months prior to my arrest for kidnapping, it is because my memory does not improve with time. It is safe to say what I was not doing, however. I was not having heart surgery, nor was I taking ballet lessons, nor was I in Mexico, no was I abducting a complete stranger at gunpoint. There are just some things a person does not forget and just some things a person is not inclined to do under any circumstances.”

“They had him. Far down the platform we heard the sudden fifing shrill of the engine whistle. The guard cried warning; all up and down the platform doors were slammed. Slowly the train moved from the station. We rolled right past him, very slowly. They had him. They surrounded him. He stood among them, protesting volubly, talking with his hands now, insisting all could be explained. And they said nothing. They had him.”