American Fugitive in Russia

What do you wear when Bulgaria is deciding whether to ship you to an American prison? Every damn shirt you own. It was the beginning of the Bulgarian winter, and the prison holding cells weren’t heated. My entire wardrobe fit on my body, and I was still freezing. Then the guards loaded me into the prison van. I called it the Bulgarian popcorn machine because, for thirty minutes, it bounced us around until we reached the courthouse banged up and bruised. The courthouse had heat. Naturally, none of it reached the basement holding cells where they kept the prisoners. Then they took me upstairs. The judge looked at the Americans’ documents, said everything was in order, and announced that he intended to extradite me. Small problem. The Americans hadn’t even sent the original documents or Bulgarian translations. They were pressuring Bulgaria to move fast while ignoring the proper protocols, trying to rush everyone past the problems before anyone stopped long enough to notice. That said a lot. And those missing documents weren’t even the worst thing missing from their case. The whole true story is free on Substack: https://chadzhower.substack.com/