Oleh, 19, was offered $1,000 for a paint attack on a police station – but the bag he was given contained a crude bomb
Oleh, a 19-year-old from eastern Ukraine, thought he had found an easy way to earn fast cash through a Telegram channel offering short-term gigs. The job seemed simple: travel to the western city of Rivne, pick up a rucksack with a paint canister inside, and spray a political message outside a police station — all for $1,000.
But on a snowy morning in February, as Oleh opened the bag outside Rivne’s police station, what he found wasn’t paint. It was a crude explosive device: wires, a mobile phone, and a homemade bomb setup. What he didn’t realize until that moment was that he had almost become a pawn in a Russian sabotage operation — and very likely, an unwitting suicide bomber.
Ukraine’s security agency, the SBU, says this chilling tactic is part of a growing trend of attacks inside the country, orchestrated by Russian intelligence using vulnerable local recruits, many of them teenagers. Since early 2024, over a dozen similar incidents have occurred where perpetrators were seriously injured or killed. The SBU reports over 700 people have been detained this year alone for sabotage, arson, or terrorism — around 25% of them are minors, some as young as 11.
The method is disturbingly consistent. Russian “curators” recruit Ukrainians via Telegram with offers of easy money, initially assigning minor tasks like photographing government buildings or distributing anti-war flyers. Once the recruit takes a payment — usually in cryptocurrency — they’re hooked. The stakes escalate quickly, with pressure, manipulation, and sometimes blackmail used to push them into more dangerous acts.
Oleh had already done a small job: snapping photos of a courthouse and police station for $50. Then came the bigger offer — $1,000 to perform what he was told was a non-violent paint job in Rivne. Nervous to go alone, Oleh recruited his friend Serhiy, also unemployed and a father of two, promising to split the money.
After arriving in Rivne, they followed instructions from their Telegram contact, who used the name “Alexander.” They picked up a rucksack from a location marked by a GPS pin and were told not to open it. Alexander claimed it was filled with paint to be sprayed in a political protest.
The next step was to deliver the package to the police station. As Serhiy kept watch, Oleh approached the station. But suspicions kicked in, and he opened the inner bag. What he saw — wires, a mobile phone, and bomb components — horrified him. He immediately sought out a nearby officer to report it.
Moments later, SBU agents — who had been tracking the two men — swept in, seized the devices, and arrested both Oleh and Serhiy. According to the SBU, the bomb was primed to detonate remotely via phone signal. If it had gone off, Oleh, Serhiy, and potentially dozens of police officers and civilians near the entrance would have been killed.
Just three days earlier, a similar device exploded outside a military recruitment office in Rivne, killing the 21-year-old courier and injuring eight soldiers. The SBU, anticipating another attack, had deployed signal-blocking tech to prevent remote detonation.
The SBU suspects that Russian intelligence — either the GRU or FSB — is behind these operations, sometimes working through middlemen or even local teenage bomb-makers. In one recent case, a girl in Rivne was arrested after being recruited on Telegram and taught how to build bombs using online tutorials.
To combat the threat, Ukrainian authorities have launched public awareness campaigns in schools and set up a chatbot where young people can report suspicious online recruiters. “The only free cheese is in a mousetrap,” said one SBU officer, warning teens about strangers promising money online.
For Oleh and Serhiy, being arrested may have saved their lives — but they now face up to 12 years in prison. Oleh insists he never knew he was helping Russian agents or that he was delivering a bomb. His personal life is already in shambles. His girlfriend, after learning what happened, told him never to contact her or their child again. When he called his parents, their reaction was blunt: “They said I’m an idiot.”
As the war in Ukraine drags on, what’s happening behind the front lines may be just as dangerous — and tragic — as the battles at the front. Ukrainian officials fear this “shadow war” could soon spread west. “Ukraine is the testing ground for Russian hybrid warfare,” one law enforcement source warned. “They try it here — and then they export it.”
