M.V. was 19 years old. She studied in her third year at the journalism faculty of BSU. She was not an activist, but she had what her curator in GUBOPiK would later call “an excessive sense of justice.” She ran a small Instagram blog about books and life in Minsk

O.P., 52, was the long-time director of a human rights organization “Viasna” (name changed) in one of the regional centers. Their organization was not political in the direct sense: they were not fighting for power

F.A., 28, was an English teacher in Mosul, Iraq. After his city was destroyed by ISIS and later during the fighting for its liberation, he lost his job and home. He was an educated man, far from war, simply seeking safety for his young wife and three-year-old daughter

I.R., 29, worked as a railway track fitter at the Belarusian Railway in a small town in Homyel Region. He was not an activist, but he had what is often called “an acute sense of justice.” He loved his country and considered himself a patriot

Counselors, speaking with a Russian accent, told them that Ukraine was a “terrorist state” that “bombed Donbas for eight years,” and that Russia and Belarus were their “brotherly saviors.”

Fear mixed with shame in the village. People were afraid to talk. A neighbor who tried to film a column on his phone was taken by the Belarusian KGB. He disappeared for two weeks. When he returned, he was gray-haired and with broken ribs

Russian contract soldiers behaved arrogantly, calling Belarusians “bulbashi” and looking down on them

On 13 September 2020, a Sunday, she joined thousands of other Brest residents in a peaceful march. The mood was high, almost festive. People sang songs, carried flowers. When they reached the intersection of Masherov Avenue and Cosmonauts Boulevard, the crowd stopped

Total information blackout. E.K. filed complaints with the Department for Enforcement of Sentences and the Prosecutor General’s Office