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low-yield murder |
"skull-brain trauma" |
podyezd |
really stupid criminal |
children |
Russian Sports Connection |
murder-suicide |
cries for help ignored |
"investigation continuing" |
carved up like a turkey |
related to victim's job |
cannibalism |
riddled with bullets |
old people |
Because She Hadn't Started to Smell Yet
Poor people may not have much in the way of material things, but they do have each other. Take Marina Yevtyukhina, for instance. Maybe her one room in a kommunalka on the eerily named Gospitalny Val in northern Moscow wasn't so cozy, but at least she had neighbors-neighbors who always kept her alive in their hearts.
Or, if not alive, at least not dead. Or if not dead, at least probably not dead. Yevyukhina hadn't been in the kitchen or used the bathroom in the kommunalka for three days, but the three neighbors in the other two rooms didn't worry too much.
In fact, they might have continued not to worry, had Yevtyukhina's sister not arrived on day 4 to find out why her sister hadn't answered the phone. The door to her sister's room was locked, and when she couldn't force it, she went around to the street and went in through the window-the apartment was on the first floor. Inside, she found her sister dead, with three stab wounds in her neck. Police later caught two young men who had been seen entering the building with her. Motive: drunken quarrel, girl wouldn't shut up, knife and open window handy. Neighbors under questioning admitted to hearing a loud argument. After that they heard silence. The eXile looks defensively to the jury on their behalf: what were they supposed to do, help? After all, it's not like it happened in the kitchen.
More Good News
One of things people often say about crime in Moscow is that it's not as bad as, say, Detroit or Miami, because there's no random street crime. People in Moscow, they say, get killed po povodu-either for business reasons, or in family disputes, etc. And eXile readers, as far as we know, have a pretty good record of avoiding serial murder.
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| Sergei Valov, aspiring Bee Gees tribute band member and murder suspect. |
Igor Yershov, Valov's partner in crime and frustrated Caeser haircut recipient. |
A random fat guy in a tank top holding a bunny who has no connection to the story |
Well, into the picture now step the two fine young men gracing our pages this week-Igor Yershov and Sergei Valov. The two teenagers were hanging around the "Maryino" about a week ago, wondering just how in the world they were going to find money to buy vodka. Darn that money stuff! Anyway, after spending a fruitless, short amount of time failing to think up better ideas, they chased down a 28-year-old judicial assistant who had made the mistake of wearing nice clothes. The two kids beat him to unconsciousness, then continued beating him after he was already motionless on the ground. Then, realizing he was dead, they took his wallet, his coat, and a few other things, and ran immediately in search of a good place to be caught by the police. That turned out to be a well-lit podyezd, where they stood for a good half-hour playing tug-of-war with the bloody coat while they argued over how to split the spoils. As minors, they face maximum sentences of 10 years in jail. Sounds just like a Detroit story to us, only no one's Air Jordans got stolen. So we can all go back to being afraid the way we used to back home in the States. And hey, Nike, liven up! You're missing out on some good market share!
"Crime and Punishment" Turns 120
"Dorozhny Patrul" compared this following story to Crime and Punishment, but we're not so sureÉ Okay, true, victim Irina Davidova was a small-time pawnbroker and money-lender in her spare time, when she wasn't working as a nurse on call at Vnukovo airport. And the murder was committed on behalf of the murderer's family, sort of like Dostoyevsky had it. But the perpetrators don't quite fit the Raskolnikov mold.
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| "Hey, close the door, willya? I can feel that draft through the holes in my neck!" |
In the Dostoyevsky scenario, one committed mindless homicide because one was over-educated and obsessed by the labor-saving prospect of making the moral instinct submit to the will and the intellect. In modern Russia, one commits mindless murder because one has no mind. Yuri Pirozhansky and his friend Oleg Samoleiko, both 18, whacked Davidova on behalf of Pirozhansky's mother, Lyubov Pirozhanskaya. The latter owed Davidova money-police aren't saying how much-and decided to put her son to work rather than pay up. Apparently she was offended by Davidova's draconian interest rates. In any case, the murder happened like this: Mom invited Davidova to her home, telling her that she had the money and was ready to pay. Davidova, apparently suspecting something, brought a friend as backup-a barwoman named Yulia Chuviltseva who made sure to get hammered for the meeting. When Mom didn't pay up, there was an argument, and Davidova slapped her drunken friend awake and started off in a huff. But just then, Pirozhanskaya asked Davidova to drop off her son and her son's friend in a nearby village. Davidova agreed, putting the two kids in the back seat while she and her friend slid into the front. After a few minutes the requisite absurd detail that always appears in these killings materialized: Chuviltseva suddenly announced that she was going to be sick and demanded that Davidova pull over to the side of the road. Money-lender and soon-to-be victim Davidova complied and her buddy bailed, crawled away, and puked. Just then, young Pirozhansky pulled a Godfather Part I (Carlo scene) and wrapped his scarf around Davidova's neck; while the latter thrashed around, Samoleiko stabbed her in the heart. The two drove a little ways, then rolled the body into the woods before finally dumping the blood-covered car at a graveyard in the nearby Podmoskoviye village of Petrovsky. Residents quickly discovered the car, and a subsequent search uncovered the body. Police, tracing Davidova's client list, quickly apprehended the two boys, who confessed straightaway. Mom, however, denies everything, leaving her son, so to speak, hanging. If Dostoyevsky were alive, he'd be rolling around in his grave. What else would he do down there?
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