Enforced disappearances. This phenomenon gained scale in Ukraine after 2014, when russia occupied part of our territories.  

Enforced disappearance is the unlawful detention or abduction of a person by state officials who refuse to confirm the fact of deprivation of liberty, do not disclose the whereabouts, and do not allow contact with family or a lawyer. This is a gross violation of international humanitarian law, enabling torture, blackmail, and extrajudicial executions. 

Mykola Shcherbyna. The 21-year-old student at the Kherson Higher Professional Commercial School. He was abducted in November 2022 by russian servicemen right from the house where he was vacationing with friends. He was unjustly and illegally tortured in russian places of detention. He was tortured with electric shocks – it was a routine before taking a shower. He was brutally beaten because he sought medical help for purulent lesions on his legs. 

Andrii Seriozhenko. The 39-year-old merchant marine sailor was preparing for another voyage, but one summer day in late June 2022, occupation security forces broke into his apartment. And then he disappeared for several years. In captivity, he was mistreated and lost weight beyond recognition. Another missing person in the same case was tortured to death. 

Today they are a few years older, but they still remain unjustly in captivity – in unliveable conditions, without necessary medical care and proper nutrition, under constant pressure of cruelty and humiliation. Hundreds of Ukrainian citizens who wanted to live on their land, in their home, are going through this.  

In this article, we highlight the stories of the forcibly disappeared Mykola and Andrii. We cover the mechanism of abductions in the occupied territories of Crimea and the Kherson region, as well as obstacles standing in the way of the truth, and what to do when the dearest people suddenly disappear into the darkness of occupation. 

“My son was severely beaten – just for seeking medical help because his legs were starting to rot. He was beaten so hard that the capillaries in his eyes burst”, – Valentyna Shcherbyna. 

My son was abducted on November 14, 2022, in the village of Novotroitske (Kherson region). russian soldiers broke into the house where he was vacationing with friends, took him away to an unknown destination.

Photo provided by Valentyna Shcherbyna.

There was silence for almost half a year. Only in May 2023 did the aggressor country officially confirm his detention through the International Red Cross. 

From the first days, we turned to wherever we could: the Coordination Headquarters, the Commissioner for Human Rights Dmytro Lubinets, the International Red Cross, the Information Bureau. There were also complaints to the police, and later the case was transferred to the Security Service of Ukraine. 

Only after official confirmation did we start receiving any information. We wrote again and again. Eventually I found out where he was and what his condition was. Now I know more – I know that he is alive, what he dreams about. My mother remained in the occupied territory – in the village of Novotroitske. A few days after my son disappeared, she immediately went to the local “police” and filed a report. But then she was not even allowed on the doorstep. A man came out – apparently one of the workers – and told her: “Don’t come here again. They’ll take you too.”

Then she turned to the FSB, looking for any information, any traces. The police initially said that my son had been detained for a week, then the term was extended to two weeks, then to a month. They promised that they would release him. But no.  

We started contacting various authorities even on the other side, even though we didn’t know exactly where he was being held. We were helped by a lawyer who forwarded the appeal to Moskalkova and other russian structures. I left him my email address – and that’s where the response came to. 

The report from the “police” of the village of Novotroitske stated that my son was detained by the so-called counterintelligence unit called “Rapira”, after which he was taken to the pre-trial detention centre in Simferopol. But they did not specify which one – there were two of them. Son was accused of allegedly passing on the coordinates of russian positions to the Ukrainian military. 

Later, we received confirmation of my son’s detention from the russian Ministry of Defence. In May 2023, his status was officially confirmed by the International Red Cross. And then there was complete silence. We didn’t know where he was, what condition he was in, or whether he was even alive. 

We sent inquiries to both pre-trial detention centres in Simferopol. No response. No one explained anything. Only at the end of 2023 did one of those released from captivity say that he had heard my son’s name and surname in pre-trial detention centre #2 in the city of Kamyshin, Volgograd region. And in March 2025, a guy who was in the same cell as my son wrote to me. He said that in February of that year, my son was severely beaten – just for seeking medical help because his legs were starting to rot. He was beaten so hard that the capillaries in his eyes burst.  

Ukrainian prisoners of war and civilians who have become victims of enforced disappearances are held in the pre-trial detention centre #2 in the city of Kamyshin, Volgograd Region. Those released from captivity testify to extremely harsh conditions of detention: beatings, torture with electric shocks, systematic humiliation, and brutal physical pressure. Medical care is practically non-existent, even when there are serious injuries and illnesses. 

Despite everything, I receive news with each exchange – from other released people, from volunteers: my son is holding on. He is strong.  

Mykola Shcherbyna. Photo provided by Valentyna Shcherbyna.

But his condition is deteriorating. He has lost a lot of weight. The cell he is being held in is damp and mouldy. There was a practice in the pre-trial detention centre in Kamyshin: during the so-called “bath days,” the guard would beat the prisoners with an electric shocker. Everyone went through this. 

Besides, my son hasn’t received a single letter from me. And I’ve written over a hundred. 

The scale of enforced disappearances: Crimea and Kherson region

According to CrimeaSOS, from 2014 until the start of russia’s full-scale invasion on the temporarily occupied peninsula, 44 cases of enforced disappearances were recorded. These people were abducted by the occupying authorities, and nothing was known about their fate for years. 

Since February 2022, with the beginning of a new wave of occupation, the scale of disappearances has increased manifold. Since then, the CrimeaSOS hotline has received over 1,200 calls regarding the disappearance of people in the occupied territories or in combat zones. These appeals concern both civilians and military personnel. 

After processing this mass of information, the organization confirms data on at least 800 civilians who have become victims of enforced disappearances or illegal detentions in the Kherson region and Crimea. 

The practice of abducting civilians is not episodic, but systemic in nature. It cannot be said that it appears only at certain times and then disappears. The largest spike in disappearances was recorded at the beginning of the full-scale invasion in 2022. However, even now, more than three years after the invasion, CrimeaSOS continues to regularly receive new information about abductions and detentions. 

The situation is complicated by the fact that families are afraid to report the abduction of their loved ones. The reasons are not only pressure from the occupying forces, but also a sense of powerlessness: the state’s ability to provide assistance is extremely limited, especially if people continue to be in temporarily occupied territories.  

“When he reached out, I noticed a deep dent in his palm. It was a characteristic mark of torture. Later I was told that he was tortured for a week – beaten with electric shocks” – Tetiana Seriozhenko.

My husband was a civilian. He did not serve in the Armed Forces of Ukraine, and had a “white card” (ed. – certificate of exemption from military service). A merchant marine sailor, an electrical engineer, he was preparing for a voyage. But everything changed. 

At the time of the start of the full-scale invasion, we were in Kherson. The city was under russian occupation and left without government and law enforcement agencies. Looting, chaos, lawlessness began.

My husband is a hunter, he had a registered rifle. Together with other men, they organized themselves to somehow protect their neighbourhoods from looters. It was a kind of municipal guard. He stayed in this initiative for two or three weeks, and then left. 

My husband and I lived in a high-rise building on the eighth floor, but due to constant shelling and danger, we decided to temporarily move in with our sister who lived with her daughter in a private house. On June 29, 2022, my husband went home – he had to feed the cat who remained there.

Andrii and Tetiana Seriozhenko. Photo provided by Tetiana Seriozhenko.

Suddenly I heard a loud crunch of metal – it seemed like something had fallen nearby. I went out into the yard to look, and there was a machine gun right in front of me – the barrel was pointed straight at my face. 

These people climbed over the fence. There were 5 of them. Four of them were dressed in camouflage uniforms without any insignia, wearing balaclavas, only their eyes were visible. One was wearing black clothes, similar to a police uniform, but also without any chevrons. 

They started asking questions: who was I, where was Andrii? They took my phone, as well as the phones of my sister, and my niece. They gave me a few minutes to get dressed. Then, at gunpoint, they took me out of the yard and put me in a white bus. There were license plates, but I didn’t remember them. Unlike other cars that had previously been driven with a “Z” or a “V”, this van had no markings whatsoever. 

Inside, there were armed men on both sides. They brought me to entrance to our house. As I understood it, I was to become a bait for them – if my husband wasn’t home, they would take me away, and when he came home, he would fall into their hands. 

One of them stayed downstairs, near the entrance, and told the rest: “If Andrii runs away, I’ll take him.” The other four went up to the eighth floor with me. I had the keys and opened the front door. As soon as I opened it – before I even had time to unlock the inside lock – I was immediately pushed aside. 

My husband had just gotten out of the shower when they burst into the apartment. They immediately threw him to the floor and began to kick him violently. I was not allowed into the apartment. However, I heard my husband being asked if he had a weapon. He replied that he did – we really had a safe for weapons, everything was officially registered.  

Later, I was taken to the kitchen. Meanwhile, the apartment was being searched. In the end, my husband was taken away. They didn’t say where. All my questions were answered the same: “You’ll find out soon.” They threatened me not to contact anyone, not to post anything on social media. They said it was just a check – there was no need to advertise anything, otherwise it would be worse. None of them ever introduced themselves. No ID. No explanation.

I turned to the occupation police. I wrote a statement. I told everything that has happened. After that, I went to the building of the Court of Appeals, where the so-called “military commandant’s office” was located during the temporary occupation. I also applied there, provided documents. But they answered me: “You have a Ukrainian passport, a Ukrainian SIM card, a Ukrainian mobile connection – we will not call you. If you want to find out something – change your number to a russian one. If something becomes known – we will call you.” 

At the police station, unofficially, the person who took my statement hinted: “Maybe your husband was doing something…” But he wasn’t doing anything illegal. The only thing was that he was in the municipal guard. And this police officer said: they took away Ihor Kolykhaiev, the mayor of Kherson, and he probably had lists of members of the guard. So now the “municipal guard inspection” is underway.

They told me: “Your husband may be beaten for 7-10 days – and then released. It’s just a formality. But now you won’t achieve anything. No one will tell you anything. Just wait – he will be released later.”

On July 1, 2022, they came to my sister’s house again. They brought my phone. They said they could pass my husband a few things. I gave a toothbrush, toothpaste, a T-shirt, and pants. I asked what my husband was accused of, how long he would be held there. They only replied: “You’ll find out.” No details – neither where he was, nor what was wrong with him, or when he would return. 

Time passed, but we still didn’t know anything – neither where exactly the husband was being held, nor what condition he was in. According to rumours, many of our guys were held in several places: in Zone 90, on Perekopska Street, in the former police building, and also in the building at 3 Enerhetykiv Street. 

We went there, took cookies and a bottle of water with us, and tried to pass some kind of a parcel. But the answer was the same: “There’s nothing like that here.” Both on Perekopska Street and on the 90th zone – it was the same everywhere. 

The building at 3 Enerhetykiv Street used to be a detention centre for minors. After the occupation, a torture chamber was set up there. We were told that maybe my husband was there, but he was not allowed any parcels: no food, no water, no clothes. When I asked whether he needed meds, they replied: “Nothing is needed, we have a doctor.” They told us: “If you come again, we will detain you too.”

On July 6, the so-called “detention video” of my husband emerged. It was actively disseminated through all russian public forums, news outlets, and broadcast on television. Even in Kherson, this “news” was distributed in the form of a free newspaper. 

The materials claimed that “dangerous terrorists” had been detained – allegedly participants in the bombing of the so-called “head of the 90th zone” Soboliev – a collaborator who handed over buildings to the occupiers, which they turned into torture chambers. 

The video was staged: a knock on the door, a voice says: “Police, open it!” The man opens it, and they immediately take him away – saying “our client.”

From time to time, I went to feed the cat that stayed in our apartment. And one day I noticed that someone had been coming here: a mess and traces of dirty hands on the beige furniture. This video was probably shot during my absence.   

On August 8, 2022, a white van arrived at my sister’s house. My husband was in it – he was brought in accompanied by two armed men in military uniform, again – without any identifying marks. Husband asked for the keys to our car, said it needed to be “inspected”. And assured me that everything would be fine. 

When he reached out to take the keys, I noticed a deep dent in his palm – as if from a metal spring that had cut right down to the bone. It was definitely not a callus, but a characteristic mark from torture. Later I was told that he was tortured for a week – beaten with electric shocks. 

We asked when they would bring husband back – they replied that “he’ll be home soon”, “don’t worry, it’s just a check”, “they’ll check the car – and then they’ll let him go”. I gave them the keys; they went to the parking lot and took the car. But they never returned my husband. 

And later a video appeared where my husband “confessed to committing a crime.” But it was clear that this was all done under duress: my husband had a visibly broken nose in front of the camera. In the frame, he was sitting and “confessing” that he was the driver during the assassination attempt on Soboliev.

We were allowed to pass parcels for my husband. At first, food only. Clothing, and medicine were strictly prohibited. We went every Tuesday and Thursday and always took underwear, socks, a T-shirt, medicine. But every time we heard the same answer: “Not allowed.” My husband was addicted to vasoconstrictor drops. And closer to September, they suddenly told us: “All items are allowed.” And that time they accepted everything.  

The next time we came was on September 2, 2022. I remember this day very well – I was with my sister. 

We approached the gate and were told: “He is no longer here.” Exactly – without explanation, coldly, abruptly. It was good that my sister was there, she asked: “In what sense – not here?” They answered us: “He was taken away.” They didn’t say where exactly. They just added: “Don’t even come. They’re not keeping him here anymore.” 

We contacted the military commandant’s office again. They told us to come the following day – they said they would find out information. This went on for some time. Later, they reported that he had been taken to Crimea for trial. Allegedly, there would be a hearing there and then he would be sent back. 

We tried to find out at least something: what he was accused of, under what articles, who the investigator was, whether there was a lawyer, who we could contact. But they categorically told us nothing. They just said: “Come back later, maybe something will be known.” No specifics.

Then we lost contact altogether. Kherson was liberated, and after that I started filing reports: about my husband’s disappearance, about the theft of a gun, about the theft of a car. I contacted the investigator who was handling the case. I knew for sure that he was in Crimea by January 10th – at least that’s what we were told. But where exactly – was unknown. 

On January 10, a guy called me – for ethical reasons I won’t say his name or where he’s from, because he’s still not safe. He reported that he was in the same cell as my husband in Simferopol pre-trial detention centre #2.  

We started writing letters to the pre-trial detention centre, the FSB, and the Federal Penitentiary Service. The answer was always the same: “Such a person does not stay here and never has.” The only time I was officially confirmed that my husband has been detained there was in April 2023. A response from the FSB arrived in my email: no names, no surnames, just the phrase “the person is being held without a threat to his life.” This is the only proof I have that my husband is really in their hands. After that, all the letters again had the same answer: “There is no such person here.”

I started looking for a lawyer. There was a lawyer on the Ukrainian side, but he had no legal force in the territory of the russian federation. To apply officially, I needed a lawyer who would legally represent me on that side. 

But another problem arose: in order to have legal grounds, russia had to officially recognize the fact of my husband’s detention. And there was no recognition. And although there is a video of his so-called “confession” that was circulated through the russian media, it doesn’t change anything. In the official responses – again – he was “not there.” 

Some lawyers simply refused to take on the case. Others asked for huge sums of money and offered no guarantees. Only one agreed to help – for a symbolic fee, but he also warned that he could not give any guarantees. He officially applied. I told him everything I knew: that my husband was in pre-trial detention centre #2 in Simferopol – I was 100% sure of this, because many guys who were released confirmed this. 

The lawyer received official permission to see my husband. It was February 1, 2024. But when he arrived at pre-trial detention centre #2, he was given the same answer: “Such a person is not held here and has never been held.” 

Then the lawyer said, “Maybe he was transferred. Let’s check all the pre-trial detention centres in Crimea.” He went around all possible institutions. We even wrote to Chonhar – both there and in other occupied territories. But we received no answers. Complete silence. 

On February 16, 2024, I received a call from a number with the +7 area code. This time I heard my husband’s voice. He said briefly: “Don’t worry, I’m alive. I’m with the investigator now. Listen to the investigator.”

After that, the investigator picked up the phone and said that my application was on his desk, and that he and my husband were currently conducting investigative actions. Then, he said, he or one of his colleagues would contact me. Finally, he warned: “Please do not call or write to this number.”

Our lawyer suggested acting through legal channels: “Give me the number. ” I will contact them as a legal representative.” But I said I couldn’t do it – they made it clear to me that I had no right to share any information so as not to harm my husband. The lawyer replied, “Okay. Then tell them to contact me themselves.” 

I called that number again, but they hung up on me immediately. Then I wrote an SMS – introduced myself, explained the situation, that there was a lawyer and he was ready for official contact. But after that, I was blocked – added to the “black list.” Since then, no one has been in touch with me.  

On April 27, an investigator contacted me. He said that my husband was in the village of Novotroitske, and that on May 3 he would be transferred to Donetsk. He said: “If you want to see him, come.” At that time, I was in Kherson. The lawyer went – ​​he was supposed to meet my husband in person. 

When the lawyer saw him, he didn’t recognize him right away. I showed him photos before – my husband weighed about 90 kg. And at the meeting, sitting in front of him was an exhausted, extremely thin man in a stretched T-shirt that hung on him and jeans that were rolled up several times – they were so big. 

He was taken back in June 2022 wearing just shorts, a T-shirt, and rubber slippers. This is how he spent his first winter – even without socks. Only in March 2023 was he given socks – two left or two right, both with holes.  

Once, a guy was in the cell with him, who was later released. He was wearing a light jacket made of windproof fabric. When the guy was released, he gave his jacket to my husband. 

His shorts just ripped open – literally fell apart. The T-shirt was full of holes, the fabric was so old that it fell apart if someone touched it. One of the prisoners later gave him a pair of oversized jeans – several sizes bigger – because the shorts had simply disappeared. Two years in the same cloths. In this condition, a lawyer saw him.

Photos of Andrii before and after imprisonment. Photos provided by Tetiana Seriozhenko.

On May 3, my husband was transferred to Donetsk. We were told that this was supposedly “for his safety.” Because Novotroitske and Chonhar are the territory of the Kherson region, and the head of the Kherson Department of the Federal Penitentiary Service was the same Soboliev who was previously attempted. He survived and was treated in hospital. And, supposedly, to avoid possible risks, my husband was transferred further away – to Donetsk. 

In Donetsk, he was held in pre-trial detention centre #3. He stayed there until July. The first trial was to take place in July, and it was planned to transfer him to pre-trial detention centre #1 in Rostov-on-Don. But just then, there was an attack on the guards in that detention centre and all transfers were temporarily suspended. 

Despite this, he was transferred in July. The first trial took place on August 6, 2024, in Rostov-on-Don. He was charged with two articles: 

Art. 222 of the criminal code of the russian federation – illegal possession of weapons and explosives; 

Art. 205 of the criminal code of the russian federation – terrorist act (without fatal consequences). 

But later, during the trial, Article 205 was changed to Article 361 of the criminal code of the russian federation – an act of international terrorism, which even provides for life imprisonment.

Their motivation was the following: they believed that Kherson was russian territory (because they held the so-called “referendum” on September 27), and my husband, as a citizen of Ukraine, allegedly committed a terrorist act against a “citizen of the russian federation” (because Soboliev received a russian passport). Thus, they reclassified the case as international terrorism. 

On December 25, 2024, my husband was transferred to pre-trial detention centre #1 in Rostov-on-Don. He ended up in an eight-person cell where 31 people were being held. In such conditions, people slept in turns because there was simply nowhere to lie down at the same time. In addition, from morning to evening, the detained had to stand. 

While my husband was still in the village of Novotroitske, he managed to write a letter. It mentioned that Oleh Pronko was detained with him in the case of the assassination attempt on Soboliev. The guy who was released from pre-trial detention centre #2 contacted me and said that on February 2, 2024, Oleh Pronko and my husband were taken away. This happened the day after our lawyer visited my husband – February 1. 

Both of them were initially transported to the village of Novotroitske, but my husband went to Donetsk alone. In his letter, he wrote that during a night transfer, while walking with the convoy, he did not notice the steps, fell, and spent two weeks in intensive care. He barely survived. It’s good that at least this letter reached us. In turn, Pronko Oleh completely disappeared. I talked to his mother at the time, she didn’t know anything either.  

After my husband was sentenced, official information appeared that Pronko’s case had been closed due to his death. In fact, he was simply tortured to death. 

On May 13, 2025, my husband was sentenced to 17 years in a strict regime colony and a fine of RUB 300,000. The prosecutor demanded 25 years, but our lawyer was able to defend at least that. 

Moreover, at first, at trial, they tried to create a new version of events. Allegedly, my husband was not detained in 2022, but only in February 2024. According to their version, either he surrendered himself or was detained. They couldn’t admit that they had been holding him secretly for almost two years, so they made up a story: he was allegedly released in October 2022, and then he was homeless in Kakhovka for two years, without contacting his family. 

This is absurd. I know for sure that he was in pre-trial detention centre #2 in Simferopol all this time. I wrote letters, and although everyone officially replied, “There is no such person here,” the only confirmation was from the FSB – a letter to my email: “the person is being held without a threat to his life.” 

This message was the key evidence that allowed the two years of imprisonment to be counted.  

When they finally allowed me to pass parcels, I thought that after such a fast, starting in the fall, his body would recover at least a little. However, he only took a spoonful of condensed milk, and immediately said: “My stomach is aching, I’m having cramps, I can’t straighten up.” 

When he was transferred, he had problems with his stomach or intestines. Because as soon as he was transported to Crimea, he was yellow, as if his liver was failing. We were allowed to pass on the liver drug. 

We were allowed to hand over painkillers for the tooth, some anti-inflammatory eye drops. That’s a good thing. Because, for example, in Rostov, we weren’t even allowed to pass a valerian. The conditions there (in Rostov) are terrible. Men are sitting in the basement, the parcels are stored in the corridor, where rats are gnawing at them. Parcels lay there for weeks. People crawl to them on all fours to take something. They (ed. – guards) pour food on the floor and say, “Here’s a parcel for you – eat it.” 

Sometimes they don’t give the parcels at all. They say, “sign for it”, but no one sees the parcels themselves. It all depends on the shift. They don’t consider prisoners to be people there. Complete disrespect.  

We have now filed an appeal. Husband was transferred to pre-trial detention centre #3 in Novocherkassk, where he is awaiting consideration of the case in the appeal court. 

Who is most often the victim of enforced disappearances? 

Victims of enforced disappearances are not only activists or people who openly demonstrate a pro-Ukrainian stance. Anyone who tries to preserve Ukrainian identity even in a non-public way is at risk. It is enough to be subscribed to pro-Ukrainian Telegram channels and this can be the reason for the abduction. 

Former military personnel, law enforcement officers, and intelligence officers also become victims of enforced disappearances. Random people end up on the list of missing people – those who ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. For example, during filtration measures or so-called “anti-terrorist operations” by the occupation forces. 

In the Kherson region, numerous cases of abductions of citizens who simply expressed disagreement with the occupation in everyday life or in private conversations have been recorded. Such people can not only be abducted, but also forcibly deported from the temporarily occupied territory of Ukraine to the territory of the russian federation.  

No specific ethnic bias has been noticed. Moreover, sometimes even people with pro-russian views become victims of abductions. 

However, there is another disturbing trend – an increase in the number of abducted women both in the temporarily occupied Kherson region and in Crimea. This may indicate a new wave of repression, which has yet to be investigated in more detail. 

From Crimea to Kherson Region: how the practice of enforced disappearances evolved 

In 2014, after the occupation of Crimea, enforced disappearances became a tool to intimidate the local population and suppress resistance. The victims were mostly activists, journalists, and representatives of the Crimean Tatar people – those who publicly opposed the russian occupation. The main goal was to silence and sow fear. 

After February 24, 2022, with the beginning of the full-scale invasion of the russian federation, the scale and motives of the abductions expanded significantly. Not only those who expressed resistance began to disappear, but also people who could potentially pose a threat to the occupation regime: veterans, former military personnel, law enforcement officers – everyone who had the experience necessary to organize resistance cells or a partisan movement. 

In addition, economic motives were added. Business representatives or company managers were abducted to force them to cooperate and secure the support of the occupation authorities. Other cases had signs of ransom demands, if the kidnappers knew about the financial capabilities of the victim or their family. 

Such cases were recorded mainly at the beginning of a full-scale invasion. At that time, abductions were much more chaotic, and control over the detention of people was weak, which created the opportunity for such a scenario to occur.  

Today, such situations are almost non-existent. The detention system has become more rigid and controlled, and the ransom messages that do occasionally reach families are mostly fraudulent schemes. 

Another common goal is to use influential people for propaganda purposes. Through intimidation or coercion, torture and blackmail, they were forced to become mouthpieces for russian propaganda. 

Have abductions become more centralized and professional, or have they remained chaotic? If we compare the situation at the beginning of the full-scale invasion in 2022 and now, in 2025, we can speak of a clear evolution of this practice. In 2022, abductions were mostly spontaneous: they were carried out by different units without coordinated actions, often without any “official” reasons. This created chaos and led to a large number of civilian casualties. 

Now, the process has become more centralized and controlled. The vast majority of enforced disappearances are coordinated by the FSB, indicating a shift to a systemic tool of repression. This does not reduce the danger – on the contrary, it speaks of a well-thought-out policy of terror aimed at suppressing any resistance. 

How the status of a missing person changes: from “forcibly disappeared” to political prisoner?

After abduction, a person is usually held in complete isolation – in what is known as incommunicado status. This means that the person is deprived of any contact with the outside world, relatives, or a lawyer. In this state, detention can last for months, and in some cases, years. This period allows the occupation structures to use torture, psychological pressure, and blackmail with impunity. 

If a person is forced to sign a “confession” or other documents that supposedly legalize the detention, the person then becomes the accused. He/she is usually transferred from basements or “closed” detention centres to official institutions. The fabrication of a criminal case begins. 

It is after this moment that russia actually admits that it is holding a person captive. And then legal and human rights recognition of the status of a political prisoner or victim of politically motivated persecution becomes possible. In the worst cases, if the death of a person during detention is confirmed, we can talk about a victim of extrajudicial execution. 

There are many cases where victims were still able to be released after being forcibly disappeared. It is difficult to determine the exact criteria that contributed to this – however, general observations allow us to identify several patterns. 

Most often, these were people detained by chance: they did not have information that could interest the occupation structures. In most cases, even under pressure, they did not sign any “confessions” or documents that could form the basis of a fabricated criminal case. 

There are also known cases where one person was abducted twice or even more times. And each time the probability of release became smaller – each subsequent arrest reduced the person’s chances of release.  

As for exchanges, until recently, civilians were released extremely rarely – as an “appendix” to prisoners of war, and in small numbers. There is still no systematic practice of returning illegally detained civilians. 

Why is the place of detention of missing persons being changed? 

The transfer of illegally detained persons occurs for several reasons – and they all have one goal: to isolate the person as cruelly as possible. One of the main reasons is to make the search more difficult for relatives and human rights activists. Often, the place of detention is changed repeatedly to create an impression of complete hopelessness in the victims, increase psychological pressure and break them emotionally. This occurs in parallel with the use of torture and inhumane treatment. 

In cases where a person has already been convicted on trumped-up charges, transfer to colonies in remote regions (for example, to the Rostov region or even further) becomes another method of punishment. The inability to see relatives and receive their support can be seen as a special additional pressure on victims.  

What assistance does CrimeaSOS provide to families of missing persons and what should a person do in the first days after disappearance? 

CrimeaSOS mainly provides advisory support to the families of the missing, as most of them do not know how to act in such an extremely difficult situation. The most important thing is to record all the circumstances of the abduction in as much detail as possible. If immediate relatives did not witness the event, one needs to talk to eyewitnesses who may know something or saw the moment of disappearance. 

After that, it is necessary to contact the coordination headquarters for prisoner issues and Ukrainian law enforcement agencies to record the fact of the crime. It is also important to try to establish the location of the abducted person, their status, the reasons for their detention, and if possible, to involve a lawyer. This would help not only to legally protect the victim, but also to check his/her physical condition. 

It is also necessary to contact the Office of the Verkhovna Rada Commissioner for Human Rights and submit an application to the Commission under the Ministry for Communities and Territories Development to officially establish the fact of deprivation of liberty as a result of armed aggression against Ukraine. The right actions in the first days after a disappearance significantly increase the chances of finding and subsequently bringing the perpetrators to justice. 

Today, hundreds of people still remain in the status of forcibly disappeared – held in isolation, subjected to torture, and deprived of legal protection. Families of victims need support and clear instructions on what to do immediately after the disappearance of their loved ones to preserve the chances of their release and the prosecution of those responsible. Awareness of these processes and dissemination of information are crucial to combating this crime and protecting human rights in wartime.