Unfortunately, I couldn’t be in Moscow to help them, so the family had to deal with the grim aftermath of Sergei’s death on their own. The day after he died, they requested that an independent pathologist attend the state autopsy, but the prosecutor immediately denied their request, saying, «All our pathologists are equally independent».
Two days later, Natalia asked for his body to be released so the family could conduct their own autopsy. This was also denied on the grounds that «there is no reason to doubt the results of the state autopsy».
Later that day, Natalia went to Morgue No. 11. When she arrived, she was told that Sergei’s body wasn’t being stored in a refrigeration unit because the morgue had too many corpses, and that Sergei’s body would decompose if he wasn’t buried immediately. When Natalia asked whether Sergei’s body could be released to the family so they could conduct a religious service with an open casket, the official categorically refused: «The corpse will only be released to the cemetery».
Sergei’s family had to organize the burial for the next day. Natalia, along with Sergei’s widow and aunt, went to the morgue to deliver a dark suit, a crisp white shirt, and a striped blue tie. They hoped they would be able to see Sergei one last time. The coroner reluctantly agreed. He led them down a flight of stairs and along a hallway to a room in the basement. The room was dark and had an overpowering and nauseating smell of formaldehyde and death. Fifteen minutes later, the coroner wheeled in Sergei’s body on a gurney and said, «Now you can say good-bye».
Sergei was covered to the neck in a white sheet. Natalia had a candle that she wanted to put between his fingers in the Orthodox tradition for his burial. When she pulled back the sheet, she was shocked to see dark bruises on his knuckles and deep lacerations on his wrists. At the sight of this, all three women lost their composure and broke down.
They kissed Sergei on the forehead, cried, and squeezed his injured hands. They gave the coroner Sergei’s clothing and left.
On November 20, 2009, a brown wooden casket emerged from Morgue No. 11 and was put in a van. The family followed the van to the Preobrazhensky Cemetery in northeast Moscow. Sergei’s friends pulled the casket from the transport and placed it on a cart. The procession went to the burial plot, many of his friends and family members carrying large bouquets of flowers. Once the casket was resting safely near the plot, the lid was pulled back and leaned against the foot of the box. Sergei was perfectly dressed. He was covered with a crisp cotton shroud that came up to his chest. His color was good. Even though everyone there could see the signs of violence on his wrists and knuckles, he looked at peace, and that was how he would be buried.
His family and friends took turns to say good-bye and lay red roses at his feet. Natalia and his widow, Natasha, placed a garland of white roses around his head. They cried and cried and cried and put the lid back on and lowered him into the ground.
The cover-up blossomed at every branch of Russian law enforcement from the moment that Sergei died. On November 18, the Russian State Investigative Committee announced, «No ground has been identified to warrant launching a criminal investigation following Magnitsky’s death». On November 23, three days after his burial, the Russian General Prosecutor’s Office issued a statement saying it had found «no wrongdoing by officials and no violations of the law. Death occurred from acute heart failure». Finally, on November 24, the head of Matrosskaya Tishina declared, «No violations have been found. Any investigations into Magnitsky’s death should end and his case be filed in the archive».
But Sergei’s case would not just go away. Every prisoner has his own way of dealing with the adversity of being in jail, and Sergei’s had been to write everything down. In his 358 days in detention, he and his lawyers filed 450 criminal complaints documenting in granular detail who did what to him, when, how, and where. These complaints and the evidence that has since surfaced make Sergei’s murder the most well documented human rights abuse case to come out of Russia in the last thirty-five years.
I completely suppressed my emotions in the week following Sergei’s death. I’d tried to do as much as possible to achieve some sort of justice in Russia, but the consistent chorus of denial was demoralizing. When I came home on the evening of November 25, I sat at the dinner table with Elena. I put my head in my hands and closed my eyes. I hoped she might rub my neck or say something to make it all better, just as she had so many times before. But at that moment, she was distracted.
I looked up to find her intensely reading an email on her BlackBerry. «What’s going on?»
She held up a hand, read some more, then said, «Medvedev just called for an investigation into Sergei’s death!»
«What?»
«President Medvedev is going to launch an investigation!»
«Truly?»
«Yes. It says that he was briefed about this case by his human rights commissioner and that he asked the general prosecutor and the justice minster to launch a probe».
My mobile phone rang almost as soon as Elena had told me. It was Vladimir. «Bill, have you seen the Medvedev news?»
«Yes, Elena and I are reading it right now. What do you think?»
«You know, Bill, I never believe a word these people say — but how can this be bad?»
«I suppose it can’t», I said. Although nothing could change the fact that Sergei was dead, this at least indicated that there might be some crack in Russia’s evil foundation. Maybe, just maybe, Russia wouldn’t operate on the Katyn principle of lying about everything in Sergei’s case.
Two weeks later, on December 11, Medvedev’s spokeswoman announced that twenty prison officials were to be fired «as a result» of Sergei’s death. When I heard this, I started to picture Sergei’s torturers being arrested at their homes and thrown into the same cells to which Sergei had been consigned.
Unfortunately, later that day, Vadim approached my desk with a grim look, clutching a handful of papers.
«What’s this?» I pointed my chin at the paperwork.
«The names of the fired prison officials. Nineteen had absolutely nothing to do with Sergei. Some worked in prisons as far away as Vladivostok and Novosibirsk» — both of which were thousands of miles from Moscow.
«Were any associated with him in any way at all?»
«One. But this is bullshit. It’s a complete smoke screen».
On top of the denials and fake firings was the reaction to the Moscow Public Oversight Commission (MPOC) report that came out on December 28. The MPOC is a nongovernmental organization whose mandate is to investigate brutality and suspicious deaths in Moscow prisons. Shortly after Sergei died, it launched its own independent investigation into his death, headed by an incorruptible man named Valery Borschev. He interviewed guards, doctors, and inmates who had had anything to do with Sergei. He and his team also read Sergei’s complaints and the official files written about him. Their conclusions were definitive. The MPOC report stated that Sergei «was systematically denied medical care»; that he «was subjected to physical and psychological torture»; that his «right to life was violated by the state»; that «investigators, prosecutors, and judges played a role in his torturous conditions»; and finally, that «after his death, state officials lied and concealed the truth about his torture and circumstances of his death».
Borschev filed this report with five different government agencies, including the Presidential Administration, the Ministry of Justice, and the General Prosecutor’s Office.