фисабил Аллах
31-03-2010, 06:58 PM
The Murder of Young Men in Dagestan: Militants or Victims of Nonjudicial Punishment
January 11, 2010 at 14:38 in the Machachatka Republic of Dagestan on Orchi Kazakha Street, 27-year olf Kerim Asadulev and Gebek Mamaev were killed. The two friends were exiting the Z & M Cafe. Karim walked toward his car and sat behind the wheel, while his friend walked along the sidewalk next to the car. At that moment, a Gazelle car puled up alongside them, and no less than 5 armed people got out. They were wearing masks and civilian clothing, and they opened fire on the men. They put 40 bullets into Kerim and then finished him off with a shot to the head. Eyewitnesses claim that the shooters were lying in wait for their victims. After killing the two men, the shooters began to shoot into the air and demand that witnesses leave the area. Realizing that someone was filming the incident with a cameraphone from the third floor of a neigboring building, they threatened the cameraman with their firearms. According to eyewitnesses, they placed a small lemon in the hand of Kerim, and a pistol in the hand of his friend. After that, a camera crew showed up and began recording. At 15:00, the local news reported that two "supposed militants" were killed.
Asiyat Aleva, Kerim's mother, found out about this only at 19:00. At 15:00 she received a call from an acquaintance who worked with the police who suddenly asked the name and familiya of her son. When she told him, he abruptly hung up the phone and stopped answering telephone calls. So then Asiyat sent him an SMS - "Ruslan, I beg you, please pick up the phone and tell me what happened." After a little while, he answered the call and informed her that her father was home alone and that outside her gate, there was a crowd or military men, looking like a masquerade was about to begin.
Asiyat Aleva said, "Throwing everything down, I grabbed a taxi and went home. As I pulled up to the house, I saw a large armored Kamaz and almost 50 men in masks and camoflage. Near them there were some people in civilian clothes. I asked them what was happening and also who they were. They said that they came there from Bunkaska and knew nothing. My sister and I entered the house together. There we saw our 80-year old father, tied up and sitting between two investigators. My father later told me that he returned home about a half hour before our arrival and they were already surrounded. The investigators, using my father as a "human shield" entered our house thinking that someone was inside. They went with him into his room and began to distract him with questions. At that time, without witnesses and in violation of all professional norms, they went through the house.
At the moment of my return to the house, I noticed that all the rooms had already been searched. They provided no identification or warrants, according to which their actions could have been justified by law. At the same time, we saw how snipers followed us from the Kamaza and from teh neighbors' roofs. The investigators didn't ask me any questions, and they never explained why they were there. One of them told me that they were "waiting for papers" and those papers didn't show up until two hours later. During all this time, the "law enforcers" were going through the house. When the "paper" arrived, they gave it to us to read. But after a minute they snatched it out of our hands and began to read it to us themselves. In the paper was written that on the January 7, on Gargarina Stree #11/12, a laptop was stolen, and that this search stemmed from suspiscion of that theft. We heard this and laughed. We were relieved, because this had nothing to do with us. We knew that on January 7, Kerim never left the house.
While all of this was going on, I tried to contact my son, but his phone was turned off. Then the "law enforcers" demanded witnesses. They agreed that we should go to our neighbors who knew us well. We thought this was suspicious. They proposed to start the search from the very farthest room. Despite the presence of a large number of cabinets, chests and sofas with pull-out shelves, they went straight to an old piano that we haven't touched in a long time. To our surprise, they opened the bottom drawer, pulled out a bundle, unwrapped it and showing us the small size of the jeans said - "These are his jeans?" In reality, they were several sizes smaller than those worn by my son. From the same bundle, they pulled out a bag that was hidden underneath it, and inside they found some wadded trousers, jacket, overalls, disposable rubber gloves and ankle boots. The ankle boots were not more than a 40 and my some Kerim wore a 45-46. Everything they too out was brand new, and my son had nothing to do with any of it. After that, just for show, they superficially examined the other room and the basement. My house has three floors, five basements, attics, two heated summer kitchens and barns. Never mind that none of these was searched.
Then they went into the first room and began to draw up a report. They put the gun they found into my hand. Suspecting nothing, I took it. Not knowing where it came from, I though (to myself) that maybe it came from my son. But I never said anything about this aloud. While writing the report, they hurriedly examined my brother's car and got ready to leave. As they left, I asked them -"You're not going to search the rest of the house??" They answered - "Look, we never stopped by." I said to them - "Maybe it wasn't you. Maybe someone came by before you and did it."
They took my son's things with them - laptop, telephone, books, passport. They took me to the Soviet ROFD in Mahachkali. The investigator started to ask me surface questions. It seemed like he was just passing time. Having finished the questions, he told me I could leave. I started to exit the ROFD building, but smething stopped me, and I returned to ask the desk lady a question - "Where can I see my son?" Not receiving an answer, I went out into the street. I started to call all the people I knew who had some sort of connection with the ROFD. All of them promised to call me back, but for some reason none of them did. When I walked into my house, I felt disquiet. I got a telephone call, and my acquaintance asked me to give the phone to one of the men. I gave it to my nephew and then he said - "Calm her down about Kerim, there is nothing more!" For many days I still could not understand what had happened.
According to the words of Asiyat Alyeva, from 1998 after joining the MISI, her son lived constantly in Moscow, where he had his own 2-room apartment. He was married and had a daughter. He was a 5th year student in the correspondence department of the law school. he was a well-educated and well-mannered person and he had absolutely no connection with religious extremism.
On February 27, 2010, Asiyat Alyeva wrote to Memorial and other social organizations. In her letter, she requested an objective investigation of her son's murder.
Memorial
January 11, 2010 at 14:38 in the Machachatka Republic of Dagestan on Orchi Kazakha Street, 27-year olf Kerim Asadulev and Gebek Mamaev were killed. The two friends were exiting the Z & M Cafe. Karim walked toward his car and sat behind the wheel, while his friend walked along the sidewalk next to the car. At that moment, a Gazelle car puled up alongside them, and no less than 5 armed people got out. They were wearing masks and civilian clothing, and they opened fire on the men. They put 40 bullets into Kerim and then finished him off with a shot to the head. Eyewitnesses claim that the shooters were lying in wait for their victims. After killing the two men, the shooters began to shoot into the air and demand that witnesses leave the area. Realizing that someone was filming the incident with a cameraphone from the third floor of a neigboring building, they threatened the cameraman with their firearms. According to eyewitnesses, they placed a small lemon in the hand of Kerim, and a pistol in the hand of his friend. After that, a camera crew showed up and began recording. At 15:00, the local news reported that two "supposed militants" were killed.
Asiyat Aleva, Kerim's mother, found out about this only at 19:00. At 15:00 she received a call from an acquaintance who worked with the police who suddenly asked the name and familiya of her son. When she told him, he abruptly hung up the phone and stopped answering telephone calls. So then Asiyat sent him an SMS - "Ruslan, I beg you, please pick up the phone and tell me what happened." After a little while, he answered the call and informed her that her father was home alone and that outside her gate, there was a crowd or military men, looking like a masquerade was about to begin.
Asiyat Aleva said, "Throwing everything down, I grabbed a taxi and went home. As I pulled up to the house, I saw a large armored Kamaz and almost 50 men in masks and camoflage. Near them there were some people in civilian clothes. I asked them what was happening and also who they were. They said that they came there from Bunkaska and knew nothing. My sister and I entered the house together. There we saw our 80-year old father, tied up and sitting between two investigators. My father later told me that he returned home about a half hour before our arrival and they were already surrounded. The investigators, using my father as a "human shield" entered our house thinking that someone was inside. They went with him into his room and began to distract him with questions. At that time, without witnesses and in violation of all professional norms, they went through the house.
At the moment of my return to the house, I noticed that all the rooms had already been searched. They provided no identification or warrants, according to which their actions could have been justified by law. At the same time, we saw how snipers followed us from the Kamaza and from teh neighbors' roofs. The investigators didn't ask me any questions, and they never explained why they were there. One of them told me that they were "waiting for papers" and those papers didn't show up until two hours later. During all this time, the "law enforcers" were going through the house. When the "paper" arrived, they gave it to us to read. But after a minute they snatched it out of our hands and began to read it to us themselves. In the paper was written that on the January 7, on Gargarina Stree #11/12, a laptop was stolen, and that this search stemmed from suspiscion of that theft. We heard this and laughed. We were relieved, because this had nothing to do with us. We knew that on January 7, Kerim never left the house.
While all of this was going on, I tried to contact my son, but his phone was turned off. Then the "law enforcers" demanded witnesses. They agreed that we should go to our neighbors who knew us well. We thought this was suspicious. They proposed to start the search from the very farthest room. Despite the presence of a large number of cabinets, chests and sofas with pull-out shelves, they went straight to an old piano that we haven't touched in a long time. To our surprise, they opened the bottom drawer, pulled out a bundle, unwrapped it and showing us the small size of the jeans said - "These are his jeans?" In reality, they were several sizes smaller than those worn by my son. From the same bundle, they pulled out a bag that was hidden underneath it, and inside they found some wadded trousers, jacket, overalls, disposable rubber gloves and ankle boots. The ankle boots were not more than a 40 and my some Kerim wore a 45-46. Everything they too out was brand new, and my son had nothing to do with any of it. After that, just for show, they superficially examined the other room and the basement. My house has three floors, five basements, attics, two heated summer kitchens and barns. Never mind that none of these was searched.
Then they went into the first room and began to draw up a report. They put the gun they found into my hand. Suspecting nothing, I took it. Not knowing where it came from, I though (to myself) that maybe it came from my son. But I never said anything about this aloud. While writing the report, they hurriedly examined my brother's car and got ready to leave. As they left, I asked them -"You're not going to search the rest of the house??" They answered - "Look, we never stopped by." I said to them - "Maybe it wasn't you. Maybe someone came by before you and did it."
They took my son's things with them - laptop, telephone, books, passport. They took me to the Soviet ROFD in Mahachkali. The investigator started to ask me surface questions. It seemed like he was just passing time. Having finished the questions, he told me I could leave. I started to exit the ROFD building, but smething stopped me, and I returned to ask the desk lady a question - "Where can I see my son?" Not receiving an answer, I went out into the street. I started to call all the people I knew who had some sort of connection with the ROFD. All of them promised to call me back, but for some reason none of them did. When I walked into my house, I felt disquiet. I got a telephone call, and my acquaintance asked me to give the phone to one of the men. I gave it to my nephew and then he said - "Calm her down about Kerim, there is nothing more!" For many days I still could not understand what had happened.
According to the words of Asiyat Alyeva, from 1998 after joining the MISI, her son lived constantly in Moscow, where he had his own 2-room apartment. He was married and had a daughter. He was a 5th year student in the correspondence department of the law school. he was a well-educated and well-mannered person and he had absolutely no connection with religious extremism.
On February 27, 2010, Asiyat Alyeva wrote to Memorial and other social organizations. In her letter, she requested an objective investigation of her son's murder.
Memorial