Chapter 2
A few days later, during yet another coffee at the Palace of Justice, Prosecutor Andreev, known for his analytical mind, with a quiet but respectful voice, said: "You know, Mr. Notary, I am a man of facts and logic. But even I must admit that your influence here is phenomenal. Everyone says: 'Martin is the Lucifer of Justice.' And we cannot help but agree. You are the one who controls everything."
Even the omnipresent Prosecutor Ivan Geshev, with all his showmanship and self-confidence, in a more intimate conversation with Martin had stated bluntly: “Martin, you are the god of our hell. Our specialized justice is your fortress, and you are its Lucifer. There is no one like you who knows the labyrinths of the system so well and commands them with such ease. We are all indebted to you.” These words, pronounced by Geshev himself, were the supreme praise, Martin's highest confirmation of his power.
Martin the Notary felt like a great representative of the devil in the judicial system, resembling the image of Lucifer from the popular series. He was a demon to other people – those who obeyed, who begged for mercy, who twisted under his fist. Every flattery, every acknowledgement of his "Lucifer-like" nature, fueled his immense ego and made him feel even more untouchable, even more omnipotent. In this urban hell, where the ordinary man was crushed by the system, Martin was the king, and the streets and courtrooms were his personal domain. And he commanded both with devilish delight.
6m
Congestion of Superiority: Petko's Taxi Hell
The old taxi driver Petko, with a face riddled with wrinkles carved by years of staring into road chaos and the fog of Sofia boulevards, swore loudly when Martin's motorcade cut him off, making him slam on the brakes sharply. "Here they are again, the freaks!", he hissed, spitting with disgust. Memories flooded his mind like a muddy river, carrying the bitterness of decades of injustice.
"What changed, what?", Petko talked to himself, and his voice was full of contempt. "Before, under communism, the UBO guys would go to work in the morning, close the streets and ride with beacons and police cars! Even then they thought they were gods. Then came 'democracy' – supposedly for everyone. And what happened? The prosecutors also started riding state cars with blue beacons. Then those from the National Assembly – everyone put one on to be more important. At every step now! These people have lost all humanity, especially on the road! Where are they rushing so much, I ask? What so urgent business do they have to bother thousands of people? Did I misunderstand something?"
Petko shook his head, and his gaze was lost somewhere in the distance, beyond the dirty window of his taxi. "They are not rushing, no! They are just demonstrating. Demonstrating that they are above you, above me, above everyone. That you are nobody, and they are the chosen ones. That you are obliged to make way for them, to bow to them. Freaks!", he hissed, as Martin's shiny limousine disappeared into the distance.
He reached for the worn radio. "Ivan, do you hear me?", he asked with a voice trembling with anger.
From the other side was heard the voice of his colleague Ivan: "Listening, Petko. What's happening?"
"What's happening? The same ones again, Ivan! Again some wiseguys with blue beacons! They cut me off a while ago, just now passed by me. Such nerve! At every kilometer they have spawned now, you can't pass calmly! What disgusting freaks have spawned in this Sofia!"
"I know, Petko, I know", replied Ivan with a sigh, bored to resignation. "I saw them a while ago too. They have no stop. Here they are again, demonstrating power and impunity. Disgusting!"
Over the radio also joined another voice – of Ivaylo: "True saying, Petko! These are worse than the mobsters back in the day! At least the mobsters knew their place sometimes. These are everywhere, without shame."
Dragan also intervened: "I also met them an hour ago. Shame and disgrace! The only thing they can do is bother people. Nothing they do, just wave beacons!"
Yordan added with bitterness: "Watch out, Petko! These are the new Kurdzhalis, the new oppressors in Sofia. You recognize them by the blue beacon. They have neither morality nor conscience."
Svetoslav joined with a similar opinion: "Absolutely! I don't know why they are tolerated. Only harass ordinary drivers. Total outrageousness!"
All these voices over the radio, filled with disgust, indignation and fatigue, outlined one and the same picture – the picture of a society where privilege is raised in cult, and nerve is a trademark of the "chosen ones". Petko switched off the radio, sickened. There was no point. Nothing could be changed. Or so he thought.
7m
Sofia Motorcade: A Bulgarian Odyssey of the Blue Lamp
Yordan, an ordinary passer-by with an exhausted gaze, stood on the sidewalk and observed yet another motorcade with blue beacons cutting through the traffic jam. Every such sight brought him disgust, but also bitter knowledge. The sky over Sofia looked leaden-grey, as if reflecting his gloom mood. "Here they are again", he murmured to himself, "The new masters of the road."
In 2023 and 2024, as well as ten years before, the picture was all the same, only the actors changed. They were not only ministers and deputies. No, on cars with blue beacons, led as police escort, rode everyone who was "close to power". Everyone who served it. Here, this motorcade now – shiny jeep with blinking beacon, after it black limousine, and at the back another car with guards. As if president or premier travels, and in fact...
Who actually rides with beacon?
Yordan asked himself the question: Why do these people use such privileges? Is it because they are very nice? Or very rich? Maybe they make awful lot of money? He smiled bitterly. "No, it's not for that", said he to himself aloud, and an elderly man next to him looked at him with understanding.
"The reason is simple, granny", continued Yordan, as if talking to an invisible audience, while breathing the heavy, dusty air. "They are close to power because they are its servants. Because they serve it. Not with mind, not with morality, but with unconditional obedience and readiness for compromises. They are the ones who hold the strings, who twist the schemes, who settle the 'unsettleable' things."
These were people who were not elected by the people, but who had unlimited power. They rode like presidents because they were gray cardinals, architects of the invisible networks that moved the state behind the scenes.
* The economic consultants of power – those who "advised" for lucrative deals and profitable projects, benefiting certain circles. Their cars with blue beacons were like express mail for money flows.
* The specialists in public procurements – not those who wrote the rules, but those who knew how to circumvent them so that the "right" firms win. For them time was money, and the blue beacon guaranteed they wouldn't lose a second in the traffic jam.
* The "analysts" and "experts" from questionable non-governmental organizations, who always had the "right" opinion at the right time to justify every decision of the rulers. Their "urgency" was to get on time to television studios to spew another portion of talking points.
* And of course, the judges and prosecutors who were part of "specialized justice", like Martin the Notary – faces who decided who will be convicted and who – acquitted, not by law, but by order. For them the blue beacon was symbol of untouchability and sign that no one has the right to delay them on the way to "justice".
The Irony of the Road
Yordan sighed. "And all this happens under the cover of 'state necessity' or 'urgent case'. But why are they rushing so much? Where to? Is someone dying? Is there a terrorist threat?" He laughed, but his laugh was bitter. "No, nothing like that. They are just rushing to demonstrate. To show they are more important than you, than me, than all of us. That their time is more valuable, and our traffic jams – just a nuisance that must make way for them."
These people, with their patent leather shoes and expensive suits, served power not because they were "very nice" or "very rich" in themselves. They were rich because they served power, and power allowed them to make lot of money thanks to their connections. The blue beacon was not just means for rapid movement; it was symbol of belonging, of membership in the invisible caste of the "close ones".
Yordan remembered time when the only "service" beacons were on ambulances, fire engines and real police cars. And now... now whole Sofia was dotted with these glistening blue lights that did not bring salvation, but only reminded of helplessness and inequality. This was ugly, cynical parody of statehood.
Bulgaria, turned into one big traffic jam, where only the privileged could carve path, and all others were forced to wait and endure. And all this – under supervision of an invisible conductor who reigned over Themis.
8m
Broken Illusions of a Law Student
Eva, a young law student, squeezed by the crowd of people in the congested bus, felt anger and powerlessness rise in her. The bus was unceremoniously cut off by yet another motorcade with blinking blue beacons, and she saw in that moment not just violation of traffic rules, but symbol of deep, rotting injustice.
"Again?", whispered she, feeling offense suffocating her. She had not lived through UBO time, had not seen them in person, but had heard enough stories about "black cars" and "closed streets". Now, years later, the picture was the same, except the heroes had changed. No longer just party grandees, but "close to power" – the whole that ICYUS of faces acting with impunity, as if laws did not apply to them.
"What is this? European law?", mocked she aloud, although quietly, so only she hears. A while ago she had listened to lecture on European law – about freedom, security and justice. About common European space where all are equal before the law. And here she is now, in Sofia, in Bulgaria, which seemed a mirror image of everything she learned. "This is not European territory!", thought she with bitterness. "This is some reverse to European law reality, something that spits out all norms and values."
Disgust was enormous. It rose from her stomach, clenched her throat. She felt like screaming, crying from helplessness, yelling at the top of her voice. But knew nobody will hear her. Nobody would pay attention to the anger of a student seeing her dreams of just state crumbling before her eyes.
"Nothing will become of this state", thought she, as the motorcade disappeared in the distance, leaving behind only even denser smoke and suffocating feeling of injustice. "And of these people who tolerate this to happen now, nothing will become. Why stay here? Why study law when law is only for some, and for others – just obstacle? Better go wash windows in England. At least there they will pay me for something I really do, not for watching my state drown in its own corruption and nerve."
This thought, as extreme as it was, brought some strange, perverted relief. At least some direction. But the feeling of wasted efforts, of broken faith in justice, remained as heavy stone in her soul. Bulgaria, which should have been space of freedom, security and justice, turned out just one big pigsty where the privileged with beacons continued to cut off not only urban transport, but also every hope for normal life.
9m
Innocent Glance: Children and the Absurdity of "the Notary"
Martin the Notary's motorcade was racing along the boulevard, cutting through the traffic jam with blinking blue beacon and unceremonious nerve. Passed by two smaller boys – Ivan and Petko, waiting at the stop. In their eyes was neither admiration nor humility. There was only pure, unadulterated contempt.
"Look at these, eh!", hissed Ivan, as the black limousine glided past them.
Petko shook his head. "Is this normal, Ivancho? Why don't they walk, eh? Or with taxi like people? What are they so important?"
Ivan took out his phone. "Calling Kosta. For him to see what's happening too."
After few seconds Kosta's voice was heard: "What's up, eh?"
"A motorcade with blue beacons passed, bro!", exclaimed Ivan. "Directly crushing everything on the road! Total freaks!"
"Come on, come on, don't pay attention to them", said Kosta with bored voice. "These are some self-obsessed people. Have no job and wonder how to show their power."
Then Ognyan also joined conversation: "Yes, yes, Kosta is right. Total laughables. Nothing they can do, except pretend important on the road."
But Ivan and Petko were not convinced. For them this was something more than ordinary posing.
Ivan called Maria. "Maria, did you see these with blue lamps?", asked he.
"Ah, again?", sighed she. "Listen to me carefully, boys. Marusya and I talked about such. These people are from shadows. Just avoid them. They bring only problems and misfortunes. Don't get involved with them, for nothing in the world."
Petko looked at Ivan. "Maria is right. These are afraid of their shadow, right? That's why they move like this. Because they made so many people unhappy. And are afraid someone to return same to them."
"Exactly!", confirmed Ivan. "Are afraid someone will wait them behind corner. That's why hide behind armored cars and blue beacons. Pitiful business."
In their children's eyes read not only contempt, but also some deep sadness – sadness for normal world they did not see. World where justice is not luxury for chosen, and traffic jam is not scene for demonstration of power. Their conversation, filled with irony and ridicule of absurdity, was actually one cry for alienation from normalcy. They saw hypocrisy and fear hidden behind shiny cars and blue lamps, and knew this is far from world in which wanted to live. And precisely in this understanding hid true tragedy.
Escape from "this state": Child's Insight
After finished conversations with friends, Ivan and Petko remained silent for moment, and then Petko turned to Ivan with some mature but helpless expression.
"You know, Ivancho", started Petko, "must flee from here. To Spain or Germany."
Ivan nodded slowly, gaze lost in distance. "I know. Ours and Kosta's, and Ognyan's – everyone talks about this. Long ago already."
"Say here we have no future", continued Petko, voice was quiet but filled with determination. "What will do here? Will watch whole life how some do whatever want with beacons, and we will stand in traffic jams and wait? In this pigsty?"
"Will study, will study", said Ivan, little more confident, "and when finish, will disappear. Like everyone does. At least there won't cut us off such self-obsessed people with state cars, who think are gods."
In their eyes read mixture of children's naivety and acquired life knowledge. They not only saw absurdity, but also understood consequences of it. For them, this "pigsty" was place without future, place pushing them to seek salvation elsewhere. Heard it from parents, from friends, and already knew for long time: Bulgaria was not their land of opportunities, but rather trap must get out of. And the blue beacons, току-що отминали, were only another, vivid proof for this.
10m
