I, a 42-year-old Russian citizen and architect from the Urals, was detained in the transit area of Buenos Aires airport during a connection to a flight to Brazil, where I was traveling to participate in a conference. It was my first trip after the pandemic, with the hope of a new life after the tragedy my family had experienced. However, it turned out that someone already had their own plans for my life.
They acted like terrorists from the action movies my nephew likes to watch: wearing masks, carrying huge rifles, and shouting loudly to crush my will and any sense of direction. Without any explanation, they handcuffed me like a dangerous criminal in front of hundreds of people. They pressed my face against the wall, even though I didn't put up the slightest resistance. They stripped me naked, cut my bra, my boot laces, and even my hair tie with a huge knife. They took my phone, my documents, and my money. They didn't let me call anyone. They didn't provide me with a translator. They didn't allow me to communicate with a lawyer.
They Let Him Die in Prison! | The Shocking Story of Konstantin Rudnev
They paraded me around the airport for two hours in handcuffs—wearing a T-shirt without a bra, my hair disheveled, and boots without laces. People pointed at me and filmed me on video. I became a public spectacle, the object of ridicule and humiliation.
They locked me in a cell right there at the airport, where there was already a couple. They grabbed the man roughly and dragged him to another cell, separating him from his wife. The young woman told me that they had been living in Buenos Aires for many years and had come to the airport to wait for some friends.
During the first three days, we could only go to the bathroom after begging the guards for hours for a little attention. When we asked for a shower, they offered to wash us with water from a dirty bucket, the same bucket they used to scrub the floor. There was no food as such—just bread of dubious freshness and tap water that we could only drink with our hands, as they didn't give us cups. The young woman in the couple did not eat for three days, only drinking occasionally and crying almost nonstop during most of that time. I asked for a doctor for her and for me—I was starting to have health problems, palpitations, and edema. They told me this was not a hotel.
They forced us to sign documents without asking a single question. I don't know what that text in Spanish said because I didn't understand it. My fellow prisoner did know Spanish and told me that they forced her to sign a document renouncing all her personal belongings and electronic devices that she had at the time of her arrest, and she was wearing gold jewelry and carrying an expensive iPhone—a gift from her husband for their wedding anniversary. When I refused to sign, a guard grabbed my fingers by force and stamped my fingerprints on the papers. It was terrifying and absolutely illegal.
On the third day, we were informed that there would be a trial. Apparently, having obtained everything they needed from us, they decided to release the girls, who turned out to be about fifteen.
The lawyers weren't even allowed to speak—only the prosecutors spoke, reading the voluminous charges from a piece of paper, which they probably didn't understand themselves. The translator smoked nervously the whole time and periodically disappeared from the connection, as if she felt nauseous about everything that was happening. The process went on late into the night.
During the hours-long videoconference, I saw Konstantin Rudnev. His face was pale and gaunt. I heard his lawyers pleading for his release—he had heart problems and needed urgent medical attention. Their voices were broken with despair.
But they didn't release him. The system that tortured me decided that it has the right to dispose of his life. And who is he? From fragments of conversations, I learned that he is one of those people who are deeply respected in our region of the Urals. He teaches people to love nature, to see beauty in the pine needles underfoot, in the mountain slopes and gorges. Even the prosecutors themselves said that he walked in nature from morning till night. And now they want to destroy him for that?
When they decided to get rid of me because I was unnecessary, they simply threw me out onto the street. Without documents. Without money. Without a single peso. Without the possibility of leaving—they kept my passport. I had nowhere to go. The state, which should protect me, left me with nothing.
And two weeks later, an employee at the drop-off point for the items they only partially deigned to return to me said with a mocking smile that I was "popular on the internet" and tried to record me with his phone. Even though the judge officially prohibited the disclosure of my personal information! The humiliation continues.
Now. I demand justice.
I was left alone in a city that is not my own. But my personal tragedy is nothing compared to the fate of Konstantin Rudnev. His life is in danger, and the system is killing him with silence and inaction.
I demand:
· The return of all my documents and funds.
· The cessation of the publication of my personal data.
· Punishment for those responsible for cruel treatment.
· The immediate release and provision of medical assistance to Konstantin Rudnev.
Konstantin Rudnev is innocent. His story is a palpable example of how people are illegally imprisoned to demonstrate fictitious power. It is a theater of the absurd in which the roles are assigned in advance and the sentence was handed down before the grotesque spectacle began.
We cannot remain silent. Every day of inaction is a step toward the irreversible. We demand the immediate release of Konstantin Rudnev, the provision of all necessary medical care, and his full rehabilitation.
#JusticeForKonstantin. Share this story. Let everyone know why this kind and bright man is being held in prison. Kindness is not a crime. Konstantin Rudnev must be acquitted and released!
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