Jailers and officials at Russia’s ‘torture prisons’ in Ukraine exposed by BBC

The Hidden System of Abuse

Jailers and officials at Russia s torture – A BBC World Service investigation has uncovered a grim reality within Russia’s detention system in occupied parts of Ukraine, revealing the identities of individuals responsible for severe mistreatment of civilians. Among those exposed is Yurii Temerbek, a former Ukrainian traffic policeman who later joined Russian-backed separatists. Temerbek, now 56, is described by survivors as a key figure in the system that has subjected countless detainees to brutality under the guise of “justice.”

A Personal Account of Suffering

Liudmyla Huseinova, a 64-year-old safety engineer, recounts the harrowing experience of her first days in the Izolyatsia detention center. “I have never heard such terrible screams before,” she says, describing the chilling sounds that echoed through the facility. Her story began in early October 2019, when a group of men stormed her home, seizing her belongings and dragging her into a car. “They threw me into the back seat,” she recalls, “and my life became a nightmare.” The incident marked the start of her ordeal in a system that operates with little oversight.

“For three years and 13 days of my life, my soul and body were crippled,” Liudmyla says, her voice heavy with memory.

The System Behind the Screams

The prisons these individuals helped run have become synonymous with fear. Izolyatsia, once a factory turned modern art gallery, was seized by Russian-backed forces and transformed into a place of torment. Survivors describe a regime of relentless physical and psychological abuse, including beatings, electric shocks, and mock executions. “They forced us to stand for 16 hours straight, from 6 a.m. to 10 p.m.,” Liudmyla explains, adding that the facility was lit with bright lights at night to keep detainees in a state of perpetual anxiety.

Liudmyla claims she was targeted after sharing a photograph of a Ukrainian flag given to her by Ukrainian forces. “This was probably why they arrested me,” she says, believing the image reached Russian-backed groups. The flag, inscribed with notes of gratitude, became a symbol of her connection to the Ukrainian resistance, which she had supported by caring for orphans and delivering supplies during the occupation.

Abuse Beyond the Occupation

The abuse extends beyond the current conflict. Ukrainian authorities allege that over 16,000 civilians have been captured or disappeared since Russia’s annexation of Crimea in 2014 and its occupation of eastern Ukraine. Some of these cases emerged after the full-scale invasion in 2022, while others date back to the early days of Russian control. The system, which operates largely out of reach of Ukrainian and international justice, has been characterized by arbitrary detentions and families left in the dark about their loved ones’ fates.

According to the UN’s human rights office (OHCHR), the torture and ill-treatment of civilians in these facilities are described as “systematic and widespread.” Former detainees have detailed how they were subjected to beatings, electric shocks, and sexual violence. Liudmyla’s account of being sexually assaulted by a man called “Koval” on the second floor of Izolyatsia aligns with these reports. She says Temerbek, who was present during the attack, “was being sarcastic… laughing” as the assault unfolded.

The Men Behind the Abuse

The BBC investigation has identified Temerbek and two other men accused of abusing detainees, shedding light on their roles within the system. Temerbek, once a respected local police officer, is now seen as a symbol of the corruption that has taken root under Russian influence. Ukrainian authorities claim he worked for the Ministry of State Security (MGB) of the Donetsk People’s Republic (DPR), a pro-Russian entity that governs parts of eastern Ukraine. His name, Liudmyla says, appeared on a document she saw during her detention, linking him to the regime that targeted her.

Temerbek is pictured in a traffic police uniform in a 2013 social media post, highlighting his previous position. Today, he lives a seemingly ordinary life with his family in Russia and occupied Ukraine, according to survivors. For them, revealing his identity is a crucial step toward accountability. “If the men I accuse aren’t found and imprisoned,” Liudmyla says, “then justice for me will be their names as criminals and torturers known to their children.”

International Response and Denial

The Kremlin has criticized the UN’s findings, calling them biased. In May of this year, the UN added Russia to its list of countries suspected of committing sexual violence in conflict zones, a move Russia dismissed as “groundless lies.” Despite these denials, the evidence gathered by the BBC and other organizations suggests a pattern of abuse that has persisted for years.

Liudmyla’s story is part of a broader narrative of civilian suffering. During the occupation of Novoazovsk, a city in the Donetsk region near the Russian border, she worked as a safety engineer on a poultry farm. She helped care for orphans and supported Ukrainian forces, which led to her capture. The Russian-backed groups, she believes, targeted her for her ties to the resistance. Her experience at Izolyatsia, where she was subjected to verbal and physical abuse, underscores the brutality that has become a tool of control in occupied territories.

A Legacy of Fear

The system’s reach has been felt across Ukraine, with detainees often stripped of their rights and subjected to relentless interrogation. Liudmyla’s account of being called “too old for boys who come for ‘relaxation'” by Koval highlights the dehumanizing nature of the process. Survivors describe how the detention centers function as both prisons and psychological weapons, instilling terror in communities under occupation.

The BBC’s findings have reignited discussions about the scale of Russia’s actions in Ukraine. While the Kremlin insists the abuse is a “groundless lie,” the testimonies of individuals like Liudmyla provide a firsthand look at the suffering inflicted by those in power. For her, the struggle for justice is not just about her own fate but about ensuring that the names of those who caused her pain are etched into history. “Their names as criminals and torturers will be known to their children,” she says, a poignant reminder of the enduring impact of this hidden system.

Voices of the Disappeared

Liudmyla’s story is one of many that paint a vivid picture of the torture prisons’ operations. Survivors speak of being forced to endure prolonged periods of standing, being stripped of their clothing, and facing sexual assault without warning. The lack of transparency in the system means that many detainees are never able to tell their full story, leaving their families to piece together the truth from fragments.

As the conflict continues, the question remains: how will the world hold these individuals accountable? With the BBC’s investigation exposing key figures, the pressure on international bodies to act grows. Liudmyla’s words echo the determination of those who have survived, urging recognition of the suffering and a commitment to justice. “Their names as criminals and torturers will be known to their children,” she repeats, a call to remember the past and confront the present.