Ukrainian police push forward with forced child evacuations
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In the spring of 2023, the Ukrainian government enacted a policy for the mandatory evacuation of children from combat zones, a measure long demanded by volunteers involved in civilian rescues. Despite this, nearly every settlement near the front line has parents who refuse to evacuate, putting both themselves and their children at grave risk. A troubling pattern has emerged where some parents lie to and mislead police and other government services. NV journalist Serhiy Okunev visited Kurakhove in Donetsk Oblast, dodging attacks by FPV drones and witnessing the heroic work of local police as they struggle to save children under dire conditions.
Mandatory child evacuations don’t happen everywhere along the front line. Local authorities only announce such measures in specific areas when the threat becomes imminent and the conditions for a decent life are completely absent. First, they declare the need for voluntary evacuation, then mandatory. Only in extreme cases do they proceed with forced evacuations of children.
In the summer of 2024, such measures became necessary in the city of Kurakhove in Donetsk Oblast. By October, the situation there had become critical. The city had no electricity, gas, heating, or communications. Each day, occupiers drop three to ten high-powered guided bombs on the city and its surroundings. Artillery shelling also occurs daily, and in recent weeks, enemy FPV drones have “patrolled” central streets and residential areas, attacking any car or person outside. Yet, despite these conditions, around a thousand civilians, including children, remain in the city.
“Portal to Cherkasy”: Kurakhove Police Search for Children
Old announcements remain at the Kurakhove city bus station—buses to Kyiv, Lviv, and even Warsaw and Prague. Now, it’s a surreal sight since entering or leaving the city is extremely dangerous.
“There’s no information on FPVs right now. Give it a try, but keep your speed up,” police instruct at the last checkpoint before the city.
Beyond this point lies a hazardous stretch. A civilian car, burned out, sits along the roadside, destroyed by Russian forces the previous day as people tried to leave the city. The journalist’s car races over this section at over 100 km/h, eventually reaching residential areas. Here, drone attacks and shelling are also a risk, though there are opportunities to hide in damaged buildings and remaining shelters.
Finally, they reach a Kurakhove police outpost, where the journalist meets police chief Artem Shchus. He’s been working on evacuating people for several months, conducting high-risk missions in areas like Maryinka, Krasnohorivka, and Vuhledar. Ukraine’s Ministry of Internal Affairs reported that Shchus helped evacuate over 1,600 civilians from active combat zones, including 222 children and 1,300 elderly individuals. He also provided first aid to 650 injured civilians. In early Oct. 2024, Shchus received the Order of Courage, Third Class.
A few days ago, Russian propaganda started spreading rumors that the entire Kurakhove police force had abandoned the city, supposedly signaling its handover to the occupiers. This is a fake, similar to rumors in Aug. 2024 about Pokrovsk.
“Well, you can see for yourself where we are. That story about us fleeing must come from people who don’t know me. Because I got to know the enemy back in Maryinka and Krasnohorivka. They probably remember what we did there. So here, we’re still working, and no one’s running away,” Shchus responds to the Russian misinformation.
Currently, evacuating civilians is one of the Kurakhove police’s top priorities. Shchus estimates about a thousand civilians remain, including children. When asked if children are still present, he sighs deeply.
“Yesterday, 16 people were evacuated from the Kurakhove community, including children. We didn’t know about these particular kids beforehand; we found out during the evacuation process. So it’s hard to give an exact number. Every time we manage to evacuate a family with kids, we hope—maybe that’s the last of them. But then, the next day or a few days later, we hear about more kids spotted somewhere,” he says.
At that moment, two officers in full protective gear enter the room. They conduct foot patrols, searching for anyone willing to evacuate. Due to enemy drones, traveling by car in the city is extremely dangerous, so they spend hours roaming residential neighborhoods, gathering information about children. From the doorway, the officers report on their “outing”: one family claimed their child had been evacuated independently, and the officers found no signs of the child’s presence. Shchus admits he doesn’t trust the parents’ claims and urges them to continue the search.
“A few days ago, we received information about a family with children in a hazardous area. It took us a while to reach them. When we did, we only met the father, who insisted the children had left for Cherkasy long ago. But we’ve got experience, and we can usually tell when someone’s hiding something. Plus, there are little signs that tell us when a child lives there. We almost believed him and were about to leave when I noticed a basement hatch blocked by some junk. I was surprised to see the hatch had a cloth handle, meaning it was in use. So I said, let’s check the basement. The man replied, ‘There’s no need, the kids aren’t here, I swear.’ But my colleague and I cleared the entrance and opened the hatch. Right away, I saw a child’s hand pulling a curtain shut. Clear as day—a “portal” to Cherkasy!” shares community police officer Kostiantyn Tunytskyi.
His colleague, Yevhen, recalls several instances when parents hid their children until the last moment, lied, refused evacuation, then ran across streets and fields after an enemy shell destroyed their house and yard.
“They’ll sell them for foreigners’ organs”: Why some parents refuse to save their children and the lies they tell
Police officers interviewed by NV say that refusing forced evacuation and constructing elaborate lies to evade it are relatively rare cases in Kurakhove, a town that once housed over 20,000 people. But when someone decides to hide and lie, they employ various tactics.
“People try all sorts of things. Sometimes they just hide the children in basements or cellars. Sometimes they get neighbors to vouch that, yes, the child has left; they saw it themselves. There’s essentially no punishment for lying. Once, we found out a child was still at home, even though the mother claimed she’d evacuated the child. When we eventually saw the child, she admitted, ‘Alright, I was wrong, I get it, we’ll leave tomorrow.’ The next day, we came back, and she’d taken the child and fled to a nearby village. We had to search for her there. When we found her, she said, ‘Yes, yes, tomorrow.’ Of course, we didn’t believe her this time,” recalls volunteer Yaroslav, whose organization, People More Precious Than Gold, assists the police with evacuations.
Officer Kostiantyn explains that while they call it a “forced evacuation,” police have limited means to convince someone to leave.
“Russian propaganda lies that we storm houses with rifles, handcuff children, kidnap them, and separate them from their parents. It’s all false. First, we always evacuate whole families, as required by law. Both parents, or one parent, or a legal guardian leaves with the child; we can’t forcefully split up families. No one’s waving rifles around—we talk, explain the consequences. No threats and certainly no physical force,” he clarifies.
His colleague, Yevhen, notes that those who absolutely refuse to evacuate are often of lower social status, struggle with alcoholism or domestic violence, and are heavily influenced by Russian propaganda. He recalls being accused by one mother: “I know you want to sell my child’s organs to foreign buyers.”
“It’s really tough work, honestly. We have to deal even with people like this. I feel deeply sorry for the children. Adults can choose to endanger themselves, but to effectively hold a child hostage because you read something in a Russian Telegram channel—that’s horrifying. It’s tough to keep calm in those moments, but we have to keep explaining, even if what we hear is utter nonsense,” Yevhen says.
Who Are the “Returnees” and How to Deal with Them
When it seems there’s no limit to stories of people dodging evacuation, Kurakhove police chief Artem Shchus brings up a particular category of problematic families he calls “returnees.”
“They’re rare, but we’ve had cases like that, even just yesterday. A family with two children. We’d evacuated them before, but after some time, they returned. Once we found out, we had to start the evacuation process all over again.”
Volunteers from People More Precious Than Gold have also heard of such cases. Sometimes parents create “hiding spots” in cars to smuggle children back into combat zones without attracting attention at checkpoints. Volunteers emphasize that to prevent these situations, it’s not enough just to evacuate physically; there needs to be support for evacuees. The organization has set up shelters in Dnipro and Pavlohrad to provide evacuees with temporary housing, initial financial aid of around 10,000 UAH (approx. $270), food, and basic household items.
A separate issue is the lack of effective accountability for parents who blatantly disregard their children’s safety, police say. Previously, Ukraine’s Deputy Minister of Internal Affairs Kateryna Pavlichenko stressed that refusing mandatory evacuation could be qualified as failure to fulfill parental duties. Administrative protocols can be drawn up, and in some cases, criminal liability can apply, such as for endangering a child’s life. However, the Kurakhove officers interviewed remain skeptical about these measures. If parents aren’t deterred by the risk of death, it’s unlikely they’ll fear fines of a few hundred or even thousand hryvnias. And to issue such fines or initiate criminal cases, authorities must first evacuate families to areas where the police, courts, and other government institutions operate normally.
The enemy is actively attacking Kurakhove, with fighting reaching the outskirts of the residential areas, making movement on the main streets extremely dangerous. The day after NV’s journalist visited, the enemy struck an evacuation vehicle. Police officer Vasyl Pipa managed to drive a damaged armored vehicle 11 kilometers, a journey that took six hours as he continually stopped to avoid drones, ultimately rescuing eight civilian residents.
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