SUMMARY

Aleksey Melnikov, a seasoned Russian human rights activist, visits blogger Arsen Markaryan in Moscow's pretrial detention center, debunking rumors of mistreatment, detailing overcrowded conditions, and sharing insights on inmate rights and prison realities.

STATEMENTS

Aleksey Melnikov has worked as a human rights activist for over seven years, monitoring conditions in various Russian detention facilities including prisons, police stations, and temporary holding centers.
Prominent detainees rarely receive special privileges in Moscow's facilities due to strict oversight from public control bodies, though they can purchase more items from the FSIN online store.
Overcrowding remains a major issue in Moscow's pretrial detention centers, where cells designed for four people often hold five, violating the four square meters per person standard.
Arsen Markaryan is held in a four-person quarantine cell at SIZO-7 in Moscow with five inmates, sleeping on a fold-out bed rather than under a bunk as rumored.
Standard amenities in Moscow's SIZO cells include a TV, refrigerator, and kettle or immersion heater, with the latter being legally required.
Markaryan reported no physical or moral pressure from police or FSIN staff during his arrest and detention, describing their conduct as polite and within legal bounds.
The media story of Markaryan hiding in a car trunk while fleeing to the border is untrue according to him, though details of his exact arrest circumstances remain unclear.
Markaryan arrived at the SIZO unprepared with personal items, prompting immediate issuance of essentials like slippers, toothbrush, paste, and seasonal clothing.
Russian pretrial detention centers, particularly in Moscow, exceed expectations for many inmates due to civilized staff treatment, but they still mean confinement to four walls with limited activities like court trips and daily walks.
Russia's potential withdrawal from the European Convention on the Prevention of Torture will have little impact, as domestic laws and oversight mechanisms already protect against abuses, unlike in some EU countries like Poland.

IDEAS

Even famous or wealthy inmates in Moscow's SIZO cannot secure VIP cells, challenging stereotypes of elite privileges in Russian prisons.
Overcrowding in detention centers stems from over-reliance on pretrial detention as a measure, suggesting a policy shift toward alternatives could alleviate the crisis.
Inmates can order everyday luxuries like pizza or burgers via the FSIN store, blurring lines between punishment and normalized life behind bars.
Markaryan's positive assessment of staff politeness counters Hollywood depictions of brutal Russian prisons, revealing a more bureaucratic reality.
The absence of a kettle in a cell constitutes a legal violation, while missing TV or fridge does not, highlighting quirky enforcement priorities in Russian law.
Detainees must proactively request essentials from staff, as overcrowding means officials might overlook individual shortages without prompting.
Rumors of sexual humiliation or beatings in Markaryan's cell are baseless, with his young, similarly charged cellmates fostering a conflict-free environment.
Moscow's facilities benefit from robust human rights monitoring, positioning them ahead of some European counterparts in practice despite international conventions.
Writing letters to inmates via services like FSIN's electronic system costs about 135-150 rubles and allows connection, but prohibits discussing legal cases.
Personal unpreparedness for detention, like Markaryan's lack of basic items, underscores how sudden arrests catch even public figures off guard.

INSIGHTS

Robust public oversight in Moscow's prisons ensures equitable treatment, diminishing the allure of wealth-based privileges and fostering a more humane system amid overcrowding.
Proactive communication with authorities about rights and needs transforms passive suffering into empowered navigation of the detention system, preventing overlooked deprivations.
Media sensationalism, such as trunk-hiding tales, often fabricates drama around arrests, eroding trust in reporting and complicating public understanding of legal processes.
Domestic legal frameworks for torture prevention prove resilient against international withdrawals, prioritizing internal accountability over external conventions for real protections.
Quarantine cells serve as entry points to detention, offering relative comfort like appliances but foreshadowing the psychological toll of prolonged isolation.
First-time inmates' experiences, like Markaryan's, reveal prisons as surprisingly orderly yet inescapably monotonous, urging greater emphasis on prevention through legal adherence.

QUOTES

"Сидят все более-менее одинаково. VIP-камер как таковых давно уже не видели."
"На его словах, не оказывалось ни физического, ни морального давления."
"История, которая распространялась в СМИ, связанная с тем, что его нашли в багажнике... является выдумкой."
"Тут в СИЗО всё не так, как он себе это представлял, не так, как это показывается в различного рода фильмах."
"Не стесняйтесь обращаться к сокамерникам, к сотрудникам СИН полиции, то есть с тем, чтобы вам выдали то, что вам положено."

HABITS

Regularly visit and monitor various detention facilities, including SIZO, prisons, and police stations, to ensure legal compliance and support hundreds of inmates.
Draw sketches of cells during visits to visually document conditions and share via public channels for transparency.
Ask detainees standardized questions about staff conduct, pressure experienced, and alignment with expectations to assess rights violations systematically.
Advise inmates to immediately request essentials and rights explanations from staff upon arrival to avoid deprivations in overcrowded settings.
Recommend viewing prior videos or channels for context on quarantine rules and personal experiences before engaging with detention topics.

FACTS

Moscow's pretrial detention centers must allocate at least four square meters per inmate, yet many exceed capacity, prompting calls for new facilities or reduced detentions.
Inmates in Russian SIZO can use the FSIN online store to order items like books, cigarettes, board games, pizza, and burgers, funded by personal accounts.
Quarantine isolators in Moscow hold new arrivals for up to 14 days before transfer, often to places like Butyrka prison.
Providing a kettle or immersion heater is mandatory in all Russian SIZO cells, while TVs and fridges depend on donations or regional factors.
Electronic letter services to inmates cost 135-150 rubles per message, allowing responses but banning discussions of ongoing cases.

REFERENCES

ONK Gazeta Telegram channel for the cell drawing and article.
FSIN online store for inmate purchases like food and games.
Melnikov's Telegram channel for additional uncensored materials.

HOW TO APPLY

Upon arrival at a SIZO or police facility, immediately inform staff of any missing essentials like toiletries or clothing to prompt issuance under legal entitlements.
Proactively ask FSIN or police officers to explain your rights, including access to items, medical care, and complaint procedures, to ensure informed compliance.
Request a detailed rundown of cell rules and daily routines from cellmates or staff on day one to adapt quickly and avoid unintentional violations.
During interactions with human rights monitors or lawyers, provide factual accounts of treatment received, focusing on physical and moral pressure for accurate documentation.
If writing to a detainee via FSIN services, review online guidelines on prohibited topics like case details to avoid message rejection and legal issues.

ONE-SENTENCE TAKEAWAY

Moscow's pretrial centers offer surprisingly humane conditions under oversight, but proactive rights assertion prevents overcrowding's hidden hardships.

RECOMMENDATIONS

Advocate for reducing pretrial detentions to combat overcrowding, prioritizing alternatives like house arrest for non-violent cases.
Verify media claims about arrests through official channels or human rights reports to counter sensationalism and misinformation.
Prepare a detention kit with basics like hygiene items if anticipating legal risks, as sudden arrests leave even notables unprepared.
Support prison monitoring by engaging with activists' channels and writing letters to inmates for morale and oversight.

MEMO

In the dim corridors of Moscow's SIZO-7, human rights activist Aleksey Melnikov stepped into a world few outsiders glimpse, visiting controversial blogger Arsen Markaryan amid swirling rumors of brutality and privilege. For over seven years, Melnikov has traversed Russia's labyrinth of detention centers—from police holding cells to sprawling colonies—ensuring that even high-profile inmates like Markaryan adhere to the same stark rules. Far from the cinematic nightmares of iron-fisted guards, Markaryan described a facility where staff addressed him politely, equipped with a television, refrigerator, and kettle, shattering myths of unrelenting savagery.

Overcrowding, however, gnaws at the system's underbelly. Designed for four inmates, Markaryan's quarantine cell crammed in five, with the extra person unfolding a portable bed for nights— no "under the bunk" degradation as Telegram whispers suggested. This violation of the four-square-meter-per-person norm underscores Moscow's chronic strain, where new SIZO construction races against a tide of detentions. Melnikov, sketching the cell for public scrutiny via ONK Gazeta, argues for fewer pretrial confinements rather than more bricks, a plea echoing amid plans for expanded facilities.

Markaryan's tale adds nuance to the narrative. Arriving empty-handed, stunned by his sudden custody, he received immediate provisions: slippers, toothpaste, and seasonal garb. He debunked police tales of trunk-hiding escapes toward the border as fabrication, reporting no beatings or coercion—only procedural courtesy from FSIN officers. In a cell of young, similarly accused first-timers, harmony prevailed, no conflicts or rumored humiliations. "It's not like the movies," he told Melnikov, a sentiment revealing prisons as monotonous bureaucracies, not torture chambers.

Russia's flirtation with exiting the European Convention on the Prevention of Torture barely registers in Moscow's monitored halls, where domestic laws and watchdogs like Melnikov hold sway—outpacing even EU laggards like Poland. Yet the isolation's toll endures: four walls, court shuttles, skyward walks. Melnikov urges the public: don't romanticize or fear-monger; simply obey laws to evade this gray limbo. For those ensnared, speak up—demand your due, from hygiene to rights briefings—and connect via affordable e-letters, a thread to the outside world. In this blend of order and oversight, Russia's detention reality emerges less as dystopia, more as a flawed mechanism demanding reform.