a member of a counter-revolutionary Trotskyist organization." '<ref>'Dva sledstvennykh dela Evgenii Ginzburg, doc. 8, p. 27.</ref> Her parents were also arrested but released two months later. Her husband was arrested in July and sentenced to 15 years of "corrective labor" and his property confiscated under Articles 58-7 and 11 of the RSFSR Penal Code. Trial On August 1, 1937, although Ginzburg still did not recognize her supposed guilt (despite the NKVD's repeated, ruthless interrogations), a closed meeting of the Military College of the Supreme Court of the USSR (in Moscow) sentenced her to 10 years imprisonment with deprivation of political rights for five years and confiscation of her personal property. The judgement was declared to be final with no possibility of appeal. Ginzburg later wrote in a letter to the chairman of the Presidium of the USSR's Supreme Soviet that her entire "trial" took seven minutes, including the questioning and reading of the judgement: "My judges were in such a hurry that they did not answer any of my questions and declarations.". In one of the most revealing chapters of her autobiography, Ginzburg expressed great relief upon hearing the verdict, because she had feared up to that very moment that she would be condemned to death: To live! Without property, but what was that to me? Let them confiscate it – they were brigands anyway, confiscating was their business. They wouldn't get much good out of mine, a few books and clothes – why, we didn't even have a radio. My husband was a loyal Communist of the old stamp, not the kind who had to have a Buick or a Mercedes... Ten years!... Do you [the judges], with your codfish faces, really think you can go on robbing and murdering for another ten years, that there aren't people in the Party who will stop you sooner or later? I knew there were – and in order to see that day, I must live. In prison, if needs be, but I must at all costs live!... I looked at the guards, whose hands were still clasped behind my back. Every nerve in my body was quivering with the joy of being alive. What nice faces the guards had! Peasant boys from Ryazan or Kursk, most likely. They couldn't help being warders – no doubt they were conscripts. And they had joined hands to save me from falling. But they needn't