«Íîâàÿ» ïðîäîëæàåò ñâîå ðàññëåäîâàíèå…

“The language has become smaller by one, diminishing us. Now your words, like the feathers of dead birds, are in dictionaries. In heaven there are a thousand blank pages, pages you never finished… “ It is almost as if Joseph Brodsky were not eulogizing W. H. Auden, but Anya.

How many years have we been without Anna Politkovskaya… 2, 3, 4, 5? Yes, five years already. Still, strange as it sounds, in the early years it seemed easier than it is now. Back then, along with the pain, many still clenched their fists and were still courageous. But then there was the trial, and as the Politkovskaya family lawyers so vividly expressed it, the court took up the “torso” of the crime, but not the “head” — that is, whomever it was who ordered her murdered, nor the “arms and legs” — those who committed the crime were not in the dock, either. That was then, while now on this day, the fifth anniversary of her murder; it is simply torture to talk about the investigation. There has certainly been progress, however — one suspect is in jail, and the organizer of the murder has been established, but whoever ordered her murder, and paid for it, they are still being sought.

Perhaps it would be better to talk about this on another day, but not today.

Three years ago, Anna would have been 50. On that anniversary we categorically refused to discuss the investigation. The motivation for our unwillingness was quite different back then. We said: “There will be other days for that, there will trials, and the tragic date October 7th. Today we are not talking about murder, but Anya’s birthday, and on this date only those closest to her will talk about her — they talk as if gathered around the table, remembering their favorite stories, tall tales, and funny episodes. They talk about a living Anya who simple turned invisible. But she is nearby.” (From ‘Novaya Gazeta’, #63, August 28th, 2008, “Anya is nearby. A family history in the stories of her mother, daughter, and sister.”)

Today is that tragic date: October 7th. It has been FIVE years since the day of her death, and today we will only talk to you about those close to her, and with them we will only talk about her.

Anna Politkovskaya's son, Ilya Politkovsky:

- Ilya, I know your mother’s colleagues from around the world have been tormenting you, and it is probably difficult for you even to remember how many times you have been asked to give interviews and commentary.

 — “It’s impossible to estimate or even imagine… Sometimes I spend the whole day giving interviews, non-stop. The demand increases especially around this date. I don’t hide, I answer every question, and I have to, because otherwise discussion of the crime would have never gone anywhere, so for me it is an integral part of life.”

 — Have you dreamed of your mother during these five years?

 — “I often dream about Mom, but I can’t talk about it, and not because I don’t want to, it’s just because my brain is so arranged that I don’t remember my dreams. Sorry…”

- What do you remember most about her?

 — “She said that because of the horrors she’d seen during her reporting, her outlook on life had changed dramatically. I’m also reexamining some of my values and worldviews. I’ve re-read a lot of what she’d written, and now I agree that she did everything correctly, as a professional, and as a human being, but this wasn’t supposed to be my mom…”

 — Mother should not have taken such risks?

 — “As a son I could never agree that my mother should be in such a place, but let’s talk about something easier… You know, I often still think about what a happy and warm a person my mom was, and how gently she would poke fun at my much too active interest in the opposite sex.”

- Yes, I remember that, too. One day she was telling me a very funny story about your active interest and ‘victims’ when the phone rang. Do you remember how we had to share a phone? Our desks were right up against each other, and that time I picked up the phone and your mother hears me say, Politkovskaya? Yes, hold on. What? What’s my name? And we both just started laughing.

 — “Yes, and she scolded me in much a funny way… ‘How are you not ashamed? Pace yourself!’ At the same time I felt that she was absolutely certain that I would get through this stage, that it all just youthful energy. I think right now my mother is happy for me. I’ve found my love, and in my heart I’m sure that she would have liked this girl.”

Anna Politkovskaya’s mother, Raisa Alexandrovna Mazepa:

She refuses to see reporters. She does not wish to talk to anyone about it. She is going through a rough time.

There was one exception — Raisa Alexandrovna agreed to meet with me back when I was preparing an article on Anya’s 50th jubilee. We drank ‘12 Herbs Tea’ and talked, perhaps, for around five hours straight. Certainly not everything made it into print. Today Raisa Alexandrovna had Ilya tell me that she has already said everything she was able back to back then and could add nothing, and that I could do whatever I wished with the recording of our conversation. She would never talk to another journalist.

So here once again I hear her voice on my Dictaphone, surprisingly young and ringing, and I remembered how she had less gray in her hair than Anya. When I said this out loud, in reply she immediately begins talking about her husband: “…he did not have a single gray hair when he was buried. He never had to go to the dentist until shortly before he died. When our girls were grown up, they always joked that they thought all men were as ideal as Dad. He didn’t drink or smoke. He put his heart and soul into raising the children, and later the grandchildren.”