“They told me to pack for a couple of days”. Nina Slobodchikova’s account of her 12‑year sentence for transferring $50 to Ukraine

My name is Nina Slobodchikova, I’m 37 years old. I’ve been in pre-trial detention since March 3, 2023. Until May 2024, I was held in Lefortovo prison, now I’m in Detention centre No. 6 [SIZO-6 in Moscow].

I’m an IT professional. Since 2008, I’ve been automating accounting and tax systems in large enterprises—essentially, configuring SAP systems for companies. In the years leading up to my arrest, I was head of tax accounting automation at a major Russian manufacturing holding company—working directly with the Federal Tax Service, hoping to improve things and influence tax practices even after the war began. I loved my work and saw meaning in it, especially in recent years.

I’ve viewed Ukraine as a second homeland since childhood; my mother is from the Kherson region. All my relatives on my mother’s side lived there until recent events, and that’s where I started first grade. In 1993, we moved to the Novosibirsk region [in Siberia] to help my father’s mother, but our connection to Ukraine always remained very close.

Fear, horror, shame, and helplessness—these were the primary emotions in the first days. I remember walking my dog: the street was deserted and eerily quiet. It seemed to me that all of nature, all the people around, were in the same state of shock as I was.

The Arrest

I was arrested on Friday, March 3, 2023. That evening, I was supposed to fly to Novosibirsk to visit my sister. It was an ordinary workday in remote format. I had just started a work call to discuss a business trip to Belgium planned for mid-March. The doorbell rang, I turned off the video and sound of the conference, opened the door without looking through the peephole, and there was a crowd of masked men with weapons. At first, I thought they had the wrong flat, that they’d rung the wrong doorbell. Turns out, they hadn’t.

I don’t remember how I ended up sitting in the kitchen. They took my phone there, forced me to unlock it. One of the officers was filming everything on his phone, repeatedly asking, “Do you know why you’ve been detained?” The first time I answered, “No, have I been detained?” They all laughed.

Looking back, I can laugh at my naivety, but at the time it was terrifying. They treated me harshly, addressing me rudely with the informal “you” (“ty”) despite my protests. Nevertheless, they allowed me to pack, claiming it would only be for a couple of days. It wasn’t until we were in the car that they revealed the reason for my detention: “So, Nina Mikhailovna, remember that 5,000 rouble transfer?” I nearly burst out laughing, assuming it was a joke. Could a squad of about ten fully armed officers with a battering ram really have stormed my flat over a transfer of 5,000 roubles [about $50]? Could this really be serious?

The investigator later took offence when I said the detention was harsh. He said, “We didn’t even make you lie on the floor.” I agree, considering how they treat others—I was handled “politely.”

My case was handled by the first department of the FSB Investigative Directorate.

I believe that the absence of threats of physical violence doesn’t equate to an absence of pressure. Denying access to the lawyer hired by my friends, not sending my letters, threatening to deny my relatives access to my illegally sealed flat, promising additional criminal cases, and many other minor things.

As a result of all this, given my complete isolation from everyone, I felt utterly powerless and dependent on the investigator. For instance, I believe the FSB stole my pedigree grey Scottish Fold cat under the guise of caring for it. They brought him to the investigative department on the day of my arrest. They said they couldn’t leave him alone in an empty flat and promised to hand him over to my relatives or friends upon my request. But they didn’t keep their word.

The Charge

I’m accused of transferring 5,000 roubles to a Sberbank card belonging to a Ukrainian blogger in April 2023, which allegedly “purchased ammunition and equipment for the Armed Forces of Ukraine,” causing damage to the security of the Russian Federation.

The case was opened 10 months after the money transfer. Supposedly because I had a ticket booked to Belgium via Istanbul. That March was supposed to be an excellent month for me: Moscow—Novosibirsk—Krasnoyarsk—Moscow—Istanbul—Belgium—Brazil—Moscow. In this itinerary, everything except Moscow and Novosibirsk was related to work trips. The case file states, “Slobodchikova planned to fly to Novosibirsk on the day of her arrest with the aim of escaping to EU countries.” Yes, of course, everyone always flies to Europe [from Moscow] via Siberia! And in the story on federal channels, it was said that I was detained while attempting to leave the country. In short, they can’t allow such a dangerous criminal to escape to unfriendly countries.

But I have a theory that I can’t confirm yet. The criminal case against me was opened on March 2, 2023. On February 28 of the same year, Putin addressed the FSB saying, “We need to identify and suppress the illegal activities of those trying to split and weaken our society.” So these loyal sons of the fatherland rushed to report.

Why me? From the case materials, I know there wasn’t a specific denunciation against me. But I have an intuition that raises questions here. Only there’s no one to ask, and no one to give honest answers. I think there’s some reason why I became one of the first, according to my investigator, to be charged with financing the Armed Forces of Ukraine.

I transferred the money because I couldn’t not transfer it. At that moment, it seemed the only thing I could do to cope with the helplessness and guilt. Due to my poor physical and psychological state, I couldn’t think of another way. I saw this transfer as humanitarian aid. I understood there could be consequences if the situation worsened. But I thought it would be limited to a fine. Of course, I didn’t expect a treason case and a 12-year sentence.

The Trial

All the court hearings, starting from those where they put me under my arrest, can be characterised by the word “circus,” and without spectators, because all the hearings were closed as the materials of my case allegedly contain state secrets.

I have a question for the judges: how long ago did they last read Russian legislation? There were many violations and a complete lack of objectivity. Only after the trial did I admit to myself: I’m being tried for my views on what’s happening.

When the verdict was delivered, I felt anger, even rage. I knew after the first interrogation that the sentence would be long. The mood and opinion of the judges about me were absolutely clear. So by the day of the verdict, all tears had been shed and the horror had been endured as much as possible; I was prepared.

When the verdict was being read, none of the three Moscow City Court judges even looked at me. It was clear from one of them that he was unhappy with the verdict, but he hardly defended me much.

I can’t shake off the nagging question: they’ve sentenced me to 12 years, and what next? Did they go for drinks and congratulate each other on a job well done, on a new bonus? How do people continue to exist after making such decisions?

I believe that from a legal standpoint my guilt hasn’t been proven, and morally my conscience is clear. But back then, in March 2023, I was terrified that the sentence would be 20 years and I’d come out a 56-year-old woman no one needed. And I believed the investigator that I had truly broken the law, and that perceiving it as humanitarian aid didn’t absolve me of responsibility. It seemed logical to me then.

It was an informal agreement—I admit guilt and don’t publicise the case in the media, and the investigator doesn’t complicate my life, doesn’t hinder communication with relatives, and helps to secure a shorter sentence. I believed in this deal almost until the very verdict.

The Support

Internally, I divide my fellow political prisoners into two categories. The first are those who were prepared for persecution or thought they were prepared. These are people who loudly and clearly state their position. These people don’t need my advice; they understand everything. I want to thank them for their courage and say, please, don’t give up! Don’t allow thoughts that all this is meaningless to enter your head even for a second.

The second are those who got caught up in this historical whirlpool by chance, because they retained their humanity and weren’t afraid to see the truth. I still want to advise them: don’t believe that you’ve done anything wrong. Hold on! Everything ends. And we’ll still have a noisy celebration in our streets.

For the most part, I manage to maintain a positive attitude. I believe all this darkness will end—we won’t even notice how or when. Later, looking back, we’ll understand: we’ve already lived through that darkest night before the long-awaited dawn. So now, the important thing is to preserve ourselves, so that we have the strength to rebuild our lives later.

Therefore, no misery for longer than an hour! And then do something pleasant, useful. For me, it’s books, meditation, learning something new, something creative.

I feel the support of many. I know there are people who don’t write, don’t send greetings, but help. There are strangers who write words of support and help. I’ve developed warm correspondences with some. I think many old friends and colleagues are worried but for various reasons aren’t ready to express it. I understand and accept this, given the specifics of my case and what’s happening in the country.

My closest people haven’t just not turned away, they’ve become my support during these 18 months. In fact, I’ve never had as much support in my life as I feel now. I’m grateful to everyone.

When I’m free, the first thing I’ll do is hug my sister tightly, call my mum and tell her I love her. I’ll go to a body of water or a swimming pool and spend the whole day sitting in the water, looking at my phone and saying thank you to those who’ve been there for me all this time. And then I’ll go look for a job.

At first, I didn’t want to publicise my case, but 12 years changed everything. I’m still scared now. I think new criminal cases will follow the publications, pressure will start through everyday things and communication with relatives, a sudden transfer to the most remote colony... What else do they have in their arsenal? I fear the unlimited power of the FSB and what they might do to my relatives. But unlike 18 months ago, I now know that freedom can’t be bought with silence.

The people who write to me, worry about me, help me, have the right to know at least something about me. People who believe that 12 years can’t be given for just 5,000 roubles should know that it can be and is given.

And I don’t want to be just a silent victim of the regime anymore. I want to look back and know that I did everything I could, or at least tried.

Editor: Dmitry Tkachev