Today at 14:18
After more than three years in Russian captivity, former Kherson mayor Volodymyr Mykolayenko has finally returned home. Detained soon after Russian troops occupied the city in early 2022, he spent most of his imprisonment in a penal colony in Russia’s Vladimir region, enduring years without official status as a civilian hostage. Now, speaking just two weeks after his release on Ukraine’s Independence Day, the 65-year-old recalls the brutal conditions of detention, the psychological torment inflicted on younger prisoners, and the unbroken spirit of Kherson residents who resisted the occupation. His story is not only a personal testament to resilience but also a stark reminder of the many Ukrainians who remain unlawfully held in Russian prisons.
“I still cannot comprehend that I am truly free.”
Two weeks after his release from Russian captivity, Volodymyr Mykolaenko, former mayor of Kherson, quietly observes the busy street outside a Kyiv hospital fence. “I still cannot comprehend that I am truly free,” he says.
Mykolaenko returned to Ukraine on 24 August 2025 – Independence Day – after three and a half years in Russian captivity, most of that time in Penal Colony No. 7 in Pakino, Vladimir region.
Witnessing the suffering of others
One memory weighs heavily: in the transit cell before the exchange he met a young Ukrainian soldier with severe psychological trauma.
“If I could choose, I would say: ‘Take Dmytro and that boy instead of me.
He still has a chance to recover through rehabilitation and medication.
We could save this child. But sadly, he stayed there.
It is exactly these children we must care about… because there they are killed both physically and morally. That is what hurts.”
Another cellmate – a soldier “in love with life” – died during transport for exchange. Russian officials claimed he perished when a Ukrainian missile downed an Il-76 aircraft in January 2024, but the circumstances remain unverified.
The value of freedom
Mykolaenko now speaks of freedom as the highest treasure:
“For some people freedom is just a phantom.
They think the main thing is to have sausage or bread in the fridge.
But if your freedom is taken, you will have neither sausage nor bread—nothing.
Value your freedom.”
Kherson under occupation
Born and raised in Kherson, Mykolaenko was the city’s elected mayor from 2014 to 2020 and a long-time city council deputy. Even during occupation, he publicly rejected Russian narratives.
In March 2022, when thousands of unarmed residents rallied against Russian troops, he led one of the first protests. On the first days of invasion he joined the city’s Territorial Defence, recalling that so many volunteers came that military offices eventually closed their gates.
But he also remembers bitter disappointments:
- Russian forces advanced swiftly because roads were not mined despite official assurances.
- Key local branches of SBU, police, prosecutors and emergency services left the city before the enemy entered.
- Only the volunteer Territorial Defence, commanded by career officers but short of resources, tried to block Russian columns.
“Kherson was left without those who should have defended it,” he says.
“Among those who truly stood up to defend the city, I saw only patrol policemen.”
“Either cooperation or the pit”
When Russian troops entered the city, local collaborator Kyrylo Stremousov phoned, offering Mykolaenko a position in the occupation administration. Refusal meant “the pit” – Russian-run prisons.
He refused. Soon after, FSB agents lured him to a meeting and arrested him, accusing him of obstructing the Russian advance.
“They thought they came forever.
They told me: ‘Publicly recognize the new authorities or go to a prison you will never leave.
If you disagree, your family will suffer.’
At that time a foster child lived with my family—I feared for him.”
Thus began his three and a half years of captivity, during which he, as a civilian, had no legal status.
Russian human rights commissioner Tatyana Moskalkova’s inspectors demanded that civilian captives present themselves as soldiers.
“Operatives told us: ‘You are not civilians, you are military. You know what you must answer.’”
Civilians as hostages
Ukraine has verified over 2,500 civilians held in Russian captivity; rights groups believe the real number is far higher.
“In every cell I saw civilians.
This is terrorism—taking as many hostages as possible.
It is easier to grab someone in a market and imprison them ‘for clarification’ than to capture an armed soldier,” Mykolaenko explains.
“A simple example: Oleksandr Fanagey went to collect firewood in Zaporizhzhia region.
They decided he was an artillery spotter. He has already spent three and a half years in prison.”
Looking ahead
Now free, Mykolaenko intends to support campaigns for prisoners and their families and to return to Kherson—a city wounded by bombs, rockets and drones.
“They sent me a video of the city as it is now. It’s horrifying.
As soon as doctors allow, I will go there.
We will rebuild it—and if needed, defend it again.”
After everything he endured, one truth remains for him:
“The main thing is to have your loved ones close.
Everything else can be repaired, overcome or changed.”
