103 Ukrainian Servicemen Return From Russian Captivity. Inside Russia’s System of Torture

On August 19, Ukraine and Russia conducted another stage of a prisoner exchange. A total of 103 Ukrainian defenders returned home, including servicemen from the Armed Forces of Ukraine, the National Guard and the State Border Guard Service. Most had spent a considerable period in Russian captivity, while some returned with injuries and serious health problems. After their return, they will receive medical treatment and undergo rehabilitation.

But the latest release once again demonstrated how unevenly Russia is implementing the agreements on exchanges. Among the 103 released prisoners were no defenders of Mariupol from the National Guard or members of the Azov regiment, many of whom have remained in Russian captivity since 2022. Some have already been transferred from the status of prisoners of war into Russia’s criminal justice system, accused of terrorism and sentenced to lengthy or life terms.

The August 19 exchange was part of the agreements reached between Ukraine and Russia during negotiations in Istanbul. The two sides agreed on a large-scale exchange under the “1,000 for 1,000” formula, after which several stages of the process began, returning Ukrainian servicemen and civilians. Yet the agreement did not create a mechanism capable of forcing Russia to publish a complete list of Ukrainians it holds, provide international access to every detention facility, or guarantee that those who have spent the longest in captivity or are in the most critical condition would be included in the next exchange.

As a result, every new stage brings hundreds of people home while thousands more remain behind Russian prison walls. For their families, this means continued uncertainty, no clear timetable and often no reliable information about where their relatives are being held — or even whether Russia officially acknowledges their detention.

One of the Released Servicemen Had Been Held Since 2017

Among those who returned on August 19 was a Ukrainian defender who said after arriving home that he had been in Russian captivity since 2017. His story is particularly significant against the backdrop of the current exchanges: for some Ukrainians, captivity is not measured in months since the full-scale invasion, but in years spent inside Russia’s detention system.

After his release, the serviceman spoke about the emotions of returning home and seeing Ukraine again after years away. Such stories matter for more than their personal drama. They demonstrate just how long Russian captivity can last and how little families may know about the lives of their relatives during that time.

Other servicemen released on August 19 also spoke about years of isolation, life inside cells, limited information about the outside world and the constant expectation of an exchange. For many, returning home was their first experience in years of receiving proper medical care, moving freely and speaking to their families without restrictions.

Yet behind each of these stories is another story — that of someone who shared the same prison with them but was not included on the latest list of those released.

Russian Captivity Follows a Repeated Pattern

The stories of former prisoners differ in detail, but the methods used against them are strikingly similar. People captured in different regions and at different stages of the war were held in different facilities and interrogated by different representatives of Russian security structures. Yet independently of one another, they describe beatings, electric shocks, suffocation, prolonged sleep deprivation, starvation, forced physical exertion and denial of medical treatment.

Violence often begins immediately after capture. Former prisoners have described the first beatings as a form of “welcome”, intended to make clear that they had completely lost control over their own lives. During interrogations, physical torture is combined with threats of execution, sexual violence, humiliation and threats against family members.

Such testimony has been documented not only by Ukrainian journalists and human rights organisations. UN monitoring structures and international human rights organisations have also recorded torture of Ukrainian prisoners of war and civilians in multiple detention facilities. Their findings include the use of electric shocks, severe beatings, mock executions, sexual violence, prolonged isolation and denial of medical care.

The repetition of these practices is one of the most significant aspects of the evidence. When the same methods are used against people who have never met and who were held in different facilities, it becomes increasingly difficult to explain them as the behaviour of individual guards. Testimonies from former prisoners point instead to a system in which violence is embedded in the mechanism of detention itself.

Taganrog Became a Symbol of the Torture System

One of the best-known detention sites for Ukrainians is the pre-trial detention centre in Taganrog. Ukrainian journalists and human rights defenders have collected testimonies from people held there at different times and found striking similarities in their experiences. Former detainees described beatings upon arrival, electric shocks during interrogations, starvation, humiliation and threats.

Some former prisoners said they could hear other detainees screaming while being tortured in neighbouring rooms. This created a permanent sense of fear: even when someone was not being interrogated, they knew that violence could begin at any moment. Psychological pressure therefore became inseparable from physical abuse.

Taganrog is significant because it is not an underground facility with no formal status. The detention centre is part of Russia’s penitentiary system, meaning that the question of responsibility extends far beyond individual guards. If the same methods of torture are systematically used inside an official state institution, questions inevitably arise about who knew about these practices, who authorised them and why they were allowed to continue.

Viktoriia Roshchyna Showed How Civilian Captivity Works

The case of Ukrainian journalist Viktoriia Roshchyna became one of the best-known examples showing that Russia’s detention system targets civilians as well as military personnel. Roshchyna disappeared in August 2023 while attempting to reach Russian-occupied territory in Zaporizhzhia oblast for journalistic work. Her family did not know where she was for a prolonged period, while confirmation of her detention by Russia came only later.

In October 2024, Russia informed Ukraine that the journalist had died in detention. After her body was returned, Ukrainian investigators reported signs of a violent death and possible evidence of torture. Testimonies from former detainees gathered by international journalists also described Roshchyna as severely emaciated and physically weakened while held at the Taganrog detention centre.

Her case revealed another fundamental problem: enforced disappearances. A person can be under the control of the Russian state while their whereabouts remain undisclosed to their family for months. They may have no meaningful access to a lawyer, an independent doctor or an international monitor, while relatives cannot even verify whether the person is alive.

For Azov, Captivity Has Become Long-Term Imprisonment

For the defenders of Mariupol, the situation has another dimension. After leaving the Azovstal plant, Ukrainian servicemen were transferred to Russia under agreements that provided for their eventual exchange. Moscow, however, gradually began moving some of the defenders from the category of prisoners of war into Russia’s criminal justice system.

Russia designated Azov as a terrorist organisation and subsequently began holding trials against its members. Servicemen who participated in the defence of Mariupol have been prosecuted under Russian criminal law and sentenced to lengthy or life terms. Some have been transferred to penal colonies in remote parts of Russia.

Russian human rights defender Olga Romanova, director of the Russia Behind Bars Foundation, has repeatedly described the conditions in which Ukrainians are held within Russia’s penitentiary system. She has said Ukrainian prisoners can be forcibly transferred to high-security penal colonies, where they face beatings and other forms of abuse.

This is why the absence of Azov fighters from the August 19 release cannot be viewed merely as another failure of an individual exchange. For many of them, captivity has already lasted more than four years, while some have effectively been absorbed into a system in which Russia is attempting to legally institutionalise their imprisonment instead of applying the rules governing prisoners of war.

Incommunicado Detention Makes Captivity Almost Invisible

Torture is only one part of the problem. Another is the system of isolation that makes it extraordinarily difficult to obtain information about where Ukrainians are being held.

Russia does not publish a complete and transparent list of Ukrainian prisoners of war in its custody. The situation is even more complicated for civilians. Moscow often refuses to recognise them as prisoners of war and may process people detained in occupied territories as suspects in criminal cases without informing their families of their actual location.

For families, this can mean months or years of uncertainty. A person can be transferred from one detention centre to another, moved to a penal colony in a different region or sentenced by a Russian court while relatives receive no reliable information. Sometimes a former prisoner becomes the first source confirming that a particular person is still alive.

This incommunicado system is not simply the result of bureaucracy. The absence of information makes international monitoring, legal representation and negotiations over exchanges more difficult. A person whose detention Russia refuses to acknowledge effectively becomes less visible to every available protection mechanism.

The Red Cross Cannot Access All Prisoners

The International Committee of the Red Cross has the right to visit prisoners of war under the Geneva Conventions. Yet the organisation does not have full access to all Ukrainian prisoners of war held by Russia. The ICRC can negotiate with Russian authorities and demand access, but it has no means of physically forcing Moscow to open a particular penal colony or detention centre.

This is one of the greatest weaknesses in the international system for protecting prisoners of war. International humanitarian law provides monitoring mechanisms, but they depend on a state allowing international representatives to enter its facilities. When Russia refuses access, international organisations are effectively left outside the prison gates.

For families, the consequences are concrete. Without access by the Red Cross, it is impossible to independently verify a prisoner’s health, detention conditions or presence in a particular facility. This is why securing ICRC access to all Ukrainian prisoners of war remains one of the central demands.

Civilians Also Face a System of Violence

Testimonies from released civilian detainees show that Russian captivity is not limited to the physical abuse of military personnel. Civilians have described electric shocks, starvation, threats of sexual violence, forced stripping during interrogations and threats against their children. Others have described being forced to listen to the screams of people being tortured in neighbouring rooms.

Sexual violence, or the threat of it, becomes a separate instrument of control. Its purpose is not only to cause physical harm but also to create long-term psychological fear, forcing detainees to comply with interrogators’ demands.

For civilians, the problem is compounded by the absence of a clear legal status. A prisoner of war is protected under the Geneva Conventions, while a civilian detained in occupied territory can remain in a legal grey zone for years. Russia may refuse to recognise the person as a hostage while simultaneously withholding transparent information about their whereabouts and conditions.

The Consequences of Captivity Continue After Release

Returning home does not mean that the consequences of captivity immediately disappear. Former prisoners of war often return suffering from prolonged starvation, untreated injuries, beatings and psychological abuse. Some experience problems with sleep, hearing, memory and the nervous system, while recovery can take years.

But one of the most difficult aspects of rehabilitation is knowing that others have been left behind. A person leaves a penal colony, meets their family and receives medical care, only to realise that the fellow prisoner who shared a cell with them for months or years is still in Russia.

That is why the testimony of released prisoners matters far beyond their personal stories. It can provide information about those who remain behind, the locations where prisoners are held, transfer routes and the methods used against them. For human rights investigators, each testimony can become part of a broader body of evidence for future prosecutions.

The Exchange Does Not End the Question of Accountability

Every exchange also creates a new source of evidence about how Russia’s detention system operates. Those who return bring not only personal stories but information about detention sites, transfer routes, the structure of Russia’s penitentiary system and the people involved in interrogations and torture. Such testimony can form part of future criminal cases if it is properly documented and cross-referenced with other evidence.

This is where the issue of captivity moves beyond negotiations over the next exchange. If the same person can spend years in isolation, be transferred from a pre-trial detention centre to a penal colony, receive a Russian sentence and remain inaccessible to international observers, the problem is no longer simply about when that person will be released. It is about a system that allows a state to conceal people’s fate, control information about them and effectively prevent independent oversight.

For Ukraine, this means preserving every testimony from released prisoners as part of a wider evidentiary record. For international institutions, it means pursuing not only prisoner exchanges but access to detention facilities, complete lists of prisoners and civilian detainees, and independent verification of their condition. And for Russia, the question of responsibility will become increasingly difficult to dismiss as a collection of “isolated incidents”: the more people return and describe the same practices, the harder it becomes to portray them as the actions of individual guards.