State security agencies are amplifying warnings to enemies of the state using compliant pro-Kremlin journalists.
By Andrei Soldatov and Irina Borogan, for CEPA
The Kremlin-controlled TV channel Rossiya 1 aired a documentary under the dramatic title Predatelstvo (High Treason) in early February.
The program’s structure was fairly simple — essentially a series of interviews with prisoners accused of “terrorist” attacks carried out on the orders of Ukrainian intelligence, paired with menacing warnings from talking heads provided by Russia’s security services.
The program was broadcast shortly before the February 6 shooting of the GRU’s deputy head at his home in Moscow, an attempted assassination that again underlined the country’s serious problems with internal security.
The documentary’s central figure is Daria Trepova, sentenced to 27 years in prison on terrorism charges for the killing of pro-Kremlin war blogger Vladlen Tatarsky, a prominent figure in Russia’s anti-Ukrainian propaganda ecosystem.
Originally from Donetsk Oblast, Tatarsky sided with Russian-backed forces in 2014 after escaping from prison, where he had been serving a sentence for robbery. The pro-Kremlin media elevated him to become a symbol of “Donetsk resistance” to Ukraine. In April 2023, Trepova, a 28 year-old St Petersburg native and anti-regime activist, brought a statuette containing a hidden explosive device to a meeting with Tatarsky’s supporters at a city center café. The bomb was detonated remotely, killing Tatarsky and wounding dozens of attendees.
Predatelstvo was directed by filmmaker and interviewer Andrei Medvedev, who has made a remarkable journey from crime reporter to loyal and vocal Kremlin supporter on one of the country’s major television channels. Along the way, he has joined the regime elite, becoming a Moscow City Duma deputy and a fierce and aggressive promoter of the war against Ukraine.
He gained access to several young Russians, either already convicted or still under investigation, who were caught in acts of alleged sabotage — including those accused of burning a military helicopter and setting fire to relay cabinets on Russia’s railways.
The documentary was very clearly a response by the security services to a series of sabotage attacks carried out by Russian youth — operations that have caught the Kremlin by surprise.
In April 2025, Alexander Bortnikov, FSB director, expressed his concern about the rising numbers of young people involved in what he called destructive activity: “Over the past three years, more than 2,500 young people under the influence of Ukrainian nationalists, international terrorist organizations and movements have been detained,” he said.
Most of the teenagers who tried to set helicopters on fire or throw Molotov cocktails into military recruitment offices were recruited via Telegram messenger and promised money. According to Russian Supreme Court data, 158 teenagers aged 14–17 have been convicted for terrorism and sabotage since 2022.
Having realized that the Kremlin couldn’t control these young people by the usual means, the FSB has returned to tried and trusted methods, including intimidation and harassment.
The main message of the documentary to young Russians? Do not even talk to those who try to involve you in something dangerous, or harsh punishment will follow. It’s not an empty warning; the Kremlin recently lowered the age of criminal liability to the astonishing age of 14. From that age, children convicted of terrorist activity can be sent to prison for up to 20 years.
The documentary, which appeared to have been in the making for several months, judging by footage shot in the summer, was supported by the FSB. The security services assigned two state security veterans to deliver their warnings. The choice was revealing. Rather than turning to a veteran of domestic counterterrorism or counterintelligence to underscore the threat posed by radicalized youth, the FSB selected Alexander Perelygin, an FSB general, and Andrey Bezrukov, a colonel in the SVR.
Perelygin had one of the more opaque careers in the FSB of the 1990s and 2000s. He began in the Soviet KGB, providing technical support for surveillance operations. In the early 1990s, he served in the FSB’s Moscow department. By the end of the decade, he was acting as a security adviser to the mayor of Moscow.
Yet instead of focusing on the security of the Russian capital, Perelygin became increasingly absorbed by issues far beyond his formal remit — most notably the Baltic states — using his position as a member of the government’s commission on compatriots abroad. He made frequent visits to the region, was accused by Latvian authorities of interfering in domestic politics, and was denied entry visas to both Latvia and Estonia.
In the meantime, he was enjoying lucrative positions in business — becoming a major player in Moscow real estate, and later deputy CEO of Norilsk Nickel, the world’s largest nickel and palladium producer.
One thing, however, remained consistent throughout his long career: when Perelygin acted on behalf of the security services rather than his business interests, his focus was foreign, not domestic.
The program’s choice of commentators suggests that the FSB intended to send a message not only to a domestic audience but also abroad.
The second intelligence officer was Andrey Bezrukov. He is a former SVR illegal, meaning he operated abroad as an agent under a false cover. Known in the US as Donald Heathfield, he was arrested by the FBI in 2010 and returned to Moscow in a prisoner swap. After the exchange, Bezrukov remained very much involved in SVR operations; his current role is overseeing the “export of technological sovereignty” in a large-scale Russian influence operation targeting Africa and India that promotes Russian cyber solutions as protection from Western interference. The Kremlin also encouraged him to reinvent himself as a foreign policy expert specializing in the US.
Bezrukov’s message was the most chilling. He attacked the Russian opposition-in-exile and Western intelligence agencies, accusing them, in effect, of supporting terrorism in Russia, and openly suggested a return to the death penalty as retaliation for such attacks.
For Bezrukov and his masters, the threat clearly originates from outside Russia’s borders. The program was an uncoded message that state security Russian agencies will stop at nothing to fight it.
By Andrei Soldatov and Irina Borogan, for CEPA
Irina Borogan and Andrei Soldatov are Non-resident Senior Fellows with the Center for European Policy Analysis (CEPA). They are Russian investigative journalists and co-founders of Agentura.ru, a watchdog of Russian secret service activities. Their book Our Dear Friends in Moscow, The Inside Story of a Broken Generation, was published in June.
Europe’s Edge is CEPA’s online journal covering critical topics on the foreign policy docket across Europe and North America. All opinions expressed on Europe’s Edge are those of the author alone and may not represent those of the institutions they represent or the Center for European Policy Analysis. CEPA maintains a strict intellectual independence policy across all its projects and publications.
