My name is Renat Tajimuratov. I never sought the spotlight or wanted to speak publicly. But I cannot stay silent while my brother, Dauletmurat Tajimuratov, is being slowly destroyed in prison.
Four years ago, the government of Uzbekistan took my older brother from our family and sentenced him to 16 years in prison. His “crime” was being a brave activist and a selfless defender of Karakalpakstan – our homeland, a sovereign republic within Uzbekistan, with our own language, culture, history, and identity. In 2022, when the government considered stripping our home of its sovereignty, ensured in the Constitution of Uzbekistan, and its future through a proposed constitutional reform, Dauletmurat submitted an official request for a peaceful protest.
That attempt to exercise his freedom of assembly made him a target – and ultimately led to his arrest.
Uzbekistan is an authoritarian country, where the courts are tightly controlled. My brother was denied justice from the start, then locked behind bars.
Now, four years later, the authorities are doing everything they can to ensure that my brother never sees freedom again. For years, he was tortured, humiliated, and deliberately provoked – his honor and dignity publicly attacked before other prisoners and colony staff. Then just last week, the state used his attempts to defend himself as a pretext to add another two-and-a-half years to his sentence under Article 220 of Uzbekistan’s Criminal Code, for “actions disorganizing the work of a penal institution.” Now they are preparing to send him to an even harsher colony.
A few months ago, in February 2026, Dauletmurat called me from prison. “Tell Mother not to worry,” he said. He knew she would be distressed now that Uzbekistan had opened a new criminal case against him, treating his attempt to stand up for his rights as a crime.
Dauletmurat is a journalist and a lawyer. Even in prison, he has remained true to both callings: filing complaints and demanding the basic rights to rest, to read, and to be treated as a human being. For this, he was dragged barefoot, beaten, publicly humiliated in front of hundreds of prisoners and staff, and called an “enemy of the people.” He has been punished for demanding justice and human dignity, rather than disappearing quietly inside the prison system.
My brother is a fearless champion for justice, but he is also a kind soul. He once shared tea with another prisoner. For that simple act, he was punished and denied a visit with our family. Other prisoners are warned not to speak to him. Those who do are punished, too.
Despite the consequences, Dauletmurat is relentless. Time and again, he tries to make life better in prison, for himself and for others. But the regime strips that away too. He is forced to work in dangerous conditions, in a workshop that processes lime. The air is full of lime dust that damages his lungs and prison officials rarely provide protective masks, sometimes only once a month. He is constantly humiliated and subjected to physical violence.
To fight the new charges against him, Dauletmurat hired his own legal counsel from Karakalpakstan, and he asked me to participate as his legal representative.
The regime shut us out, refusing to give us information about the new investigation. We were not notified of the hearings that followed. Instead of allowing my brother to use his hired counsel, the regime appointed a state attorney to represent Dauletmurat in this sham process. As far as we know, the hearings were rushed and the court denied all defense motions and declined to examine any defense witnesses.
They even blocked me from the courtroom when I tried to visit my brother. They refused to tell Dauletmurat that his family still stands behind him. Why would the government hide from a prisoner that his brother had come to see him? Why would they prevent him from knowing that his family had not abandoned him?
Because the regime wants my brother to feel alone. They want him cut off from his lawyers, his family, his people, and the outside world.
We cannot let that happen.
The international community must not treat this as an internal prison issue or even just a domestic Uzbek matter. It is not. The U.N. Working Group on Arbitrary Detention has already spoken clearly: Dauletmurat’s detention is wrongful and arbitrary. This new case against him is a continuation of the same persecution.
I ask everyone, especially governments that maintain relations with Uzbekistan, to raise his case publicly and privately.
I ask human rights organizations and journalists to keep saying his name: Dauletmurat Tajimuratov. Public attention is one of the few protections that a prisoner of conscience like my brother has left.
And I ask Uzbekistan to do what it should have done long ago: release Dauletmurat.
My brother is not a criminal. He is the brother who always stood up for me and my sister. He is the son who cares deeply for his mother, even from prison. He is a lawyer and journalist who spoke for his people, bravely and in spite of the risks. He simply asked that Karakalpakstan’s rights be respected.
Dauletmurat has already lost too many years with his family. We must use our collective voice to make sure the Uzbek government does not steal another day from him.
