Mark’s Soap Box

There are quite a few people who read my blog who think that America is a terrible place, and that there is nothing we do correctly, or right. They also believe that all cops are dirty, and abuse their power. It’s clear they have never been to a country that is truly corrupt, and where the people have no power.

Sunday Times Reporter Gets A Taste of Real Corruption

Some excerpts just in case the story gets archived.

wedding is a very bling affair so the narrow lane was clogged with white stretch limos and several wedding parties in the act of raising vodka and champagne toasts to a gaggle of brides and grooms.

Fortunately I was on my motorbike, so I swerved to the only empty space – which happened to be the pavement – and drove along it for less than 15 yards. As I was about to rejoin the road, a door swung open and a man stepped out on to the pavement. Braking sharply, I managed to stop just in time.

The man – a stocky specimen in black designer sports jacket, suede shoes and sunglasses – turned on me. “Do you know what this building is?” he barked. “It’s the district’s local prosecutor’s office.”

He then demanded I hand him the keys to the motorbike and show him my papers. When I refused, he jumped in front of my motorbike and started making calls on his mobile. Of course I knew I was in the wrong; in fact my brief appropriation of the pavement would undoubtedly have earned me a fine in most countries in the world.

Pavement meaning sidewalk.

Soon two burly men arrived, one flashing a police badge that identified him as a captain whose speciality was hunting criminals on the run. The prosecutor was still on his mobile: “We have detained a man who was driving a motorbike along a pavement. Send a car at once.”

Minutes later a plainclothes police officer pulled up in a four-wheel drive with tinted windows and told me to accompany him to the local station for ID checks.

And you think traffic stops are bad here.

the captain typed up his version of events with one index finger. His creative flair more than made up for his poor typing skills.

“When I asked Mr Franchetti to follow me to the police station,” said his report, “he turned on his motorbike, pushed me aside, insulted me and tried to drive off, at which stage Mr Franchetti was detained and taken to the police station.”

Most Russians are aware that police officers systematically fabricate evidence and use force, torture and blackmail to extort false confessions. I have reported on such stories many times. Even the Russian justice minister, in a rare public admission, revealed that thousands of people are wrongly charged with criminal offences every year.

Now for the first time I was seeing the process unfold before my eyes. What struck me most was the ease and nonchalance with which the captain twisted a minor traffic violation into a case in which a police officer was now the victim. This was no sudden moment of creative inspiration; rather a talent fine-tuned from years of experience.

“You know perfectly well that didn’t happen. What’s the point of writing lies?” I asked.

“The point is that this is what the prosecutor’s office wants,” replied the captain. The man whose path I had crossed was the third most powerful figure in the district prosecutor’s office, I was told. He was also responsible for checking the work of officers posted at this very police station. The captain made it clear he was acting under strict instructions.

“You’ve been living here for a long time – you know the system,” he told me. “That’s how it works. We are not bad people, but there’s nothing we can do about it.”

Everyone seemed bemused by the prosecutor’s overreaction, but orders were orders. The men in the station were mere cogs in a repressive and corrupt system.

Funny how the left feels this is a country to emulate.

Ordinary Russians, though, with neither money nor influential acquaintances have no rights. Nor, it seemed, did I. Four hours into my detention a traffic policeman arrived. He filled in yet more paperwork about my traffic violation, then asked with a hint of sympathy: “Stepped on some big-ass toes did you?”

Next came an investigator from the Russian interior ministry, who announced he’d now be handling my case. I was asked to make a lengthy statement, which he took down by hand. By this time I had a small sense of how helpless people can feel once they are caught up in the system.

Then a more senior officer arrived. My grave offence – driving 15 yards on a pavement – had now involved nine officers. The new man said my deposition would not be valid. As a foreigner, I had to make it in front of an official interpreter.

This is another peculiarity of Russia’s perverse judicial system. The miscarriages of justice perpetrated by its officers take place within a strict legal framework that presents a semblance of legality. Officers who write up a false report will often fret about a minor legal technicality that could be construed as an infringement of the rights of the person they are framing.

Five hours after my encounter with the angry prosecutor I was finally released. The captain explained my case would be studied by an officer from the interior ministry who would decide whether to recommend pressing charges. At which stage I’ll have little choice but to go native and start trying to pull strings – the only way to solve such problems in Russia.

So spare me all you America Haters with you America is corrupt bullcrap.

Tags: corruption, russia, crime, traffic ticket