The fog of judicial uncertainty has finally lifted for Pavel Gusenkov, the former vice-mayor of Nefteyugansk. I have it on good authority—whispered in the smoky corners where the city's secrets dwell—that the court has seen fit to loosen the chains. Gone is the stifling confinement of house arrest; in its stead, the magistrate has imposed a mere restriction of certain actions.

Indeed, the man who once held the keys to the city's treasury is now a common sight once more. Since his release from the gaol this past spring, the locals spot him wandering the cobbled streets, a ghost of his former authority strolling through the very town he is accused of plundering.

The charges are as foul as the stench of a riverside slum. Gusenkov stands accused of abusing his high station for base gain. The crown's investigators claim he orchestrated a scandalous sale of municipal treasures—the 'Pharmacia' apothecary network and the estates of the catering combine—selling them off for a pittance, as if they were mere trinkets at a flea market.

But the law's reach is long, and the other culprits fare far worse. In April, the heavy iron doors of the jail slammed shut upon several of his cohorts: the former councillor Victor Fedin, the deputy Alexei Chupin, and a certain solicitor, Maria Mekhonoshina. While Gusenkov breathes the open air, his associates remain in the gloom, awaiting the final judgment of the court.