Mar 20, 2026

The abduction of a 19-year-old son, followed a year later by that of his father, could sound like the plot of a thriller, but it’s the reality for one Crimean Tatar family. Both were abducted by Russian forces in the Kherson region and sentenced to seven and eight years in prison, respectively.

WRITTEN BY

Anastasiia Marushevska, 
journalist and Contributing Editor at Ukraїner International, co-founder of the NGO PR Army 

We spoke with Aishe Kurtamet, a Crimean Tatar woman who is fighting for the return of her son Appaz and her ex-husband, Khalil Kurtamet, from Russian captivity. She talks about the ongoing persecution of Crimean Tatars by Russia and the unfounded accusations against her family.

Russia’s persecution of the native population of Crimea, Crimean Tatars, has been going on for centuries. The repressions of the Russian Empire and the USSR — in particular the genocide of 1944 — are unfortunately not just pages in history books. Since the occupation of Crimea in 2014 and the start of a new phase of the war, Crimean Tatars have been persecuted and imprisoned even more intensively on trumped-up charges.

The abduction of Appaz Kurtamet

At the time of the full-scale invasion, Aishe and her son Appaz were living in Kyiv before moving to Lviv. There, the young man worked remotely for an IT company and volunteered. 

Originally, the family came from Novooleksiivka in the Kherson region — one of villages with the biggest population of Crimean Tatars on mainland Ukraine. Appaz had also spent some time studying in Turkey and later lived in Odesa, where he taught the Crimean Tatar language.

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Aishe recalls that her son had strong convictions and could not stand aside from events:

“Appaz always thought about social activism. He even had a project to clean the coast of jellyfish — at that time it was a big problem for our resort (on the coast of the Sea of Azov — ed.). He approached the head of the village with this project, who supported his initiative.

When Aishe left Lviv to go to Istanbul to help her daughter look after her newborn twins, Appaz stayed in Ukraine. He promised to be careful. But without telling anyone, including his mother, he left for his native Novooleksiivka that was under Russian occupation. His mother recalls:

“When my son went there, he didn’t even warn me. He always did that, even in peacetime, so that his mother wouldn’t worry.”

Photo from the archive of Aishe Kurtamet.

Aishe explains that her son didn’t fully understand the risks. There was no active fighting in the area at the time, and people were still able to use humanitarian routes through Zaporizhzhia. Appaz believed he could save the family home by finding tenants to prevent it from being seized by the Russian invaders.

He reached Novooleksiivka without hindrance through the humanitarian corridor, found tenants and tried to formalise the arrangement. His last call to his mother was from a notary’s office: Appaz was going to confirm everything legally. He believed the official papers would protect the house from seizure and provide the family with at least a minimal income, as their financial situation was not easy.

Appaz was abducted on the street on 23 July 2022. Aishe only found out about it three months later, because after the call from the notary’s office she lost contact with her son.

The kidnapping, as he later explained, was aimed at ’rounding up’ a certain number of Ukrainians — people who, in their opinion, might have some information: volunteers, activists. And he was a volunteer — they obviously found out about that.

Later, a man called Aishe and said, “Your son has been detained. Things are not looking good for him. I can’t say anything else. Your son asked me to call you.”

For months, the Kurtamet family gathered bits and pieces of information: a call from an unknown man, conversations with volunteers, fruitless appeals at the Chonhar checkpoint between the Kherson region and Crimea, and communication with other families whose relatives had disappeared from the area. Aishe recalls how she first learned that her son was alive:

“They released a Ukrainian man who had been ‘filtered’ in a Crimean detention centre. He said he had been in a cell with my son. There were about 70 people there, all from the Kherson region. Some were caught at checkpoints, others were kidnapped.”

Aishe hired a Crimean lawyer who went to the Chonhar checkpoint. At first, they denied that Appaz had ever been there. During the second visit, they responded differently and said that he had been seen there, but “we do not know his further fate. Perhaps you should look for him somewhere on the side of the road.”

Aishe was told about the worst-case scenarios: people could be drugged, thrown out on the side of the road, and then “registered” through a psychiatric hospital.

“They use various tricks to cover up their crimes. There have been many stories of people being ‘dumped’ like this and then found in psychiatric wards. These people could no longer explain what had been done to them, how they had been broken, forced. I also searched for my son in mental hospitals. Of course, I was glad that he wasn’t found there, but at the same time I was afraid: where was my son then?”

A protest by the Crimean Tatar community in Turkey. Photo: appazkurtamet.com

It later became clear that the call from the unknown man “on behalf of the son” was a hoax, and the official responses at the Chonhar checkpoint contradicted each other. Appaz was abducted in the Henichesk district in the Kherson region on 23 July 2022 and sent for “filtration” to a pre-trial detention centre in occupied Crimea. At the time of his arrest, the young man was 19 years old. 

Show trial, Vladimir Central Prison and Russian colony

In April 2023, a show trial was held against Appaz in occupied Crimea, where he was accused of financing terrorism. The Russian occupiers used messages recovered from the young man’s phone as evidence for these charges. These were conversations with another Crimean Tatar who had joined the Crimea volunteer battalion and was seeking support to provide for himself and his comrades. Appaz tried to help him: he looked for funds and sent 500 hryvnias (around 11 US dollars — ed.) himself. For the Russian authorities, this was confirmation of his alleged intention to “finance terrorism”, for which the young man was sentenced to seven years in prison.

At first, they tried to recruit him, persuading him to cooperate and carry out “special work”. They promised to release him if he agreed to work for them. He refused. Then they offered him Russian citizenship — again without success. Aishe says:

“Our family has always had pro-Ukrainian views. We always said: just don’t end up under Russian citizenship, under this government. We know our history. Our people have experienced a great deal of repression — Appaz was aware of it, he understood.”

Appaz was first held in a pre-trial detention centre in occupied Crimea, where, according to his mother, the conditions were the worst. He is now in a penal colony in the Pskov region, where he was transferred in November 2024 from Vladimir Central Prison.

“In the Pskov colony, there is a five-day working week with a salary of 1,500 roubles (less than 20 US dollars — ed.) per month. After the working day, it’s not allowed to rest, lie down or even sit on the bed until lights out. Russian prisons are hell on earth.”

In letters to his mother, Appaz wrote that the Pskov colony is a more or less “decent” institution by Russian standards. However, there are 50–60 people in one room, convicted under various charges, whereas in Vladimir Central Prison he was only with three or four people in a cell. Appaz was held there with other political prisoners, including the artist and activist Bohdan Ziza, sentenced to 15 years in prison for a protest in Crimea against the Russian war crimes in Bucha. Aishe says that Bohdan has become like a son to her. They also correspond and have much in common — both grew up as orphans.

Photo from the archive of Aishe Kurtamet.

The woman adds that Appaz tries not to lose heart. He reads and learns English, although work in the colony leaves him little opportunity to do so. He also becomes very tired of the constant noise and crowds, where everyone tries to get under your skin and waits for you to say something rash so they can report you.

“He feels that in such an environment, desires and dreams gradually fade away. He says, ‘I don’t want that to happen to me.’ But in the colonies, people are broken, turned into ‘jellyfish’ — they stop dreaming about anything.”

According to Aishe, Appaz misses Ukraine very much and wants to return more than anything else. His dream is to live on his native land, in Crimea, to take part in the reconstruction of Ukraine and to help develop the culture of his people.

The abduction and imprisonment of Khalil Kurtamet

Kidnappings like the one of Appaz are not uncommon in the Kherson region, especially in Henichesk district, where Crimean Tatars live in compact communities on mainland Ukraine. Many residents of the district, including Crimean Tatars, have been abducted by the Russian occupiers and are now being held in prisons and penal colonies. There are well-known stories about the abductions of Mamed Dolgopolov, Jafar Ablyamitov and Rinat Ablyakimov, among others.

Among those abducted is Appaz’s father, Khalil Kurtamet, Aishe’s ex-husband. He was a businessman and the owner of the hotel on the Arabat Spit, seized and appropriated at the beginning of the full-scale war by the occupiers. According to the woman, Khalil was abducted a year after his son, he was tortured and pressured to cooperate. Like Appaz, he was accused of alleged ties to Crimean Tatar military formations.

Khalil Kurtamet. Photo: Crimean Tatar Resource Centre.

The Crimean Human Rights Group reported that Khalil was abducted in November 2023. They cite the FSB’s accusations that the detainee had been actively involved in the activities of the volunteer Crimean Tatar Battalion since 2015 and had also transferred money to equip the battalion’s base in the village of Chonhar in the Kherson region.

In October 2024, the illegally established, Russian-controlled Henichesk District Court sentenced Khalil to eight years in prison. According to Aishe, her ex-husband is currently being transferred between various Russian cities and placed in different prisons and penal colonies.

Despite her health problems, Aishe devotes all her time to fighting for her relatives — her son Appaz and his father Khalil. She has already appealed to Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan and the UN for help, and has organised protests in Turkey, outside the European Parliament in Brussels and in Athlone, Ireland. She hopes that international attention and publicity will help bring her son and ex-husband back from Russian captivity through prisoner exchanges. 

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