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OK, Matt, this is the last part of the Litvinenko affair and this story has been crazy up until now. It's been incredible and I'm slightly nervous about what comes next. Well, you should be very nervous because things are about to get even stranger because we're off to Moscow. Monday, December 4th, 2006. Detective Inspector Brian Tarpey steps off the plane at Moscow Doma D'Edova Airport. The sky is dark grey and it's freezing.
Following behind him are his team of eight other Scotland Yard officers. Tarpey hurries them on. He wants to get his team to the hotel fast. He wants to check through any last-minute details. He's got a meeting with the Russian prosecutor general in just a few hours. Plus the most important thing he needs to check at the hotel, of course, what time is breakfast served? What time do you finish serving breakfast? And is that a proper breakfast or is it continental style? You don't like a mini croissant, mini pastry? Come on, man, I've flown in from London. Give some sausages and bacon, mate.
Tarpy's been a detective since the 80s. He's now four years from retirement, and he's seen a lot. Just last year, he was a lead investigator in the 7-7 London underground bombings. But he's never seen a case like this. He knows he'll get one shot at getting the truth in Moscow. If he doesn't get the proof he needs on this trip, the whole case against Luguboy and Kovtun fails. He follows the crowd of passengers into baggage reclaim. Before they left London, Tarpy and his team were briefed by MI6 on counter-surveillance.
He rehearses the list in his mind. How to tell if their rooms have been searched, how to tell if they've been bugged, how to avoid honey traps. Just to be clear on what we mean by honey traps. Don't order any special films on room service, don't use the Wi-Fi, and if a woman in the hotel bar shows an interest in you, it's probably Putin in a wig. Just good rules for life. Tarpy looks around the baggage carousels. He wonders if surveillance has already started.
Is it a cooked or a continental breakfast at the hotel?
Tarpy is about to answer when a van pulls up. The official ushers him towards it. "Please, we must hurry." Seconds later, Tarpy and his team are speeding away from the waiting press. He realizes the Russians will do more than put them under surveillance. They'll try to control the whole investigation. And Tarpy is determined not to let that happen.
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From Wondery, I'm Alice Levine. And I'm Matt Ford. And this is British Scandal, the last part of the story today, Matt. There have been some amazing moments. I can't stop thinking about that towel. The radioactive towel stuck in the chute. Which sounds like something that a sort of hyperbolic mum would say about how gross you are as a teenager. But yeah, highly, highly radioactive. And they left it everywhere, over the towel, over tables. It feels like London was covered in polonium at one point.
It's really put me off wanting to stay in hotels. I think that's the greatest tragedy, yeah. I'm not going to be able to look a towel in the eye anymore. We were in a state of national emergency last episode. Yes, and the government is in that awful situation of not knowing precisely what to do about it, whether to tell people or not. But action is on the way because the British police are coming to Moscow. This is episode four of The Litvinenko Affair, the Russian runaround.
It's December 5th, 2006, 9am. Detective Inspector Tarpey and his team are in the British Embassy on Smolenskaya Embankment. It's a modern building that looks more like a block of flats than an embassy. This is where Scotland Yard have been given a temporary office. They're greeted by an embassy staff member, a friendly, energetic young guy in a grey suit who gives them a brief tour of the building. Tarpey lists everything he needs. Computers, good phone lines, secure briefing rooms.
Their guide hands over their security passes and a Russian phrasebook. As he leaves, he almost casually mentions the groundwork they had to do to soften the Russians up. The authorities have kindly promised to actively assist you in your inquiries. Tarpy's already getting an idea of what active assistance means. So far, it's meant compromise on his side and not much from the Russians. He's had to agree not to call Lugovoy and Kovtun suspects, but instead refer to them as witnesses.
Fine, Tarpy thinks, if that's how they want to play it. Yeah, they're not suspects, they're just witnesses to a crime that they committed. I was doing a lot of air commas there. I did try to do them in audio form, but just for you, the listener, so that you know. It's great audio. He knows how much of a diplomatic storm this is. Sergei Ivanov, spokesman for Russia's foreign intelligence agency, was on TV mocking the investigation.
His service hasn't assassinated anyone since 1959, he said. Why would they start now? And why would they kill Sasha Litvinenko of all people? Sasha's small fry. And he's certainly not worth the millions the polonium would cost. Tarpey looks out of the window. His gaze falls on a bronze statue of two men. Let me guess, they've both got massive bronze penises. They love this artist. It takes him a few seconds before he realises what the statue is. It's a bronze cast of Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson. A good omen, he hopes.
Later that morning, Tarpy and his team pull up outside an impressive Moscow building. They're at the Russian prosecutor general's office. He steps out of the hired people carrier into the freezing wind. He looks up at the building. It's surrounded by a black iron fence. The entrance is flanked by six Doric columns. It's meant to look imposing. And it is. He's met by Alexander Bastrykin, the deputy chief prosecutor. Bastrykin is 63 years old, stocky, with wary eyes.
Tarpy shakes his hand and smiles. Vastrikan does not smile back. Inside the prosecutor's office, they get straight to business. Tarpy wants to interview Lugovoy and Kovtun as witnesses, he carefully adds. Not possible. Both men are very ill, suffering radiation poisoning and rapidly deteriorating. Kovtun is in a coma.
Tarpy holds Bastrykin's gaze. He's carried out enough police interviews to know when he's being played. I take it Lugovoy is conscious. We'd like to interview him. There's a heavy silence. Bastrykin leans to his right as someone whispers in his ear. I'm afraid at this moment we don't have his whereabouts. We're trying to trace his hospital. As soon as we have it, we will let you know. Tarpy sits back. He needs to wrong-foot them somehow. So he tells Bastrykin that he knows exactly where Lugovoy and Kovtun are.
They're at Nuclear Hospital Number 6. A flicker of surprise passes over Bastrykin's face. He mutters something to the man next to him. Then he looks Tarpy straight in the eye. "I'm very sorry, I've never heard of that place." "Okay, have you heard of Nuclear Hospital Number 5? Number 4? Number 3? 2? Heard of any of them?" Tarpy's reached a stalemate. He leaves the building sure of one thing: the Russians will do everything they can to scupper this investigation.
That evening, Brian Tarpey looks out of the window of his room at the Radisson Hotel. Outside is Europe Square. The coloured lights of the fountains change and then change again. Since he left the meeting, he's been working out ways to get Lugovoy and Kovtun. The truth is, unless the Russians cooperate, he's stuck. There is some good news, though. He's at the Rad, so it should be a half-decent breakfast. Best bowl of soup I've ever had was at a Radisson Hotel.
It was Leek and Potato, 2007, the Radisson Edwardian in Manchester. The trivia is incredible. Incredible bowl of soup. That's actually a chapter in the autobiography, isn't it, Matt? So don't give too much away. Suddenly his mobile rings. It's the Russian prosecutor's office. The deputy chief prosecutor has heard of nuclear hospital number six after all. And Dmitry Kovtun is in it. And he isn't in a coma.
A few minutes later, Tarpy leads his team to their hired people carrier. A car pulls up alongside them. The driver gets out. "Please follow me. I will take you to the hospital."
Within a few minutes, they're on a busy ring road weaving through traffic. Then suddenly the lead car speeds away. It races ahead and jumps lights. Tarpy puts his foot down and follows. He's determined not to be left behind. The driver starts switching lanes, then takes a side road and stops. He does a U-turn, then speeds off in the opposite direction.
They zigzag in and out of traffic for miles. Then Tarpi spots a building up ahead, a cathedral with three gold domes. They passed this half an hour ago. They're going round in circles. And then the lead car turns and heads into a run-down industrial estate. They turn into a dark and deserted street. The car stops and the driver approaches. "We have to back up. We've taken a wrong turn." Tarpi exchanges a glance with his colleagues. They set off again, following the driver.
Eventually, they pull up outside a building in a smart district of Moscow. Nuclear hospital number six. Tarpy can still see the golden domes of the cathedral in the distance. He has no idea why it's taken them two hours to get here. But he doesn't care. He's finally going to get some answers. It's concerning they've got at least six nuclear hospitals in one city. You'd check yourself, wouldn't you? What are we playing at? Why do we need so many? What are we doing wrong?
Tarpi steps out of the car and takes in the building. Nuclear Hospital No. 6 specializes in radiation victims. Some of the people in the Chernobyl disaster were treated here. It's enormous, seven stories high and covers a whole block. And in one of those rooms lies Dmitry Kovtun. Tarpi checks his watch. It's now 8:55 p.m. He has a printed list of questions in his pocket. He wants detailed answers from Kovtun on every single one of them.
But as soon as he leads his team inside the building, they're immediately surrounded by officials. A middle-aged man in black-rimmed glasses steps forward. He introduces himself as Vadim Yalovitsky. It's clear from the way everyone treats him he's in control here. Another man steps forward and quietly introduces himself. He's the hospital's chief doctor. He shakes Tarpy's hand. He's nervous. His eyes dart straight over to Yalovitsky, as though he's already said too much.
I would love to see Tarpey's reaction to that. Human rights? Don't you play that cold with me, sunshine, after what you lot pulled in London. I'm not even sure Tarpey does sound like that.
Tarpey takes one of his officers to the side. Oliver Gadney is one of the three Russian-speaking detectives on the team. He hands him the question sheet and gives him the tape recorder. Then he tells him, make sure you get the answers on every question. The more detail, the better. That's where he'll trip up. Then he adds in a whisper, and I want to know everything the officials say. No pressure. I wouldn't be able to remember it. I'd be so stressed if I was Gadney in there. I'd come out of that.
And I actually don't remember anything. I was so worried about not drinking the tea or eating anything. It would have been so horrible to me. I was stressed. I've just drawn this 3D box. Yeah, I did do a little drawing of a football goal. A few minutes later, Gadney is led to a small changing cubicle. He's handed a white protective boiler suit. He puts it on, then Jalovitsky leads him through a maze of strip-lit corridors. Eventually, they stop at a room, cabinet number eight. Jalovitsky taps lightly at the door before they enter.
Kovtun is sitting in a bed in the middle of the room. For a man just recently emerged from a coma, he's looking remarkably healthy. He's wearing cream-colored pajamas. His face is covered with a paper mask. He's also wearing a blue plastic head covering. But when he moves, he seems strong and alert. Gadni notices he looks bored. His eyes keep wandering to the window.
Okay, question number one. Very important question. You're having a dinner party and you can pick five guests, dead or alive. Who do you pick? And importantly, why? Everyone says Jesus.
Gaddney's about to protest when the door opens and a man in a dark grey suit walks in. Everyone suddenly jumps to attention. He introduces himself to Gaddney as Alexander Odvodov, the chief investigator on the case. Odvodov looks furious. He starts tearing into Yalovitsky. Oliver Gaddney hasn't told anyone he's fluent in Russian, and they haven't asked. He listens to Odvodov snapping at Yalovitsky.
He gave clear instructions that he should be in the room when the British inspector arrived. They should have waited. The atmosphere is suddenly very tense. Gadney looks at the doctor, who seems nervous. Then he looks at Cofton, who is not. Gadney takes out his notebook and writes a description of Cofton.
White male with yellow tan skin, aged mid-thirties, brown eyes, full brown eyebrows, full eyelashes. This last detail's important. It shows he has no radiation sickness. I did wonder where he was going with all this because it sounds like he's starting to fall in love with him. It's poetic. Brown eyes, beautiful brown eyes, his eyebrows. Oh, you should have seen his eyelashes. They made his eyes twinkle like autumn past, his lips luscious with lies.
Odvidov announces he's starting the interview. It will be held in English. He presses the button on the tape machine. Kovtun immediately says, I want to tell you now I had nothing to do with Litvinenko's death. Gadni knows this isn't going to be easy. He has one hour to get something, anything they can work with. And he can't afford to lose another second.
For the next few minutes, Gadni watches Odvidov bark questions at a bored-looking Kovtun. He's waiting for him to get onto the questions on his list. But Odvidov keeps sticking to vague queries. About this, I know nothing. Odvidov paces between questions. He looks like a bad actor trying to instill menace into a scene. Do you know about polonium-210? Kovtun nods. He knows it's a radioactive isotope with a half-life of 130 days. It's like he's reading from a script. Odvidov pauses.
Did you have anything to do with this substance? Cofton shakes his head. He did not. It's so surreal that they effectively put on an improvised play for him rather than just refuse the interview.
And surely it's better if you're trying to say this guy is totally innocent, that he doesn't seem to have a detailed knowledge of Polonium-210. It's also mad that you would learn it word for word. Everybody's always saying this stuff verbatim. It's like, make it your own, sweetheart. You know, like, sprinkle in a few words that you would use. Absolutely. When he says, what do you know about Polonium-210? If you were completely innocent, you'd go, what?
I don't know, it sounds like a band. You wouldn't go, oh, the former Soviet-based nuclear radioactive material. You have to be very careful how you transport that, you know. Don't say you know the half-life. That's the biggest giveaway. Yeah, I think that's... Is that the one with the half-life of about 130 days? Yeah, yeah, it is, yeah, yeah. I knew it rang a bell, yeah. Odvidov asks, how do you feel now? Kovtun says he feels nervous and very weak. Odvidov pauses.
What has happened to your hair? I thought you'd never ask. I went to a new salon at the weekend and I just love the cut of it. You're outrageous. Gadni's had enough. OK, we had an agreement. You wanted questions in writing, we gave them to you. You accepted them. Now we want them answered. All right, Gadni, come on. Get in there. Gadni shoves a blank sheet of paper over to Cofton. He wants Cofton to draw a plan of the tables and seating in the Pine Bar when he met Alexander Litvinenko on November 1st, 2006.
He wants to know exactly where Kovtun was sitting. Kovtun glances at the paper, but doesn't pick it up. Instead, he looks at Odvidov. You asked about my hair. I shaved it. Gadni pushes. What time did he arrive for the meeting? Did he and Lugovoy arrive together? What did they discuss? To his surprise, Kovtun answers. He met Sasha for half an hour. They hugged when Sasha arrived. And when the meeting was over, they chatted for eight minutes at the hotel entrance. Odvidov steps in. The interview's over.
Yeah, those questions about the hair were really tough. Oh, I really felt like I'd been through the wringer in there. He asked me if it was a number two or number three on the side. I couldn't remember.
Gagney steps out of nuclear hospital number six and into the sharp cold air. Of the 118 questions submitted, Gagney has managed to ask Hovton only 18. This investigation is going to be much tougher than any of them thought.
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It's the next morning, 9am. Tarpy walks up the steps to the Russian prosecutor general's office. He now needs to interview Andrei Lugovoy. This time, Tarpy wants all of his questions answered. Inside, the mood in the room is sour. Bastrykin starts the meeting by launching into Scotland Yard's tactics. You British are politicising this case.
Tarpy doesn't answer this. Instead, he asks when he and his team can interview Andrei Lugovoy. Bastrykin purses his lips before replying. Mr. Lugovoy's health has suddenly deteriorated. Bastrykin announces they're investigating Litvinenko for poisoning Kovtun. They will need Tarpy and his team's full cooperation. Tarpy nods, but he wants something in return. He wants to interview Mikhail Trapashkin.
Hang on, who's Trapashkin? Okay, so Trapashkin is a former FSB guy who has crucial information, or he claims to, on the Litvinenko case. But he's in prison, so Tarpy will need permission to visit him. Okay. Just ask whenever, Matt. Whenever you're lost, just shout. I did have my hand up, but you weren't looking at me, miss. Tarpy and Bastrykin glare at each other. The room is deadly silent.
Bastrykin seems to notice the tension too. He asks Tarpy if they would like some tea. Don't drink the tea. Seriously? Tarpy accepts. Oh man. Anything to shift the mood. Maybe if things loosen up a bit, he and Bastrykin can have an informal chat. It might be his best chance of getting to Lugovoy. A young waiter comes in with a tea trolley. He unloads a few plates of small cakes and pours tea.
Everyone in the room mills around and chats. They all relax a little bit. Are none of them going to address the tea in the room? I can't believe he's not gone, is this a joke? Even a coffee would have felt safer, but a tea, I mean, I can't not draw parallels. Yeah, you'd at least make a joke out of it when you go, excuse me for being rude, but I think we'll bring our own refreshments, thank you. We've brought our own chilli bottles of water, thanks.
When they sit down again, the mood has definitely lifted. Bastrykin says he'll be in touch soon with an interview date for Lugovoy. After all, both sides only want to get to the truth. Tarpy realizes the Russians like springing little surprises. It gives them control. But he has his own surprises in store.
I knew it. He must have thought, in that moment, he must have thought, oh, I can't believe I've been done here. But it doesn't really help.
Then, one of his officers calls. He apologizes, but he won't be making the meeting tonight. He's too ill to move from his bathroom, and his stomach is killing him. Oh, man. A short while later, a second officer reports in with the same symptoms. And then, a third. Oh, fuck.
By now, Tarpy's doubled over in pain. Nothing seems to shift it. One by one, his officers ring in sick. By five that afternoon, everybody who drank tea in the Russian prosecutor general's office is out of action. Tarpy realises they've been poisoned. Can I just say, I now feel terrible for joking about that earlier. Equally, it could have been the hotel breakfast. You do think, though...
When we know this is how they got Litvinenko and we know this is how they often do it, you just, I mean, to be polite, it's not a good enough reason to drink it. At the start of this series, we joked about what the British were known for. We cannot resist a cup of tea. It's our weakness. Any international spies to the espionage community, you offer us a tea and we'll drink it. Tea and a little cake. Right now. A sandwich. I would. I would. I would.
He asks for medical assistance. Eventually, a Russian doctor turns up and examines everyone. The doctor's verdict is mild gastroenteritis. We've heard this before. They all need to take it easy and rest. But resting is the last thing Tarpy can do. Tarpy and his officers spend the next two days confined to their rooms. Tarpy's in pain, but he's also frustrated. The investigation has ground to a halt.
Whatever's caused their symptoms, it's looking more and more like a tactic to slow them down. And it's working. Nobody's getting much sleep, and it's pretty hard to concentrate when you don't really know what's wrong with you. Exactly. And you don't know how to help yourself either. Does drinking water help? Can you trust the tap water? Can you have a Barocca? I mean, you'd probably lay off the prawn curry for a bit, but apart from that, what are you going to do? I'd love it if Barocca was the cure for polonium. We've never tried it.
Works a treat. Oh, that's really, that's done the trick. But Tarpy is determined not to waste time. He goes over the list of questions for Lugavoy. He knows the questions he hands over to the prosecutor will be vetted, so slips in some innocuous sounding ones. He's hoping Lugavoy will let something slip, some tiny detail. He tells his team to work in short bursts. It's as much as most of them can manage. And then, out of the blue, Tarpy gets a phone call.
the prosecutor has heard from Lugovoy's doctor at nuclear hospital number six. The interview is on. Here we go. There's one other thing. This time, the interview will be in Russian. Half an hour later, Detective Inspector Alan Slater is in a blue-lipped van with Chief Russian Investigator Ovadov on his way to nuclear hospital number six.
Slater is a skilled interviewer. He's one of the Met's best. That's why Tarpey chose him. But he knows the interview with Lugovoy will be tricky. The fact he'll be speaking through an interpreter will slow things down. Well, at least there's that. I had wondered how the interview was going to work if it was going to be in Russian and our guys couldn't speak it. Just cod Russian. But Slater is going to chip away at the detail. The more detail, the bigger chance Lugovoy will give something away.
A few minutes later, they pull up outside an imposing-looking building that he's never seen before. Slater wonders if this is another trick, but then he realizes they're at a different part of nuclear hospital number six.
He follows Odov up some stairs and into a room. Lugovoy is sitting behind a table. He's wearing a hospital gown, but he looks like he's just put it on. Underneath, he's wearing a black and white designer T-shirt and jeans. Assassin chic. Want to look cool on the ward? Hey, just because I'm in for an op, it doesn't mean I can't look cool, guys. Actually, this is some of the least ludicrous clothes these pair have worn. Odov puts an old tape machine on the table and switches it on.
Slater writes a description of Lugovoy in his notebook. Full head of hair, eyebrows and eyelashes intact. Hair on his forearms. No signs of radiation sickness. No signs of sickness, in fact. The truth is, he looks fit and healthy.
The interview starts. Slater expects Lugovoy to be guarded, but he isn't. He answers Slater's questions freely. He describes his relationship with Sasha Litvinenko, how they were business partners. Then he tells Slater he arrived at the Millennium Hotel to meet Sasha at around 4pm. Slater writes this down in his notebook. It's a crucial detail because it's a lie. They already have CCTV footage of him arriving half an hour earlier.
Slater pushes across a blank sheet of paper and asks Lugovoy to draw a plan of where he sat at the meeting in the Pine Bar. Lugovoy doesn't answer. Instead, he does something remarkable. He starts talking about Sasha's work with the Spanish authorities. He says how Sasha told him he was going to be a key witness against the Russian mafia. How criminals were buying up property in Spain as money laundering. The sums were huge. $250 million. $250 million.
Then he adds that Sasha was working for Spanish intelligence and had a handler called Jorge. Slater can hardly believe his luck. None of this information is public. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on a minute. So Sasha Litvinenko was also working for the Spanish intelligence services and MI6. Yeah, so this is so key. It means that the Kremlin knew that Sasha was investigating, maybe even already had information that could incriminate the Russians. So there's your motive. Wow.
Slater can see Odvidov in the corner of his eye. He's nervous and fidgeting. He steps in. The interview is over. Slater doesn't push it. He's been here for one and a half hours and he's got some firm evidence. Lugovoy stands up. He's about to leave when he turns to Slater. And in perfect English, he says, Goodbye. See you later. Like a friendly bus driver. Yeah, cheers, mate. Same time tomorrow. Yeah, you take care, pal. It's December 19th, 2006, 11.30 a.m.
Tarpey is in the British Embassy. His team are packing up. He's got what he wanted. He's interviewed his two chief suspects and got incriminating evidence from Lugovoy. His team have also managed to interview a few other witnesses, including Lugovoy's wife. She gave them curt answers. When they asked about her son shaking hands with Sasha just after he'd been poisoned, her jaw had tightened.
Tarpy senses the marriage is on the rocks. That will do it. You don't buy me flowers anymore. You never take me for dinner. You poisoned our son with polonium-210. All the same old cliches about how marriages break down. Tarpy has enough to charge Lugovoy. Now all he has to do is collect the interview tapes, then he can get out of here. Eventually, his mobile rings. The tapes are ready. Half an hour later, Tarpy is at the Russian prosecutor general's office. In the past few days, the number of press outside has increased.
He's got used to running up the steps with reporters shouting questions at him. But today it's quiet. Just one lone photographer. Yeah, work it for me, Tarps. That's lovely. And over the shoulder. Very nice. Cheeky. And back to me. He knows his angles. An official meets him as soon as he walks through the main door. He takes his pass and leads him up to a third floor room. The official points to a large, heavily studded double door. Tarpy walks through it and a dozen cameras suddenly turn in his direction.
reporters shout questions from every angle. It's a media ambush. This time, it's Yuri Shaika, the prosecutor general himself, who shakes Tarpy's hand. Shaika holds the handshake as he grins into the television camera. He wants Tarpy to thank his officers for their assistance. Tarpy isn't prepared for this, so he mutters a few words about how helpful the Russian authorities have been. It's a lie, but Tarpy doesn't care. He's got the evidence he wanted.
The day after Tarpy lands in London, he gets a call from Scotland Yard's forensics team. Is there another Lugavoy tape? Tarpy tells forensics there's only one. There's a short silence. Then the forensics officer says, This one's been wiped. It's blank. Oh, no. Then it hits him. He's been well and truly done. The whole investigation is up in the air. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.
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The missing Lugovoy tape is a bitter blow. Clark now has to link Lugovoy and Cofton directly to Sasha's poisoning, or there's no case.
He needs to find the murder weapon. He needs to find the exact teapot. But to really seal this, they need that teapot. I mean, there's no way of making that sound as dramatic as it should be. Has anybody ever said that sentence with that tone of voice? In the words of a man from the north of England, after a day at work, I need that teapot.
So a couple of hours later, he arrives at the Millennium Hotel. He instructs the manager to gather all of the hotel's teapots, cups, saucers and teaspoons. And then he sends them to the lab for testing. What are the guests going to drink out of? Oh, yes, sir. We always serve tea out of a plant pot at the Millennium Hotel. Yeah, no, no. The British always drink coffee out of a shoe. It's the British way. Later that afternoon, Clark gets a phone call from forensics. The results of testing are in.
We found traces of polonium-210 on one of the teapots. Clark has the final piece of his jigsaw. He rings the Crown Prosecution Service. He's going to get Lugovoy and Cofton back in Britain to stand trial. It's February 1, 2007. Andrei Lugovoy is in his office in Moscow giving a press conference. On the desk in front of him are several British newspapers.
The British press is buzzing with news that Lugovoy and Covton could be charged with Sasha's murder. Articles cite anonymous police sources saying they're 100% sure who administered the poison, where and how. A reporter from Reuters news agency asks him for comments about a possible extradition to Britain to stand trial. Lugovoy grins. You can say on Reuters that when Lugovoy was read the report about my extradition, Lugovoy have full-hearted, healthy laughter.
Nothing makes me laugh more than a report about my own extradition. How we laughed! It's September the 15th, 2007. Peter Clarke is pacing around his office on the 15th floor of Scotland Yard. He's waiting for a phone call from the Russian embassy. Today's the day he finds out if Lugovoy is going to be extradited to Britain.
It's four months since Andrei Lugovoy was charged with Alexander Litvinenko's murder. But the Russians keep refusing extradition requests, so Clark has just filed another one. His phone rings. It's Tony Brenton, the British ambassador. The Kremlin have denied the extradition request. It's a blow. He thanks Brenton. But he's not going to stop. He'll keep going till he gets Lugovoy back to stand trial.
But Brenton has some other news. Lugovoy is standing for election to Russian Parliament. His election is almost guaranteed. And as soon as that happens, he gets parliamentary immunity. It's your classic political career. Start out with a bit of canvassing, then work for the security services, travel the world murdering people, knock about with a wannabe porn star and get elected. Next stop, the UN.
It is mad, though, that that would mean that they couldn't touch him. Yeah. It's mad in two ways. One, he's off the hook. Secondly, he's then got more power to protect himself even further. Unbelievable. It's clear now. Clark won't get his day in court. He'll never get Andre Lugovoy to face justice. It's January 21st, 2016, nine years later.
Marina Litvinenko and her son Anatoly stand outside the Royal Courts of Justice. A dozen microphones point in her direction. She's about to make a statement. She waits for the helicopters overhead to pass. The public inquiry into Sasha's death has just been released. It's big news. At least 60 media representatives are here. Marina has spent the last 10 years fighting to bring her husband's killers to justice. It's taken enormous effort to finally get a public inquiry.
Government after government ruled it out on the grounds it might damage trade relations with Russia. But in 2014, the High Court went against the government, and so the inquiry was set up under Sir Robert Owen. The inquiry looks like a murder trial. More than 60 witnesses testify, but some are absent. Boris Berezovsky is not there. He died from apparent suicide almost three years earlier.
The coroner recorded an open verdict. There was too much conflicting evidence, he said, to say exactly how Berezovsky had died. But the biggest and most obvious absence are the defendants, Lugovoy and Kovtun, who are both still in Russia.
But now the inquiry is over. The report has been published. It's 328 pages long. And Sir Robert Owen's verdict is damning. I have concluded that there is a strong possibility that when Mr Lugovoy poisoned Mr Litvinenko, he did so under the direction of the FSB. I have further concluded that the FSB operation to kill Mr Litvinenko was probably approved by Mr Kuchev, then head of the FSB, and also by President Putin.
Now the world's press is looking to Marina. She steps forward. "I am of course very pleased that the words my husband spoke on his deathbed when he accused Mr Putin have been proved true in an English court." She calls for the government to act. She wants the immediate expulsion of all Russian intelligence operatives from the UK. And she calls for economic sanctions and travel bans on named individuals. A short while later, she addresses Lugovoy and Kovtun directly through the press.
You are a criminal. You are a murderer. And the world knows it. It's the closest Marina Litvinenko will get to justice.
What an amazing and brave woman. The most incredible parts of this story aren't just the callous and sometimes bumbling murderers, but the strength of character of the people who prepared to stand up to them. And not just any old bully, but one of the biggest bullies in the world, someone who possesses awesome power. I don't think I could do it. It's amazing how she's taken the baton of Sasha's work, his legacy, and pushed it even further forward. Yes, and just like him, she's aware that that may have consequences.
It's not just the principle of standing up to power, but knowing that that principle may come at the ultimate cost. The Litvinenko case is still one of the most audacious murders on British soil. For the police, it's amongst the most complex, dangerous and technically demanding cases they've ever had. But the murder of Sasha Litvinenko also started a new and dangerous era. Sasha wasn't the first Russian to be attacked with a dangerous toxic chemical in Britain. And as events would show a few years later, he wouldn't be the last.
Next on British Scandal, we're not done yet with the Litvinenko affair. We're going to be talking to Luke Harding, foreign correspondent for The Guardian newspaper, author of A Very Expensive Poison, and no stranger to dealing with Russian security services himself.
This is the fourth episode in our series, The Litvinenko Affair. If you like our show, please give us a five-star rating and a review and be sure to tell your friends. You can listen to new episodes one week early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app. Subscribe on Apple Podcasts, Amazon Music, the Wondery app or wherever you're listening right now.
Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app to listen for free. In the episode notes, you'll find some links and offers from our sponsors. Please support them by supporting them you help us offer you this show for free. Another way to support us is to answer a short survey at wondery.com slash survey. A quick note about our dialogue. In most cases, we can't know exactly what was said, but all of our dramatizations are based on historical research.
If you'd like to know more about the Litvinenko affair, the text of the public inquiry presented to Parliament in 2016 is available online.
We also especially recommend the books The Litvinenko File by Martin Sixsmith and A Very Expensive Poison by Luke Harding. I'm Matt Ford. And I'm Alice Levine. Karen Laws wrote this episode, additional writing by Alice Levine and Matt Ford. Our sound design is by Marcelino Villalpando. Our senior producer is Russell Finch. Our executive producers are Stephanie Jens and Marshall Louis for Wondery. Wondery.
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