HINSEY: The Lithuanian Helsinki Group's press conference in Moscow had transpired without incident, but upon your return to Vilnius, you were informed that you had been invited to the Ministry of Internal Affairs—

VENCLOVA: The first thing my mother told me when I entered her flat was that I had been summoned by the ministry to appear the very next day. As I have said before, the Ministry of Internal Affairs, or MVD, differed from the KGB in that it meant “regular” rather than secret police. That said, both offices were sometimes merged, and at other times separated during the Soviet era. In any case, the reputation of the ministry was grim enough.

HINSEY: Can you describe your internal state before your meeting at the ministry?

VENCLOVA: It was not exactly radiant. I had to reckon with the possibility that they would arrest me in the MVD building, although at the same time that seemed somewhat abstract. Rather, I expected another intimidating talk that led nowhere. In any event, I felt very clearly that, for me, there was no way back. Later, I used to say that I took a “prison bag” with me, that is, a change of underwear, a toothbrush, and so on, but that was a joke. In fact, I didn't take any precautions.

HINSEY: What time was your appointment? Would you describe the room? Who was present at this meeting?

VENCLOVA: It was in the morning, perhaps around eleven o’clock. The building was well-known to me, and to everyone in Vilnius—it was a veritable palace on Cathedral Square, with security guards inside who checked your identity papers. The room where the meeting took place was quite large, much bigger than the interrogation room in the KGB building, which I remembered well. Perhaps the idea was to create the impression of one's insignificance in relation to the authorities. There were three or four people on the other side of the desk. I knew one of them, as I had met him before: a highly placed official, perhaps the minister of the interior himself, although I’m not entirely certain. It was he who had once advised me that I had no grounds to apply for emigration. On my right was a nondescript young man. Instinctively, I sensed he was from the KGB.