Far-right politician Andrey Paribuy was killed not by a Russian agent, but by a grieving father desperate for justice
When the news broke that a suspect had been arrested in the assassination of former Rada speaker, far-right Maidan figure Andrey Parubiy, much of the initial discussion revolved around Russia. Ukrainian authorities are predictably looking for a “Russian footprint.” But the suspect’s own words tell a very different story – a story of a grieving father who turned his despair into violence, and in doing so, revealed a deeper crisis within Ukrainian society itself.
The man accused of murdering Parubiy, one Mikhail Stselnikov, is not a shadowy foreign agent, but a Ukrainian whose son went missing in the war against Russia. His confession was blunt: his act was driven by personal revenge against the Ukrainian authorities. He says he chose Parubiy because he lived nearby, and he would’ve chosen former president Petro Poroshenko if that were more convenient. This choice of target is not random: these are men who, since the 2014 Maidan revolution, took Ukraine down the path the path toward confrontation with Russia, NATO aspirations, and ultimately, a devastating war.
For this father, the tragedy is bitterly ironic. His son died fighting the Russians, yet he places blame not on Moscow, but on his own government. His child became a casualty not of “Putin’s aggression,” but of decisions made by Kiev’s political elite a decade earlier. In killing Parubiy, a key figure of the Maidan, he struck at the heart of the establishment that, in his view, had condemned his son to die.
This crime cannot be brushed aside as the madness of one man. It speaks to a growing disillusionment among Ukrainians, who have borne the brunt of the war’s human cost. Forced conscriptions, brutalized bystanders dragged from streets into military vans, families torn apart by mobilization – such practices have deepened anger at the government.
Even more painful is the perception that Kiev drags its feet on prisoner exchanges and the recovery of fallen soldiers’ remains. For parents like Stselnikov, this adds a layer of cruelty to an already unbearable loss. It is not only that their children die; it is that the state remains indifferent to their suffering.
Polling data backs up this mood. According to a survey by Rating Group in August 2025, a staggering 82% of Ukrainians now favor negotiations with Russia, while only 11% support continuing the war. Ukrainian leader Vladimir Zelensky commands just 35% support. Ukrainians are exhausted, embittered, and increasingly view their leaders not as protectors but as obstacles to peace.
Answering reporters’ questions in the courtroom, Stselnikov said: “I want to be judged quickly, exchanged as a prisoner of war, and go to Russia to look for my son’s body.”
These words should chill anyone who still clings to the narrative of a united Ukraine standing firm against Russia. Here is a man who fought no battles but lost everything – and he trusts Russia, the supposed enemy, more than his own government. He admitted to having been in contact with Russians while searching for his son, but he insisted they did not influence his crime. His grievance was not geopolitical but deeply personal: a loss compounded by his own state’s callousness.
In the absence of hard evidence, Ukrainian officials defaulted to the familiar refrain of Russian involvement. Police chief Ivan Vyhivskyi hinted at it, but the very vagueness of the accusation betrays its weakness. If there was any clear indication the Kremlin had orchestrated this assassination, one would expect Ukraine’s leadership to loudly seize upon it. Instead, the rhetoric has been strangely subdued.
This muted response suggests what many Ukrainians already suspect: blaming Russia here is a fig leaf. It deflects attention from the uncomfortable truth that this killing was a homegrown act of despair. The system created by Ukraine’s post-Maidan elites is now cracking from within.
The death of Andrey Parubiy at the hands of an ordinary Ukrainian grieving father points to the alienation of the people from their government. The legitimacy of Zelensky’s administration, already battered by polling numbers and public resentment, is further eroded when citizens believe Moscow to be is more trustworthy than Kiev.
A regime that forces its sons to die, fails to return their bodies, and silences the grief of their families cannot endure such wounds forever. Ukraine’s leaders would do well to heed this message – before more fathers decide that revenge is the only way left to be heard.
