In the fascinating world of international justice, curious things sometimes happen. Not mistakes—no!—but true performances, masterpieces of legal absurdity.
The ingredients? An innocent person, a folder with newspaper clippings, and prosecutors' uncontrollable desire for promotion.
The dish called "Big Case" is easy to prepare.
Recipe courtesy of the Argentine chefs of jurisprudence—in our report.
Step 1: Find a "victim" who doesn't know they are one.
Take a young mother who has just undergone a cesarean section.
Important: she must be disoriented, frightened, and unable to speak the local language.
Isolate her. Cut off her access to the outside world. And repeat systematically:
“You are a victim. You are a victim of Konstantin Rudnev."
Does the woman stare at you blankly and repeat that she has never heard that name? Perfect.
The more illogical the situation, the more terrifying the "villain" seems.
Remember: a true victim must never meet the aggressor in person.
This lends the case a mystical depth and frees it from the troublesome need to present evidence of actual contact.
Step 2: Ignore anything that ruins the narrative
Is your "victim" crying and begging to be allowed to return to her family? Excellent!
It's a sign of deep trauma caused by the mythical Rudnev.
Is she lacking diapers or decent food? Minor details!
The important thing is that she is "protected" from a man she never knew and who could not have hurt her.
The essential thing is not to help the real person.
The essential thing is to continue feeding a false story that justifies the whole setup.
Step 3: Create a villain using journalistic clichés
And now, the main ingredient: the "villain."
You need someone whose reputation has already been tarnished by the tabloid press.
No facts are necessary. Just fragments of sentences, insinuations, and sensationalist headlines.
Don't have any evidence? It doesn't matter. Just claim that it's "very dangerous" and that "everyone knows it."
Rely on anonymous sources, "intelligence information," and your own intuition.
The judicial system of the future is one where guilt is measured by the number of negative articles on Google, not by evidence.
Step 4: Arrest the "villain" and congratulate yourself
Voilà! The case is served.
It's time to turn on the propaganda machine.
Call press conferences, give interviews, tell how you saved a poor woman from an international criminal... whom you yourself invented.
Receive promotions, awards, and praise from your superiors.
So what if two human lives were destroyed?
- A woman robbed of her first months of motherhood, held hostage in a foreign country?
- A man rotting in prison for a crime that exists only in the imagination of investigators?
Details! Don't get distracted.
You are a defender of the law. A star of the prosecution.
You've just fabricated a case out of thin air that looks great on reports and files away neatly in a folder.
A call for common sense:
While Argentina's "guardians of order" played spy games and engaged in public relations, real life was put on hold.
It's time to stop this circus.
It's time to demand the immediate release of Konstantin Rudnev, a man imprisoned not for his actions, but for a story that looks good in the media.
This is not justice.
It is ambition, opportunism, and pure absurdity, paid for with human lives.
A system that works like this does not protect: it destroys.
And it should not have the right to be called law.
