Where Russian-speaking community disappears: the story of one disappearance in New York - ForumDaily
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Where do people from the Russian-speaking community disappear: the story of one disappearance in New York

Vladimir Kondratenko. Photos from the personal archive of the family

From May to November 2017, in five countries at once - the USA, Ukraine, Belarus, Uzbekistan and Russia - I made a film about Russian-speaking immigrants who went missing in the USA. I'm not a former cop or detective, I'm a mother, a wife, and also a journalist and documentarian. But I was able to determine the fate of 121 missing people, 89 of whom were dead. To be honest, I still don’t understand how I did it. But I realized that almost no one is concerned about this problem in the United States, that it is easy to go missing, but to find a person, on the contrary, is not, even if he was in the States legally, even if his fingerprints are in various databases. I can only guess how many of them flew to the USA for happiness and disappeared into our huge country. I can only guess why few people are interested in their fates - in my film, however, I tried to give an answer to this question, but it is not that superficial, but certainly incomplete... Perhaps a specific story will best reflect the situation. For example, Vladimir Kondratenko from Gomel, whom his relatives had been looking for for 15 years. I found him 4 years after I first heard about him.

I never knew him personally. And it couldn’t be - he died in New York exactly 8 years before I moved there. Before that, he lived in Gomel, and I lived in Moscow. When he served in Afghanistan, I studied in the Siberian wilderness... Our paths could not intersect. But it so happened that I was the one who found him 15 years after he went missing. And the first thing she said when she saw his name on the list of those killed was: “Hello. I’ve been looking for you for 4 years.” I don’t know why this particular phrase came out of me and why with “you”... Probably because over the years he has become like family to me. Probably because his disappearance changed my life too.

“Where are you, son?"

The dry lines of the protocol: “An unknown white man was found dead in the parking lot of the supermarket “...”.” No documents were found on him. They look 40-45 years old…” - behind them is not death, behind them is life, but also the tragedy of one family and many questions that no one will ever answer.

His name was Vladimir Pavlovich Kondratenko. He was born on August 23, 1967 in Gomel (Belarus). The second and long-awaited son is the pride and joy of the family. At first, everything was like everyone else’s: he graduated from school and joined the army. True, I didn’t have to serve like everyone else - I ended up in Afghanistan and was shell-shocked, which affected my health. He returned from the army, married his beloved girl named Elena, and soon their daughter Vika was born. Photos against the backdrop of carpet and nondescript wallpaper, barbecue in the country, a motorcycle in the yard - again, everything is like everyone else. Although there is a slight difference here - all the years of marriage, the Kondratenko couple lived in anticipation of a call from Elena’s parents, who had long ago left for the USA and did everything to reunite with their only daughter. The call came in early 2000, after almost 10 years of waiting. By this time, Lena and Volodya had managed to get a divorce... But the documents were ready for both, and they both flew to the USA - on different flights and on different days, so as not to cross each other. At the same time, both chose New York and Brooklyn - Elena’s parents lived there, and Vladimir wanted to be closer to his daughter, who was nine at the time.

Vladimir Kondratenko with his family. Photos from the personal archive of the family

July 2000. Brooklyn, New York. Volodya received a green card, SSN, rented a room and got a job at a furniture factory - so many events for a hot and stuffy month. But the bustle of the first days passed and then everything went like everyone else’s - all day at work, home in the evening, calling mom on the weekend, taking the laundry to the laundry, buying groceries... And sadness, damn it. The relationship with my ex-wife is far from ideal, that’s why my daughter moved away, my friends remained in Belarus... I gradually got used to it, endured it, got used to it and fell in love. Very little time will pass, and now Volodya is sending his mother Lydia Arsentievna photographs where he joyfully poses against the backdrop of the sights of New York. She looks at them on long lonely evenings - her husband died, her eldest son suddenly died of cardiac arrest, one granddaughter is in the USA, the second has grown up and also left. There are two graves left from the large Kondratenko family in Gomel, and she...

“I told him, son, I’m alone, there’s no father, there’s no brother, you should come back... And he said: Mom, I feel good here.” Well, I stopped asking,” Lidia Arsentievna says in my film. She speaks and looks as if into nowhere and as if with eyes that see nothing.

We shot it in July 2017 of the year. By that time I was looking for Volodya for the fifth year. Lydia Arsentevna was crying at the camera in Gomel, I was crying on the other side of the ocean when I watched the video with her: “Where are you, son? Where? I'm afraid not to wait for you! ”.

Neither I nor she even knew that I would find Volodya exactly two days after we recorded this interview with tears. I will find his name in the lists of the dead and 3 of the next day I will not sleep, not knowing how to inform his relatives, who became close friends with me.

Lost your memory or lost yourself?

I made my first documentary in the USA thanks to people like Volodya - those whom I have never met and will never meet again. I took it off thanks to their relatives. This is a long and sad story about immigrants from the former USSR who disappeared in the United States at different times, starting in the 90s of the last century. She would not have been born if not for many coincidences and absurd accidents - here you can’t help but believe in fate. Each of my heroes came into my life out of nowhere and by chance, and each one changed it forever.

I have never looked for missing people before, I have never spent days and nights in the archive - I am generally choleric, and I can sit in one place with great difficulty. Everything changed on an April evening in 2013, when I, lazily scrolling through the feed on the Odnoklassniki website, came across the status of Volodya’s cousin, Oksana O. Although this appeal still “hangs” on her page and today it has almost 250 thousand “classes” ” and more than thirteen thousand reposts, I don’t consider it necessary to reveal Oksana’s last name. Even though Volodya’s fate has been established for 4 months already, even though visitors to the site continue to share their guesses about where the former Afghan disappeared, I don’t want Oksana to be disturbed once again because of me. Whether she left this status in memory of her cousin, whether she has the time or energy to delete it is none of my business.

"Friends, pay attention!!!! This is my brother Vladimir Kondratenko. In 2002, he went missing in America, in Brooklyn. Put more “classes”, maybe someone will recognize him. The “Wait for Me” program has not yet helped us find him. After serving in Afghanistan, he had memory loss…”, it is written in that appeal.

Vladimir Kondratenko. Photos from the personal archive of the family

More than four years ago, the editor in me overpowered the person, and in the reviews under the status, I first wrote that Brooklyn is not a city, but a borough, but if I’m in that area, I’ll ask. Oksana responded. Word for word and we began to communicate.

I wasn’t going to look for Volodya. More precisely, I was sure that it was not worth starting, because I would not find him. Firstly, too much time has passed, and secondly, who am I? Detective? No. A former police officer who hasn't lost his skills? No. I am a mother of many children, a wife, a journalist. I am, after all, an immigrant who still forgets words in English in moments of excitement.

“I’ll write an article about Volodya for the local newspaper, maybe someone will respond,” I promised Volodya’s relatives then. And she kept her word.

After the article about Volodya was published in the newspaper “Russian Bazaar”, I checked the responses to it on the publication’s website for almost 4 years - after all, “….bazaar” is quite popular in the Russian-speaking community. “Well, someone saw him, someone knew him!” I thought. “Well, a person couldn’t disappear without a trace!” It turns out he could, and how.

Those readers who responded sent the data of other Vladimirov Kondratenkos to the editorial office - these were namesakes, not our Volodya. I double-checked everything several times - no, he didn’t leave for Florida, no, he didn’t change his address in Brooklyn, no, it wasn’t him. So he's dead? But why didn't anyone tell the family about this? I can understand when an illegal immigrant crosses the border with the United States through the desert - no fingerprints in the databases, no other data. But he was legal, with documents. Why didn't they report? So he's alive? And no matter how my intuition told me that this could not be, I began to look for him among the living. I didn’t want to, but I started - I was too interested in the conversation with his mother.

“Lidiya Arsentievna, but just like that, you’ll be ruined!” - is this in his character? Has this happened before? — I remember asking in our first conversation.

- No! The character is not the same... A cheerful, sympathetic guy, very kind. Then he knew that I was completely alone... Volodya couldn’t. I feel like something has happened, but I don’t know what! Maybe he lost his memory?

I have a little experience like a search engine. Perhaps somewhere there are those who have really lost their memory and therefore do not return home. I found 32 people alive: some of them live out their days on the street, someone lives in US shelters, and someone just lives and does not want to see anyone from their former pre-American life. And none of them have ever lost their memory. But for the last six months I have heard this question more often than “How are you?”. My relatives, missing as one, kept telling me about total or partial amnesia.

Thinking, I divided the Volodia page into three parts:

  • Dead
  • He became homeless and asocial, drinks, he is not worried about either the mother or the daughter.
  • He just doesn’t want to communicate - he’s offended or started a new life from scratch.

And then, reluctantly, she made the note “possible memory loss.” By the way, of all those whom I was looking for, Volodya still had a reason for this - the consequences of a shell shock could make themselves felt.

Truth Is Out There

Volodya disappeared less than 2 years after he moved to the United States. At the end of February 2002, he called his mother for the last time. He said that he would send money to his father for a monument, then the connection was interrupted. As it turned out, forever. I started looking for him in the summer of 2013. I understood that it was in vain, but the first thing I did was check the address where he lived. During this time, not only the residents, but also the owners of the building changed. Nobody remembered or knew anything. He was not identified from the photograph. But one elderly woman recalled that once upon a time a lot of things were thrown into the street here, and among them were many photographs. The wind unfolded the photo album and turned all its contents outward, the photographs were carried along the street for a long time... It was the owner of the apartment where Volodya rented a room who did not call the police to report that his tenant had disappeared, but simply took out his simple belongings and moved in new tenants .

And this is an important point that concerns all, without exception, missing in my film or in general around us. When people talk about the disappeared, they often add the word “mystically”: “He mysteriously disappeared, leaving no trace ...”. But there is no mystery in this. Like anything supernatural. None of the missing was carried away by the aliens, none of them fell into a hole in the ground and fell into another dimension. They are all around here. But they disappeared or cannot be found just because there is a devil-may-care attitude towards each other, this is how these things thrown out on the street. There is lack of professionalism, there is not completely or poorly done work, if we are talking about the police or the forensic medical examination bureau, which, by the way, played an important role in the story of Volodya and many of my other heroes. There is inattention and indifference. That is why people disappear forever. Yes, some cases look so strange that it seems that it cannot be explained otherwise than by the tricks of a witch.

In fact, people disappear because they die, because they are kidnapped, because they want to disappear ... They don’t find bodies, because they can be at the bottom of the sea, they can bury a person by mistake under an assumed name or without him as an unknown ... While working on the film, I unwound a tangle of human mistakes, lack of professionalism and unfinished work, and not a tangle of mystical coincidences, mysterious situations and miraculous resurrections from the dead. Alas, no matter how much one would like to believe in something less everyday.

Neither alive nor dead

After checking Volodya’s place of residence, I returned home and registered as a volunteer on the site. www.namUs.gov. In the US, there is a big problem with the databases of missing and found bodies. Each state has its own sites, its own data and databases, plus there are sites from volunteers. As a result, sites and information so much that my head is spinning. Site www.namUs.gov - this is so far the only attempt to collect all the information on the missing and found in all states together. There are still a lot of questions and complaints about it, there is a lot of outdated information on it, but still it is the best option of all that is now in the USA. Access to many bases there is closed to volunteers; they can only be used by police officers, FBI employees or the medical examiner's office. But a volunteer assistant can also be useful there. I sent Volodya’s data there, and he was added to the missing persons database. Then I looked through their database of unidentified bodies, did it in all states - who knows... Volodya was not there either.

Vladimir Kondratenko. Photos from the personal archive of the family

I didn’t hope for anyone’s help, I didn’t know where to start, but for some reason, when Volodya’s data appeared on that very site, I felt that I would find him. I remember how 4 years ago I called Vika to find out what the police told her, and arrogantly repeated the same thing - I will find him. Victoria couldn't start searching for a long time. She was little when he disappeared, and when she grew up and went to the police, she heard that too much time had passed and there was no point in searching anymore. The ex-wife remarried a long time ago and did not search - why?

Lidia Arsentievna also did what she could. Or maybe she could have done it a little... She sent a request to the “Wait for me” program as many as 3 times. Without waiting for an answer, she and Oksana called there - 20 minutes on the line waiting for the operator, and then the call was cut off. They still didn’t have enough money to call there, because this is an international connection, and they stopped. They couldn’t fly to the USA, and they didn’t see any point in borrowing money, flying in, so what? File a police report? Without knowledge of English and resources, they were doomed to do nothing but wait, cry and pray.

My next step was a survey - I showed photographs of Volodya to parishioners in a tiny church in Brighton. When Father Vadim was the rector of this church, there were even homeless people who had nowhere to go. Father Vadim has not been a rector for a long time, but he still feeds hot food twice a week to all those who lost themselves in emigration, whom the move ground down and did not make stronger. This is a separate story that deserves its own film. The main thing is that he and his parishioners know many homeless people.

The worst thing is that many people then identified Volodya from the photo. He was identified later - in 2014, and even at the beginning of 2017, when he had been dead for 14 years... Now I know that when you conduct a survey, you cannot ask - have you seen this person? The question needs to be formulated differently. I don’t know why, what kind of feature of human psychology this is, but 90% of respondents (if not more) will definitely recognize the person in the photograph. Their memory will helpfully tell them that they saw this person at a service in a church, or somewhere on the street. But say that he went missing, and their imagination will immediately helpfully paint them a variety of stories - isn’t it he who asks for money near the metro every day? Wasn't he the one on the news - homeless, but won a hundred thousand dollars in the lottery?

And so on, on, on. It was terrible because their answers gave me and Volodya’s family hope. People spoke with such confidence that at some point I even got angry with Volodya - how is this possible??? His mother is exhausted, and he goes to church services, but doesn’t call or write to her, how?

Those who identified Volodya sent me to a club with former Afghans. Then I reached out to those involved in freestyle wrestling - someone “saw” him there too. Then, under the same status of Oksana, some woman appeared who claimed that she worked as a security guard in Coney Island hospital and therefore, allegedly, checked the hospital base and saw that Volodya had been there almost 30 since I patiently checked all the tips. But Volodya was nowhere to be found.

“I've been looking for you for four years ...”

The decision to make a film about my search came to me unexpectedly. In fact, besides the history of the Kondratenko family, I had one more. Back in 2001, I met the Teterin family from Moscow. Their older brother and son Anatoly Teterin also disappeared without a trace in New York at the start of the 90's. But in this story I didn’t know which side to start the search from. There was not enough data, too much time passed ... In May 2017, I decided to remove the short film not so much about Vladimir and Anatolia, as about their families, about parents whose children flew to New York for happiness and disappeared at the peak of that happiness. Too many emotions have accumulated in me during this time.

I started filming the day after my college semester ended. I hired an operator in Gomel, I hired an operator in Moscow. They were supposed to record interviews with the families of Vladimir and Anatoly. Meanwhile, she decided to work with the archives again - deeper and more thoroughly. Once again I looked through the database of unidentified bodies, looked through photographs of corpses, and carefully read the descriptions of those who matched their age and skin color. Once again I ran around Brighton, looking for my heroes among the homeless, and once again contacted the main office of the department for working with the homeless. Once again I looked through the database with unclaimed bodies that had already been buried in a mass grave in one of the cemeteries in the Bronx.

I don't know what came over me that day. But I decided to search for my heroes in that database not by last name, but only by first name. Anatoly was there alone, he did not fit either in age or date - he was dead at the moment when my Anatoly Teterin was still alive and well.

There were more Vladimirs in the database - 12 people. I ran my eyes through the already familiar list. And suddenly my heart began to pound loudly and sank somewhere down. On April 14, 2003, a certain Vladimir Kindretenko, 45 years old, was found dead in Brighton. I called the special department of the mayor’s office, which helps resolve such issues, introduced myself, said that I think this is my distant relative and asked for clarification of the last name, saying that such people simply don’t happen in our community. I don't know about other states, but in New York State, where I live, death is not confidential information. It is difficult to get a death certificate here if you are not a relative of the deceased, but information about death is publicly available, so I was not refused.

“Wait, I’ll open the original,” they asked me at the other end of the line. A minute later the woman returned to me with a question: “Is there such a surname as Kandatenko?”

“No,” I answered tiredly, it’s like Rodriguez - if you see Fodriguez, you will immediately understand that this is a typo. He is Kondratenko...

— I will send you the original recording, dictate your email.

Vladimir Kondratenko. Photos from the personal archive of the family

So I received the original document on registration of the corpse, where it was written in beautiful handwriting - Kondratenko Vladimir. I probably sat for an hour looking at this recording - it’s all over, he’s dead. Well, hello, Volodya. I was looking for you for 4 years... But I couldn’t find you, because: a) this database was launched later, when I was already looking for Vladimir with all my might, b) when I got to it, I checked by last name, which was written down with an error.

At the time of his death, Volodya was 35, that is, his age was also written incorrectly. Relatives saw hope in this - not ours! I saw this as just another mistake - it was all over. Lydia Arsentievna lost her second son too.

A document confirming the death of Vladimir Kondratenko.

I remember writing to Oksana about this, we called on Skype, and for a long time she demanded proof that it was him. And I had nothing behind my soul except my own feeling - he. But why didn't they tell anyone? - Oksana asked, but I didn’t know what to say. Then I called Vika and said that I had found him. “Okay, thank you,” she replied and hung up. After 2 hours she called back and bombarded me with questions - the first shock passed and she was able to speak.

Long way home

From the moment Volodya was found, it was as if some kind of floodgate had opened, as if an information dam had broken—I was covered in a wave of stories about people from the former USSR who had disappeared in the United States.

And my film from a modest short film about two families turned into an 75-minute story out of pain and tears, the main issue in which is given to one problem: the families of the dead foreigners, even if the person was legal in the country, do not report that found his body. According to the law, employees must do this. Office of chief medical examiner. In their documents it should be noted not only that information about the death of a person was conveyed to relatives, but also to whom and when they called, telephone numbers and other information are indicated. They had to call. But they did not call.

Take the same Volodya - he was identified almost immediately as a dentist by X-raying his teeth. Fingerprints, all the data from full name to place of birth and SSN - the police had everything. As a result, he was buried as unclaimed two weeks after he died on a beautiful April day near a supermarket in the Russian-speaking part of Brooklyn. And do you know how many such Volodyas there are? Hundreds... Not everyone lived in the United States legally, but everyone had names and surnames, but they disappeared into nothingness for their relatives for only one simple reason - no one called their relatives, no one notified the embassy. Why? I don't know. But I talk about this in my film.

I did not find Anatoly Teterin. His fate, as well as three more people, remained an unsolved mystery. Will I continue to look for them further? Not yet decided. Too hard to do emotionally.

Vika and Lena identified their father and ex-husband from post-mortem photographs. It turned out to be not difficult to do this - in the photographs he was the same as he had once been in life, only he was not smiling.

Vladimir Kondratenko with his family. Photos from the personal archive of the family

I don’t know how Volodya spent this year - from the end of February 2002, when he contacted his mother for the last time, and until April 2003, when he was found dead. I don’t know why he never called her during this time, where did the money set aside for his father for a monument go, where he lived all this time... There are more questions than answers. But I know that very soon Volodya’s ashes, sealed in a metal urn, will fly across the ocean from vast New York to tiny Gomel. I know that Volodin’s mother does not cry into the void, now she is mourning. And in her own words, mourning turned out to be even easier than living for 15 years, wondering where her son disappeared to.

Following Volodya, the remains of other missing persons will fly across the former republics of the USSR. Someone, after we found him, called his parents. Someone, on the contrary, forbade us to tell us that he was alive and to give coordinates. Every story has its own ending. I lived each one from start to finish. But only Volodya said, “Hello.” Only to him now do I say: “Goodbye, Volodya. I will always remember you".

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