“A doctor cannot wish harm upon a child”. Paediatrician Nadezhda Buyanova’s final statement in court

“I belong to three Slavic nations.” On her background

I was born in 1956 in the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic, in the city of Lviv, and that’s where I grew up. Back then, Ukraine was part of the USSR, and core values of the Soviet Union included friendship among nations, mutual support and respect. This sense of friendship was celebrated in poems and songs.

Russian was the language used for communication between different nationalities. My family spoke Russian, and I attended a Russian-language school. My father was listed as Russian in the official records, and my mother was Belarusian, born in Belarus. I’ve lived and worked in Russia for over 30 years now. It’s painful to read the accusatory words in the indictment—those unfair, offensive allegations of “political and national hatred.”

What “national hatred” am I supposed to feel, given my background? It’s absurd. Hatred is a profound and destructive emotion. As both a doctor and a person, I am not capable of such feelings. Medical care is given regardless of a patient’s nationality. Compassion and humanity—without these moral values you can’t work as a doctor.

I belong to three Slavic nations—Russian, Belarusian, and Ukrainian. How am I supposed to choose between them? I studied, worked, communicated, and made friends with Ukrainians. Am I supposed to develop hostility, as Ms. Akinshina has? That’s impossible. I cannot—and I don’t want to. How can anyone claim that all Ukrainians as a nation hate the “Russian world”? Just a few years ago, I was walking down a narrow street in Lviv and heard people speaking Russian, Ukrainian, and Polish all around me. No one gave it a second thought—it was completely natural.

So where did they find “political hatred”? I’m not a politician, nor do I have any interest in politics. I don’t use social media, and while I stay informed by following the news, that doesn’t make me a politician or a person who understands it well. I’ve never been part of any political party, held office, or been an activist. Politics is for others who understand it and have the expertise.

“Once, it was doctor and patient; now, it’s service provider and client.” On her work in medicine

Our profession was always respected, but that respect has been eroding lately. The attitude has changed. Once, there were doctor and patient; now, it’s service provider and client.

Doctors are slandered, insulted, and called every name imaginable. We’re defenceless—our superiors don’t listen to us, and no one mediates conflicts.

After this incident, orders came from above to distance themselves from me immediately. “No person, no problem.” I was dismissed quietly, as if it were a formality, without even reading the order aloud. That’s an example of how staff are treated.

In this line of work, one must be serious and attentive. I always said: it’s essential not to miss anything. I’ll provide my own description: I took my duties responsibly and fulfilled them entirely. I was disciplined, efficient, and reliable. I never arrived late to work. I was diligent, patient, always advancing my skills, and consistently calm, kind, and attentive with children and parents.

The indictment claims that because I interacted with many people and held an authoritative position, I could influence people’s minds and shape negative attitudes. Am I the only one who interacts with a large number of people? What about other doctors? Teachers? Clergy? Countless others could influence people’s minds. This accusation could be levelled at anyone.

As a duty doctor, I had a heavy flow of patients, particularly during a pneumonia outbreak. My routine was straightforward: talk with parents, gather the medical history, examine the child thoroughly, and collect not one but three swabs. Then everything had to be documented, signed, and organised, followed by tests referrals and treatment plans—all of which took over half an hour per patient. And the line of patients was continuous.

With such intense work, when would I have time for random conversations? I worked eight hours without a lunch break. The head of the department couldn’t even arrange a 30-minute lunch break for me, though others had one. I had a thermos, which I’d sip from quickly-quickly if I could. I agreed to work this way. No break means no break.

“I immediately knew they were up to something.” On the accusation

Who is this Akinshina? She has no moral humane principles. She lives consumed by anger—my only response to her is sympathy. People like her should be held accountable for slander. There is no proof of any conversation; no audio recording exists. And as the saying goes, “No evidence, no case.” Why am I not believed?

A doctor—especially a paediatrician—cannot wish harm upon a child or traumatise them. Only a monster could be capable of such words, let alone say them to a child.

The face-to-face confrontation took place four days after the clinic visit. When my lawyer Cherdjiev asked Akinshina if her child had been present during the conversation, she confidently replied, “No, the child wasn’t there.”

[At the clinic] he child was quiet and well-behaved—barely made a sound. He didn’t speak to me, and I didn’t hear a word from him. The mother was visibly agitated though. I overheard her speaking about another school. I assumed she meant music school. Then, in a loud, scornful tone, she snapped: “Ah, so you thought you wouldn’t have to go to school? No, you’re going to school.” In this tone. It turned out they were discussing transferring him due to poor grades. I thought to myself how unfortunate it was to hear a mother speak to her child that way.

Akinshina constantly changed her statements. I’m not 80, so I don’t forget or get confused. During the confrontation, she said the child wasn’t there; he had left the room. This was recorded in my presence. Then, after the confrontation ended, she asked, “Am I free to go?” “Yes, you’re free to go.” Later, my lawyer Oskar Cherdjiev had a brief conversation with investigator Bocharov about getting a copy of the confrontation record. They left, and then Akinshina came back and casually took the secretary’s chair, as though she were completely at ease. Bocharov approached and quietly coached her: “The door was open, and others heard it too.” I grew worried. After I was taken into custody, I kept replaying that memory, hoping my lawyer had taken a copy of the record.

The next day, before entering the courtroom, I was led to a room where a man introduced himself only as “Evgeny, I fight extremism” and asked if I had anything to share. I told him the whole story, including the details about the door. “Good,” he replied. Once the hearing began, Oskar had the copy and they altered the last page of the confrontation record, retyped everything.

How can Akinshina claim normalcy when she can’t even remember the date of her clinic visit in court? Her statements shift constantly. She feels wronged by the world because her son has lost his father. It’s painful, it hurts. But by age seven, he will retain few memories of his father.

The investigation refuses to admit that it has no proof. There simply is none. So, they invented this so-called “interview” of the child at home. Convenient—home setting, mother in the next room, a psychologist they conveniently found in Moscow.

In closing, I maintain that I am not guilty and consider myself innocent. I ask the court to acquit me.

Editor: Anna Pavlova