The Syndicate. How an ex‑mercenary formed his own unit within the Russian army, leading to the torture and death of a fellow soldier

In the waning days of December 2022, amid the pine forests of Ukraine’s Kherson region, a 37-year-old Russian grenade launcher operator vanished—Yefreitor Viktor Utyayev, known by his call sign “Hooligan.” The command of Utyayev’s unit was informed that just before New Year’s Eve, he had got heavily drunk, stumbled off to relieve himself without his weapon, and hadn’t been seen since. In their official statements, fellow soldiers and commanders wrote that searches for Utyayev had turned up nothing.

Military investigators immediately took an interest in Utyayev’s disappearance. The Investigative Committee was inclined to open a criminal case for unauthorized abandonment of a military unit during armed conflict. But first, they decided to re-interrogate potential witnesses.

Utyayev had ended up in the “Sokol” assault battalion in mid-October, having signed a five-month contract with Russia’s Ministry of Defence. After combat training near Novorossiysk, a port city on Russia’s Black Sea coast, he and 83 other volunteers found themselves in December in Ukraine’s Kherson region, where Kyiv’s forces were in the midst of a grinding counteroffensive. The battalion took up positions on the second line of defence near the villages of Peschanoye and Korsunka on the Dnipro river’s left bank.

Fellow soldiers spoke of “Hooligan” as a “sociable, normal guy” who, although fond of drink, caused no one any trouble. Comrades considered him “a reliable person.”

Utyayev’s sudden disappearance caused a commotion in the unit. The regimental commander, Lieutenant Colonel Grigory Zhovty, call sign “Greek”, issued stern reprimands to the commanders of the battalion, company, platoon and squad who had let the soldier slip away.

Alas, these decisive disciplinary measures came too late. Viktor Utyayev was no longer alive. A few weeks later, his corpse was found buried in the forest, not far from the battalion’s position.

“May”

As it turned out, nearly every soldier in the 10th Assault Company knew of the grenade operator’s death. But initially, none dared reveal where—and more importantly, how—Yefreitor Utyayev had actually vanished.

Their collective silence stemmed from fear instilled by one man: 41-year-old Senior Sergeant Dmitry Mayborodin, call sign “May.” Comrades described him as a “domineering, authoritarian, tough and even cruel” professional with extensive combat experience.

Born in 1981 in Liski, in Russia’s Voronezh region, Mayborodin was conscripted in spring 1999, spending a year fighting in Chechnya as the second war erupted. He later served in OMON, SOBR—special police units—and the interior troops. By his own account, he fought in Syria and Libya with Wagner PMC, earning several decorations, including medals “For Courage” and “For the Liberation of Shugaley and Sueyfan” (the latter can be purchased online).

February 24, 2022 found Mayborodin in an unnamed Russian proxy formation in Ukraine. He claimed he served in the “Union of Donbas Volunteers”, saying he “went in the direction of Kyiv and carried out combat missions” in the war’s early days. But Sergeant Igor Plachinta, call sign “Romanian”, recalled meeting him in the “Tigers” detachment. Most other witnesses identified his unit as the “Redut” private military company.

This confusion likely owes to the structure of Russia’s mercenary recruitment networks. Many fighters signed contracts with the non-existent “Redut Security Company”, before being deployed to various detachments, often named after animals—“Tigers”, “Wolves”, “Lynxes”. The “Union of Donbas Volunteers”—a paramilitary group chaired by Alexander Borodai, former leader of the self-proclaimed Donetsk People’s Republic—played a key role in this opaque system and was even described as a “private military company” by witnesses in Mayborodin’s case.

Whatever the case, in October 2022, Mayborodin and several other ex-mercenaries signed contracts with the Ministry of Defence and joined the 108th Assault Regiment. At a training ground near Novorossiysk, a group loyal only to the hardened sergeant began to form around him. Soon, they were preparing to deploy to Kherson region. Mayborodin displayed his stern character from the moment he arrived at the “Sokol” battalion’s positions near Korsunka in late December.

“He only understands and respects those who are physically and morally stronger than him,” recalled APC gunner Yaroslav Svist.

“He doesn’t recognise higher command, sees himself as the boss and insists that only his orders are followed,” echoed machine gunner David Fedorov, call sign “ZLO”.

Officially, Mayborodin commanded just a three-man crew—a driver, radio operator and machine gunner. But his ambitions, and his influence, stretched much further.

“From the very start, Senior Sergeant Dmitry Mayborodin, call sign ‘May’, was in command of the 10th Company’s 1st and 2nd platoons. I’m not entirely sure what his official position was,” admitted Sergeant Igor “Romanian” Plachinta.

According to 10th Company commander Captain Nikolai “Sack” Shishkin, 34, Mayborodin “took the initiative” in leading both platoons, personally selecting their personnel. Other witnesses said Shishkin largely stepped aside, handling only paperwork while tacitly accepting Mayborodin’s authority.

Lieutenant Colonel Azat Rakhmatullin, commander of the “Sokol” battalion, claimed “May” openly defied orders—refusing to dig trenches, build bunkers, or fortify positions. He even “essentially forbade the soldiers [...] from carrying out my commands.”

When regimental commander Lieutenant Colonel Zhovty ordered two APCs and three armoured trucks reassigned, Mayborodin simply kept them. Even a threat from “Greek” to call in mortar fire on his men didn’t sway him.

Rejecting the army hierarchy, “May” saw himself as more of an instructor—a combat guru. Soldiers respected his skills. With dozens of loyal fighters behind him, not even the battalion commander dared challenge this veteran of Chechnya and Syria.

When rumours swirled in the 10th Company about Mayborodin’s role in Utyayev’s disappearance, silencing the men was easy. He even forced his subordinates to back the official story—that “Hooligan” had deserted. Their statements to the regimental commander were near-identical: the drunken grenade launcher, they claimed, had wandered into the pines, leaving his weapon and kit behind. Junior Sergeant Sergei “Corporal” Kaydov, Mayborodin’s deputy, gathered the signatures.

On December 28, battalion commander Rakhmatullin tried to get to the truth. But the veteran sergeant cut him off. “You report to the regimental commander, we’ll ‘two-hundred’ you,” he was warned—Russian military slang for “kill.”

Rakhmatullin backed down. Convinced “May” was not just bluffing, he spent the night holed up in his armoured car, fearing for his life.

Sergeant Mayborodin’s autonomous detachment

Mayborodin’s inner circle credited his dominance to one thing: he was simply a better fighter than the official commanders. In testimony, Junior Sergeant Sergei “Corporal” Kaydov even gushed about Mayborodin’s “strong personality, to whom the men are drawn.”

Other witnesses agreed—respect for “May” wasn’t just about fear. Dissatisfied soldiers were free to transfer out. “[Mayborodin] didn’t forcibly keep anyone,” said Sergeant Vasily Tishchenko.

Within two months, Mayborodin had carved out his own loyalist faction inside the regular army—“Maysindicate.” Its core comprised the 10th Company’s 1st and 2nd Platoons, nearly 60 men, some of whom he knew from his PMC days.

But he never meshed with the 3rd Platoon. Its leader, Senior Lieutenant Sergei “Bull” Tur, rejected invitations to join and resented “May’s” men skipping formation and ignoring orders. The 10th Company, dug into Kherson’s pine forests, soon split into two autonomous halves: Tur’s platoon and Mayborodin’s faction.

Tensions boiled over on December 26. Two “Maysindicate” soldiers—Mikhail Zhitnik and Yaroslav Yartsev—snatched an assault rifle from a 3rd Platoon drone operator, Sergei “Kind” Kolomeytsev. “Kind” later said he’d left it unattended while chatting. But Mayborodin’s men dismissed this, branding him a drunk who needed a lesson. The rifle was returned the next day—for a price. “Kind” handed over the 5,000 rubles in his pocket, a “donation” to battalion coffers.

To flaunt their special status, “May’s” fighters wore chevrons depicting a bearded skull in a helmet, with “Maysindicate” underneath. “They were just for looks, to tell friend from foe in combat,” Mayborodin told investigators.

Witnesses, however, described a clear hierarchy: grey-blue patches for rank-and-file members, red for his inner circle. The latter adorned his two ever-present bodyguards and personal driver.

Mayborodin’s growing autonomy drew the attention of military counterintelligence. On February 8, 2023, the FSB’s Southern Military District chief formally accused him of usurping command and forcing troops to obey him “under threat of violence.”

“He refuses to submit to the battalion and regimental commanders,” read the report to the 127th military investigative department.

One of “May’s” lieutenants even claimed he had bigger ambitions—his own private army.

To enforce discipline, Mayborodin introduced a system of fines and penalties. Witnesses said the “Maysindicate” even had an unofficial treasurer collecting “donations” for unit expenses like satellite internet. “May”, they noted, never took a cut himself.

Brawl in Armyansk

By late January 2023, it was clear that the situation in the 10th Company had spiralled out of control.

Corporal Kirill Goncharov of the 3rd Platoon was wounded under mysterious circumstances. Some claimed a Mercedes had arrived at the position, and four uniformed men had stepped out. Others blamed Ukrainian saboteurs. One of Mayborodin’s subordinates, Timur Kaledin, even insisted that Goncharov had been shot by his own commander, Sergei Tur.

Whatever the truth, the decision was made to pull the company back. Lieutenant Colonel Zhovty’s order cited a rise in “violations of military discipline, sabotage among personnel, and failure to follow battalion command’s instructions,” as well as the need to “strengthen the unit’s morale and psychological climate.”

Their temporary base was set in Oleksiyivka, a village 20 kilometers from occupied Henichesk. They were ordered to travel there unarmed.

Tur’s 3rd Platoon complied without issue. But Mayborodin, furious at the cramped container housing in Oleksiyivka, led the 1st and 2nd Platoons to Armiansk in Crimea instead.

There, soldiers settled into hotels and “relaxed”. Some from “Maysyndicate” trashed a café, firing assault rifles. Military police detained them but soon let them go. One fighter mysteriously injured his hand; another suffered a skull fracture in a brawl with “men of [North Caucasus] origin” and fell into a coma.

Enraged, Mayborodin ordered an immediate return to Korsunka. One soldier slept through the convoy’s departure. As punishment, May stripped the troublemakers of their unit patches and sent them to work in the field kitchen. Some paid their way out, wiring 20,000 roubles each as a “voluntary donation” to the unit.

Back at the front, tensions with regular officers worsened. A new clash erupted on January 31, 2023.

Mayborodin, flanked by bodyguards, arrived at the command post and fixated on a Tiger armoured vehicle. Though the 10th Company was far from the frontline, he insisted he needed it for evacuating the wounded.

Major Alexander Sizemov, the 45-year-old chief of staff, refused to hand over the keys. On Mayborodin’s orders, Yaroslav Yartsev struck him in the jaw. As Sizemov stumbled, Yartsev kicked him, then beat him with a rifle.

“I told them there was only one vehicle and I wouldn’t hand over the keys,” Sizemov later told investigators. “Yartsev grabbed his rifle by the barrel and struck me across the back several times. Mayborodin warned me—either I hand over the keys, or Yartsev would beat me to death.”

Mayborodin left the command post in the seized armoured car.

Punishment by Pine

Corporal Viktor Utyayev spent his final hours bound to a pine tree. His face pressed against the trunk, arms wrapped around it and secured with reinforced tape. At times, he screamed, begging to be allowed to relieve himself.

Among those who saw him were battalion commander Rakhmatullin and company commander Shishkin, but no one dared intervene—Mayborodin had forbidden it. “No one would have disobeyed Mayborodin’s orders regarding Utyayev,” recalled Private Alexander Poddubny. “He was a strong leader. Anyone who tried to help could have ended up tied to the tree next to him.”

On the evening of 27 December 2022, Utyayev was reportedly drunk and aggressive, “grabbing his rifle” and even throwing a grenade into a campfire—though it later turned out to be a dud. Those in the dugout with him decided he was a danger and radioed “Maysyndicate” for backup. Three men responded: Mikhail “Scythian” Zhitnik, Alexander “Fighter” Askalepov, and Yaroslav “Yary” Yartsev—later all charged over the grenade launcher’s death.

They beat Utyayev and dragged him to Mayborodin’s tent, waiting for his punishment. “You’re such a pain in the ass,” was all the sergeant said.

Alexander Askalepov recalled that “Scythian” suggested giving Utyayev a shovel to dig his own grave while he searched for a tin can to use as a suppressor. He was known for his brutality, with a reputation for sadism. In the end, Mayborodin’s men settled on tying Utyayev to a tree.

That night, temperatures in Korsunka hovered just above freezing—between 2 and 4°C (between 35 and 40F). Witnesses disagreed on his clothing: some said he was barefoot, others that he wore tactical boots. Most agreed he had only trousers and a light shirt. As rain began to fall, Poddubny fashioned a makeshift hood from a rubbish bag to shield him.

Before Utyayev was tied up, Lieutenant Sergei “Byk” Tur—the 3rd Platoon commander who had refused to join “Maysyndicate”—tried to help. He offered to take the drunk soldier to his own position to sleep it off. Mayborodin told him to mind his own business.

Utyayev remained bound for around nine hours. Soldiers awake that night recalled hearing his groans and cries. Mayborodin later admitted he knew about the situation but insisted he never ordered any punishment.

Several of Utyayev’s platoonmates checked on him. At one point, they untied him briefly, gave him water, wiped his face, put gloves on his hands—then bound him again. “I told Utyayev I wouldn’t tie him too tight so it wouldn’t hurt,” said Sergei Kaydov. “But I warned him not to struggle.”

By dawn on December 28, when they finally cut him loose, Utyayev could barely stand. Yartsev led him back to a dugout. Witnesses said he was covered in mud, his trousers lowered and “soiled with faeces.” They left him there, and hours later, he was dead—according to investigators, from injuries and hypothermia.

“Anyone Can Become a ‘Cargo 200’ ”

Mayborodin and his group struggled to decide what to do with the body.

Zhitnik—“Scythian”—suggested staging it as an accidental landmine death following a desertion, but May rejected the idea. Instead, Utyayev’s body was first taken by pickup truck to a trench used for storing mines and left there, covered with branches.

It wasn’t long before Senior Lieutenant Tur stumbled upon the corpse and immediately reported it to the battalion commander. Believing Utyayev might still be alive, he called on his 3rd Platoon to help transport Utyayev to medics. But by the time they returned, the body was gone. “Scythian” had ordered it moved further from camp, where it was buried on the forest’s edge.

"We left no markers at the site—on the contrary, we covered it with pine needles to disguise it. The only reference point was a moss-covered stick I placed diagonally between four trees forming a square," Yaroslav Svist later described.

Mayborodin and his men forbade anyone from speaking about “Hooligan’s” fate. When discussing it with battalion commander Azat Rakhmatullin, May suggested blowing up Utyayev’s body and listing him as a combat casualty—ensuring his family would receive compensation. “This is war. Anyone can become a ‘Cargo 200’,” Rakhmatullin recalled him saying.

As control over the company slipped and attempts to cover up the death emerged, investigators launched a probe into Rakhmatullin himself for negligence and abuse of power.

By February 2023, investigators had broken the silence. Soldiers from the 10th Company—who had initially backed the story of a drunken deserter—began testifying against Dmitry Mayborodin. They exposed “Maysindikat”, the extortion “for the needs of the unit,” and the routine violence.

One soldier recalled how Mayborodin beat epileptic Private Svist after he suffered a seizure in a vehicle, delaying a convoy. Furious, “May” declared Svist his “slave” and forced him to pay 20,000 rubles to the unit’s treasurer to buy his freedom. Mayborodin insists the allegations are false but offers no explanation for why his comrades would fabricate them.

Finding Viktor Utyayev’s grave was easy. A soldier who had been forced to dig it led investigators to the site. His body was exhumed on February 14, 2023.

Mayborodin was arrested in late March and held in military detention in Sevastopol, Crimea. He was charged under three articles of the Criminal Code, all of which he denied. By 2025, his stance remained unchanged, his lawyer, Stanislav Fidelsky, told Mediazona.

Alexander Askalepov was placed under travel restrictions but continued serving while under investigation. Like his former commander, he denied guilt—though he admitted to striking Utyayev several times. “All I can say is, we’re accused of something we didn’t do. The court will decide,” he told Mediazona.

Yaroslav Yartsev, who had confessed to all charges, was killed in June 2023 during the assault on Antonovsky Bridge. Yaroslav Svist also died, though case files do not specify how. The only accused to evade military investigators was Mikhail Zhitnik who vanished without a trace and was declared wanted.

Mediazona attempted to contact individuals mentioned in the case using numbers from court files. None responded.

By summer 2023, the village of Korsunka, where the “Sokol” battalion had been stationed, was completely submerged after the destruction of the Kakhovka Dam.

The investigation concluded in early 2024. In February, the case was sent to the Southern District Military Court in Rostov-on-Don, which declined jurisdiction. Fidelsky refused to disclose where the trial is now taking place. “The process is dragging on, and all accusations against May are lies,” he said.

“I don’t just defend him. He’s my brother in principle. There’s family by blood, and there’s family by life. He’s the latter,” Fidelsky told Mediazona. “And this country needs more people like him. Life would be better—less lies, less deception.”

Editor: Dmitry Tkachev