Families missing Ukraine’s fear will not bring them home

Tatyana Popovytch contacted every agency she could come up with. She went every step when her son Vladislav could take after the Russians opened the fire in their car, leaving him to run a bullet. She looked in mass graves, examined photos of the dead, watched exhumation. And a month later she knew no more than when she started.

Then the stranger called.

Serchi had just been released from a Russian prison in Kursk. On the morning call, the prisoners could not see each other, but they could hear how everyone declares their full name and their native village. Serchia remembered as many names and places as possible – a total of 10 – and on May 9, 2022, he called Tatiana to say that he had heard her son’s voice.

Like Vladislav, Sergius was a civilian, captured from Bucha at the beginning of the war when hundreds of civilians were taken from the area. Vladislav at the time was 29. Now he was still in prison in Kursk. Sergius could not explain Taniana why he was released, and Vladislav did not. Tatiana was just glad to hear her son alive. “I was so joyful that I had lost the stutter I had ever since,” she said.

Three years later, before the day, Tatiana sat in a cafe in Bucha, near where her son was abducted, looking at the miserable evidence that he was still alive: two letters from him are short, the boiler texts, written in Russian, saying that he was well fed and looked after. Each letter took about three months to get to Tatiana, which makes it difficult for her to feel very related to her son at any time.

“My son is very gentle and sensitive,” she said with a painful expression of parents who cannot protect her child. She looked at the photos of ballroom dancing power – a hobby from a young age. “He’s so vulnerable,” she said. “I worry that he will lose his prudence there.”

According to the Ukrainian authorities, almost 16,000 civilian Ukrainians are still in captivity in Russian prisons after the abduction of the army, not counting more than 20,000 Ukrainian children who were estimated to be taken to Russia.

Now the fears of many thousands of loved ones are growing, against the backdrop of obvious progress against peaceful negotiations that they can be forgotten or lost in the process. And these fears seem to be justified.

In accordance with the Geneva Convention, there is a recognized mechanism for the exchange of prisoners of war, but such a mechanism does not exist to return the captured civilians, leaving even top Ukrainian and international officials seeking explanation how they can lead home.

“When I attend official meetings, at the Ombudsman office or elsewhere, no one speaks about the return of civilians in case of ceasefire,” said Julia Khizpun, 23, whose father was stolen from the village from the village to the west of Kiev.

In a few weeks, upon learning of her father’s captivity, Julia used Facebook to contact another daughter of a prison Ukrainian, and the couple has launched a new organization to produce all civilians.

The group met representatives of the UN, the European Parliament, the governments of several EU countries and the US Embassy in Ukraine.

“We talked to them, but came down to the fact that they frankly do not understand what it would happen,” Julia said, meeting the Americans.

“The only thing they said is that Trump is interested in the issue of deported children and perhaps civilians can somehow fit into this category. But they are actually different categories that cannot be merged.”

Anxious for Julia and other relatives of the seized civilians, the main Ukrainian officials are not pretending to be a stronger idea.

“I do not see a real, effective approach to the return of civilian detainees to Ukraine,” said DMYTRO LUBINETS, Ambudsman of Human Rights in the country. “We do not have the legal basis and the mechanisms for their return,” he said honestly.

The further complication of the problem is that Russia aligns the criminal case against some of those who are captured during the invasion.

“And if you see these accusations, it is often” actions against a special military operation, “Lubiniets said.” Can you imagine the opening of an investigation into a Ukrainian civilian for simple counteraction to the invasion of the Russian army in the Ukrainian territory? “

In May, Russia released 120 civilian detainees as part of a larger swap of prisoners of war, and further exchanges are expected. But the figures are still disappearing compared to the tens of thousands that were confiscated – adults and children. And great uncertainty remains through the path to negotiating peace.

“You want to believe that he is returning home at the same time you can’t believe it,” said Peter Sredda, 61, a bus from Irpan, near Kiev, whose son Artim was captured more than three years ago. “It’s extremely difficult.”

Peter and his wife live in a temporary placement of a container in Irpin because their home was destroyed in the invasion. Even three years, every time the phone is ringing, Peter thinks it can be Arty.

“It’s one thing to have a letter that he says he is alive but hearing his voice … It would be the joy he is really alive.”

Families live so in desperate hope. The dream is that they see their loved ones again. But this is not a simple dream – some are afraid that the Russian captivity caused a strong damage.

Tatsyana, whose son, who danced in the ballroom of Vladislav, was abducted from Buch, said she shuddered when he heard Russian, “because it was the language in which my son was skating.”

There is also a question that has missed. During Vladislav’s detention, his father unexpectedly died at only 50, carries the well of guilt that he could not protect his son.

All that Tatyana can do is to prepare for Vladislav’s return. She hoped “to feel all possible emotions,” she said. “That’s all I think. All the time, every day.”

Darius Mitiuk contributed to this report. Photos by Joel Hannera