Kathrine Frich
Families of Ukrainian prisoners of war say their desperation for news has made them targets.
Officials and investigators warn that Russia is using relatives of captured soldiers as leverage in a widening campaign of coercion.
A desperate call
Karina Remez knew her husband, Dmytro Remez, 33, had been captured in 2022 while defending Mariupol. For years, she had no verified information about where he was being held.
In February 2025, a man contacted her claiming he had shared a cell with Dmytro and could pass on personal details, the Kyiv Independent reported. The exchanges soon shifted from information to demands.
She was allegedly told to blow up a communications tower and provide the locations of Ukrainian military positions. To pressure her, the callers forced her husband to speak on the phone.
“I heard screams. But I don’t know, maybe it wasn’t him,” Remez told the Kyiv Independent. “I asked them to show me proof that it was really him. They didn’t like me asking questions. They just hung up.”
She refused. As of February 25, 2026, Dmytro remained in Russian captivity, one of nearly 7,000 Ukrainian POWs still detained, according to Ukrainian officials.
A deliberate strategy
Petro Yatsenko, spokesperson for Ukraine’s Coordination Center for the Treatment of Prisoners of War, described the practice as a calculated effort to destabilise Ukraine.
In the early years of the war, he said, families were encouraged to protest against Kyiv by being told the government was failing to secure releases. Over time, the pressure escalated.
“Families are being pressured to set fire to military vehicles, provide air defense system locations, commit acts of sabotage, or, most recently, register Starlink terminals for Russian use,” Yatsenko said.
Earlier this month, after Ukraine and SpaceX moved to restrict Russian access to Starlink, Ukraine’s Security Service issued SMS warnings about attempts to coerce relatives into registering terminals.
Gaps and vulnerabilities
Under the Geneva Conventions, detaining powers must register prisoners and inform the other side of their status. Oksana Kokhan, spokesperson for the International Committee of the Red Cross in Ukraine, told the Kyiv Independent that confirmation can take three to four months.
Delays, errors or a lack of notification leave families searching elsewhere.
Since 2022, relatives have formed online groups sharing names and contact details. Russian-linked Telegram channels have also published prisoner photos, presenting themselves as intermediaries.
“Once contact is established, the pressure begins,” Hanna Naumenko of the Association of Families of Defenders of Azovstal told the outlet.
Escalating coercion
Ukrainian officials say the campaign is coordinated by Russian security services, including the FSB. Yatsenko warned that seemingly minor requests can escalate.
“The tasks seem simple at first… But once a person agrees, they are drawn further,” he said, describing cases where packages containing explosives were allegedly detonated remotely.
A 2026 investigation by “Schema,” the investigative arm of Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty, cited messages indicating cooperation between Russian officials in managing prisoners and exploiting families.
Yatsenko cautioned that cooperation may also endanger detainees. “If a family cooperates, Russia has no incentive to exchange that prisoner. Why would it lose this advantage?” he said.
Remez reported the contact to Ukrainian authorities. Her husband was later sentenced to 18 years in a penal colony in Siberia.
“We send packages and money. We don’t know if they reach him. In his letters, he says they do,” she said.
Sources: Kyiv Independent, ICRC, Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty, Digi24.
