As a native of the USSR received in the US 20 years in prison

Sergey received the maximum sentence for a car accident, which he committed in Montana. I cannot yet reveal the last name of my hero - at his new place of work they do not know that he was convicted and, moreover, spent several years in prison. Although, according to New York law, a prison term cannot be a reason for dismissal or any other discrimination, Sergei still prefers not to talk about it. But he says that sooner or later everyone will know about it, because he is going to write a book about his adventures. And I already came up with a name - “Hope dies first.” Sergei says that this is exactly what happens when you fall into the millstones of the US judicial system - you are immediately deprived of hope, and this instantly breaks many.

Sergei. Photos from the personal archive

I was arrested two years after the accident

I came to the USA with my family - my son and wife in 1997. We were reunited with my mother-in-law. I was then forty-two years old, before that in the USSR I was a naval officer, captain of the second rank. Settled in Brooklyn. I didn’t know English, although my mother is an English teacher, moreover, an Honored Teacher of the RSFSR. I started teaching, took a language course, then took a mechanic course in repairing refrigeration units. He worked as a loader, repaired refrigerators, worked in a bakery... And then he went to a driving school, where they taught how to drive heavy vehicles.

Then I passed my license and started working. He opened his own company, bought his own cars, then closed it... and then came to Fedex. And then in 2008, right before Christmas, I got into an accident in Montana, Mineral county or Mineral County. It happened on the seventeenth of December. I was driving and my partner was sleeping next to me. I was driving about thirty-five miles per hour, came around the bend and saw that a car had overturned in front, there were already police officers standing there, some people on the side of the road. There was ice on the left side of the road and it was so dark, it couldn’t be seen, I drove out there and, as we say, I began to collapse or get carried away. The fact is that Fedex has very large vehicles, we call them 18-wheelers, two trailers and all filled, and all this is rushing behind me... When I realized that I was “folding”, and there was a pickup truck in front, people... I decided to go into a ditch, I think, to hell with the fact that I will roll over, well, at least I won’t hit people. He shouted to his partner and drove into the ditch. And it didn't turn over. I just saw my second trailer flash near me. I got out of the car and looked at the pickup truck, which was standing by the side of the road, standing in the middle of the road. I didn’t even feel how I hit him, there were no special marks on the pickup truck itself, it was quite gently moved to the middle of the road. But in the back there was a volunteer firefighter named Jerry sleeping, he was 59 years old, long divorced, with very grown children. There are many volunteer firefighters in the USA. And Jerry was like that. He came to the accident, however, he could not help - only later it turned out that there were four different types of narcotic drugs in his blood, he could only sleep. When my trailer hit the pickup truck, Jerry hit his temple on a toolbox that was standing right there. And he died on the spot.

I didn't even know there was a person there. Everyone made noise at me, and I said, guys, calm down, no one died, I went into a ditch because I was carried away by the ice. And then they show that there is a person in the car. I rushed to take it out, but he was done...

I was interrogated for a long time, on the spot a policeman named Gaston described everything, examined it, left the car there, another trailer arrived and reloaded everything that was inside, and then we were released with a partner. Then they wrote that I was not injured by the accident. Later, after a few years, it turned out that he had suffered and how. And then it seems like there was a shock. So we flew back to New York.

Photos from the scene of the accident. Photos from the personal archive

How I was arrested two years after the accident

I returned to Brooklyn and continued working. I was not called to court, I learned that Fedex paid the family six hundred thousand dollars. And that the family signed a document stating that they have no complaints for seven years. It was not even a criminal case, but a civil court or civil one. My company's lawyer and the family's lawyer met there. The prosecutor in the case was one Sean Donovan. They resolved everything quite quickly and peacefully. The children of the deceased - his son was then thirty-six, his daughter thirty-four years old - took the money and were happy. Two years have passed. And I flew to Ukraine on vacation, I came back, my son met me at the airport, but they didn’t let me see him: as soon as I crossed the border, they immediately put handcuffs on me - you’re under arrest! The fact that they show in the movies how you can call is, of course, funny. I could barely call my son. Those who arrested me did not know anything themselves. They only said - at the request of the state of Montana. I spent the night in Queens - the conditions were terrible. I was arrested on the twenty-fourth of July, it was hot, the cell was like a cement bag, I couldn’t breathe. I stood there almost all day. Then I was taken to a prison near LaGuardia Airport, then to the Bronx... In short, it was a complete mess. It’s especially funny when they put handcuffs on your legs, on your legs, and fasten it all together, as if I were some kind of cannibal. If only they put on a mask like in “The Silence of the Lambs”!

Finally, the lawyer got to me. And he says to me: listen, you can refuse to go to Montana, but if I were you, I would go there and sort everything out there. I still don’t know whether it was a mistake to listen to him or not... But I decided to go and find a lawyer there. In Montana, you should only hire a local lawyer because he must be licensed to practice in that state. I remember even a lawyer came from Fedex, and they told him everything - do you have a license to work in our state?

And so I went to deal with the case “State of Montana v. Sergei B.” We flew - three transfers, then the person accompanying me rented a car. Arrived. A burgundy-colored prison, immediately a court on the second floor. And the beauty around is indescribable - Montana, a state with magnificent nature, there are such views... Then a former Silverstone pilot sat with me, he was given a huge sentence for transporting drugs, he told me that police officers were also in the case with him, they say, then they he was framed, his plane was taken away and now they are flying on it - he recognized it by the sound when it flew over the prison. So he once said a good phrase: evil also likes to settle in beautiful places. And it was absolutely true. There is no other way to describe the prison in the midst of this beauty.

When I arrived there, I didn’t understand how long it would take. Tell me then that they will give me twenty years and I will serve five! - I wouldn’t believe it. I thought that now we would quickly figure it all out, and I would go home... A friend came to see me, I remember, and took photographs of me - so we are both smiling and cheerful, because I still don’t know what I have to go through. And my son didn’t take this seriously, he called again and asked, “Are you going to be there for a long time?” “Don’t forget, I have a wedding in May!” I missed not only the wedding, but generally five years of my life.

Montana. Photo: Depositphotos

Montana is a prison state

Montana is a very unique state. In many places they live poorly - trailers line the streets, a couple of expensive houses, and trailers. The population is mostly white. There are Mexicans and also Indians. During my five years there, I visited both private and state prisons. Private ones are, of course, hell; you wouldn’t wish it on your enemy. But that's how they make money in Montana. And that’s why they build and build new prisons, and they are never empty. On average, a year in prison for one prisoner costs the state twenty-five thousand dollars—sometimes more, sometimes less. Just count how much my five years cost them. Or he could work, pay taxes... And how many of them are there who ended up completely stupid? And they sit for years!

Sitting with me was a Mexican who was facing twenty years of imprisonment for driving a truck just like me, also “failing” and pulling off to the side of the road. He didn’t hit anyone, didn’t kill him, the road was empty, and he wasn’t hurt. A policeman arrived and took him to the hospital to check for alcohol. On what basis? There was no accident. But the guy remained silent, and almost a box of tequila was found in his blood. For this in this state you face twenty years of imprisonment. And if there was an accident, and you were drunk, and, for example, there was a child in the cabin, then forty years! There, lumberjacks often sit there for five to seven years: you were driving home from work, drank beer, and then your neighbor, the policeman, caught you and that’s it! Seven years! And this Mexican man was in prison for six months and could have stayed there for a long time, but his brother from California found his recent blood tests and they did not at all coincide with those that turned out in Montana. It turns out the hospital mixed up the tests! But the guy was not indignant, because on the eve of the accident he smoked marijuana, and was afraid that he would begin to be indignant and that marijuana would also be attributed to him! I remember how they threw him the release papers - sorry, the nurse made a mistake. But the man spent six months in jail and lost his health due to nervousness. And that's it, no official apology.

Parochialism flourishes there. And they imprisoned me for five years because I didn’t belong. There are the same names all over the place. It's funny - there was talk of releasing me on bail. And being in the local pre-trial detention center is not very pleasant - everything is made of metal, in winter everything is icy, the mattresses are thin, we laid two, but as a check, they throw out one and leave only the one that is there. You can't do anything with long sleeves, rubber slippers, although you were given socks, but only one pair, and the floor is concrete. I remember our heating went out, so the locals immediately cut all the blankets into ponchos and sat on the tables so that they could get some socks higher off the floor, warmer, and socks. And no contact with the outside world! You'll get damn money, calling is expensive and inconvenient, and at first they told me to write letters only in English! Until one guy from Cuba started judging them. And they decided that if you, the jailers, want to read those letters, then you are looking for a translator, and the prisoners have the right to write them in their native language.

In general, the desire to get bail is quite understandable. And they set me a bail of as much as two hundred thousand dollars! In the next cell sat Mike - a local guy who killed his wife, they asked fifty for him! Two hundred for me. At that time we already had an apartment in a good area in Brooklyn and it was possible to mortgage it, but I thought so... my son was supposed to get married, plus, I hoped that I would be released soon... And I remained in prison. Here’s another interesting point: there is no logic in setting collateral. So you ask, why am I two hundred and he is fifty? And to you: we want it so much! No money? Run to borrow at interest. And then it’s interesting again - in the police and local offices where they give money with interest on bail, the same names are there! Coincidence?

Фото: Depositphotos

Montana has both jail and prison. It seems like both are prisons. In fact, in the first you are temporary, in the second it is for a long time. And the difference between them is significant. For example, before the trial I was in jail, where there was no doctor or medical center at all. We had one guy there, he stupidly sat down - he got into a fight with someone, his wife came to see him. Good people. So he had diabetes and he fainted there so many times. If he falls, they will call an ambulance. And so no help. My leg was swollen there, I was afraid it was gangrene, so the guards brought me a basin of hot water in the evenings to steam. That's all, because keeping a doctor in prison is very expensive. You can buy an aspirin or ibuprofen tablet with your own money - twenty-five cents per tablet. There is no boiling water. You can buy tea, coffee, and brew it with tap water. For walking, there is a room with a net on the ceiling where you can walk. At first I was there in a cell with a neighbor, and then I retired alone in the last one. I slept during the day and read at night. I planted the kidneys, of course, you have to sleep, essentially, on a steel couch - the mattress doesn’t help.

But they fed us well from a nearby cafe - pancakes like with maple syrup, pasta... Ordinary American food. And the guards were not bad. One, for example, when he quit his job, brought two buckets of ice cream.

Our underwear and uniform were changed every Thursday - the dirty ones were taken away and the clean ones were brought back. The TV there worked from six in the morning until ten. By the way, there was no need to get up at six in the morning, no one forced me, there was no schedule as such. It’s bad that they forced me to take off my long sleeve T-shirt there. Moreover, the guards explained that someone is checking us all the time, there are cameras everywhere, and if we remain silent, then someone will still see you. And they saw it and forced me to take it off - my hands should be bare. Although Montana is far from a southern state.

After the verdict, the conditions were different, of course. There was a doctor there, and some kind of horizontal bars if you wanted to exercise, but there were libraries both here and there. You can also buy a hobby permit in prison - this is permission to make something. There, the Indians, of course, created amazing things - from horsehair, from beads, from leather... All this was immediately sold in a local store.

“I plead not guilty”

From Brooklyn I was taken to a town called Superior. Three streets. Poverty - almost nothing but trailers all around. And prison. The next day they took me to court. They gave me a free lawyer. In court they asked, do you plead guilty? I said "No. Ok, they said and took me back. And only later did I find out that any criminal case here is considered after six months... I’m talking about 2010. And now it’s a year! My family and I did not believe in the reality of what was happening - there was a trial, everything was considered, both my speed and the way I moved, it was terrible that a person died, just terrible, but I didn’t kill him, I did everything to prevent this from happening. Anyway, my son found a local lawyer, who came to me one day to tell me that Jerry’s family wanted me to pay forty-nine thousand. Not fifty, but precisely forty-nine. Even then I expected that my employers would help me, but they paid the family and that was all. True, they gave me papers that could help me, for example, a blood test of the deceased, from which I learned that he was on drugs at that moment.

I remember how the local press presented information about me - only from the position: a Russian killed our volunteer! But that volunteer could not have been in this place at that time. He was incapable of any action. When I told my lawyer about this, he said, well, the drugs may have been obtained with a prescription! I say ok, but his friends should have seen his condition and told him: “Jerry, where are you going? You can’t stand on your feet!” The lawyer said: “Of course, of course, I will mention this in court, but keep in mind - he was ours, he was local, he was loved, so I will touch on this in passing.” And I never even mentioned it, and I didn’t have the right to say it. I could only answer questions. By the way, a guy from Belarus, Sasha, was sitting there with me, for the same drugs that were found in Jerry’s blood, but without a prescription, he received five years in prison...

Фото: Depositphotos

I waited a year and a half for the trial. There was no translator - I understood everything, but they wanted to be on the safe side. I had a translator named Malina, she then went to New York, but they couldn’t find a new one. As a result, they found an Irish woman who studied Russian in her country and in court kept looking at the dictionary and asking me the meaning of words. Either the judge went to Hawaii on vacation, or something else... I can’t call the trial itself anything other than a comedy. My partner, who just saw everything - he woke up before the accident - was not called to court at all. The people who stood on the road and also saw everything were not invited either. The expert from Fedex who arrived, a very intelligent, nice man, was literally not allowed to speak. He just listened to what the local expert was saying, raised his hands up and said - but this is unreal!

And the local expert Roquefort and the Paoli family lawyer, of course, captured my imagination. Two years after the accident, an expert found my brake mark on the road, a headlight in the bushes, and based on this he concluded that I was driving at seventy-one miles per hour. I then told the jury - if you drive sixty-five on this road in a car, then I plead guilty. Ice, heavy vehicle with trailers, turns... - what were they talking about? Why didn't the Fedex expert, who inspected the car and the accident scene almost immediately after the accident, find something that suddenly turned up two years later? The lawyer’s main emphasis was on aerial photography of the area, saying, look, the road was smooth, he couldn’t help but see it! I spoke - so I saw and braked, but the car was carried away. Then they discovered that one of the eighteen wheels did not have good enough braking. And that’s all - they attributed to me that I drove into the state of Montana in a faulty car and “could have killed everyone here!”

They asked me why I didn’t inspect the car before the trip. I said that I examined it as required according to the instructions. According to it, I, for example, do not have the right to look under the bottom of the car - even our insurance does not cover this, God forbid the car starts moving or something else, I will remain dead or disabled, and my family without a penny of money. And then the lawyer raised his hands to the sky and simply, like in the movies: “Or maybe it was worth sacrificing himself and saving people???” I say - I drove into a ditch, thinking that I would roll over, precisely to save people! I even told them that up to 20% of the brake system may not work and this is not a big deal, but here there is only one wheel. But they didn't listen to me. By the way, you should have seen those jurors... On the first day they started a fight, because everyone who was called came, but they called with a reserve and there wasn’t enough room for them. They were then paid fifty dollars a day, my trial was supposed to last three days - decent money for those places, considering that we are talking about events six years ago. One of the jurors looked at me carefully and clarified: “Does he understand American?” I’m still wondering if he knows that this is not American, but English?

I was charged with two articles - one is charged with everyone, this is a criminal threat. According to her, up to ten years. The second is murder by inattention - there are up to twenty. There was a library in the prison, and I read everything about the laws and articles of this state. But I never found my case in criminal proceedings...

While I was waiting for the trial, prosecutor Sean Donnovan, who started all this and who, by the way, asked for thirty years in prison for me, left, a young woman, Maria Bores, was appointed in his place, and I hoped that this would somehow affect my destiny too. And when the new prosecutor came, they offered me a deal, they say, you plead guilty, we will let you go, but you will have a suspended sentence for ten years. But how would we release me? First they would send me to prison, and then release me. But the fact is that I had already been deceived so many times by that time that, when I heard that first I would be sent to prison, I did not believe them. And he said - no, under such conditions I will not plead guilty. It seems to me that I did the right thing then.

What strikes me most about sentencing is that it is all at the discretion of the judge. The guy Rosander was sitting there with me. He drunkenly drove into people on the side of the road and killed three. So the judge, when considering the case of this Rosander, said - I can’t believe that such a carcass could be so drunk after six beers! And Rosander weighed about two hundred kilograms. Perhaps, the judge continued, he lost consciousness! And here is the verdict - two hundred thousand for the families of the victims for three and two years of house arrest. And my case... The jury, by the way, dropped the first charge against me. But they left the second one. But even they were shocked when the judge announced the verdict, and so did the prosecutor. Nobody expected that I would be given the maximum possible sentence. I listened and did not believe that this was happening to me. I, of course, filed an appeal, but by that time the one who started this process against me was sitting in the appeal court - and, of course, I was denied.

Фото: Depositphotos

How I became an Indian and a fireman

After the verdict, I was kept in a temporary detention center and then sent to prison. Our prison was divided into buildings: in one there were those who had not committed anything serious, in the other there were dangerous criminals. And then there sat those already sentenced to death. There were no places where there were people like me, so I was sent to the second ones. We were, of course, thoroughly guarded - towers, machine-gun nests. There was also a trailer where death sentences are carried out. And the building where those sentenced to death are imprisoned. For example, the unfortunate Canadian Ronald Smith has been languishing there for thirty-five years. Famous story. In 1982, he killed two Indians, and since then they haven’t killed anyone, and life there is so terrible.

This prison had its own food factory or place where they cooked. They cooked well and not only for us, for the officers, for example. There were farms, cowsheds, a fire department... Of course, the benches on which to sleep were made of concrete and again there was only a thin mattress. But the food was not brought on trays, we went to the dining room and could eat as much as we wanted. There were even whole boxes of apples. True, there is one BUT - you can’t take anything with you. If they find him, they will punish him. But it’s not even a matter of punishment - everyone wanted parole, and any violation was immediately entered into your personal file, and then you could forget about parole.

We did our laundry there at our own expense - there were washing machines and dryers right there. There was a doctor. They also allowed us to open the window and the view from it was simply amazing. Forest, animals... We had an Indian bathhouse there, they brought firewood for it, so a huge porcupine settled in it. I washed myself in that bathhouse, and even though I was a bathhouse attendant, I could barely sit through it - the Indians made it so hot that the stones became transparent.

I was there alone white, because I was accepted into the Indians. I didn’t seem to be friends with anyone there, I kept to one side. As a result, I became acquainted with the Indians, and one of them told me, they say, according to his theory, not only Indians, but also Russians, lived on this territory before Columbus! And I say, not just Russian, but Native Russian or native Russian. In the end, I applied to the religious center of the prison and became an Indian, more precisely, I accepted their religion. I was given a special card confirming this, I saved it for memory. So I got the right to go to the Indian bath, it was possible to sit there for hours and it really supported me there.

One of the people I became friends with there was an Indian named Koonepoovatoo. On his camera it was written that way, and at the bottom in English - everybody talk about - translation of the name into English. Healthy, even taller than me, grandson of the leader of the Blackfeet tribe. Royal blood, breed! You should have seen how he walked - with such a straight back, simply unbending! You should have seen his hair, always well-groomed, very beautiful. He studied in Seattle, was well educated, understood economics, played chess well - this is how he and I escaped boredom there. By the way, I taught him to play “fool”, he is gambling, like all Indians. He came to his grandfather on his lands, he received money from them, they somehow found dinosaur bones there, so they paid him five thousand for permission to dig them up, he drank and seemed to threaten someone with a pistol - and then he sat down. Somehow unexpectedly we became close. Once, however, we got into a fight, which ultimately made us even closer to each other. Later, when I was transferred to a private prison on the border with Canada, I met another Indian. His name was La Forge, the Indian name was Frogman, mine, by the way, was Stray Horse, they gave it to me, and I was amazed - it very accurately reflects my essence... So only later, when I met La Forge, I found out that Kunipuwatu is about He put in a good word for me, and he took me to work in his kitchen.

In general, in prison I did all kinds of work, even milked cows! Now I know everything about the milk yield and fat content there. At some point I decided to join the fire department. They told me - take a bag weighing twenty-four kilograms and run with it. If you can, we'll take it! And I was already close to sixty then, but I did it. I ran as much as necessary. And he started working. In prison they pay a pittance - four dollars a day. And for the fire twenty-four dollars. Everyone there was almost eager to set fire to that kind of money. True, I had to buy boots with my own money. Three hundred and twenty dollars, by the way. Professional, with thick soles so you can walk on hot feet, but still expensive. As a result, I was kicked out of the fire department for a contrived scandal - the guy who was in charge there thought that I was his main competitor, saying that it was not clear who the guys listened to more - me or that Russian.

Exemption

I didn’t succeed with my first parole, although I went to it with the mood: who should be released if not me? I wasn’t even invited to the second meeting... But they found a lawyer. Rarely smart, professional. His name was Joe Howard. He didn’t even take the money, he came himself. He looked at my file, gasped and said - we can turn things around so that you will also be paid compensation for the fact that you spent so many years in prison, a 90% guarantee. To which I replied - Joe, I know these people, if you had told me that the guarantee was one hundred percent, I would have agreed, but knowing both these people and my “luck”, I think that the remaining ten percent will work against me, and therefore no.

Then we agreed as follows: these five years they count me as if I had served the sentence completely, no conditional sentence, but no compensation.

I have been at home for three years now, working as a driver. Sometimes I drive past “my” prison and signal to my buddies - those I knew are still sitting there and will continue to sit there. As a souvenir, I brought back a bunch of documents, drawings of my cellmates and much more. I know that the Pioli family lawyer published an article about me in one of the local newspapers about how dangerous Russians are driving on the roads of Montana.

I will not hide what happened to me, made me very disappointed in many things. In my book, I will write about them.

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