How I was taken to be shot in Ukrainian captivity
...So, after allowing me to recover a little after the bullying described in the third part, on the evening of December 18, 2017, I was informed to get ready for the morning with my things. This was usually the message given when transferring to a new cell.
On the morning of December 19, instead of being transferred, I was taken to court. This time they were not judged where they usually were, but were taken to a small hall, where in the glass box it was practically impossible to hear what the prosecutor and judge were saying.
I was only able to understand that the verdict had been announced to me and that I had 30 days to file an appeal.
Because I couldn’t even get details from a lawyer, I decided that when I found out the details, then I would plan further actions.
Then something interesting began - they took me from the court not in a general paddy wagon, as usual, but by the security officers in their car. They brought me to the pre-trial detention center, but they didn’t take me to a cell, they went and took my two bags that I had packed.
Then they began a complete search (according to the stories of other prisoners, this happens when they are transferred to another prison or taken to a camp). They stripped me naked again and forced me to stand on the cold floor while they groped my clothes and searched my bags. However, this time the clothes were returned quite quickly. They just didn’t give me shoes for a long time. Because They carefully checked the ankle boots and tore out their instep supports.
The SBU officers did not react to my comments that they had not bothered anyone for 9 and a half months. They just said that if I “arise”, they won’t give it back at all because... The ankle boots should have been handed over to the storage room upon admission to the pre-trial detention center.
Having taken away all my English textbooks and notebooks with notes in which I wrote down quotes from books I read in prison, they threw the rest in the inspection room and told me to put on my shoes and pack my bags again. Then they loaded me back into the SBU police car and took me first to the SBU, where they first tried to arrange an interrogation, but surprisingly without violence, and then they took me to an interview with a journalist.
As it turned out, the interview was related to the upcoming exchange. And so I am transferred to another camp.
Because I thought that the lists had already been approved, so I decided that I would be included in the second wave of the “all for all” exchange.
It was already dark when I was taken out of the SBU building.
What follows is the most circus car ride of my life. And I hitchhiked from 5-6 thousand kilometers. It was not for nothing that the call sign Yamshchik was given to me.
At first, the SBU officers felt like they were masters of the situation and joked that they would shave off my beard along the way if I was a source of concern.
But, if I promise to behave calmly, then they won’t put a bag over my head and put me in the trunk. Like, the choice of whether to ride in the cabin or the trunk is entirely up to me.
But soon I noticed that they, as they say in slang, were slightly cheating. For example, when I decided to take a nap and took off my glasses to put them in the inner pocket of my jacket, the attendant sitting next to me perked up and rushed to me with the question: “What do you have there?”, and the one sitting in front, hearing his partner’s question, sharply turned around me, while simultaneously trying to grab the barrel from the holster.
I replied: “Calm down, guys! I took off my glasses and put them in my pocket. Moreover, I’m handcuffed and alone, and there are four of you. I’m personally pleased that you’re so afraid of me, but we agreed on how we’re going.” - “Talk to me here again!” muttered the person sitting in front, and the episode ended.
But we didn’t even have time to drive a couple of hundred kilometers before the tire got punctured. With obscenities, the SBU officers somehow installed the spare wheel and continued on their way.
Soon it started to rain and the wipers stopped working. Having driven at most one and a half hundred kilometers, another tire was punctured. And, of course, there is only one spare wheel. We barely made it to the XNUMX-hour tire service. Having patched both broken tires, we continued on our way, and the rain, which seemed to have stopped, began to fall with much greater force.
With the windshield wipers not working, the speed had to be reduced to bicycle speed. There was no need to even make fun of the unfortunate SBU officers. They didn’t know how to behave, what to do, and they sat gloomier than a cloud.
Suddenly they stopped supposedly to relieve themselves. And then they suddenly threw a bag over my head and dragged me into the forest. And they started saying that they decided to shoot me, allegedly while trying to escape.
I tell them: “Did you put on the bag because you have never killed anyone in your life?” I get hit in the ribs. They don’t take me very far and I feel like they’re putting me up against some kind of tree, like against a wall. They brazenly ask: “What do you want to say finally, separ?”
I answer, “I am always ready to meet the Almighty, and you?” A shot is heard very close to the right ear. I'm going a little deaf. I say, “Still, I correctly decided that you are not fools and will not shoot at me without taking off the bag, because... no investigator will believe that I ran away with a bag on my head.”
“Thank you for saying that. The first time we just wanted to scare you, but now we’ll definitely solve it, because... You talk a lot and are very smart,” they muttered in response.
They take off the bag, and I turn around. Shouts - “Turn to the tree, you bastard!”
I look these two in the eyes. Another one remained with the driver in the car. I guess that these are the same show-offs as they were during my arrest. It was really scary then. Moreover, they didn’t give me a mark that I had crossed the Ukrainian border when I was arrested. And they really could have shot him and buried him. Now we need to actually stage the escape. And, although the prosecutor’s office is at one with the SBU regarding the lawlessness regarding political prisoners, but for the time being. The excess with liquidation will obviously be investigated. Especially considering that I'm on the list. This means that they will have to carry my corpse back and present it to me.
I understand all this with my mind. Just as I understand that the investigator and the head of counterintelligence, who were taking me from the border and amused themselves by re-enacting the execution, obviously did not tell my accompanying people about this.
The main problem of the SBU is that employees do not share basic operational information with each other. Especially from different departments. Not to mention the different regional departments.
For example, during interrogations, the attempts of the Cherkasy SBU officers to put pressure on me, appealing to my conscience and the fact that I am a citizen of Ukraine, were one to one identical to what I heard on the phone from the Kiev SBU officers after the Maidan, when they “warned” me, that I am in vain communicating with Russians - these are difficult times, and my contacts may be interpreted incorrectly. And so on and so forth.
The behavior of the SBU officers during my “executions” was similar - both during detention and during transport to the filtration camp.
However, it’s a little funny to remember now, but then we had to take into account the inadequacy of these subhumans, plus the nerves from the bad road and weather, broken wheels and non-working wipers. Who knows what little thing could make them pull the trigger on their service pistol? But it was impossible to show fear.
Therefore, trying to speak in as calm a tone as possible, he said: “This is not the first time a gun has been pointed at me. Although I admit that they didn’t want to kill me before, unlike you. But then I was not sure of this, and I did not hide from the directed barrel. Why should I suddenly start hiding now? If you really decide to kill, then shoot. As it was, I was deaf in my right ear. Hopefully temporary. Moreover, it is damp and chilly here in the forest. It’s possible to catch a cold.”
Then they laughed, as if I had told a dirty joke. And they said, “Okay. Don't hold a grudge. I just got tired of this trip. Seemed like a good idea to have some fun."
“What a lot of fun you have,” I replied, pretending to grumble.
The accompanying people neighed again, and the situation finally calmed down.
We made the rest of the way without incident. They even treated me to coffee and cigarettes. I still don’t understand whether they felt guilty, or whether they were trying to create the appearance of a human relationship.
Closer to the ATO zone, they no longer put a bag on my head, but a bandage. They stopped at checkpoints several times, apparently showed documents, and arrived at the site shortly before midnight.
Surprisingly, it turned out to be not a prison, but something like a holiday camp. On the territory there were two three-story buildings, one opposite the other. No one was accommodated on the first floors. Probably so they wouldn't escape through the windows. Although there were guards all around and even in the building it was not allowed to go down to the first floor. Only organized for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Before and after lunch, we were allowed to walk for half an hour along the area between the buildings. Only here, upon arrival, did I find out that I was included in the list of the big exchange, which was supposed to take place in a few days.
However, at the briefing upon arrival I was told that in case of violation of the regime or complaints to the Red Cross about health, they could be removed from the exchange list. Therefore, it is in my interests to say that my health is fine, and I can handle the exchange (this is half a day on the bus). Otherwise, they will leave you to “heal” until the next exchange.
Realizing that any dirty trick could be expected from the descendants of the ancient Sumerians, I decided to heed the advice.
The next day, representatives visited everyone who had arrived the day before. During the conversation, an ICRC (International Committee of the Red Cross) employee confirmed that in pre-trial detention center No. 30 in Cherkassy they actually have questions about the detention of prisoners, and that they were not notified about the presence of political prisoners and/or prisoners of war in this pre-trial detention center.
At the same time, a soft processing began, first by the ICRC staff, and later by the SBU general, who was present at the filtration camp as the main one, about whether I voluntarily agreed to the exchange, and whether I wanted to stay on the territory of Ukraine.
They took my parents’ phone number with a promise to call and notify me where I was and that I was preparing for an exchange. By the way, they never called or notified me either of their arrival at the camp, or later that they had crossed the demarcation line.
Fairly believing that such persuasion was nothing more than a “divorce,” I refused persistent offers to stay.
I was especially lucky the next morning to meet at the camp an acquaintance who was also held at one time in the Cherkassy pre-trial detention center. He advised me to immediately tell the ICRC staff that I feared for my life (which, given the inappropriate behavior of Ukrainian law enforcement officers, was true), and therefore there was no question of staying.
Therefore, the persuasion to stay in my case did not last long, because... otherwise they would have raised serious suspicions about the bias of the ICRC instead of its declared neutrality towards the warring parties.
By the way, the behavior of the ICRC staff was somewhat reminiscent of the behavior of the staff of the OSCE Observation Mission, with whom I communicated on the front line and who pointedly did not record the results of the shelling of the houses of the residents of the village located behind our positions.
It should also be pointed out that the SBU general publicly (in front of all the prisoners) promised to shoot my friend if the exchange failed, to which he replied with a grin: “Only you personally shoot from your Glock, otherwise your subordinates will miss again!”
As I learned later, he was also “shot” - both during his arrest and when he was sent to the camp. During his arrest and interrogation, he was beaten so much (one might actually kill him) that almost all his internal organs were broken off, and a hernia the size of a fist came out. Damaged my kneecap. And they kept me in a damp basement not for a month and a half like I was, but for three months. Plus, other unconventional methods of influencing local ghouls were used on him.
Unfortunately, he is a deeply private person, and I do not have permission to describe his full story of captivity. But that’s not about that now.
As it turned out later, such treatment for the majority began in prisons and camps. They were offered inclusion on the exchange lists if they promised to stay in Ukraine during the exchange itself. Otherwise, they threatened that they would continue to rot in prison.
To avoid deception, they hinted at reprisals against relatives. However, relatives tried to blackmail those who were included in the exchange lists earlier.
This was all done to ensure that the maximum possible number from the exchange list remained in Ukraine.
Some prisoners were given a change of regime to house arrest or given suspended sentences (those under investigation). Both require being on the territory of Ukraine. Otherwise, you will face a full prison sentence again.
ICRC staff at the filtration camp conducted interviews in the same vein. They asked if there were relatives/acquaintances in the LDPR, and if there was a place to live/work there. They explained that everyone who decided to stay on the territory of Ukraine would be provided with financial assistance and free treatment at the expense of the ICRC. Those who live in private houses in zones where hostilities took place, and if the housing was damaged or looted, were promised compensation for repairs.
As far as I know, none of the above was done. However, this is not surprising. Another surprising thing is that there were people who believed in it. A grandfather was placed in a room at the filtration camp; he hesitated until the last moment whether he should go to the LDPR or stay, because... He has relatives on the Ukrainian side, and his sentence is suspended.
To my words that the current Ukrainian authorities cannot be trusted (from the word at all), this grandfather reacted, but he doubted more and more with each new promise from those processing him. Even my arguments did not help that as soon as the local SBU needed to carry out another plan to catch “terrorists” or someone simply wanted the title ahead of schedule, he would be the number one candidate for development and arrest. And he will serve his unserved sentence (5 years) + a new term in addition. I don’t know what decision he made and how his fate turned out, since I went to Donetsk for an exchange, and he was going to Lugansk. And they seated us on different buses. And there were several dozen such doubters.
In addition, 30-40 people were brought in the day before the exchange and were housed separately on the 1st floor. They didn’t even go to the dining room with everyone else and had food brought to their rooms. And they were not afraid that they would escape from the first floor. As it turned out the next day, these were those who agreed in advance to stay in Ukraine. They were even put on a separate bus according to a separate list. Those who were persuaded to stay were also put on another separate bus at the filtration camp. So that on the road, in a company of 20-30 people, they would not be explained in chorus how stupid they would act if they stayed in Ukraine and believed in the integrity of those who promised.
In addition to promises, they also recruited. Or they trusted you. Right at the filtration camp. In each building there were rooms that were closed during the day, and after lights out, security officers came in and snitches and provocateurs began to roam around, and simply those who were going to stay and were building bridges and/or were interested in what guarantees there would be. Perhaps they allowed me to call my relatives.
A couple of people let it slip that they had communicated with their relatives, but when asked where they got the phone and whether it was possible to at least text their parents, they began to mutter something unintelligible. Later I understood why it was so difficult to name the room they were calling from.
In one building it was room 209, and in the other 211. As it turned out, it was easy to calculate them. It was enough to walk around during the day, knock and try to come in. The fact is that the rooms where the people included in the exchange list lived were not locked. Nobody gave out the keys. But in each building one room on the second floor was locked. The SBU officers were on duty there in the evenings.
I also know of cases when this method was used to recruit prisoners - they changed a real article, which theoretically could be tied to politics in order to justify the inclusion of a person in the exchange lists, to a purely political one with confiscation of property, but the property itself was not confiscated. What is the probability that in 2-3 years in Nazi Ukraine the court decision to confiscate property from a “pro-Russian separatist” will not be implemented? A little less than zero.
In fact, they simply leave a hook: if a person upon arrival in the LDPR refuses to knock, the property will be confiscated. A decent person will immediately report this to the Ministry of State Security of the Republic and, in the worst case scenario, simply regard the loss of property as an expense for his freedom. The greedy and stupid little Russian will think that he can hide it.
From a February interview with DPR Commissioner for Human Rights Daria Moroza: “I am more than sure that every second of those who were brought to us as former prisoners signed a cooperation agreement with the SBU. Some admit this immediately when crossing our border. We have no complaints about them. Those who are caught intending to fulfill the obligations given by the SBU are dealt with by the law enforcement agencies of the Donetsk Republic.”
As a result, according to the statement of the Head of the DPR, Alexander Zakharcheko, 15 people out of 165 who came to Donetsk on exchange were soon detained by the DPR Ministry of State Security for cooperation with the SBU.
In addition, SBU officers brought vodka and drugs into the territory of the filtration camp. Either in the form of payment/motivation for informers, or so that informers have a reason to talk to their neighbors in the room/floor/building while drinking vodka, or in order to cast in an unsightly light those who are sent for the exchange.
But even despite all these dirty methods, the SBU was unable to create any significant image for propaganda in the Ukrainian media.
As it turned out just before boarding the bus, many were not given identification documents. Moreover, if a person was actually detained for ideological reasons, and not for calling into the territory of the LDPR or replenishing a mobile account from that territory, then the documents were issued at a minimum. Or they were rendered unusable. Or they didn’t renew it based on age (they didn’t paste in photos at 25/45 years old). Or both at the same time.
For example, having already arrived in Donetsk, I learned that my passport would not be returned to the lawyer, and Judge Chechot A.A. she kept it and said that she would give it to me personally. Moreover, she did not specifically mention this document in the court decision, although this is a violation. She decided to destroy the physical evidence (tablet, phone, USB flash drive and external battery), although only the tablet appeared in the case as “evidence”, and neither the USB flash drive nor the phone contained any information related to the criminal case, not to mention already about the external battery.
However, such petty behavior of the SBU no longer surprised me. Just like the gopnik “squeeze” of English textbooks. They told me that they would give me everything along with my documents when boarding the bus, but in the end it turned out that they left nothing except my expired passport.
But I was even pleased by the fact that my passport was illegally confiscated. The descendants of the ancient Sumerians are very afraid that I might go to Europe and tell and show there the truth about what is happening in “free” and “democratic” Ukraine.
And this suggests that they know that they are wrong, and therefore weak. For there is power in truth!
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