Gregory Winter is a human rights defender and civic activist from Cherepovets in the Vologda region of Russia. In 2022, a criminal case was opened against him for anti-war statements on social media. He had posted and commented about the war, including about the bombing of the Mariupol Drama Theater and reports of war crimes against civilians. For his words, Gregory was accused of ‘spreading knowingly false information’ about the Russian military — a charge that today is used as a tool of criminal prosecution for publicly disagreeing with the official position of the state.

In January 2024, the court sentenced him to three years in a penal colony. Gregory did not commit violent acts, did not call for them, and posed no danger to others. He was deprived of his freedom solely because of his anti-war position and his words.

Before his arrest, Gregory had spent many years engaged in human rights work and helping stray animals. Caring for those who are weaker and defenseless was an important part of his life: at one point twelve cats lived in his apartment. When it became clear that the sentence would be real, Gregory first thought not about himself. Instead he focused on finding safe homes for the animals. He knew he had a severe form of diabetes and that, in prison conditions, the lack of medication could become life-threatening.

In Penal Colony IK-5 in the Kirov region, Gregory found himself in a particularly vulnerable situation. His health condition required constant access to insulin, medical supervision, and medication. All of this became possible only thanks to support from outside. Thanks to donations from our supporters, Gregory had legal defense and medical assistance, and we were able to ensure that he received the necessary medicines and was not left alone to face the system.

Even behind barbed wire, Gregory continued doing what he knew best — helping others.

Cats lived on the colony grounds and around it. Prisoners did not allow animals into the barracks, so Gregory began looking for ways to help them. He made arrangements with other inmates and searched for volunteers outside the prison gates who could take the animals . He kept a list of those rescued — with names and notes. In total, twenty-two cats were taken out of the colony. Most of them later went to shelters, but four pets waited for Gregory until he was free.

‘A person who is being released has the right to take anything with them, as long as it is not the property of the institution. Cats are not the property of the institution,’ he said, explaining how he managed to carry the cats to freedom.

On the morning of December 30, Gregory left the colony. He carried with him a bag filled with letters — eighteen kilograms of support from strangers from different cities and countries. No one met him at the gates, but in the first hours after his release he helped other newly released prisoners make it to their trains, and the next day he went to collect the cats that had been waiting for him in temporary homes.

He spent his first evening of freedom in a rented apartment with a stool serving as a table and with almost no belongings. Instead of a festive dinner there was the simplest food from a shop. He turned on the television and almost immediately went to sleep — the prison habit of going to bed early had not disappeared. The cats climbed onto him, and for the first time in a long while he fell asleep without the feeling that the lights behind the door could be turned on at any moment.

But release from prison does not mean an immediate return to normal life. During his imprisonment, Gregory corresponded extensively with people who supported him through letters. One of them was a priest — Father Alexander. Their correspondence began when Gregory was held under strict detention conditions and over time became an important support for him. These letters, as Gregory himself said, were written ‘not with official words,’ but with attention and care — about fear, loneliness, faith, and how to preserve oneself in a place where almost everything has been taken away.

After his release, Gregory decided to visit Father Alexander who lives in a small village in the Ivanovo region on the Volga, barely marked on maps. There are no shops or medical stations in his village, and in winter it is difficult to reach, but it is there that Father Alexander has lived and served for many years, including supporting people in prison.

For Gregory, this trip became a continuation of his return to freedom. In a cold village church, without any ceremony or preparations, he was baptized. He had no cross. Father Alexander gave him his own.

After the service Gregory said:

This story became possible thanks to you. Because of your support, Gregory had lawyers, medicines, medical help, and contact with the outside world at a moment when it was a matter of survival. And later, the possibility to return to freedom and take the next step in his life through his own free will.

When people are deprived of freedom for words, solidarity and support are not abstract values but concrete help on which lives depend. Thank you for staying close to those we support and helping them return to this side of the fence.

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