The mystery of the German sentenced to death in Belarus

A German man sentenced to death in Belarus for terrorism was shown in a highly choreographed interview on state television, apparently confessing to planting explosives near a railway line.

There is no direct evidence of this in the 16-minute video in which Rico Krieger was filmed, handcuffed, through the metal bars of an eerily immaculate and empty cell.

He claims to have acted on instructions from Ukraine, but no evidence is provided.

Krieger is then shown in tears, calling on the German government for help “before it’s too late.”

He is considered the first Western citizen to be sentenced to death in Belarus, a sentence carried out by firing squad.

The graphic and crudely made video on state television appears to be part of a growing pressure campaign in negotiations with German authorities, which some say could focus on a possible prisoner swap.

State media reports that Rico Krieger has not appealed the verdict, which is extremely rare for someone sentenced to death.

“I am very surprised,” said Andrei Paluda, a Belarusian anti-death penalty activist. “I don’t know the circumstances, I can only guess. But maybe he was promised that consultations were underway and there could be some kind of exchange.”

The unprecedented nature of the case has sparked speculation about links to efforts by Russia, a close ally of Belarus, to free an FSB hitman imprisoned in Germany for the 2019 murder in Berlin of a Chechen-Georgian who had fought against Russia.

The deputy spokeswoman for the German Foreign Ministry declined to comment on the rumours. She also referred to the common practice in Belarus of filming fake interviews with prisoners, including opposition activists who are forced to confess in order to secure their release.

The ministry told the BBC it was working “intensively” with Belarusian authorities on behalf of “the person concerned” in the case, but did not give further details, citing confidentiality reasons.

She condemned the death penalty as a “cruel and inhuman form of punishment.”

Last week in Minsk, a Foreign Ministry spokesman confirmed that a German citizen had been convicted of “terrorism” and “mercenary activity.”

Anatoli Glaz said a “number of options” had been proposed to Berlin, adding that “consultations” were ongoing.

A profile of Rico Krieger on the LinkedIn platform includes an application for a job in the United States published last year.

He introduced himself as a 29-year-old Red Cross paramedic from Berlin who had previously worked in security at the US embassy.

He spoke of his plans to emigrate to the United States and said he had applied for a passport.

A US State Department spokesperson confirmed to the BBC that Krieger worked for Pond Security, a company providing security services to US facilities in Germany, between 2015 and 2016. The company itself declined to comment, citing “diplomatic efforts” and confidentiality.

The German Red Cross also confirmed that Rico Krieger had worked “in the past” for “a district association” of the organization. A spokesperson expressed “great concern” but added that the Red Cross had been instructed not to comment.

In this story there are very few indisputable facts.

Belarusian officials either do not respond or say they will not say anything, not even to confirm the specific accusations.

This may be partly due to political sensitivities. It is also common practice in cases involving the death penalty, which remain highly secretive in this authoritarian state.

“I won’t give you any information,” Vladimir Gorbach, the lawyer who represented Krieger in court, told me by phone. Then he added: “Look at the official Belarusian television. It’s all written there.”

Rico Krieger’s trial appeared to have ended in June. But state-controlled media remained silent on the case for weeks. Most independent journalists are now in exile or in prison.

But now it appears that the information has been passed on to the trusty state reporters and the order to make noise has been given.

On Monday, Ludmilla Gladkaya wrote that Krieger had been found guilty of six counts, including an act of terrorism and intentional damage to communication lines.

Citing court documents the BBC was unable to obtain, she said he had applied to join the Kalinovsky Regiment, which was founded by Belarusians to fight in Ukraine and is designated a “terrorist group” in Belarus.

The journalist claims that Krieger followed the instructions of the regiment – as well as those of the Ukrainian security service SBU – as a kind of initiation process, including in planting the explosives.

The SBU will not comment, while the Kalinovsky regiment only told me: “This is not our fighter.”

When Belarusian state television presented its own dossier – calling the film a “confession” of a “German terrorist” – it also failed to prove any connection to the regiment.

He showed no communication with the Kalinovsky regiment.

Instead, he posted screenshots of encrypted emails that he said were from Krieger seeking to enlist with other foreign units in Ukraine. One of them was supposedly to the Second International Legion, but a spokesperson for the latter told me the address was fake.

“Maybe it was created specifically for fishing (sic) or something like that,” they wrote, calling it an act of “fraud.”

There are several other oddities in this case.

We have never heard of foreign volunteers in Ukraine being forced to undergo “tests” as part of their recruitment, much less something as risky as planting a bomb in Belarus.

There are very few Western tourists in the country these days. Rico Krieger never wanted to blend in.

In the propaganda film, he claims to have been motivated by the high salary he was offered to fight in Ukraine. But he then claims that his monthly salary is around €2,000 (£1,680), less than he was receiving in Germany.

While Krieger writes in good English on LinkedIn, the messages attributed to him in the film are barely literate. They read: “I can’t find the address I was given.”

At one point, the film shows a photo of Krieger taken from his LinkedIn account. But it has been doctored, with a Ukrainian flag added in the background for added impact.

Ludmilla Gladkaya’s article is consistent with Krieger’s “confession” before state television cameras: he allegedly photographed military sites and railway lines for an agent in Ukraine and was then directed to a backpack hidden in tall grass.

He was asked to take him to Azyaryshcha railway station, east of Minsk, and leave him near the tracks. Later that night, there was an explosion, but no casualties were reported.

The next day, Krieger was arrested.

The journalist cites his statements at the time of his arrest, refers to data from his phone and those of witnesses, including a taxi driver. But no independent information has emerged about possible evidence.

There is CCTV footage of Krieger arriving at Minsk airport last October. The German is seen smiling at passport control, apparently relaxed. He is travelling alone and has only hand luggage.

But no surveillance footage has been released showing him planting explosives or acting suspiciously.

There are only a few shots of Krieger entering Minsk’s main train station and then standing on the platform of an unidentified regional train station in broad daylight.

The timing of this case seems significant.

The “noise” broke just after American journalist Evan Gershkovich was convicted of spying in Russia, an accusation that his friends and employers categorically denounce as false. He was sentenced to 16 years in prison.

Vladimir Putin has hinted in the past that he would consider swapping Gershkovich – and perhaps others – for Vadim Krasikov, the FSB assassin imprisoned in Germany. But months later, no deal has been reached.

Could Belarusian President Alexander Lukashenko then come to his rescue – with a German bargaining chip?

The propaganda film is clearly very threatening. It features an alarming voiceover and threatening scenes played by hooded men armed with batons.

At the center of it all is a man begging for his life.

In tears, Rico Krieger says he made the “worst mistake” of his life and now feels “completely abandoned” by his government. His words seem pre-written, even though the emotion is raw.

“His only chance now is to ask for a pardon – and for the president to change the death penalty to life in prison,” said activist Andrei Paluda.

“We know of cases where political, not legal, mechanisms have come into play. Maybe it can work here too.”