(16 of 19)
I wrote another letter to the General Secretary and mailed it on Oct. 23. I wrote that I'd been banished illegally, without a court decision. I'd never broken the law or disclosed state secrets. My wife and I were being held in unprecedented isolation. Her sentence and the slanders printed about her in the press were actually attempts to shift responsibility for my actions onto her. I mentioned our health problems, and I felt it necessary to say that I would "make no more public statements, apart from exceptional cases when, in the words of Tolstoy, 'I cannot remain silent.' " I concluded, "I hope that you will find it possible to end my isolation and my wife's exile." Once I'd sent off the letter, I forgot about it for the next seven weeks.
Lusia was twirling the radio dial on Dec. 9. The jamming was intense, but through the crackle we both made out the name Marchenko. For a few moments we thought he had been released. Since Aug. 4 he had been on a hunger strike at Chistopol Prison, demanding better conditions for political prisoners and an end to repression. He hadn't been allowed visitors for 32 months and had spent long periods in punishment cells.
We soon realized that the broadcast was not a report of Marchenko's release. The evening before, he'd asked for a doctor. By the time he was brought to the hospital his condition was hopeless. A cerebral hemorrhage was listed as the immediate cause of death. Marchenko was 48. His death ended an era for the human rights movement, which he had helped to shape.
Dec. 15, 1986, was the 25th anniversary of my father's death. Shortly after 10 p.m. the doorbell rang. A search? Two electricians and a KGB agent entered the apartment. They had orders to install a phone. The KGB man said, "You'll get a call around 10 tomorrow morning."
On Dec. 16 we waited for the call until 3 p.m., when the phone rang and I answered. A woman's voice: "Mikhail Sergeyevich will speak with you."
"I'm listening." I told Lusia, "It's Gorbachev." She opened the door to the hallway, where the usual chatter was going on around the policeman on duty, and shouted, "Quiet! Gorbachev's on the phone." There was an immediate silence.
"Hello, this is Gorbachev speaking."
"Hello, I'm listening."
"I received your letter. We've reviewed it and discussed it. You can return to Moscow. The Decree of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet will be rescinded. A decision has also been made about Elena Bonnaire."
I broke in: "That's my wife!" It was an emotional reaction, not so much to his mispronunciation of her name as to his tone.
Gorbachev continued: "You can return to Moscow together. You have an apartment there. Go back to your patriotic work!"
I said, "Thank you. But I must tell you that a few days ago, my friend Marchenko was killed in prison. He was the first person I mentioned in my letter to you, requesting the release of prisoners of conscience -- people prosecuted for their beliefs."
Gorbachev: "Yes, I received your letter early this year. We've released many, and improved the situation of others. But there are all sorts of people on your list."
I said, "Everyone sentenced under those articles has been sentenced illegally, unjustly. They ought to be freed!"
Gorbachev: "I don't agree with you."