That’s when he last exchanged messages with the 28-year-old soldier in Ukraine’s Azov regiment. His regiment hunted with Ukrainian civilians for weeks in Mariupol, defending the Azovstal Iron and Steel Works complex, until it was captured by Russian forces in May. He watched with the rest of the world during the three-month siege in the international media. Her son, an officer, was still able to keep in touch with her. She would describe the regiment’s weapons, water and food supplies, and try to keep her spirits up. “He didn’t give me a chance to have doubts,” he said. It is unclear where Illia and his fellow soldiers, now prisoners of war, are. As Ukraine’s Independence Day approached on Wednesday, Samoilenko and loved ones of other soldiers feared their sons and daughters would not get a fair trial from Russia. Or worse. Illia Samoilenko was one of the last remaining fighters who went underground at Mariupol’s Azovstal steelworks before Russian forces seized the complex in May. (Submitted by Alla Samoilenko) “I hear that all the people who [are] they are captured in Russian prisons, tortured. And I know this. And it’s very hard to live with knowing that my beloved boy is in such bad hands.” Still Samoilenko continues to hope that he is still alive. At one point he heard that Illia was in the Olenivka prison camp in Eastern Ukraine until the end of June. Or that it might still be there. No information on his whereabouts has ever been confirmed.

“I only have rumours, and all the rumors are so wild,” he said. “We cannot contact Russian lawyers, for example; even if they have our request, they have no authority to visit the places of our prisoners of war.” WATCHES | Azov fighters in Ukraine describe their treatment in captivity (Reuters):

Ukraine’s Azov militants say they were tortured in prison

Soldiers from Ukraine’s Azov regiment who defended the Mariupol steel plant said at a news conference in Kyiv on Monday that they were tortured and psychologically pressured by their Russian captors before being released in a prisoner exchange. The CBC has not independently verified the claims. Her pain is juxtaposed with the brightness of her home. The windowsill of her colorful kitchen in Kyiv, with its yellow walls and orange ceramic tiles, is strewn with crafts from her four-year-old daughter Margarita. She says her son used to say he didn’t care for small children before his sister was born. But they became the best of friends. The counter is lined with bowls of vegetables she grew herself. It was a good year for cucumbers, he says. Tomatoes are tasty but not so plentiful. While she waits for news about her son, she says her garden feeds her soul. Samoilenko tends the garden at her home in Kyiv. She hopes her son is still alive. He was the staff officer of the Azov Regiment when its members began surrendering by the hundreds to Russian forces within a week in mid-May. (Lyza Sale/CBC) It’s one of the few suspensions for the soft-spoken 48-year-old. He has heard stories from people who have been held in Russian prisons in the past. “They’ve told many, many absolutely horrific stories about Russian prisons. And we’re under no illusions. We just hope that our soldiers, our boys and girls, are able to keep their dignity and keep their lives,” he said. . On June 22, a sign demanding the release of those arrested after the fall of the Mariupol Azovstal Iron and Steel Works was placed on the facade of the Kyiv city hall. (Melissa Mancini/CBC) When Illia joined the army in 2015, Samoilenko says she asked him not to go. Her youngest son had been seriously injured in a car accident a few years earlier that left him paralyzed. The fear of another son in pain was too much. But he was drawn to fight. He was injured during a deployment in 2016, losing an eye and an arm. But he couldn’t keep away from his “brotherhood,” Samoilenko said. He left for the East before the invasion of Russia on 24 February, to support the troops by working as a staff officer.

Little is known about the regiment’s PoWs

The Azov regiment fought in one of the first battles in Mariupol. The soldiers defended the steel plant through horrific conditions, holding off the Russians until May 20, when Russian authorities said 1,700 soldiers had surrendered. Stories about Russian torture of Ukrainian prisoners are widespread. On July 29, a prison where Ukrainian soldiers were held in Olenivka was attacked and 53 soldiers were killed. Russia blamed Kyiv for the prison bombing. Ukraine said the attack was carried out to cover up the torture of prisoners. The constitution has controversial principles. It now operates as part of the National Guard of Ukraine. But when it was created in 2014 to fight Russian-backed separatists in the east of the country, it was a volunteer brigade that attracted fighters from the far right. The Kremlin uses this provenance to support its claims of Nazism in Ukraine. Earlier this month, Russia’s Supreme Court designated the group as a terrorist organization, a move the constitution said Moscow was trying to justify committing war crimes, according to the Associated Press. On Monday, Russia’s security agency, the FSB, claimed that a member of the Azov Regiment was responsible for the death of Daria Dugin, a pro-nationalist Russian TV commentator who supported the war with Ukraine and the daughter of political theorist Alexander Dugin. Dugina was killed by a remote detonation of an explosive device planted in her car. Ukrainian authorities were quick to deny the claim, saying the identity card released by the FSB was fake. Now families and authorities are worried about the fate of the captured prisoners as they await the trial, which Ukrainian officials said could begin on Wednesday. The Ministry of Defense has released a photo it says shows iron cages in which Ukrainian soldiers will be held while they stand trial. President Volodymyr Zelenskyy said that if this “example trial takes place” then there will be no more negotiations with Russia.

They are waiting at home

Samoilenko searched footage and photos of soldiers who walked out of the factory in May, trying to catch a glimpse of Ilya, but she didn’t see him. Like many Ukrainians, he worries that the world will stop paying attention to what is happening in their country and that weapons and funding will no longer flow across the border. Alla Samoilenko has been waiting to hear anything from her son Ilia since May 20. She is concerned that he and fellow soldiers captured in Mariupol, Ukraine, have been tortured in Russian prisons. (Lyza Sale/CBC) “That’s our biggest fear right now, because we need protection. We need support from the whole world and we need more and more weapons to fight.” As she tends her garden on the outskirts of Kiev, she is not far from where danger has already struck in this war. She worries about her son, but also about the people and country her son was defending when he was captured. He worries that the war is leveling off in some parts of Ukraine, with people in some areas not heeding warnings to go to shelters when air raid sirens go off, for example. “It’s hard to explain, but I think we’re tired of fear. Some of our citizens are very relaxed from where we’ve seen it happen, and it’s not good. I think we have to be very careful.”