We have already conducted a comparative analysis of sentences handed down by the so-called Russian judicial system. But some comparisons are so monstrous and revealing that we have decided to return to this subject.
This time, we will focus on those who, because of their age, are not yet fully capable of assessing the risks and consequences of their actions — teenage minors.
First, it is important to explain one particular feature of Russian legislation. The maximum prison sentence for minors is 10 years, even for particularly serious crimes, multiple murders, or a combination of offenses. For certain categories of minors, the limit is even lower — 6 years.
Remember this number: 10 years. That is the absolute maximum.
Now let us examine the crimes for which Russian courts are prepared to impose sentences approaching this limit.
On March 16, 2026, the Second Western District Military Court sentenced Vladimir Kutuzov, from Kineshma in the Ivanovo region, to 9 years in a juvenile correctional colony. He was only 15 years old when he was arrested.
Why did he receive 9 years — 90% of the maximum sentence available for a minor?
For setting fire to mobile communications equipment.
According to investigators, Vladimir and two older acquaintances set fire to equipment at a cell tower on instructions from unknown handlers communicating through Telegram. The damage was estimated at more than 1 million rubles. No deaths or injuries were reported.
All three were convicted of committing a terrorist act and participating in a terrorist organization.
Twenty-year-old Maksim Kondratyev received a 20-year prison sentence, while 22-year-old Ilya Romanov was sentenced to 22 years. Admittedly, they were also charged with another similar incident, and Romanov was additionally convicted of involving a minor in criminal activity.
That last detail is particularly revealing: the prosecution itself claimed that an adult had involved a minor in the crime. Yet the teenager still received a sentence approaching the maximum permitted by law.
Think about it: a 15-year-old teenager — 9 years of imprisonment for setting fire to equipment.
His older accomplices, themselves teenagers only a few years ago, will be middle-aged by the time they regain their freedom if they serve their full sentences. And that assumes no additional prison terms are imposed on them during their imprisonment.
But another fundamental question arises.
Why was the burning of mobile communications equipment classified as a terrorist act in the first place?
Even under Article 205 of the Russian Criminal Code, merely committing arson and causing property damage is not enough for an act to be classified as terrorism. The law requires that the actions have a character that intimidates the population, create the danger specified in the article, and be committed with the aim of destabilizing government authorities or influencing their decisions.
In Kutuzov’s case, according to the publicly disclosed version of the investigation, the teenagers acted in the hope of receiving a promised financial reward.
But whom were they trying to intimidate? Which government decisions were they attempting to influence? Where is the evidence of an actual terrorist objective rather than an intention to make money illegally by damaging someone else’s property?
The publicly available information about the verdict provides no answers to these questions.
Of course, destroying someone else’s property is a crime that should carry legal consequences. But there is a fundamental legal distinction between setting fire to equipment and committing an act of terrorism.
And if the state imposes an almost maximum sentence on a teenager for destroying equipment, the question arises: is the state itself using such punishments to intimidate society?
After all, 9 years in prison for a 15-year-old child is not merely a punishment. It is practically the rest of his youth.
Now let us turn to an entirely different story. And another minor.
On August 8, 2006, 16-year-old Ruslan Kulish committed a crime whose details remain horrifying even 20 years later.
Kulish, a former vocational school student who had been expelled for fighting and bad behavior, decided to seize someone else’s car. As he later explained to investigators, he simply wanted to go for a drive.
Armed with a shotgun stolen from a relative, the teenager wandered around the area. When he spotted a Mitsubishi belonging to the family of Alexander Petrov, a journalist from Omsk who had come on vacation, he decided to take it.
But the car belonged to a family of four: Alexander, his wife Alyona, and their two young sons, aged 7 and 3.
And what do you think Kulish did?
He carried out a horrific massacre of the entire family.
Hiding in the bushes, he opened fire.
The first shot seriously wounded the father, journalist Alexander Petrov, in the abdomen. The next bullet struck his wife, who had rushed to help her husband.
The teenager then shot their 7-year-old son, shattering the child’s arm.
But even that was not enough.
He finished off the wounded 7-year-old boy with blows from the butt of his shotgun. He then killed the boy’s 3-year-old brother.
Believing that the adults were still alive, the teenager returned to them.
He finished off Alexander Petrov with axe blows to the head. He smashed the skull of Petrov’s wounded wife with a heavy stone.
Four people. Two adults. Two small children.
All murdered.
Kulish then threw the bodies, the tent, and the victims’ belongings into a river, took the family’s car, and drove away.
And here is another particularly chilling detail.
After murdering the family, he went driving in the stolen car with his friends. For two days, they drove around the Altai region in the Mitsubishi until the vehicle overheated and broke down.
Four human lives were destroyed simply for the chance to drive someone else’s car.
And now the crucial question: what sentence did Ruslan Kulish receive for murdering four people, including two small children?
10 years.
On December 29, 2006, the Supreme Court of the Altai Republic sentenced him to 10 years in prison.
This was the maximum sentence Russian law allowed for a minor.
The court could not have given him more.
Now let us return to Vladimir Kutuzov.
For setting fire to mobile communications equipment — an incident in which, according to public reports, nobody was killed or injured — he received 9 out of a possible 10 years.
Ruslan Kulish, for the particularly brutal murder of four people, received 10 out of 10 years.
The difference is just one year.
So how should we understand this?
Does the Russian justice system show particular leniency toward child murderers? Toward murderers in general? Or is this a deliberate demonstration that the Russian state intends to punish offenses classified as terrorism almost as severely as the most horrific murders?
When a teenager is sentenced to 9 years in prison for setting fire to equipment, when practically his entire youth is taken away from him, when such sentences are meant to serve as a warning to thousands of other young people — does this not become an instrument for intimidating society?
And another question arises: who was behind the Telegram handlers directing the teenagers? Were they really representatives of Ukrainian organizations, or could this have been a provocation by the Russian security services? There is no publicly available evidence of such a provocation, but the identities of the alleged organizers also remain unknown.
Nevertheless, even if we fully accept the prosecution’s official account, the central question remains unanswered.
How is it possible that a 15-year-old teenager received a sentence just one year shorter for setting fire to equipment than another minor received for the brutal murder of an entire family, including two small children?
This is not about justifying arson, sabotage, or any other crime. And certainly not about demanding leniency for murderers.
It is about proportionality in sentencing, the circumstances of the crimes, the ages of the defendants, and the value placed on human life.
Of course, one might argue that terrorist offenses pose a particularly serious threat to society and therefore should not be compared with ordinary criminal cases. But that is precisely why terrorist intent must be proven rather than merely asserted by the prosecution.
When a minor receives 90% of the maximum possible sentence for destroying equipment, while another receives 100% for the particularly brutal murder of four people, including two children, the question of what principles govern such judicial practice becomes unavoidable.
And perhaps the central question is no longer simply how much a human life is worth in the eyes of the Russian judicial system.
The real question is whom this system protects, and from what. Does it protect human life from criminals, or does it protect state power from those it has designated as its enemies?
And to what extent can a judicial system that hands down such sentences still claim to embody the very meaning of the word “justice”?
Sources
Human rights project “Support for Political Prisoners. Memorial” — Vladimir Kutuzov case
Article 88 of the Russian Criminal Code — penalties for minors
Article 205 of the Russian Criminal Code — terrorist act