My friend Evan Gershkovich is free. The first thing I want to do with him: Get a bagel
Evan Gershkovich smiles at Joint Base Andrews after returning to the U.S. following a prisoner swap on August 1. Photo by Roberto Schmidt/AFP/Getty Images
My world turned upside down the day Wall Street Journal reporter Evan Gershkovich was arrested in Russia. The charge: espionage — a baseless claim that converted a respected journalist, and my dear friend, into a political hostage.
Now that he is home, 492 days after his arrest in March 2023, I feel I can finally breathe again. For everyone who loves Evan, and who worked to keep his case in the spotlight as his detention dragged on, the relief of this moment is extraordinary. And it’s a reminder to never give up, no matter the odds.
Evan and I first met in 2010 as freshman roommates at Bowdoin College, and forged an unbreakable bond over our love for sports, food, philosophy and Judaism. We both moved to New York City post-graduation, and continued to party, play video games, explore career aspirations and debate everything from politics to sports — as if Ev had a leg to stand on! The poor guy is a diehard Jets, Mets, and Arsenal fan.
Evan’s move to Russia in 2017 didn’t surprise me. He is an adventurous spirit — always has been. His Russian fluency made joining The Moscow Times, where he worked from 2017 to 2020, an irresistible opportunity to both advance his career, and explore a country that had a profound impact on his identity, as the son of Jewish Soviet emigres who fled due to fear of religious persecution.
We stayed in touch online, but it was Evan’s visits home that I cherished.
He’s one of those friends who you can not talk to for any amount of time and then easily pick up right where you left off. These visits always brought out the neurotic Jewish mother in me. We’d grab a bagel — his order: an everything bagel with scallion cream cheese, tomatoes, onions and capers, plus lox if he was feeling spendy — and I’d fight the urge to pinch his cheeks. “You look skinny, are you eating?” I wanted to say. “Are you seeing anyone? Is she Jewish?”
Of course, what I was really concerned about was Evan’s safety. But he assured me that his American citizenship would prevent unwarranted actions from the Russian government. That belief was, in retrospect, naive. But at the time, who could have predicted that Evan — a respected journalist and a wonderfully normal guy — would be the first U.S. journalist to be accused of espionage by Russia since the Cold War?
Of course that charge was bogus, and vehemently and immediately denied by him, his employers at The Wall Street Journal, and the U.S. government. It was incomprehensible to me and the rest of our friends. How could Russia think this goofy, gregarious man was a spy?
But, far from a mistake, Evan’s arrest was a highly calculated move by the Russian authorities to gain political leverage. As the reality of this nightmare set in, it set into motion a whirlwind of action among Evan’s friends, family, and colleagues. The vast network that galvanized into action was a testament to Evan’s incredible ability to forge enduring connections.
Evan’s superpower has always been building interpersonal bridges, whether on Bowdoin’s campus in Brunswick, Maine, during our early 20s adventures in New York, or across Russia as a reporter. His affable personality and empathetic journalism has always drawn people together.
His strength helped fuel the vast network of people who love him through seemingly endless months of advocating for his release, and fearing for his well-being. A particularly poignant moment was the Passover Seder I attended with Evan’s family in Philadelphia in April 2023, just a week after his arrest. It was there I saw the quiet strength of his parents, Ella and Mikhal, and his sister Danielle, as they transformed their private anguish into public advocacy for Evan. This family, so unaccustomed to the spotlight, became formidable fighters for his cause.
Advocacy became a fixture of all of our lives. His parents took every opportunity they could to get in front of people with power, up to and including by attending the White House Correspondents’ Dinner. A small group of friends met weekly with the Dow Jones communications team to strategize how to keep Evan’s case front of mind. This resulted in dozens of campaigns, which included sneaking a giant “FREE EVAN” banner into a Mets game, holding a “Cook for Evan” BBQ in Brooklyn, and leading an educational panel about Evan’s plight at the 10-year Bowdoin reunion Evan should have attended. We made countless media appearances to accompany each grim milestone — 100 days in captivity, then 250 days, then 1 year — always pressing for our government to win his freedom.
Despite the complexities of international diplomacy, our resolve never wavered. Our perseverance was bolstered by Evan’s humorous letters from prison, which somehow, amidst his ordeal, focused on our wellbeing. They were just another testament to his character. “Mom, you unfortunately, for better or worse, prepared me well for jail food,” he wrote to his mother, Ella. “In the morning, for breakfast, they give us hot creamed wheat, oatmeal cereal or wheat gruel. I am remembering my childhood.”
But the journey through Evan’s prolonged detention was harrowing. The Russians indicated that they were open to a prisoner swap, for the right price: Vadim Krasikov, a Russian assassin serving life in prison in Germany. But would Germany give up a cold-blooded killer in exchange for an innocent American journalist? And if so, when? These questions hung over us, day and night, like an anvil.
After 15 excruciating months, Evan’s case was finally moved from an indefinite pretrial detention phase into trial, which concluded in July. In an unusual move, his conviction was expedited, and he was sentenced to 16 years in a penal colony.
We hoped the haste of the conviction was actually a positive sign. A signal, perhaps, of a forthcoming prisoner swap. However, we couldn’t get too optimistic. Even if this dream held a kernel of truth, we had no idea when it would happen.
That all changed on Wednesday afternoon, when rumors of a large-scale prisoner exchange surfaced. Just as it was when the saga began, the end of the Evan’s imprisonment was completely surreal. The scope and complexity of this unprecedented multi-country swap involving 24 prisoners were astonishing. When the news of his release was confirmed Thursday morning, I vacillated between jubilation at the prospect of him actually coming home, disbelief that any of this was actually happening, and anxiety about the deal falling apart at any moment.
But most of all, I felt a pure, overwhelming relief. With each passing hour, it became more and more apparent: our prayers were being answered.
The events that unfolded were a result of the absolute chutzpah of President Joe Biden’s administration, German Chancellor Olaf Scholz, Evan’s family, friends, and so many others. Including, of course, Evan himself. The Wall Street Journal reported that in his official request for presidential clemency:
The pro forma printout included a long blank space the prisoner could fill out if desired, or simply, as expected, leave blank. In the formal high Russian he had honed over 16 months imprisonment, the Journal’s Russia correspondent filled the page. The last line submitted a proposal of his own: After his release, would Putin be willing to sit down for an interview?
The emotional rollercoaster peaked when he stepped off the airplane. In characteristic Evan fashion, he descended the stairs onto the tarmac, arms open for a hug — to none other than Vice President Kamala Harris! I watched as he moved on to hug Biden, and then bear hug his mom and the rest of his family. With tears streaming down my face, the moment I had been dreaming of since March, 2023, became a reality. Evan Gershkovich was a free man. Evan Gershkovich was home.
Hope, perseverance, and the unyielding strength of dozens of communities working together achieved the seemingly impossible. I can’t wait to take him out for a bagel, pinch his cheeks, and tell him how skinny he looks. This time, the lox is on me.
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