Dictators, like old people, think in seasons not in years. Late autumn has arrived for Vladimir Putin, the wind nips.
I don’t think he killed Boris Nemtsov and I think he has seen in that assassination a hint of his own melancholy future.
There are only two reasons for dumping a high-profile corpse on the Kremlin’s doorstep. Either you want, like a cat bringing home a dead mouse, the approval of the master of the house. Or you want to show the Russian President that he is no longer in control.
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