First spring at liberty. Nina and Uladzimir Labkovich told their love story and life after prison

Nina and Uladzimir Labkovich. Here and further photos by "Nasha Niva"

Human rights defender Uladzimir Labkovich spent four and a half years behind bars — most of the seven-year term he was sentenced to in the so-called "Viasna case".

On December 13, 2025, he unexpectedly found himself among 123 political prisoners who were pardoned and expelled from Belarus. Uladzimir was taken to Ukraine, from where he then traveled to his family in Vilnius. The path to freedom proved long and difficult: months in solitary confinement, threats of new criminal cases, including for "treason" due to his human rights activities.

All this time, his wife Nina and three children — a daughter and twin sons — were waiting for him. After Uladzimir's release, the family is again learning simple things — walking around a new city, going to the store, cooking dinner together, and talking without prison restrictions.

We met the Labkoviches in Vilnius, walked through the old city, and talked about life after prison, letters to children, and long years of waiting.

First spring after prison

We are walking along a cobbled street in Vilnius, Gediminas' Hill behind us. Uladzimir Labkovich carefully supports Nina by the elbow — so she doesn't slip. The snow has almost melted in places, but on the narrow streets of the old town, it is still slippery in parts. This is the couple's first spring together after more than four years of the human rights defender's imprisonment.

— Tell us, how are things with you here, how is your adaptation in Vilnius going?

Uladzimir thinks for a moment.

— It's certainly much easier for me than for many of those I was released with at the end of December, — he says. — Because I immediately came to my family. From the very first minute, I was surrounded by my wife and children. And that's very heartwarming. I immediately found myself in the warmth of family life. And this greatly accelerates adaptation.

Uladzimir speaks slowly, as if still getting used to this new rhythm — the rhythm of life without walls and a strict regime.

— There are difficulties with socialization, — he admits. — A big city, public transport, large stores. When there are many people around, I get tired quite quickly. I spent a very long time in a prison isolation regime. This is even harder than in a penal colony — in terms of human contact and the ability to move. But now it's much easier than in the first few weeks. Time — it solves everything.

Nina listens and nods. She has been in Vilnius for several years already — since 2022. During this time, the city has become almost native to her.

— Now I show Vilnius to him, — she smiles. — Once Uladz introduced me to this city, and now it's the other way around.

— What were your emotions when Uladzimir finally returned home?

Nina pauses for a second, as if replaying that day in her memory.

— The emotions were very positive. We had waited for this for a very long time. And yet, in such moments, there's a feeling of slight shock — probably in any family when you meet a loved one after a long separation. It's like watching a cartoon: everything is happening, but it feels a bit unreal. And only when you come home and realize that your loved one is truly next to you — that's when the feeling comes: that's it, it's real.

She says that the children also felt it.

— Uladz hadn't seen them for four and a half years; they had grown so much. But he always wrote to them a lot, very detailed letters — so as not to lose that touch, that connection with the children.

Павялічыць

Love that began at the elections

Uladzimir Labkovich is a human rights defender, a lawyer, one of the faces of the "Viasna" Human Rights Center. It was for his human rights activities that he spent more than four years in detention.

Nina is from a different professional world.

— I have always been involved with business angels, startup ecosystems, and the management of various innovation projects, — she says.

Nina speaks briefly and without much enthusiasm about herself.

— I'm not as public a person as Uladz, — she smiles.

Uladzimir and Nina have been together for 21 years. Their story began in 2004 — in the Kharkiv region of Ukraine.

— We were election observers, — Uladzimir recalls. — I came with a Belarusian team from "Viasna". We were even detained in Minsk so we wouldn't make it to the observation. They held us in the police station until the trains had left. Then they released us — and we made our way to Kharkiv by various routes. A team from Kazakhstan was also working there. Nina was in that team. We accidentally ended up as a pair of observers. We worked together for five days at polling stations in Ukraine. We talked, got to know each other. And even then, I felt how dear this person was to me.

Nina laughs:

— It was before Christmas. I remember being very impressed that the Belarusians went to church. And these were young people, not at all who you usually think of when you talk about church. They were so intelligent, interesting, open.

At that time, they didn't get to know each other very closely — just as colleagues from different observer teams. But Nina was impressed by the level of people she met there.

— And after so many years, I already know many of them, — she says. — Someone is involved in literature, someone in law, someone in international relations. Very different people, but all very interesting and strong. I thought then: Belarusians are just kittens. And now, after so many years, I still think the same.

After the elections, they went back to their respective countries but continued to keep in touch: they wrote letters to each other. After some time, Uladzimir invited Nina to Belarus. She agreed.

— Weren't you scared to move to a new country like that?

— Oh, listen, who's afraid of anything at 24? — Nina laughs.

— Nina, when you met Uladzimir, you already knew that he was involved in human rights in Belarus. Did you have any fears then that this activity could be dangerous? That there might be persecution, detentions, or other risks?

— When it's a relationship and your beloved person is in front of you, you, of course, understand that there are risks. We are adequate people who look realistically at life and think about the future. But I had a very simple approach then: I'll think about that tomorrow. And it certainly wasn't a stop-factor at all. Not at all.

"The challenges we face today are even greater than in our youth"

— Uladzimir, you look like a serious person…

— Oh yes, a serious person! — Nina laughs and adds: — Actually, he has the best sense of humor of anyone I know.

— Uladzimir, you have a legal education, you come from a family of engineers. You could have chosen a quiet career. But instead, you went into politics, public activity: BNF, "Malady Front", then "Viasna". Why did you need this?

— Perhaps if I hadn't been a lawyer, I wouldn't have been carried away anywhere, — says Uladzimir. — But I remember 1996 very well. The referendum on changing the Constitution. Our lecturers, lawyers — many of them were categorically against what was happening. And even then, it felt like the freedoms that existed in the 90s were beginning to disappear. White-red-white flags, rock-n-roll, that general feeling of freedom and future — as if someone was trying to take it all back.

He smiles — a little ironically.

— I was romantically convinced back then: we just need to mobilize, the youth needs to put in effort for two or three years — and everything will change. I thought: I'll finish university in 2000, and there will be no need for political or public activity. But it turned out differently. The situation only got worse. We retreated more and more, there was less and less freedom. And now we've reached 2026, when "Viasna" operates in exile, and I am gradually returning to public activity again. And it seems that the challenges we face today are even greater than in our youth.

— You have said many times — both after your release and before — that family is the most important thing for you. But your activity has always been difficult. Was there ever a moment of regret that you chose this path?

Uladzimir answers almost immediately.

— No, there wasn't. Not even in prison. Even in the darkest times, I had no regrets about what I was doing. Because it's the right thing to do. It's just a sense of truth and faith in what you're doing. I honestly believe that we are on the side of good. For me, it's so obvious that it's even difficult for me to convince anyone of it.

But one thing, he admits, was the hardest of all.

— I felt great pain for my family. Because the trials that fell to Nina and the children's lot are, of course, the consequences of my position and my activity. I am endlessly grateful to Nina for not breaking. For remaining a wall in my life — something I could lean on even in the most difficult moments of imprisonment.

He specifically mentions the children.

— When we met after my release, they were completely different people than those I said goodbye to on the day of my detention. We very quickly got to know each other again, became friends. The boys are still in their children's world, but my daughter — that's a whole era. Over these years, she has transformed from a little girl into an adult. Exactly one week after my return, we celebrated her 18th birthday. I was afraid that we would need time to get used to each other, but everything happened very quickly and naturally. We even immediately remembered our old jokes. But a large piece of our shared life was still lost. And now we are catching up. Every day. I am absolutely convinced even today: there is nothing more important than family — than children, than a wife. And everything I do and will continue to do is also, in a certain sense, a tribute of respect to them.

Nina listens and adds:

— Uladz is also our rear. If family is your main value, then you simply accept everything connected with it. And what Uladz does, and what other human rights defenders do — it's right, for truly right things. Yes, there are risks, but I also share and accept that. We are on the same side.

Павялічыць

"The fear ended only when Uladz walked into the house"

We enter a small cafe. It's warm and smells of cinnamon.

Nina orders coffee, and Uladzimir also gets a Coca-Cola.

When the drinks are brought, he explains:

— In captivity, Coca-Cola was always like a small celebration. You have 40 rubles a month, and cola costs 3 rubles, so we could only afford it on holidays. But on March 25, Freedom Day — absolutely. That's why I love it very much now.

— Ms. Nina, during this time, were there moments when you were truly scared?

— Of course. The scariest thing is the unknown. If you don't receive a letter from Uladz — it's scary. If there's no planned call — it's scary. I think this fear only ended on December 18, when Uladz walked into the house. And before that... since July 14, 2021, when he was detained, I lived in constant fear for him and in anticipation.

She shrugs slightly.

— This fear, sometimes more acute, sometimes less, was there all the time.

Uladzimir recalls the morning of July 14, when the security forces came to their place.

— It was about six in the morning. I was already awake, the children were asleep. When we heard a knock at the door, it was immediately clear who had come. At that time in Belarus, we were almost the last of the public organizations still remaining. Some colleagues had left for Vilnius, so when there's a knock at the door at six in the morning — it's clear it's not the milkman.

Nina went to the children, and Uladzimir opened the door.

— I said: let's keep everything calm, I have children. I'll unlock, and no one will interfere. They behaved very correctly. I asked them to first gather the children and send them to their grandmother, and only then search the place. They agreed.

The children were surprised, but the parents tried to calm them down. They went to their grandmother's and even managed to call to say they had arrived.

— That was the last time I saw them before my arrest, — says Uladzimir. — And I later regretted many times that I hadn't hugged them properly, hadn't said some important words. But in such situations, you simply don't know how to behave. The search went calmly. There was no "face down on the floor," no breaking down doors. There was one episode. I was on my daughter's school parent committee, and I had an envelope with money that the class was collecting for the children's needs. There were slips of paper with names and amounts. The security forces were initially very happy: "Ah, are these earnings? For rallies?" I explained that it was just a parent collection. They looked and said: "Okay, we'll leave it." They also found a white-red-white flag and said: "Let's pretend we didn't see it." I replied: "I would be glad if you didn't see many things here."

After the search, Uladzimir was taken first to the DFR, then to the Investigative Committee. He understood he would be detained but didn't think it would be for so long. But the most difficult thing turned out to be something else: on the same day, Nina was also detained.

— When they told me about it, that was probably the scariest moment of all this time. It's always easier to worry about yourself than about a loved one.

Later, already in the pre-trial detention center in Valadarka, he accidentally met Ales Bialiatski, head of the "Viasna" Human Rights Center and Nobel laureate, in the corridor. He was reading case materials and, smiling, said: "Uladz, Nina's testimony is excellent, she's cool."

Uladzimir smiles:

— I completely agree with that assessment.

After 10 days of interrogations, Nina was released, and soon she and the children left Belarus. The decision was made simply in an instant.

"Uladz's handwriting... like a doctor's"

— Nina, how difficult was it to explain to the children what was happening?

— I always told the children the truth. When I returned home after the detention, we just sat down and calmly discussed everything. My eldest daughter was 13 then — she understood a lot. The sons were 10, for them, the most difficult thing was precisely the uncertainty. So we decided: we hide nothing. Uladz wrote letters separately to each of us, to me, to my daughter, and to my sons. Each of the children had their own dialogue with dad. This greatly helped maintain the connection.

Nina laughs:

— True, Uladz's handwriting... like a doctor's. So I often read the letters to the sons aloud, and they would answer themselves. Sometimes letters didn't arrive for months, but the dialogue never disappeared.

Children are very perceptive of adults. They always knew that dad was a hero to them, was and remains now. Recently, in school, they were assigned an essay on the topic "My Heroes," and they wrote about dad.

Павялічыць

— Nina, when political prisoners started being released in stages last year, was there this constant anticipation — to see Uladzimir's name on the lists?

— Every time was like a small heart attack. My heart just stopped. It was especially hard during holidays when all families wait. We also hoped: "Now maybe, maybe now..." But I decided for myself: until I know 100%, I won't believe it. And it's very difficult to set yourself up like that.

Uladzimir recalls the moment of his release:

— When we were released, they gave us one phone for everyone — about fifty people. We decided that everyone would have two minutes for the first call. The person with the phone just sat down at eight in the morning and didn't get up until the next day — there was a queue the whole time.

Nina adds that the first call from Uladzimir was very different from prison calls.

— There, they only have ten minutes for a call. And you know you're being listened to. You want to say everything, but you speak in hints, in undertones, in such "bird language." It's not a conversation. But the first minutes after his release were completely different. It was very emotional: "Nina!", "Uladz!". A free conversation. Even his voice was different. The timbre, the intonation — everything changed.

— After my release, volunteers approached me, — Labkovich recounts. — They asked: "Are you Uladz Labkovich from "Viasna"?" I replied: "Yes." And they said: "Your colleagues are looking for you." They gave me a phone — and our employee was on the line. She told me how they met Ales Bialiatski. He was released by another route and was already in Vilnius. I then asked: "Give me Ales's phone number." One might say, I used a small "corruption" — a colleague for a colleague. My first call was to him: I wanted to congratulate him. There were a lot of emotions. And only then did I get in line to call home.

Later he got his own phone, and he talked to Nina all the way from Chernihiv to Vilnius.

— We were sometimes asked what was the first thing we said to each other when we met. But by the time we met, we had been talking non-stop for five days, — says Nina.

The first day in Vilnius after his release passed very quickly. First, they went to the "Viasna" office, stayed there for about twenty minutes, and then went home. There, Uladzimir was met by his children and the first hugs. And after that — a completely ordinary thing that felt almost like a holiday at that moment:

— We went to the store. To buy warm gloves, clothes. It was winter, a lot of snow, very cold. And then in the evening, we all talked for a very long time, — Uladzimir recalls.

Nina smiles:

— Uladz is now just such a "dad-dad." After so many years of separation, they are sort of catching up on lost time. The sons talk a lot with their father — about everything: from political news to technology. Sometimes we even have to stop them because they can go too deep into these conversations.

Uladzimir takes the children to the swimming pool, they play chess, and do homework together.

— When it comes to the Belarusian language, I say: "That's it, go to Uladz," — Nina jokes. — I didn't study in Belarus, it's harder for me with the Belarusian language.

Another family tradition is cooking together.

— Today, for example, we cooked steaks, — says Nina. — One of the sons loves to cook and constantly asks: "When are we going to do it?"

They also often go to the store together. And there, the children sometimes act as teachers.

— Uladz gets lost near self-checkout counters, — Nina laughs. — He says: "Stores without cashiers are simply a nightmare! How do you use these things?" The children explain everything to him and are very proud that they can teach dad.

While the family adjusts to a new life, practical issues remain.

— Documents are still not easy, — says Uladzimir. — I practically have nothing — no passport, nothing. So, you just have to be patient and wait. But we are already making plans, we want to travel a bit. The first trip will probably be to Rome.

"I am home wherever we are all together"

At the end of our conversation, we did a quick blitz.

Павялічыць

— Who in your family is the first to make up?

— Me, — Uladzimir answers without hesitation. — I'm always to blame. My wife is always right.

— Nina, what trait of your husband can irritate you?

She laughs:

— That's probably the hardest question of our entire conversation. Nothing irritates me. It depends more on my mood than on him.

— Uladzimir, if not human rights, then what?

— Nothing. I don't see myself in anything else.

— What single word would you call each other?

— Beloved, — says Nina.

— Beloved, — answers Uladzimir.

— What does home mean to you now?

Uladzimir answers after a short pause:

— Home is when everyone is together. When the children come back from school, when Nina comes back from work. It doesn't matter in what country or in what walls. I am home wherever we are all together.

• 14
• 0
• 1
• 0
• 0
• 1
• 0
• 14