Russian Mafia. Organized crime group from inside. Real Story, part 1.

This is a real story that happened to me and left a very deep impression. This story tells how I became the member of the Russian mafia, what we were doing, and how it all ended... This story is real, some parts of the group are still active that is why some names and places are completely changed, and all the photos are retouched. Some of my friends are dead by now, but I do not want to be running ahead of the story, I will just go through all this again together with you.

Not everyone knows when the mafia in Russia started its way. It started much earlier, in the early '90s, when the Soviet Union had collapsed, and people were able to engage in business activities. Then the people who had the physical strength and desire to live well got craving to take someone else's. Young people, usually the members of sports clubs, formed criminal communities to accumulate power to take income of entrepreneurs and get the cash flow of the businesses. Often, the physical violence was applied against those who did not want to obey to frighten others. In Russia, there were hundreds of large and thousands of small criminal networks which not only "earned" a living by racket, but fought for it between each other. Most of the participants of those events are now in prison or dead.

It was a real criminal war, but I personally did not participate in it. For me everything started in 2003, when I was 13 years old. That day, my friends from the hood invited me to the boxing class. I was expecting this, because I already knew that the guys were doing something interesting, they just didn't want to share it with me, "You'll know everything when you come," that was how they kept the intrigue. I was watching them from the side, I had not been in their social circle yet, I did not see anything illegal in what they did, but I was fascinated by their organized movement relied on the principle – One for all and all for one.

It meant that the cell of their community resolved all their problems on the streets. Physical fights didn't happen often in our time, nobody wanted to deal with more than a hundred bald, well-organized men. If they expected some kind of more or less equal force coming up, they called up the larger number of community cells. It was 57 cells in total. Totally, it is more than 3,000 people at the peak of its activity in 2005. Many people were armed and almost all of them were boxers. It was a huge strength.

But I did not know any details back then. I just came to a boxing class to train under good coaches, the champions of Russia, Europe and the World. They were really good, they prepared a lot of champions of Russia, Europe and the World... I was excited by the fact that I would train with my friends, especially in a secret place.

After the active part of the training, we all got in a large room with tables, where everybody drank tea. There were more than 100 people, many of them were standing at the door, because they could not come in. People were talking to each other. There was this steady low clatter in the room, I was drinking tea, munching cookies, and was not thinking about anything bad. It was fun and calm, all my close friends were sitting by my side, and I was just tired.

In a while we heard the voice saying, "So, let's talk?"" And everybody got quiet. The guy with the appearance of 26-year-old with a wide scar on his forehead, began a one-sided dialogue with the team. But I did not really get what was going on, and at some point I even lost focus on what is happening and shut off myself from the world. Jolt to the elbow brought me back, someone whispered me to get up.

"That meant everybody would be sitting, and I had to get up? ... What the fuck?" - I thought that I was not ready for this, but I had no choice, so I got up.
"Newbie? What's your name?" - the guy with the scar said.
"Alex," - I replied.
"Alex, we have three golden rules: no weapons, no drugs, no crimes. We solve all our problems ourselves without police. Your friends will tell you the rest. Any questions?"
"No questions."
"Then sit down, drink tea and enjoy yourself."
I was shocked. I was not ready for that. I was discouraged, but at the same time I was amused by what was going on.

Trainings went fast, I learned quickly and got used to everything. Every day, we played football, went to the gym, took the boxing classes, and everything was for FREE. Football? No problem. Workout? Sure. Boxing? All coaches were waiting for us. Trainings took place in our own two-story building, which included workout and boxing rooms, rooms for table tennis and billiards, and on the street we had mini and full-size football fields.

We paid only for tea, but it was nothing compared to how much they charged in regular sport clubs: 100 rubles a month, it's less than $ 2 in current money. At the same time, we did everything off our own bat. We did repairs in the hall, built the arbour and even the stadium with bleachers!!! And all of that was done with no outside help. We did everything using only our own resources, we had no wages, and nobody put pressure on us.

It is said that it is easy to get into the mafia, but difficult to leave. It was the opposite in our case. At every training, some man did a head check. If you missed 3 trainings without good reason, you will be asked some questions. If you had nothing to answer, they would show you out.

If you decided to leave the community, nobody would make you pay. Also you will be not forced to bring a TV from home or do something like that. Want to leave? Go away, do not waste our time and do not dare to think bad about us. If you took something, bring it back. They didn't care about anything else.

How did we make our living? Parkings. We had been opening the night paid car parkings in the yards, and offered protection to the vehicles owners. From the parking money we had been paying for electricity in the building, buying building materials, paying cleaners and saving some to help those ones who were in jail.

In our language we called this help "warming a prison". It is when you send some stuff to a prison. For a prisoner the parcel itself is not so important, it is more important that someone actually cares about him. The parcel usually has cigarettes, candies and cookies, sometimes phones. You cannot call yourself a bro without this element of street life.

Also if someone on the street asks you a question "Who are you?"
If you answer - "A man," they say, "A man should work in the field, so go work."
"An athlete." - "So go and train."
"A bro." - "Who do you warm then?"
On the street only a bro can talk to another bro as an equal, the verbal fight is a whole science. If a fight is against you, and you are not strong in it, it is likely you will lose and will be owing money to someone. But we have never lost and regularly trained our skills, including the street language.

Those gyms, which were opened after ours, didn't have any source of income except the parkings. And even if they had, nobody talked about them, because they violate the three golden rules: no weapons, no drugs, no crimes. One parking could bring up to $ 5000 of a monthly net income, and every normal gym had, at least, 3 of them. We lived that way working on our own parkings. The older gyms also had other businesses: pharmacy chains, shops and so on... I do not know how they set up those businesses.

Many young people were, literally, saved from drugs by our gyms. They were given the meaning and purpose to live. Many of the guys came from dysfunctional families, and lots of them had already taken the criminal path. But then they came to us, and their lives changed. They got work, exercises, friends and new very large social network. It doesn't look like a mafia yet, right? :-))

But first things first. At the time I was only 13 years old teenager taking the boxing classes. I liked the guys and the power I had behind me. I wasn't quite sure where I was and how it worked, and, of course, I could not imagine where this would lead me and what I would have to pass through.

The first little criminal history happened soon, it happened to me personally outside the gym. I knew one guy, his name was Sergey, he was 21, and once he took advantage of my trust. He asked me to give a cell phone to call, and as soon as I left, he disappeared. And that was my first cell phone. It was a real problem, because someone stole my phone, and I had to tell my brothers about it, explain everything to them.

It was a difficult day and training, I was getting closer and closer to the time when I had to tell everyone. I had to stand up in front of everybody and tell them what happened. It was frightening. But I believed that they would help me, would not leave my problem aside, and I would not have to talk about this bitter case to my parents.

The time to talk has come. There were many people, as always. And as always, there was a question at the end, "Any questions? Problems?"
"I have a problem," - I got up.
"What happened?"
"My phone was stolen…" - And I told how it happened. My brothers listened to me, and then gave me the answer I didn't expect.
"You should solve the problem yourself. Do whatever it takes, but get back what belongs to you."
"But how? He is 2 heads taller, bigger and 8 years older than me. How do I make him give my stuff back?" I asked.
"Now it's just your problem. Arm yourself with something, if you cannot deal with him barehanded. Watch him every day, break him. Do not come here until you have your problem solved," - that's what my brothers told me.

It was unexpected turn. That day I realized that my brothers wouldn't help me with all my problems, and that it was not that simple as it seemed before. Why did this guy just take my phone and get lost? Because he felt neither possible punishment nor my power. He was not even thinking about the power behind me. If he did not feel my strength, it meant that the team would not protect me. Every person is the team's face, and if I am like that, then everyone is. So I had to solve the problem myself, and I had to do it, whatever it cost me, because this gym was my entire social circle.

It was a hard challenge, and it changed my life. My friends were with me, despite the fact that I had to solve the problem myself, they said that they would come with me. We drove around the hood to find the bustard and punish him. But it was me who had to punish him.

We got there... In total there were about 3-4 cars and, maybe, 15 people. I did not believe that we would find him quickly, honestly, I did not believe that we would find him in general... But suddenly, we got him spotted. He was walking with his fighting dog in one yard in the hood, we drove up and surrounded him. We followed all the rules of a street fight. What happened next? ... I had to get up my guts, and I had only one chance. I had never been in an actual street fight before, I had been just training.

My opponent kept a stiff upper lip. Despite the fact that there were many people set against him, and I was so young and severe, he acted openly and rudely. He said he would not give me the phone back, because he did not see a man in me. That was the boiling point. After these words, it was the first time in my life when I felt fear changing to aggression. Hands do their job, and the adrenaline slows down what is happening. Bam! And the border is passed.

Despite the fact that he was holding the fighting dog and was 2 heads taller than me, I set upon him with blows, having completely forgotten about the dog. Now I do not understand why it did not even bite me. My opponent did not dare to fight back, because he did not know how the other guys would react. I would not call it beating, it was a spirit manifestation, and it has changed me forever. I became acquainted with him and said "hi".

I’ve been getting back to this situation many times. It also helped me to survive in the army. It's not completely aggression. It is a self-defense, which switches on when you believe that a retreat is not an option. When all your words would not help the situation, so you have to fight, otherwise you will lose everything: your honor, your name, and, finally, yourself.

I do not quite remember what the end of the scrummage was, but there was a police station across the street, and we did not want to be stuck there. It does not matter that I had not beaten him to a mummy or trodden him into the ground. I showed everyone what I was made of and I could do it again if needed - that is what really matters.

We left. The next day his aunt called me and offered to take the phone back (she had seen the whole process, and as far as I remember, she broke up our fight). I took what was mine, the problem was solved. On the second day I came back to the gym and told everyone about my success. Then my brothers told me, "You should have solved your problem by yourself, but what's done is done. Good job."

I would have different life without this victory. Further, I got a lot of "combat" experience, participated in many conflicts, was in charge for organization. My extraordinary intelligence and abilities distinguished me from other people. Of course, I was not a godfather or top dog... nothing of the kind. I was just a normal guy among my friends. Here I want to share with you some stories about our life. I would like to stop now. But, judging by the details I want to give you, we are far from the end of the story.