On Tuesday, 25 November, the Politkovskaya trial resumed unexpectedly. The previous week’s proceedings were marked by one scandal after another. The hearings were closed to the press, at the request of the jury, it was said. The jury, who had made no such request, revolted. The next hearing was deferred to 1 December “at the request” of attorney Murad Musayev. At this point, evidently, someone took a decision to avoid further loss of face. By then too many unfavourable comments had been made at home and abroad.

As if nothing had happened, and as if what had been going on was nothing to do with him, Judge Zubov entered the courtroom. At last, he read out the jurors’ statement, passed to him on 20 November, asking that the trial should be open to press and public. He listened to the State prosecutors and the attorneys for the accused and for the Politkovskaya family. In such a situation the prosecution did not insist on its own petition for the trial to be heard in camera. The judge then declared (once again) that the trial would be open. He did specify that journalists could not be present when procedural issues were being decided: both the jury and the press would leave the courtroom during disputes between the different sides and their submission of a variety of petitions.

The fate of reserve juror Yevgeny Kolesov was rapidly decided. On Thursday, 20 November, during a live broadcast on radio station Echo Moskvy, he disclosed the intrigues surrounding the jury. Kolesov would no longer be a juror. The man who prevented the trial being held behind closed doors knew this would happen and had foreseen the implications of his decision.

After disposing of these embarrassing matters, it seemed that the court could start examining the evidence, though the attempt to manipulate the jury left an unpleasant after-taste. At this moment the prosecution requested that the judge stand down. Well-prepared and legally founded arguments were provided. Had this petition for Judge Zubov to commit public hara-kiri been upheld everything could have been set back to square one. A new judge might try, with more subtlety than Zubov, to hold the trial in camera and if a new judge took over it was not clear whether such an independent and principled jury would also be disbanded.

Judge Zubov adjourned proceedings until the following morning. He examined the prosecution’s petition himself and resolved that he would not abandon a trial that, thanks to the civic courage of the jurors, was now open to the press.

The remaining time on Wednesday, 26 November, was spent considering the scene of the murder and hearing expert opinion. The court decided to meet every weekday from now on, and not four times a week, in order to make up for time lost during the previous disputes. Evidently the judge and the prosecution intend to finish examining the case by the end of the year.

Those who favoured a closed trial and devoted considerable effort to secure that result could still have their way. The procedural laws are elastic, especially in skilled and experienced hands. Recent dramatic scandals surrounding other trials have revealed the range of possibilities. You want to tell them: it’s time to stop exposing the Russian judicial system with its already damaged reputation to further ridicule; it’s time to stop making a farce of the trial for one of Russia’s most widely-publicised and significant political murders of recent times.

And there is one other uncertainty that prevents us from being entirely satisfied with our interim victory, in achieving an open trial. If a full judicial investigation into the actions of those who are merely accused of being accomplices in Anna’s murder has met with such stiff resistance, what fate awaits the separate investigation to identify and bring to justice the assassin who was hired to kill Anna Politkovskaya and the person who paid for her to be put to death?