Would I kill my own father? Probably not

When my parents divorced, my mom sent me to study at a military academy. I had no intention of building a military career — I wanted to write screenplays and make films. But my mom said that’s not a profession, you need to go into engineering. In the end, I’m an engineer, but lately I’d been working in film anyway. I dug my heels in and went into that field.

In 2014, my father and I rarely saw each other. I don’t know what his views were, but he never said anything particularly pro-Russian. I believe he has no real ideology even now — he’s talked himself into it.

In 2016–2017, I was very angry at my father. I felt hurt. Then that anger left me, I let it go. I don’t want to take responsibility for it. Now I mostly just laugh at him — gentle mockery without bitterness.

On February 22, Putin signed the order recognizing the “DPR” and “LPR,” and I was one hundred percent certain: this is the beginning of a full-scale invasion. On the 22nd, I wrote to my father: “Well then, things are about to go down. You ready? Buckle up!”

On February 24, my mom called: “Son, it’s started.” I said: “Got it, okay.” They started advancing on Kyiv. I thought: “Oh, I won’t have to go far — everything’s close by, right at hand” — and calmly went off to join the army. I was completely ready mentally. I wrote to my father: “You’re assholes.” He said nothing.

A bit later he wrote: “Don’t pick up a weapon — they’ll take Kyiv immediately.” In March, he wrote that Ukraine wouldn’t last long, that Zelensky had fled to Europe, and we were done for. At that point I was in the forest, and I recorded a video for him: “I keep walking and walking — can’t find any Russians, they seem to have vanished somewhere. Can you give me a hint? It’s unclear.” He said nothing.

He keeps at it: “Don’t fight, nothing will work out for you.” I always reply: “I’m not seeing [your] results” or “Dad, I think you’re developing senile dementia.” He writes that everything’s about to change. But I can see his hope for a Russian victory fading.

He thinks Bucha and Irpin are fakes. I write to him: “Dude, I was there, I saw it all.” Same thing when we entered Izium. They have their own reality over there — I don’t try to prove anything to him anymore.

He says: “You’re my son no matter what.” Once he even wrote: “Oh, you’ve got a nice uniform.” If he asks how I’m doing, I tell him: “All good, working” or “Working — we took some prisoners.”

Would I kill my father? Probably not. Until I was about 15, my father was there for me. He taught me a lot, including military matters. I wouldn’t be able to kill him even if I wanted to — he’s not taking part in combat, he’s sitting somewhere in a headquarters. But sending him to trial — yes, I’d do that.

My father is listed in the Myrotvorets database (a Ukrainian database and center for investigating crimes against Ukraine’s national security, peace, and international order — SP). My command knows about it. And they know my position: I’ve always been for Ukraine. Yes, I occasionally communicate with my father, but I pass no information to him.

My fellow soldiers joke that I’m a saboteur. When we go on the attack, they say: “Report to the right people that we’re going in.” But I told them about the situation with my father right away — I decided to be open about it. Everyone took it normally — it’s not a rare story.

But he’s already gone from my life. And he won’t be part of my children’s lives. Sometimes it hurts that they essentially won’t have a grandfather.

I think our communication with my father will end along with the war. On the other hand, why wouldn’t we be able to stay in touch? I’ll definitely visit him in prison every day — that’s not hard.