Chapter 1: Detention the First Day

Amy Long was scared. No. She was terrified. She was shackled to a bench in the back of a police wagon in Eastern Europe. Her best friend, Margaret Ellison was also somewhere in the van in a similar situation with at least seven or eight other people.

She had been in the middle of a public square with students from the national university demanding the release of political prisoners in Russia. It was a lark. They had come upon the demonstration by chance as they were walking back to their hostel after visiting a local museum. It looked like fun. There were hundreds of students and other young people shouting and jostling in front of the Ministry of Justice of the country. The two girls chanted and pumped their fists in the air, even though they had no idea what they were saying. Everything seemed to be going so well when police with clubs, tear gas and horses showed up.

Mass panic followed. She and Margaret had run wildly into the hands of a burly policeman who grabbed Margaret and clubbed her in the back. Margaret collapsed. Amy screamed and attacked the officer without a thought. Soon, she was also on the ground, handcuffed with a black opaque hood or sack over her head which descended below her shoulders. She could hear Margaret crying alongside her.

She heard what sounded like a large vehicle drive near. A door was thrown open. She could hear people being thrown inside. Margaret screamed: Noooooo! Then, it was Margaret’s turn to be dumped inside. She could hear chains being attached. Then, Amy was grabbed. Strong hands lifted her and threw her into the van. More hands held her. They sat her upright on a bench and shackled her to a bar running behind the bench and along the wall of the van. Someone was sitting next to her moaning. It wasn’t Margaret. She heard more moaning and sobbing from others.

She struggled to breathe through the hood. She tried to pull away from the bar but couldn’t. She began to sob. The van jerked into motion. She banged into the bodies to her left and right. The moans and sobs of the other occupants grew louder.

She had no idea how long she was in the van. Her mind was clearing of the panic. Outrage was setting in. She had done nothing wrong. She was an American citizen. How dare they! She would explain everything. It was going to be all right. Her knowledge the local language was non-existent, but she was confident that the police would understand that it was all a mistake.

When the van stopped, everyone was hauled out with the hoods in place. Hands still cuffed behind her, she stumbled more than once as the shackled group was led into a building. They were lined up against a wall. A command was given and everyone turned to face the wall. She was pushed to her knees. Knees and noses to the wall was shouted. She didn’t understand and received a club to her kidney. The pain was excruciating but she managed straighten up. another shout. She was pushed to the wall, Nose and knees firmly pressed against it. The cuffs hurt her wrists. Her breasts were crushed against the wall. She wasn’t going to get hit again, if she could help it.

She heard Margaret screaming. A door opened and slammed shut. All she could hear was silence. She could smell piss and muffled sobs. Fear permeated the room. She started to speak, but was clubbed on the bottoms of her feet. She screamed, but didn’t move from the wall.

Shortly, or perhaps after a long time, she was lifted up and escorted into another room. She heard the door open and slam shut after her. Her hood and handcuffs were removed.

She was in a bare concrete room with lockers along one wall. A middle aged matron was sitting behind a desk with a duffle bag and a plastic container before her. She could see two large police officers standing at each side of her. Their faces were hidden behind black ski masks. She opened her mouth to speak and was immediately struck by one of the officers.

The matron said something she didn’t understand. She didn’t move and the officers struck her again. The matron barked her command again and signaled that Amy was to place her clothes in the duffle bag. She hesitated and was struck again by the office.

Amy quickly stripped down to her bra and panties. That seemed to satisfy the matron who handed her an orange jump suit to put on. Her purse, phone, and id were missing. She must have lost them the melee. The matron indicated that she should place her earrings watch and jewelry in the plastic container. A number was affixed to the bag and container and they were stowed away. She noticed for the first time that the number matched a number stitched on her jumpsuit immediately above her right breast: 497654N. A plastic band with the same number and a bar code was affixed to her right wrist.

The matron said something to the guards. Her hood was replaced and her hands were again cuffed behind her back. She was led out of the room and down several corridors before taking an elevator down further into the depths of what she know recognized as a prison.

There were more corridors and then they stopped. One of the police banged on metal door and yelled another incomprehensible command. She was turned to the right, her hood in place. Inside the cell were two women in orange jumpsuits, noses, knees, and tits firmly pressed agains the wall opposite the door. Their hands rested on the top of their heads with fingers interlaced.

She was led in and pushed to the floor next to the other women. She was positioned as the other women and her hood and cuffs removed. The guard whispered something in her ear which she understood to be a command not to move.