When the war broke out in Syria, I fled to Libya via Egypt. I had heard that there were many opportunities to work and earn money. At the time, I knew nothing about the political situation in Libya. I just traveled there. When I arrived in 2012, the situation was already very unsafe. I tried to get in touch with smugglers, but it was very expensive and I had to support my family in Syria financially. Whenever I had the chance to take the boat to Italy, a new job would come up that I had to take. I kept postponing it and worked on different construction sites in Libya. Most of my friends were already in Italy. In 2014, the situation worsened. There was war everywhere, also in the cities where I lived and worked. I could no longer stay in Libya, there was no future for me. My only option was to cross to Italy. After a while, I got a smuggler's number. I went to Zuwara with a friend. The smuggler picked us up in his private car. I had already paid $1,000 for the crossing but we still had to give him all the money we had with us. I managed to hide a small amount in my underwear. Then he drove us in the middle of nowhere. There were no lights, no streets, nothing. There were three or four shipping containers. The smuggler's brother stood in front of them. He was armed. We were six people in the container: three people were from Morocco, one person from Chad, my friend and me. We were not allowed to leave the area. Every few days, more people were brought to the containers, all different nationalities. But most were from Morocco. Sometimes for days we had no food.

After 25 days the smugglers said: 'We are leaving today.' It was at the end of August 2015. By then there must have been 200 people in the container. A big truck arrived. We sat in the loading area and couldn't see the road. We didn't know where they were taking us. After a while, I could hear the sea and felt the truck driving over sand. We arrived. There was a lot of noise. Babies were screaming, people were crying. It was the middle of the night and very dark. But I could see a little in the moonlight. There were armed Libyans with Kalashnikovs everywhere. They were running around and talking, organizing. Each smuggler had their own group; we were about 200-300 people, but there were more groups besides us. Then we were supposed to go close to the beach. I saw a rubber boat with 15 to 20 people in the sea. They drove away, I didn't know where. We waited. Then everything happened very quickly. I didn't notice much around me. You don't think about anything in a situation like that. I just wanted to know what was happening to me. What are the Libyans saying? Where do I have to go? I wasn't interested in the others at all. I was very scared and very calm at the same time. I shut my mind off and just functioned.
We walked into the water up to our knees, then entered a small rubber boat like the people I had seen before. We drove for 10 minutes to a large wooden boat. There I had to sit in a certain place and open my legs. Another person was placed between my legs, so more people would fit on the boat. The Libyans were armed. If someone didn't understand something, they beat the people. I was very scared that night. There was no turning back. Either you die at that moment or you don't. I tried to accept that. It was very, very loud. Many people prayed to God in different languages. Everyone was talking at once. You couldn't understand anything. I could hardly see anything. You could only feel that there were more and more people boarding the boat. Two hours later we set off. It was only when we were out at sea that I realized how dangerous the whole situation was.

After three hours, we heard that there were other people down in the boat who needed water. I didn't know that there was a second floor before. We passed them some water bottles. The people downstairs tried to come up, but there was no space. We were sitting so close together that I couldn't feel my feet anymore because someone had been sitting on them for hours. Some people were throwing up, they were seasick. One person slept on top of me, others urinated into the sea or into the boat. It was impossible to move to the railing if you were sitting in the middle. Everyone was scared and there was a lot of arguing. It was very loud. I could hear a lot but I couldn’t see much. It was still night. Everything around me was black. Sometimes we used our cell phones to make a light to show that we were there.

At eight o'clock the next morning, a helicopter spotted us. I was very happy. I couldn't stand it any longer. I was in pain all over. The helicopter was the first thing I saw that wasn't blue. In the afternoon, a large ship appeared.

At the same time, our boat was no longer moving properly. It was lying very low in the water. Especially the people at the edge were very afraid, they tried to change places and there was chaos. When a ship comes, you feel safe. Help is there. I also tried to change my place. I imagined what would happen if the boat turned over. If I'm at the edge, I can swim a little. I prepared myself for all situations.

The people from the large boat approached us with three rubber boats and asked who spoke English. I translated. They said: 'Don't move! Please stay seated. Remain calm until the ship is close by.' Our boat got positioned right next to the big ship and we went on it one by one. There were already other people who had been rescued before us. They gave us stickers with a number and a color for the nationality. There was water and a little food. A piece of bread with a banana. They rescued another boat. We helped by refilling water bottles. I translated from English to Arabic. After two days and one night we arrived in Palermo.

When the ship was already in the harbor, they separated me and 25 other people from the others. We were told to line up. My friend, who had started with me in Zuwara, was also there. I didn't understand why we had to stand in that line. Then other people came. Some I had never seen before, others had been on the same wooden boat as me. They pointed at us. At some point, one of them pointed at me, then another. Nothing more happened.

We waited until the other people had left the ship. Then the police arrested us. They had a tent in the harbor. There they gave us a number and took pictures of us. Police were everywhere. It was night again. Two buses arrived. I was driven with the others to the police station. They took our fingerprints and were really angry with us. At first I didn't want to give them my fingerprints. They threatened to hit me. I argued with the police. I didn't understand what was going on. What had happened? I thought they must have mistaken me.

The first night we slept on the floor at the police station. There was no food. They didn't explain to us what we were accused of. I still thought that they had simply mistaken me. The next day they handcuffed ten of us and took us to the Pagliarelli prison. The others, among them my friend who had taken the exact same journey as me, were released. 

In prison it was very bad. Nobody spoke to us. Nobody helped us. We were in an empty section. In the cell was only an iron bed with a mattress. I shared the cell with another person from my boat. We had no contact with anyone. We couldn't shower. I was still wearing the same clothes.

The next day they brought a lawyer for all ten of us. He said to us: 'Don't talk to the public prosecutor.' We were questioned individually. The public prosecutor said: 'You brought 500 people to Italy and killed 52 people.' What did I do? I didn't understand it at all. I was supposed to have brought 500 people to Italy and killed 52 people? That was not true. I think I said: 'I didn't do that.' But then I added that I didn't want to talk, as the lawyer had recommended.

Then nothing happened. We got separated and I did not see the others from my trial anymore. After a few days, I had a mental breakdown. I said: 'I want to talk to someone.' At some point, they brought the director of the prison. He said: 'If you want to know what's going on you have to help us and talk.' So I wrote on a piece of paper: 'Yes, I want to talk to the public prosecutor and tell the truth.'

It was a different public prosecutor and the interview lasted two hours. They also brought another lawyer, Marcello Montalbano. He said that I could talk. An old man translated. I told my story. I said everything. Everything I knew.

A few days later, I was taken to a police room in Pagliarelli prison. There were two people who looked like me. We should all put on white T-shirts and stand in a line. After that, my lawyer said to me: 'It's all right, Issa. Don't be afraid. They didn't recognize you. You'll get your freedom back.' Today I know that the witnesses were supposed to identify me but were unable to do so.  They had been standing behind the glass, along with my lawyer and a judge, and I think the public prosecutor was there too. They could see me but I couldn’t see them. At the time I didn't know what had happened. I wasn't told why I was standing in a line with a white T-shirt.

For the first hearings, we were taken to the courtroom, which is right in the Pagliarelli prison. There all the accused sat in separate cages so we couldn't see each other. My hands were cuffed. There was a camera pointed at me so the court could see how I reacted when the witnesses were questioned.

It was the first time I saw the witnesses. They claimed that we were smugglers. After that, our lawyers asked them: 'Do you know him? Where did you see him? What did he do?' One witness claimed that I had hit him. When he was questioned further, it became clear that he was sitting at the other end of the boat. He couldn't even say where I had been sitting. How could I have hit him then? Even when I was standing in line with the white T-shirts, he hadn't recognized me. He had simply lied. This was proven in court. The judge got really angry and slammed his hands down on the table.

In October 2015, the accused were questioned in the court of Palermo. Now it was our moment to explain our perspective. For this, I was taken out of the cage and stood in front of the judge. My lawyer questioned me. He asked me about my story: why I had left, how much I had paid, where the smuggler had taken me. Basically my story before I had entered Italy. The judge and the public prosecutor were also allowed to question me. They asked very specific details. Sometimes they asked the same questions twice to see if I was confident with my answers.

After the hearing I was driven back to prison. At some point, a police officer came and asked me: 'Do you know someone in Palermo? Do you have an address?’ I didn't know anyone in Palermo. I hadn't been out of prison for a single day. He said: 'You're going back to freedom now!' The judge had decided that I was free.

Two policemen drove me to the immigration office in Palermo. They gave me back some of the things I had with me when I crossed the sea, but I didn't get my cell phones and documents back. Then they just left me on the street. I had nothing and didn't know where to go. That was my first moment of freedom in Europe. I was alone. I approached people on the street and asked for help. They took me to a place where I could sleep. A mattress on the floor and a blanket, it was okay. The next day I tried to get my lawyer’s address. I needed my documents, my cell phones. My lawyer tried to get everything back, but the public prosecutor's office refused. He said that the public prosecutor wanted me to stay in Italy because the legal proceedings had not yet been closed. But that I was not obliged to do so and that I was also allowed to leave Italy.

I said: 'Okay, ciao, I'm leaving.' What should I be doing in Italy after everything that had happened? I stayed in Palermo for about one more month, living on the streets and receiving a lot of help from the “Biagio Conte” organization.

At the end of 2015, I took the bus to Germany. I was first in Munich, then in Berlin, Hamburg, Hannover, Bremen and Bremenhaven, Dortmund, Schwerin. Everywhere the camps were overcrowded and the conditions were very bad. I wanted to leave Europe again. In Italy I was in prison and in Germany I basically lived on the street because the conditions in the shelters were too bad. In the end I went to Chemnitz. Here I applied for asylum. I was so tired. I was only in the camp at night, in the city during the day. I wanted to spend as little time in the camp as possible. I also had a drinking problem since I got out of prison. I just wanted to forget everything that had happened, and alcohol was the easiest solution at the time. Since the beginning of 2016, I had been living in Chemnitz in a flat together with my ex-girlfriend.

In April 2017, I got involved in a fight with Nazis in the castle park in Chemnitz. I was bleeding and my arm was broken. We called the police. They arrested all of us and took us to the police station.

At the station, they said: 'You have a big problem.' Then they showed me the photo that was taken of me in Palermo: 'Is that you?' - 'Yes, that's me.' I didn't lie. I told the truth. 'Italy is looking for you', they said. In the evening I was driven to the court of Chemnitz, which confirmed my arrest. That same evening I slept in prison in Leipzig.

After a month I had a hearing in the district court in Leipzig. I was first brought to a cell in the basement of the court. From there they took me to a room where I spoke with the judge. There were long desks with computers; it looked a bit like an office. I explained that I was released in Palermo and allowed to leave the country. They said that I had to go back to Italy, that my trial was not yet closed, that I was wanted internationally. I said, 'I'm innocent. I'm fighting for my rights. I don't want to lose any more time.' The judge decided that I would be extradited to Italy for the trial. During my time in prison, I was also in contact with a German lawyer. But he said that he could not help me as the trial was in Italy. It was not possible to defend me from Germany. For the next two weeks, I was taken to a new prison almost every day. Every day I sat on a bus and was driven from city to city. I only had time to rest on the weekend. At some point I was in Mannheim, where I stayed for a few days. In late May 2017, I was extradited to Italy on a Lufthansa passenger plane. There were two police officers sitting next to me on the plane. Otherwise, they were just people going on vacation.

I was taken back to Pagliarelli prison. My new lawyer, Cinzia Pecoraro, visited me there. She was already familiar with my case because she also represented one of my co-defendants. Cinzia interviewed me for a long time and also explained to me that I had done nothing wrong. I was allowed to leave Italy, but in December 2015, the public prosecutor's office appealed against the annulment of my pre-trial detention. I had already left Italy. From then on, I was wanted internationally. I knew nothing about it.
We worked together to find very specific evidence. We collected photos from my time in Libya, chat messages and calls with friends before my departure, videos from the crossing. Cinzia had to prove in front of the court that I was not a smuggler. 

I felt very bad in prison. I didn't belong there. I didn't speak their language. I was innocent. I often asked myself whether I would have to spend my whole life in prison. The public prosecutor had demanded a life sentence. It drove me crazy. I couldn't think anymore. I couldn't eat anymore. In the morning and afternoon I was allowed out in the yard for a few hours, in the evening we could play cards in a room. Otherwise I was alone in my cell. I also had cellmates for short periods of time, but never for long. They were moved again after a while. I broke up with my girlfriend from prison. I thought I would never be free again. I can't describe the feeling of being without freedom. What does freedom mean?  On New Year's Eve, for example. You see the lights and hear the people, the music from outside. How happy they are, celebrating. You see it from the window, sitting in your cell. What am I doing here? Where is my guilt? What have I done? I look for a reason why I am in this cell. Every day, I kept on asking myself: Why?

I think I would have been better off mentally if they hadn't released me. I wouldn't have had any memory of the year and a half. No memory of my life in freedom. I experienced a lot of things during those months. I was in a relationship. I started building a life for myself. Then in just one night, it was all gone. I was at the very, very bottom.

In summer, it's as hot as hell in Pagliarelli prison. In winter, it feels like you're living in an ice box. I lost five teeth because the medical care is so poor. I pulled one tooth out myself with a fork. I also forgot a lot from my time in prison. I suppressed it to survive and not to break down from my thoughts. Two wars have not done as much damage to my mind as these two years in prison. I wish that everyone knew what Italy is doing to people with these trials.

From time to time there was a hearing in the Court of Palermo. Sometimes I waited two months for five minutes in court. Back to prison and three or four months later was the next appointment. We collected a lot of evidence and showed it to the court. Cinzia often visited me in prison.

On the day the verdict was announced, after two years in prison, I felt in my heart that I would be acquitted. But at the same time I was also afraid that they would make the wrong decision. There are many innocent people who went to prison. I didn't want to be one of them. Before we went to court, I decided that I would leave in freedom that day. Either because the judge would rule so, or because I would end my own life. I had already prepared everything in my cell.

Before the verdict was read, we all had to stand up. I was with the other accused and an interpreter in a glass box. The judge read out the verdict. He was very focused. I recognized the article of the law, Article 530. I had already learned enough Italian law to know that I was innocent before the translator could translate it. I was cleared of all charges. I didn't kill anyone. I was not a smuggler. I was free. It was over. The judge acquitted all of us. I felt very happy. I got my rights back. We hugged each other. Later, our lawyers came and we celebrated with them. We all worked hard to get the truth proven. I'm proud of that too.

We were released at midnight outside the gates of Pagliarelli prison. There was just me and another man from my trial. The others had been in different prisons or had already been released before. I wanted the police to take me back to where they had picked me up, to Germany. That would have been fair. I didn't have an address in Italy; my address was in Saxony, Germany. They said I could apply for asylum but I didn't want asylum in Italy. I visited Cinzia at the office and spoke to a journalist from La Repubblica there. I stayed in Palermo for about two weeks and lived on the streets again.

Then I went back to Germany. I tried to resume my old asylum procedure, but they said it wasn't possible. So I started all over again. I was in a very bad mental state. I couldn't sleep peacefully anymore, still dreaming of prison and the police coming to arrest me again. I even dream about it sometimes today. In 2020, I received subsidiary protection and rented my first own apartment in Germany. Today I work as a caregiver and youth support worker for unaccompanied minors. I have a lot of experience as a result of the court case and my own asylum application. I can pass this knowledge on to young people. We also go on a lot of day trips. I know what it's like for them. Distractions are good. I try to offer them that. I met my wife Liudmyla in the online German course and now we are living together.

My lawyer and I are trying to claim compensation for the unjust detention. Another person from my case has already won in court, but my claim was rejected on the grounds that I refused to testify in the very first interrogation in Palermo and that there was suspicious behaviour on the boat that had justified my detention. My lawyer thinks that my legal chances are poor. A lawsuit at the European Court of Justice would be possible, but it is expensive and unclear whether it would be successful. I don’t know exactly my next steps but I will never stop to fight for my rights.

I am slowly arriving, but there is still a long way to go. I am mentally not completely stable yet, it is difficult to process what has happened. I always feel as if I am too late. I have lost six years of my life due to the court case. I often ask myself what I would have become if none of this had happened. It has caused great damage, not only in my heart but also in my brain. This fellow Issa, who arrived in Italy in 2015... He was very cheeky. Very young. With a lot of nice feelings. I lost all that. It's like a wound, but in the brain. A wound that never heals. Nobody saw, nobody heard, nobody felt what I felt during the many nights in prison. I can't describe it. 

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When the war broke out in Syria, I fled to Libya via Egypt. I had heard that there were many opportunities to work and earn money. At the time, I knew nothing about the political situation in Libya. I just traveled there. When I arrived in 2012, the situation was already very unsafe. I tried to get in touch with smugglers, but it was very expensive and I had to support my family in Syria financially. Whenever I had the chance to take the boat to Italy, a new job would come up that I had to take. I kept postponing it and worked on different construction sites in Libya. Most of my friends were already in Italy. In 2014, the situation worsened. There was war everywhere, also in the cities where I lived and worked. I could no longer stay in Libya, there was no future for me. My only option was to cross to Italy. After a while, I got a smuggler's number. I went to Zuwara with a friend. The smuggler picked us up in his private car. I had already paid $1,000 for the crossing but we still had to give him all the money we had with us. I managed to hide a small amount in my underwear. Then he drove us in the middle of nowhere. There were no lights, no streets, nothing. There were three or four shipping containers. The smuggler's brother stood in front of them. He was armed. We were six people in the container: three people were from Morocco, one person from Chad, my friend and me. We were not allowed to leave the area. Every few days, more people were brought to the containers, all different nationalities. But most were from Morocco. Sometimes for days we had no food.

After 25 days the smugglers said: 'We are leaving today.' It was at the end of August 2015. By then there must have been 200 people in the container. A big truck arrived. We sat in the loading area and couldn't see the road. We didn't know where they were taking us. After a while, I could hear the sea and felt the truck driving over sand. We arrived. There was a lot of noise. Babies were screaming, people were crying. It was the middle of the night and very dark. But I could see a little in the moonlight. There were armed Libyans with Kalashnikovs everywhere. They were running around and talking, organizing. Each smuggler had their own group; we were about 200-300 people, but there were more groups besides us. Then we were supposed to go close to the beach. I saw a rubber boat with 15 to 20 people in the sea. They drove away, I didn't know where. We waited. Then everything happened very quickly. I didn't notice much around me. You don't think about anything in a situation like that. I just wanted to know what was happening to me. What are the Libyans saying? Where do I have to go? I wasn't interested in the others at all. I was very scared and very calm at the same time. I shut my mind off and just functioned.
We walked into the water up to our knees, then entered a small rubber boat like the people I had seen before. We drove for 10 minutes to a large wooden boat. There I had to sit in a certain place and open my legs. Another person was placed between my legs, so more people would fit on the boat. The Libyans were armed. If someone didn't understand something, they beat the people. I was very scared that night. There was no turning back. Either you die at that moment or you don't. I tried to accept that. It was very, very loud. Many people prayed to God in different languages. Everyone was talking at once. You couldn't understand anything. I could hardly see anything. You could only feel that there were more and more people boarding the boat. Two hours later we set off. It was only when we were out at sea that I realized how dangerous the whole situation was.

After three hours, we heard that there were other people down in the boat who needed water. I didn't know that there was a second floor before. We passed them some water bottles. The people downstairs tried to come up, but there was no space. We were sitting so close together that I couldn't feel my feet anymore because someone had been sitting on them for hours. Some people were throwing up, they were seasick. One person slept on top of me, others urinated into the sea or into the boat. It was impossible to move to the railing if you were sitting in the middle. Everyone was scared and there was a lot of arguing. It was very loud. I could hear a lot but I couldn’t see much. It was still night. Everything around me was black. Sometimes we used our cell phones to make a light to show that we were there.

At eight o'clock the next morning, a helicopter spotted us. I was very happy. I couldn't stand it any longer. I was in pain all over. The helicopter was the first thing I saw that wasn't blue. In the afternoon, a large ship appeared.

At the same time, our boat was no longer moving properly. It was lying very low in the water. Especially the people at the edge were very afraid, they tried to change places and there was chaos. When a ship comes, you feel safe. Help is there. I also tried to change my place. I imagined what would happen if the boat turned over. If I'm at the edge, I can swim a little. I prepared myself for all situations.

The people from the large boat approached us with three rubber boats and asked who spoke English. I translated. They said: 'Don't move! Please stay seated. Remain calm until the ship is close by.' Our boat got positioned right next to the big ship and we went on it one by one. There were already other people who had been rescued before us. They gave us stickers with a number and a color for the nationality. There was water and a little food. A piece of bread with a banana. They rescued another boat. We helped by refilling water bottles. I translated from English to Arabic. After two days and one night we arrived in Palermo.

When the ship was already in the harbor, they separated me and 25 other people from the others. We were told to line up. My friend, who had started with me in Zuwara, was also there. I didn't understand why we had to stand in that line. Then other people came. Some I had never seen before, others had been on the same wooden boat as me. They pointed at us. At some point, one of them pointed at me, then another. Nothing more happened.

We waited until the other people had left the ship. Then the police arrested us. They had a tent in the harbor. There they gave us a number and took pictures of us. Police were everywhere. It was night again. Two buses arrived. I was driven with the others to the police station. They took our fingerprints and were really angry with us. At first I didn't want to give them my fingerprints. They threatened to hit me. I argued with the police. I didn't understand what was going on. What had happened? I thought they must have mistaken me.

The first night we slept on the floor at the police station. There was no food. They didn't explain to us what we were accused of. I still thought that they had simply mistaken me. The next day they handcuffed ten of us and took us to the Pagliarelli prison. The others, among them my friend who had taken the exact same journey as me, were released. 

In prison it was very bad. Nobody spoke to us. Nobody helped us. We were in an empty section. In the cell was only an iron bed with a mattress. I shared the cell with another person from my boat. We had no contact with anyone. We couldn't shower. I was still wearing the same clothes.

The next day they brought a lawyer for all ten of us. He said to us: 'Don't talk to the public prosecutor.' We were questioned individually. The public prosecutor said: 'You brought 500 people to Italy and killed 52 people.' What did I do? I didn't understand it at all. I was supposed to have brought 500 people to Italy and killed 52 people? That was not true. I think I said: 'I didn't do that.' But then I added that I didn't want to talk, as the lawyer had recommended.

Then nothing happened. We got separated and I did not see the others from my trial anymore. After a few days, I had a mental breakdown. I said: 'I want to talk to someone.' At some point, they brought the director of the prison. He said: 'If you want to know what's going on you have to help us and talk.' So I wrote on a piece of paper: 'Yes, I want to talk to the public prosecutor and tell the truth.'

It was a different public prosecutor and the interview lasted two hours. They also brought another lawyer, Marcello Montalbano. He said that I could talk. An old man translated. I told my story. I said everything. Everything I knew.

A few days later, I was taken to a police room in Pagliarelli prison. There were two people who looked like me. We should all put on white T-shirts and stand in a line. After that, my lawyer said to me: 'It's all right, Issa. Don't be afraid. They didn't recognize you. You'll get your freedom back.' Today I know that the witnesses were supposed to identify me but were unable to do so.  They had been standing behind the glass, along with my lawyer and a judge, and I think the public prosecutor was there too. They could see me but I couldn’t see them. At the time I didn't know what had happened. I wasn't told why I was standing in a line with a white T-shirt.

For the first hearings, we were taken to the courtroom, which is right in the Pagliarelli prison. There all the accused sat in separate cages so we couldn't see each other. My hands were cuffed. There was a camera pointed at me so the court could see how I reacted when the witnesses were questioned.

It was the first time I saw the witnesses. They claimed that we were smugglers. After that, our lawyers asked them: 'Do you know him? Where did you see him? What did he do?' One witness claimed that I had hit him. When he was questioned further, it became clear that he was sitting at the other end of the boat. He couldn't even say where I had been sitting. How could I have hit him then? Even when I was standing in line with the white T-shirts, he hadn't recognized me. He had simply lied. This was proven in court. The judge got really angry and slammed his hands down on the table.

In October 2015, the accused were questioned in the court of Palermo. Now it was our moment to explain our perspective. For this, I was taken out of the cage and stood in front of the judge. My lawyer questioned me. He asked me about my story: why I had left, how much I had paid, where the smuggler had taken me. Basically my story before I had entered Italy. The judge and the public prosecutor were also allowed to question me. They asked very specific details. Sometimes they asked the same questions twice to see if I was confident with my answers.

After the hearing I was driven back to prison. At some point, a police officer came and asked me: 'Do you know someone in Palermo? Do you have an address?’ I didn't know anyone in Palermo. I hadn't been out of prison for a single day. He said: 'You're going back to freedom now!' The judge had decided that I was free.

Two policemen drove me to the immigration office in Palermo. They gave me back some of the things I had with me when I crossed the sea, but I didn't get my cell phones and documents back. Then they just left me on the street. I had nothing and didn't know where to go. That was my first moment of freedom in Europe. I was alone. I approached people on the street and asked for help. They took me to a place where I could sleep. A mattress on the floor and a blanket, it was okay. The next day I tried to get my lawyer’s address. I needed my documents, my cell phones. My lawyer tried to get everything back, but the public prosecutor's office refused. He said that the public prosecutor wanted me to stay in Italy because the legal proceedings had not yet been closed. But that I was not obliged to do so and that I was also allowed to leave Italy.

I said: 'Okay, ciao, I'm leaving.' What should I be doing in Italy after everything that had happened? I stayed in Palermo for about one more month, living on the streets and receiving a lot of help from the “Biagio Conte” organization.

At the end of 2015, I took the bus to Germany. I was first in Munich, then in Berlin, Hamburg, Hannover, Bremen and Bremenhaven, Dortmund, Schwerin. Everywhere the camps were overcrowded and the conditions were very bad. I wanted to leave Europe again. In Italy I was in prison and in Germany I basically lived on the street because the conditions in the shelters were too bad. In the end I went to Chemnitz. Here I applied for asylum. I was so tired. I was only in the camp at night, in the city during the day. I wanted to spend as little time in the camp as possible. I also had a drinking problem since I got out of prison. I just wanted to forget everything that had happened, and alcohol was the easiest solution at the time. Since the beginning of 2016, I had been living in Chemnitz in a flat together with my ex-girlfriend.

In April 2017, I got involved in a fight with Nazis in the castle park in Chemnitz. I was bleeding and my arm was broken. We called the police. They arrested all of us and took us to the police station.

At the station, they said: 'You have a big problem.' Then they showed me the photo that was taken of me in Palermo: 'Is that you?' - 'Yes, that's me.' I didn't lie. I told the truth. 'Italy is looking for you', they said. In the evening I was driven to the court of Chemnitz, which confirmed my arrest. That same evening I slept in prison in Leipzig.

After a month I had a hearing in the district court in Leipzig. I was first brought to a cell in the basement of the court. From there they took me to a room where I spoke with the judge. There were long desks with computers; it looked a bit like an office. I explained that I was released in Palermo and allowed to leave the country. They said that I had to go back to Italy, that my trial was not yet closed, that I was wanted internationally. I said, 'I'm innocent. I'm fighting for my rights. I don't want to lose any more time.' The judge decided that I would be extradited to Italy for the trial. During my time in prison, I was also in contact with a German lawyer. But he said that he could not help me as the trial was in Italy. It was not possible to defend me from Germany. For the next two weeks, I was taken to a new prison almost every day. Every day I sat on a bus and was driven from city to city. I only had time to rest on the weekend. At some point I was in Mannheim, where I stayed for a few days. In late May 2017, I was extradited to Italy on a Lufthansa passenger plane. There were two police officers sitting next to me on the plane. Otherwise, they were just people going on vacation.

I was taken back to Pagliarelli prison. My new lawyer, Cinzia Pecoraro, visited me there. She was already familiar with my case because she also represented one of my co-defendants. Cinzia interviewed me for a long time and also explained to me that I had done nothing wrong. I was allowed to leave Italy, but in December 2015, the public prosecutor's office appealed against the annulment of my pre-trial detention. I had already left Italy. From then on, I was wanted internationally. I knew nothing about it.
We worked together to find very specific evidence. We collected photos from my time in Libya, chat messages and calls with friends before my departure, videos from the crossing. Cinzia had to prove in front of the court that I was not a smuggler. 

I felt very bad in prison. I didn't belong there. I didn't speak their language. I was innocent. I often asked myself whether I would have to spend my whole life in prison. The public prosecutor had demanded a life sentence. It drove me crazy. I couldn't think anymore. I couldn't eat anymore. In the morning and afternoon I was allowed out in the yard for a few hours, in the evening we could play cards in a room. Otherwise I was alone in my cell. I also had cellmates for short periods of time, but never for long. They were moved again after a while. I broke up with my girlfriend from prison. I thought I would never be free again. I can't describe the feeling of being without freedom. What does freedom mean?  On New Year's Eve, for example. You see the lights and hear the people, the music from outside. How happy they are, celebrating. You see it from the window, sitting in your cell. What am I doing here? Where is my guilt? What have I done? I look for a reason why I am in this cell. Every day, I kept on asking myself: Why?

I think I would have been better off mentally if they hadn't released me. I wouldn't have had any memory of the year and a half. No memory of my life in freedom. I experienced a lot of things during those months. I was in a relationship. I started building a life for myself. Then in just one night, it was all gone. I was at the very, very bottom.

In summer, it's as hot as hell in Pagliarelli prison. In winter, it feels like you're living in an ice box. I lost five teeth because the medical care is so poor. I pulled one tooth out myself with a fork. I also forgot a lot from my time in prison. I suppressed it to survive and not to break down from my thoughts. Two wars have not done as much damage to my mind as these two years in prison. I wish that everyone knew what Italy is doing to people with these trials.

From time to time there was a hearing in the Court of Palermo. Sometimes I waited two months for five minutes in court. Back to prison and three or four months later was the next appointment. We collected a lot of evidence and showed it to the court. Cinzia often visited me in prison.

On the day the verdict was announced, after two years in prison, I felt in my heart that I would be acquitted. But at the same time I was also afraid that they would make the wrong decision. There are many innocent people who went to prison. I didn't want to be one of them. Before we went to court, I decided that I would leave in freedom that day. Either because the judge would rule so, or because I would end my own life. I had already prepared everything in my cell.

Before the verdict was read, we all had to stand up. I was with the other accused and an interpreter in a glass box. The judge read out the verdict. He was very focused. I recognized the article of the law, Article 530. I had already learned enough Italian law to know that I was innocent before the translator could translate it. I was cleared of all charges. I didn't kill anyone. I was not a smuggler. I was free. It was over. The judge acquitted all of us. I felt very happy. I got my rights back. We hugged each other. Later, our lawyers came and we celebrated with them. We all worked hard to get the truth proven. I'm proud of that too.

We were released at midnight outside the gates of Pagliarelli prison. There was just me and another man from my trial. The others had been in different prisons or had already been released before. I wanted the police to take me back to where they had picked me up, to Germany. That would have been fair. I didn't have an address in Italy; my address was in Saxony, Germany. They said I could apply for asylum but I didn't want asylum in Italy. I visited Cinzia at the office and spoke to a journalist from La Repubblica there. I stayed in Palermo for about two weeks and lived on the streets again.

Then I went back to Germany. I tried to resume my old asylum procedure, but they said it wasn't possible. So I started all over again. I was in a very bad mental state. I couldn't sleep peacefully anymore, still dreaming of prison and the police coming to arrest me again. I even dream about it sometimes today. In 2020, I received subsidiary protection and rented my first own apartment in Germany. Today I work as a caregiver and youth support worker for unaccompanied minors. I have a lot of experience as a result of the court case and my own asylum application. I can pass this knowledge on to young people. We also go on a lot of day trips. I know what it's like for them. Distractions are good. I try to offer them that. I met my wife Liudmyla in the online German course and now we are living together.

My lawyer and I are trying to claim compensation for the unjust detention. Another person from my case has already won in court, but my claim was rejected on the grounds that I refused to testify in the very first interrogation in Palermo and that there was suspicious behaviour on the boat that had justified my detention. My lawyer thinks that my legal chances are poor. A lawsuit at the European Court of Justice would be possible, but it is expensive and unclear whether it would be successful. I don’t know exactly my next steps but I will never stop to fight for my rights.

I am slowly arriving, but there is still a long way to go. I am mentally not completely stable yet, it is difficult to process what has happened. I always feel as if I am too late. I have lost six years of my life due to the court case. I often ask myself what I would have become if none of this had happened. It has caused great damage, not only in my heart but also in my brain. This fellow Issa, who arrived in Italy in 2015... He was very cheeky. Very young. With a lot of nice feelings. I lost all that. It's like a wound, but in the brain. A wound that never heals. Nobody saw, nobody heard, nobody felt what I felt during the many nights in prison. I can't describe it. 

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