https://dossier.center/fso-en/
April 4, 2023
"The Russian President is a war criminal"
Interview with the Federal Guard Service officer who worked with Putin and who fled Russia
Gleb Karakulov is a captain in the Federal Guard Service. Until mid-October 2022, he worked with Vladimir Putin as an engineer in the Presidential Communications Directorate of the FGS. His duties included provision of secure communications for the President. In early October, he travelled to Astana, where the Head of State was to participate in three events: the VI Summit of the Conference on Engagement and Confidence-Building Measures in Asia, a meeting of the Council of the CIS Heads of State, and the Russia-Central Asia Summit. On 14 October, the last day of his business trip, Karakulov left his colleagues and flew to Istanbul with his wife and daughter.
The Dossier Center spent over ten hours in conversation with the officer about his decision to leave the FGS and Russia. Karakulov is the highest-ranking intelligence officer in Russia’s recent history to defect to the West. The Dossier Center checked Karakulov’s documents and verified their authenticity. Details from his story match information obtained from various databases and open sources.
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The Dossier Center checked the documents of Gleb Karakulov. His work passport is listed as valid in the database of the Ministry of Internal Affairs. The dates of the border crossing stamps coincide with the dates that the FGS officer named in the interview. The authenticity of the identity card of the Federal Guard Service officer, provided by Karakulov, was confirmed by an interlocutor close to the Russian special services. The records of the Federal Tax Service and the Pension Fund do not list any of Karakulov’s places of work. The source close to the Interior Ministry and not familiar with the details of Karakulov’s story suggested that it was an employee of special services or law enforcement agencies, as their data are removed from state databases. Nevertheless, Dosie managed to find an indication in the police archive database that Karakulov serves in the FGS.
The Dossier Center also checked Karakulov’s biography. He did indeed study at the A.F. Mozhaisky Military Space Academy and was registered in the academy’s dormitory. He also posted photos on social networks with his classmates. Karakulov has a wife and a daughter, according to the officer’s relatives’ social networks. Karakulov is covered by the military mortgage: in the extract for his apartment in Balashikha (Moscow region) it is stated that the loan was issued within the «savings and mortgage system of housing provision for servicemen».
Karakulov’s father is a former military man, according to his profile on «Odnoklassniki» and from the police archive data. The Dossier Center tried to contact Karakulov’s father and brother, but both blocked Dossier’s correspondent in all social networks and messengers. The Dossier Center» also obtained information from the information database of the Interior Ministry. The report says that a case was brought against Karakulov for desertion during mobilization (part 3 of Article 338 of the Criminal Code), he hid from the military investigation. The case was brought on October 26, the wanted case — on December 21, the initiator — criminal investigation of Main Department of Internal Affairs of Moscow. No measure of restraint was chosen against Karakulov. Karakulov’s wanted information is also contained in the publicly available database of the Ministry of Internal Affairs
Escape
— When did you decide it was time to quit your job?
There were many indications that I was not ready to make deals with my conscience while doing my job. I was due to retire in less than two years. I planned to serve out my time, pay off my mortgage and that would be it; I wouldn’t renew my contract. But in February 2022 a criminal war broke out, and I could no longer make compromises with myself. I couldn’t remain in the service of this President. I consider him a war criminal. Even though I am not directly involved in the war, it is no longer possible for me to carry out his criminal orders or stay in his service.
— You are not in Russia. How did you leave Russia?
It all started on 24 February. Like many other Russian citizens, I hoped that there would be no escalation. In the morning of 24 February I must have spent half an hour in a state of shock. Then, apparently as a result of all these worries, I developed some health issues. I spent three months on sick leave. I managed to calm down somewhat and started telling myself that it was none of my business. But, naturally, I had already realised that I had to try and somehow leave before my retirement.
Karakulov's Federal Guard Service ID. Source: Dossier Center
Unfortunately, my external service passport had expired, and I had to start the process of applying for a regular external passport. It took me three months plus holidays. As a result, my first business trip abroad began after a long break on 1 August and lasted a whole 19 days. I found myself right in the middle of these discussions, you know, [with people] even
savouring every detail of what was happening in the war. I can’t describe how disgusting and unpleasant it was.
— So your colleagues in the FGS were discussing how things were going at the front?
Yes, and even taking pleasure in these discussions. I don’t know, I had this feeling of total disgust. I decided to quit. It’s hard to terminate a contract, but it can be done. Then came 21 September, the mobilisation. I understood that even if I left the service I would become a reserve officer and would be sent directly to the front after my discharge. I could not agree to be part of this criminal war. I returned [from my business trip] on 22 September. A few days later, I found out that I had been signed up for the next assignment. This time to Astana, Kazakhstan. It was a good opportunity.
— What happened in Astana? How did you plan your escape?
We flew out to make preparations on 6 October. My wife stayed back in Moscow for a few more days and flew with our daughter to Astana on 8 October. We had tried to fit our entire life into three suitcases.
— It’s your business trip; you fly out with your FGS colleagues. A few days later, your spouse joins you, with no questions asked by any of your colleagues? I assume that spouses of the FGS officers do not usually accompany them on trips.
It’s not like she stayed right there, in the same hotel. We only met once before travelling to the airport together. She came to pick up my suitcase because I’d imagined that if I left carrying a suitcase during lunchtime, in the middle of the day, when all our employees were coming in for lunch, it could attract attention. It took her literally 2-3 minutes, but she was very nervous. At that moment, I was hanging around with our daughter near the hotel so as not to draw attention.
— Finally, you decided it was time to escape. What happened?
There was no clear feeling that it would be a particular hour on a particular day. Everything was in a state of flux, and I kept thinking, ‘Right, not today; it won’t work today either.’ So, I kept postponing it for about two or three days until many factors aligned. The most important one was that 14 October was the last day of the trip. Our group of the FGS officers was due to fly back to Moscow on the morning of 15 October. It was not possible to put it off any longer.
Another factor: we have external service passports [for work purposes]. They handed them out to us in Astana because we had to [prove our identities] in the course of work. I remember my shock when on the morning of 14 October, our group leader’s assistant told us to hand them in. That is, before that, I had had my external passport with me for a week. We were still in the middle of our assignment, and they were already telling us to hand them in. I’m sitting there with my headphones on, monitoring the equipment or looking things up on YouTube. Some colleagues were handing theirs in, and I was pretending not have heard it until the very end. I mean, even if someone had said to me, ‘Well, where’s your passport?’, I would have said, ‘I don’t know, at the hotel maybe’. I had also agreed with colleagues that I would go souvenir shopping after work. That is, I was playing for time so that they would not start looking for me.
— How did you leave?
My wife, our daughter and I set off for the airport at about three o’clock. The guys who were off duty soon decided to go shopping. They kept texting me, asking where I was. I responded that I had also wanted to go [shopping], but developed bad stomach cramps after lunch.
— At this point you are on your way to the airport.
Yes. The whole centre was cordoned off because of the summits. I was also worried about potential traffic jams. But there was no congestion on the road to the airport. Then comes the usual check-in for the Istanbul flight and bag drop-off. I thought they might ask me some questions about my service passport at the airport, as it differs a bit from the regular one; a different colour. No-one asked anything. From then on, it was only the matter of my own nerves.
Vladimir Putin in Astana. Source: kremlin.ru
The flight was delayed by about an hour. We took off at 5 p.m. By that time they had already started looking for me. I’d probably texted that I would not go souvenir shopping around 5 pm. I would go to work instead. At about 5.15 p.m., that is, 10-15 minutes before departure, I simply turned my phone off.
— Let’s be clear. An active FGS officer leaves his place of work. He is gone for several hours. At that moment, he is going through border control. And no one freaks out, no one goes off looking for you with guns and dogs, no one tries to force your plane to land. Your colleagues’ calm reaction is staggering!
I did have to confuse them a bit. They must have been furious.
— You fly for a few more hours, your plane lands, and you turn your phone on. Are you bombarded with messages, calling you a scum bag and a traitor?
There wasn’t exactly a flurry of messages. There were about five messages. There had been many messages at the point when I turned my phone off. Exchanges of the type, ‘Where is he?’ ‘Maybe, he went over there?’ ‘Maybe, he’s already here?’ Let’s go and check his room’. ‘There is no-one there.’ I don’t count such messages. But there were two or three messages of the ‘You, scum bag!’ type. Plus, the Operations Department officer had tried to make contact with me.
— What do you mean by ‘the Operations Department officer had tried to make contact’?
He thought I would answer him, he had tried to make contact, to text me, like.
— ‘Hi, how are you doing?’
‘This is Mr.N, get in touch asap.’ Stuff like that.
— How soon do you think your colleagues cottoned on [to what had happened]?
I can only guess. If I flew out at 5:30 p.m., it must have dawned on them by 6 p.m. But it was only a realisation, and they would have had to trace the whole chain [of events during the escape]. The officer from the Operations Department texted me around 8 p.m. Astana time.
— That is, had the boarding been delayed for another half an hour or an hour, you would probably have been apprehended at the airport .
I didn’t want to think about it at the time. My wife was very upset. I remember well the incident in Belarus with a plane that was forced to land. . Still, I tried to reassure myself that I was a rank-and-file engineer. Why force the plane to land because of me?
— But you are not just any engineer; you are an FGS officer. Obviously, in terms of Russian law, you were committing a criminal offense.
True.
— How could one reassure oneself in such a situation?
I simply knew that it would have been an even bigger crime if I had stayed on in my job. Not under the Russian law, but a crime in human terms.
— When did you tell your wife that you’d decided to quit?
I must have told her right then, on 24 February.
— Did she seriously believe that you were ready to leave?
I don’t think so. I can’t answer for her, but she must have been in a state of disbelief. I mean, how come, we have just had some work done on our flat, [a new] kitchen, our car, and so on and so forth? Her whole family live in Russia, and she was supposed to give it all up, somehow? I think she simply wasn’t ready to take that in.
But a month or so later, she did. She also watches the news. She realised that no good could come of it, ever. That at the very least, it was her duty to do something for the sake of our child’s future, if anything. I asked her if she was ready [to flee]. I wouldn’t do it alone. In August, when I was away on a business trip, she was able to spend some time on her own, in peace. We don’t get much time to spend on our own. She must have understood it then. She said, ‘That’s it, I’m ready, come on, let’s not beat about the bush.’
— How did the rest of your family feel about it? Did anyone else know what you were planning?
My relatives didn’t know [about it]. I was already in Istanbul, when they found out [about it] on 8 or 9 November, when their homes were searched. They must have realised only then what was going on.
— A lot of time had passed since February. Over that period you would have had ample opportunity to talk to your parents and tell them about your decision. But you had not. Why not?
Because they watch TV, however odd this may sound. When my mother visited me in the summer, the TV was on in the evening. There was this savouring, a live broadcasts from the war, giving an impression of being there. You could sit on your couch and feel like you were in the trenches. A TV discussion began, a live broadcast. I asked her to change the channel because it was unbearable; I heard plenty of these discussions at my workplace. Did I really have to listen to them at home?! My mother replied, ‘Why not? It’s okay, leave it on.’ That was the beginning of incremental attempts to test the waters, to see if it was possible to discuss anything [with her], including our plans. It didn’t work. One day I tried to explain [to her] that this was in fact an independent country, what were we doing there? For whose sake? I remember I didn’t even get to finish my sentence: there was an immediate [repost], ‘What is this, then? Are you planning to run away? Are you some sort of foreign agents?’. I do not remember what she said exactly. But it was, like, ‘If you do something, I won’t be able to bear the shame of it, I shall kill myself.’ I decided not to bother.
— Did you have that conversation with your parents in the end?
No.
— So they didn’t understand why their home was searched?
I’m sure they know I’m living in another country, they must have been told one side of the story only.
— But you have not discussed it with them?
No. I don’t even know if I ever bring myself to do it.
— Do you understand the FGS reaction to your departure? Why aren’t they still chasing after you with ‘Novichok’?
They are not running after me with ‘Novichok’ yet, but they have already gone to see my relatives, and I think that the reason for this sluggish interest in me is that they think: ‘There are plenty more of such engineers, one more, one less, who cares!’
— You say, ‘one more, one less’, as if there is a daily occurence of the FGS officers leaving Russia.
No, not in that sense. There has not been anything like this previously, even at the level of rumours.
— So, that was an extraordinary event for the FGS, after all. Aren’t you afraid that another Chepiga and another Mishkin would come after you?
Those tourists? What can I say? Given that our relatives have had a visit [from them] on 8 or 9 November, I feel a growing anxiety inside me. Yes, I’m worried, but what’s the point of such worries?
— Do you have a plan? What will you do next?
Everything is in a state of flux. My ultimate goal is for my child not to experiense the horror of war. For the state, that interferes in the upbringing of our children in every possible way, not to affect her. I want my daughter to grow up in a peaceful environment, to become a decent human being. Everything I do, I do for her sake. It is my main goal.
Vladimir Putin and the FGS
— How did you get into the Federal Guard Service?
I studied at the Mozhaisky Military Space Academy from 2004-2009. I graduated in 2009. Just as [Defense Minister Anatoly] Serdyukov initiated his reforms. There were layoffs, and yet there we were, new graduates, where do we go? Many cadets, even though they were assigned to a unit, did not have a position, drew a reduced salary, and our prospects were, generally speaking, quite vague. So we tried to find an alternative. Somehow, through some acquaintances, I got the opportunity [to join the FGS].
I liked that option. The Federal Guard Service! The Presidential Communications Directorate! It sounded good, don’t you think? Plus an opportunity to be part of that process, at least indirectly, to be around the President… I don’t know, would you call this a romantic notion? I agreed, with pleasure, yes, it was cool. Plus, it was in Moscow.
— How does one normally join the FGS?
There is the FGS Academy in Orel. Most of my colleagues graduated from the Academy, but some, 20%-30%, came from the Defense Ministry. While a few others transferred
from the civil service.
The FGS Academy in Orel. Source: academ.msk.rsnet.ru
— How strict is the selection process for admission?
They examine your CV and conduct an interview. There’s also an aptitude test and all sorts of logic tasks. It’s a long process.
— How long did your tests last?
I went to Moscow for the first time in January 2009. By the time I graduated, I knew I’d got in. It was June. That is, it took six months.
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