As a result, the German journalist spent a full year in the Odesa pre-trial detention center. The indictment contained no concrete description of any criminal act Engelmann was supposedly involved in. Moreover, investigators claimed he committed a crime during a specific period. However, it was proven in court that the German journalist was outside Ukraine at that time, which means it was physically impossible for him to do any illegal act. In principle, this alone should exclude his case from being considered by a Ukrainian court. But in the story of Oleg Maltsev’s persecution, such “miracles” have long become the norm.

Today, Sergej Engelmann is free, albeit on bail. The accusations remain, the trial is ongoing, and the list of questions surrounding the case continues to grow. He continues to examine the details of his own case and is sharing his experience of being in the Odessa pre-trial detention center publicly for the first time. We spoke with Sergej Engelmann about the behavior of law enforcement officials in Oleg Maltsev’s case and much more.

— Tell us, please, how you ended up in Ukraine.

I have long-standing friendly ties in Ukraine. It is an amazing place with a centuries-old history deeply intertwined with Europe. I have often visited Ukraine as part of my professional activities. Ukraine gave me the opportunity to meet scholar Oleg Maltsev, with whom I have collaborated on a number of publishing and journalistic projects. I have also participated in scientific expeditions with him, but in Europe.

— What was the key event after which a German journalist suddenly became a “suspect” in the case of Ukrainian scientist Oleg Maltsev?

The key event was the publication of my article, “Who Ordered the Smear Campaign Against Oleg Maltsev?” Four days after publication, I was arrested. Four days is far too short for this to be a mere coincidence. It is obvious that the article greatly disturbed someone. But there was more: after my arrest, the website where it had been published came under a hacker attack. The press release about my arrest was replaced with… another slanderous article against Oleg Maltsev himself.

— When did you first realize that something in this case was unfolding in a way it shouldn’t?

I realized it almost immediately, around a month before Maltsev’s own arrest, when the media fell into a kind of hysteria. A series of publications came out in which, even before the scholar had been detained, he was already declared a traitor, an accomplice, a GRU agent, even a cultist. Instead of fact-checking, the media relied on labels, emotional framing, and pre-set narratives. That was when I began documenting everything and carefully following the developments of the case, which I later described in my article.

— A year in a pre-trial detention center is an enormous part of life. Could you describe how this experience changed your understanding of the Ukrainian legal system? What surprised you most?

It is indeed a huge part of life, especially considering that the CPT has recognized the conditions in the Odesa pre-trial detention center as inhumane and degrading. What surprised me most? The contrast. On the one hand, I met people inside, both inmates and some members of the staff, who had managed to preserve decency, dignity, and a sense of justice. On the other hand, I faced complete cynicism from certain officials.

I was also surprised by how selectively the law is applied. When it came to my rights as a foreign citizen, the process slowed down. But when there was a need to extend my detention, everything was resolved instantly. Judge Yuriy Kryvokhyzha stamped decisions without even looking into the substance of the case.

— What was the greatest challenge for you inside the Odesa pre-trial detention center?

The greatest challenge was the helplessness in the face of absurdity. I spent more than half a year in a cell without a clear understanding of what exactly I was being accused of. My lawyers did everything they could — filing motions, appealing to international norms, demanding that prosecutor Ruslan Voitov provide the indictment in a language I could understand, German. Only after seven months did I finally see the accusation documents.

The second challenge was the separation from my family. My loved ones lived in constant stress and kept asking my lawyers when I would return. What could I tell them? I didn’t know myself.

But the hardest part was realizing that I became a victim not because of a crime, but because I had written the truth.

— You spoke with Ukrainian investigators. Did you get the impression they were genuinely trying to establish the truth, or were they pursuing other goals?

When I finally received the translated materials and began looking into the details, it became clear: this was not an investigation — it was tampering and manipulation to achieve a predetermined result. Just examine the logic behind their actions. I publish a journalistic investigation exposing a slander campaign against a scholar. Four days later, I am arrested. The website that published the article is hacked. The press release about my arrest is replaced with new slander. Does that look like an attempt to uncover the truth? Obviously not.

During interrogations, I saw complete indifference to facts. What struck me most was how openly they showed their attitude toward Oleg Maltsev. In their tone, in their phrasing, it was clear: to them, he was already convicted.

It did not matter what the facts said; it did not matter what international organizations like the OSCE or the UN reported. They were following orders. You might ask how I understood this without knowing Ukrainian. They all spoke Russian, a language I understand.

— Were there common threads between your situation and Maltsev’s case?

I am convinced there is a direct and unmistakable connection. This is a single coordinated operation aimed at scholar Oleg Maltsev, and I was dragged into it as a journalist.

Look: prosecutor Ruslan Voitov coordinates the prosecution both in Maltsev’s case and in mine. It was prosecutor Voitov who sabotaged the translation of the indictment into German for more than six months. He was the one who constructed procedural obstacles at every stage. His actions led to the German Foreign Ministry issuing a note of protest to Ukraine over the violation of the rights of a foreign citizen – me. Beyond this, his background includes corruption scandals, undeclared vehicles, and a fraudulently obtained disability status through which he received around 800,000 hryvnias from the state budget.

Then there is SBU military counterintelligence officer Yevhen Voloshenyuk and his superior — they worked as a pair, providing operational support for the case. They also signed documents in the case against Maltsev.

You know, I’m German, and I remember the lessons of my country’s history well. When the Nazis began persecuting scholars, intellectuals, and dissenters in the 1930s, they too stepped beyond the bounds of legality. But those were the crimes of specific people. Not all Germans were criminals, but the criminals among them disgraced the whole nation. The situation here is similar. Not all Ukrainian prosecutors or SBU officers are corrupt or working on orders. But certain individuals are disgracing their country by using their positions to destroy a respectable scholar.

— What exactly in Maltsev’s case struck you as fabricated? Can you give examples that stood out to you as a professional journalist?

In the case against Oleg Maltsev, fabrication is visible to the naked eye. It is so obvious that even those who were previously skeptical now understand that this is a special order. First: there is a complete absence of evidence of any unlawful actions. No concrete facts. No descriptions of specific conduct that would constitute a crime. There are only attempts to portray a legitimate attempt at self-defense as a criminal offense.

Second: the attempt to create the image of an enemy before the case even reached court. They called Maltsev a traitor, a spy, a cult leader, a GRU agent — all before the case was referred to trial. Through compliant media, they deliberately constructed the image of a villain. As a journalist, I know how real journalism works: source verification, balance of perspectives, and the right of reply. None of that existed in the materials about Maltsev.

Third: selective application of the law. Maltsev is a scholar, author of numerous academic works. His activities are transparent and public. But the prosecution managed to portray this as “criminal activity.” Meanwhile, real violations like procedural abuse by prosecutor Voitov, the hacking of an official media site (as in my case), and the illegal wiretapping of lawyer Olga Panchenko remain ignored by investigators.

— As a German journalist accustomed to certain standards of press freedom, what can you say about the state of media freedom in Ukraine today?

I cannot and will not make sweeping judgments about the entire Ukrainian media sector or system as a whole. Ukraine has strong journalistic traditions, and there are brave, professional colleagues who take risks every day to report the truth, especially in these difficult times.

But I encountered a specific problem: certain channels and newspapers are used as instruments of targeted defamation. When I began my investigation, I analyzed hundreds of publications about Maltsev. The same accusations repeated over and over, emotional labels instead of arguments. Moreover, Ukrainian media used Russian narratives to smear the scholar, something that surprised me greatly. Any professional journalist would recognize this pattern: this is not independent reporting. This is a paid-to-order campaign.

After my arrest, the website of the newspaper where I am editor was hacked. According to specialists who investigated the incident, the attack came from a Ukrainian IP address, using an editor’s account access to which was kept on the phone that was confiscated from me. In Germany, such an incident would be a major scandal. Law enforcement would investigate a cyberattack on a media organization as a serious offense against press freedom. In Germany, a journalist may publish investigations, and no one arrests him four days later. You may be sued for defamation if something is incorrect — that is normal. But criminal prosecution for journalistic work? That crosses every line.

— Your case concerns a scholar. Do you sense pressure in Ukraine not only on journalists, but also on the academic community?

Yes, absolutely, and the case of Oleg Maltsev is a vivid example. I saw this not only as a journalist, but as someone who spent a year inside the Ukrainian system and had the chance to examine the materials and speak with people.

Oleg Viktorovych Maltsev is a scholar with a serious academic reputation. But instead of evaluating his work through academic criteria — peer review, scholarly debate, professional critique — the organizers of this legal chaos chose criminal prosecution. At the same time, pressure is exerted on his colleagues, students, partners: they are intimidated, pushed to give the “needed” testimony. Any attempt to defend or publicly support the scholar is treated as complicity.

When preparing my investigation, I spoke with Maltsev’s colleagues and people in the academic sphere. Many were afraid to speak openly. Some told me directly: “We understand it is unjust, but we cannot risk it — we have families, jobs.” That is precisely the goal of such pressure: to create an atmosphere of fear, where people avoid being associated with an unwanted person even when they know he is innocent.

— How did international journalistic organizations react to your arrest? Did you receive support from the professional community?

The German Journalists’ Association reacted almost immediately. As soon as news of my arrest became public, they sent an official notice to the German Embassy in Ukraine. That was very important. The embassy later became involved as well. Many European colleagues expressed support, covering Maltsev’s case more broadly. Of course, some preferred to distance themselves. I understand their concerns. Who wants to get entangled in a fabricated criminal case in a country at war, especially when Ukraine badly needs the support and goodwill of European partners? In such a context, the Maltsev case became highly inconvenient, because criticism of Ukraine was often not welcomed by editorial offices.

— Did Ukrainian journalists reach out to you? Did anyone try to independently investigate Maltsev’s case, or did most simply repeat the official narrative?

No. Not a single Ukrainian journalist attempted to contact me, interview me, or hear my side. At court hearings, Ukrainian reporters attended, those who cover high-profile cases and call themselves investigative journalists. But none offered even verbal support. I am certain there are honest journalists in Ukraine who understand what is happening, who see the fabrication, the illegality of my arrest, the harassment of the lawyer.

But they remain silent. Why? Fear. If you defend Maltsev, you are labeled a “criminal accomplice.” If you write about violations in the case, you are accused of “undermining law enforcement.” If you criticize, you risk becoming the next target. I understand their fear, but I cannot justify it.

The only newspaper that tried to examine the situation objectively was your newspaper, Suspilniy Prybiy. You published materials analyzing contradictions in the accusations, giving the defense a voice. You were not afraid. And that deserves tremendous respect.

All other newspapers didn’t merely repeat the accusations; no, they portrayed Oleg Maltsev as an already established criminal. Presumption of innocence? Forget it. These “journalists” held their own trial and declared him guilty long before any verdict.

Some went even further. They began attacking Maltsev’s lawyer, Olga Panchenko. In publications, she was called “the creator of a pro-Russian group preparing to support the GRU in case of an occupation of Odesa.” This is an absurd and monstrous accusation, especially in wartime. If it were true, she would be charged with treason — Article 111 of the Criminal Code, one of the gravest offenses. But her case contains no treason charge. Because it is a lie, slander, an attempt to intimidate and discredit the defense. They cannot defeat Maltsev in an honest legal battle, so they attempt to destroy those who defend him.

— After being released on bail, do you plan to continue working on this topic? Or has the experience of imprisonment changed your plans?

This is a difficult question, and I thought about it for a long time while sitting in the Odesa pre-trial detention center. Yes, I am afraid. It would be hypocritical to deny that. A year in Odesa pre-trial detention, separation from my family, constant uncertainty – it leaves a mark. I am out on bail, but the case is not closed. I cannot leave Ukraine. I am suspended in the air, formally free, but in reality still a hostage of the same system represented by prosecutor Ruslan Voitov. And I fully understand: if I continue publishing materials about Maltsev’s case, I could be arrested again.

At the same time, I cannot simply forget what I learned, what I lived through, what I saw. Oleg Maltsev remains under arrest. His case is fabricated, obvious to anyone who studies the materials objectively. His lawyer, Olga Panchenko, is being smeared with monstrous lies. And most people stay silent. If I fall silent too, then who will tell this story?

Yes, I plan to continue working on this topic. I understand the risk. I have a family that has already suffered a year of stress because of my arrest. I have no right to expose them to more. So I will publish through foreign newspapers, work with international platforms, and use every available mechanism of protection — legal, diplomatic, and media. But I will not be silent.

— What advice would you give to international journalists who want to work in Ukraine and undertake serious investigations?

The most troubling discovery I made while studying my own case and Maltsev’s case is that modern “investigation” in many instances is no longer about the search for truth. It has become a collection of materials to support a prewritten accusatory version. This applies not only to law enforcement, but it has infected a portion of the journalistic community as well. In both fields, people have forgotten how to investigate. Instead, they amass piles of materials, often irrelevant to the essence of the matter, just to create the appearance of thoroughness.

Here is one example from Maltsev’s case. Prosecutor Voitov claims he has 22 witnesses. Impressive, isn’t it? But once I examined the details, I discovered more than half of these “witnesses” do not even know who Oleg Maltsev is. They have never met him, never worked with him, never had any contact.

Why are they in the case? To create volume. So they can say, “Look, we have 22 witnesses, 300 pages of materials, dozens of volumes!” Quantity replaces quality, and bulk replaces evidence. Objectivity does not exist in such an approach.

Unfortunately, some Ukrainian media operate with the same logic. Instead of a journalistic investigation, gathering compromising material. Instead of fact-checking, a replication of rumors. Instead of a balance of opinions, one-sided accusations. They publish dozens of materials against one person, creating the illusion that “if so much is written, it must be true.” But that is not journalism — it is an information war against an individual.

International colleagues must understand the context: Ukraine is at war. Under any regime, authoritarian or formally democratic, wartime always brings tightened controls. This is a predictable reaction of any state to a threat. Intelligence services gain more power, civil liberties shrink, and information becomes heavily regulated. This happened in Germany during both World Wars, in the U.S. after 9/11, and in every country under emergency conditions.

The problem is that these extraordinary powers can be used not only against real threats, but also to settle personal scores or pursue ulterior motives. SBU counterintelligence officer Yevhen Voloshenyuk and his group hide behind “national security” to eliminate an inconvenient scholar. Prosecutor Ruslan Voitov invokes “military situation” to justify violations of procedural rights.

I made a mistake, and I paid for it with a year of my life. I thought my German citizenship and my ties to international organizations would protect me. I believed Ukraine would not arrest a journalist solely for an inconvenient article. I was wrong.

So my advice to colleagues working on sensitive topics is this: assess the risks realistically. Ask yourself honestly: are you prepared for a year in a pre-trial detention center? Is your family prepared for that stress? Are you prepared for the possibility that your career, reputation, and life may be destroyed? If the answer is “no,” perhaps you should choose another topic or another way to publish.

I do not regret publishing the article about Oleg Maltsev. But I now understand the price of that decision. And every journalist must make such choices consciously.

Do not believe you are untouchable. The most dangerous illusion is thinking “It won’t happen to me.” But do not lose faith in the importance of this work. Every truth published is a victory, even when it must be paid for.

— Do you have a message to the international community? What form of support would be most helpful for you right now?

What is needed right now is objectivity. Colleagues, I ask you: look at the case of Oleg Maltsev objectively. Explore the materials. Talk to the lawyers. Read the OSCE reports and the statements delivered at the UN Human Rights Council regarding the case. You will see what I saw: this is not the investigation of a crime. It is a fabricated case executed through state machinery. Write about it. Publish an investigation. Ask uncomfortable questions to Ukrainian law enforcement and the courts: why are there 22 witnesses in the case, half of whom do not know the accused? Why are the conclusions of international organizations ignored? Why was a journalist arrested four days after publishing a critical article?

I also appeal to Ukrainian journalists who took part in the defamation campaign against Maltsev — perhaps unknowingly, perhaps under pressure, perhaps simply repeating what SBU sources fed them. Correct your mistakes. Professional integrity demands that when you realize you have published false information, you acknowledge and correct it.

I understand the geopolitical context. I understand that Ukraine desperately needs international support. I personally love this country, respect its people, admire the resilience of Ukrainians. And that is precisely why one cannot stay silent when certain officials commit crimes and disgrace their nation. Western governments, international organizations, professional communities must not fear calling things by their real names.

If individuals like prosecutor Ruslan Voitov are allowed to destroy lives with impunity, it sets a precedent. Others will see: it is possible. Possible to arrest inconvenient journalists. Possible to fabricate cases against scholars. Possible to ignore international standards. But if we say loudly: No, you cannot. We see it. We know it. We will not allow it. That also creates a precedent. A precedent that truth is stronger, that crimes of officials do not go unpunished, that the international community protects those who cannot protect themselves.

I am not asking for myself — I am German, I have international support and professional connections. Sooner or later, I will return home. I am asking for Oleg Maltsev, a scholar who has spent more than a year in a pre-trial detention center on a fabricated case, in inhuman conditions that severely worsen his already fragile health. For his lawyer, Olga Panchenko, who is being smeared to force her to abandon his defense. I believe in the power of solidarity. I believe that when decent people act together, they are stronger than any corrupt system. Help us. Help Ukraine become a country where scholars are not persecuted for science, journalists are not jailed for truth, and lawyers are not targeted for professionalism.

In December 2014, Ruslan Grigorievich Voitov, senior prosecutor of the Primorsky District Prosecutor’s Office in Odesa, received an email from a Ukrainian citizen, A. I. Malenkov, a native of the city of Artsyz, with very strange content. The letter stated the intention of this unknown person to apply for Russian citizenship and indicated Sevastopol as the preferred place of residence. At this stage, there was no other information about the applicant except that he was a citizen of Ukraine and was registered in the Odesa region.

In other words, while eastern Ukraine was engulfed in war, the Odesa prosecutor received a request to assist in obtaining a Russian passport with a subsequent move to annexed Crimea. Any prosecutor in such a situation, acting in accordance with the law and their conscience, was obliged to immediately forward the letter to the Security Service of Ukraine and, if there were grounds for doing so, initiate the entry of information into the Unified Register of Pre-trial Investigations.

However, instead of fulfilling his professional duty, Prosecutor Voitov forwarded the letter to a private individual at diana_passion@mail.ru, likely realizing that such a step not only exceeded his official powers but also potentially constituted a criminal offense. This is because the involvement of a prosecutor’s office official in assisting a Ukrainian citizen in obtaining a Russian passport could be interpreted as promoting the interests of a foreign state and, under certain circumstances, could be considered treason.

Let’s pause at this point and conduct a brief educational session. In virtually every country in the world, the involvement of special services in the procedure for granting residence permits and citizenship is enshrined in law and is mandatory. States are required to verify the identity, background, and potential loyalty of applicants. Migration authorities or the Ministry of Internal Affairs formally accept documents, but their authenticity is verified by counterintelligence and security services. In Ukraine, this function is performed by the SBU, in Russia by the FSB, and in EU countries by the police and counterintelligence agencies.

Thus, most countries operate under a single principle: residence permits and, even more so, citizenship are not granted solely on the basis of submitted documents, as a conclusion from the security services is a mandatory step. In conditions of military conflict, control over such procedures becomes much stricter, and it is virtually impossible to obtain a Russian passport without contacting the special services.

And so, someone approaches Odesa prosecutor Voitov with a question that requires contacts or connections with representatives of the special services in order to be resolved positively. But where would a Ukrainian civil servant get such connections?

A logical explanation for the prosecutor’s access to such opportunities may lie in his personal contacts within the Russian Federation.

Relatives from the Russian Federation

As we were informed by the Belyaevsky village council, Ruslan Voitov’s mother was born in the Russian Federation, specifically in the village of Ust-Kalmanka in Altai Krai. Despite certain circumstances, Ms. Voitova is a relatively law-abiding citizen of Ukraine. This is in contrast to her brother and Ruslan Voitov’s uncle, Sergey Nikolaevich Marchenko, who, according to available information, renounced his Ukrainian citizenship and obtained Russian citizenship.

Ruslan Voitov’s cousins, Diana and Nikolai Marchenko, also renounced their Ukrainian citizenship and are now Russian citizens living in Moscow. Another relative, Ruslan Voitov’s aunt Marina Tereshchenko, who currently lives in Barnaul, also does not have Ukrainian citizenship.

However, the story of Voitov’s uncle’s escape to Russia is of particular interest, as these episodes of his biography are clearly demonstrated in the court records.

How the uncle of prosecutor Ruslan Voitov escaped Ukrainian justice

Sergey Nikolaevich Marchenko, who was born, like his sister, in the Russian village of Ust-Kalmanka in Altai Krai, made a career in the Ukrainian judicial system and headed the Teplodar City Court in the Odesa region from 2004 to 2010. However, in October 2010, his home was searched as part of an investigation into the receipt of a $5,500 bribe for “imposing a non-custodial sentence.” We will not go into details, but we will note that the verdict in case 1403/1645/12 was handed down on November 11, 2013. Ruslan Voitov’s uncle was convicted under Article 368, Part 2 of the Criminal Code of Ukraine (acceptance of a proposal, promise, or extortion of unlawful benefit by an official) and sentenced to “five years and six months ‘ imprisonment with deprivation of the right to hold the office of judge for a period of three years with confiscation of part of his property.”

However, law enforcement agencies were unable to enforce the sentence because Marchenko fled to Russia. In 2015, he was finally declared wanted, but this did not yield any results.

Let’s take another look at the situation. A civil servant with access to the judicial system, convicted of a criminal offense, flees to Russia, stays there, and later obtains citizenship there (according to our sources in the Ukrainian migration service, Marchenko had dual citizenship until 2023, and after 2024, there are no records of Ukrainian citizenship). All this happened on the eve of the tragic events for Ukraine that unfolded in 2014.

Looking at Russia’s practices in 2010-2013, we can see a tendency not to extradite individuals in politically sensitive cases and, at the same time, to grant status to those who are beneficial to Moscow. However, this only works through administrative decisions and the involvement of the special services or channels within the government. Otherwise, a person involved in a criminal case, later declared wanted, who arrived in Russia on the eve of the war, would have had no chance of legalization and further residence.

The mysterious Diana

Now let’s return to a certain Diana, to whom in December 2014, prosecutor Ruslan Voitov, apparently forgetting that he was obliged to protect the interests of the state, forwarded a request for Russian citizenship from a Ukrainian citizen. An investigation revealed that this “secret assistant” was not a random acquaintance, but the daughter of Sergei Marchenko, i.e., Ruslan Voitov’s cousin.

It is not known for certain whether she was already living in Moscow at the time of the application, or whether Voitov used his relative as a convenient channel of communication for negotiations with his fugitive uncle, who was hiding from Ukrainian justice. However, it is known that this person renounced her Ukrainian citizenship in favor of Russian citizenship.

Who is prosecutor Ruslan Voitov really?

In addition to organizing corruption schemes involving land, resolving business issues for “special gratitude,” and participating in the prosecutor’s mafia, where one hand washes the other, Ruslan Voitov has another striking and very characteristic trait. In 2014, while corresponding with his Belarusian friends, Voitov calmly stated that he had no intention of fighting. At the end of that same year, he helped a Ukrainian obtain Russian citizenship, and in 2021, he registered a fake disability, probably so that if he were dismissed from the prosecutor’s office, he would not be called up for service on the front lines.

Looking at Ruslan Voitov’s “exploits,” one gets the impression that he has chosen to follow in his uncle’s footsteps. But as they say, a son is not responsible for his father, and in the case of Prosecutor Voitov, he is not responsible for his relatives. His own position is another matter. How is it that a Ukrainian prosecutor, a man who swore an oath to uphold the law, not only “does not want to fight,” but also manages to maintain contact with a relative who fled the country and, judging by their correspondence, resolves issues related to obtaining citizenship in the aggressor country, even though the resolution of these issues requires the mandatory involvement of the Russian special services?

Related Reading:

• How prosecutor Ruslan Voitov organized a business on 26 hectares
• How prosecutor Ruslan Voitov acquired housing worth 80 times his official salary
• Prosecutor Ruslan Voitov’s “creative approach” to commissioned cases
• The undeclared apartment of Odesa prosecutor Ruslan Voitov
• An anonymous letter sheds light on the activities of Odesa prosecutor Ruslan Voitov