Mother Finds Missing Son in a Coma After Three-Day Search

My son went missing. I looked for him for three days.

He was walking home in the evening, on the twenty-seventh, or whatever date it was.

He was walking home at eleven at night, and his friend was from Sadovaya, on Gavannaya, and he disappeared.

I looked for him, but couldn't find him.

I went to the police. The desk officer told me, “Do you have a photocopy of his passport?

I said, “Yes.” “Do you have his phone number?”

“Yes.” “I checked on the computer, checked, and it shows your son is at City Hospital No. 11 on Vorobyov Street, lying in the hospital.”

I said, “What happened?” “We don't know what happened.”

I said, “But how? Why is he there?” She said, “We don't know why he's there.”

“An ambulance brought him.” “From where?” “We don't know where from.”

I went to the hospital, but it was already too late. The next day I found out from the doctor who operated on him that they'd brought him from 42 Hretska Street.

But the police, when I asked them, wouldn't admit it. Can you imagine?

I saw him in his coma, found him. Anyway, they brought him in at around three-something.

He left his friend's at eleven p.m., and ended up by the police station at three in the morning. Where they took him— the enlistment office, where they beat him— the enlistment office. No one knows. They removed a hematoma,

cut out a piece of bone. He says, if they’d brought him in twenty minutes later, we wouldn’t have saved him.

And the police didn’t want to take a statement from me or anything.

Then they took it, and they’re lying, saying his friends took him and they don’t know where he is. He fell there against the curb, hit his own head.

There’ll never be justice in our country until our government changes.

Who makes laws like these, that let them snatch people off the street?

Someone’s on their way to work, and they grab them, beat them.