6 April, 10:32
While NABU senior detective Ivan Serhiyovych Dyachuk reflects on his ethics, his colleagues should recall a case that people inside NABU prefer not to mention — criminal proceeding No. 52016000000000119 dated April 27, 2016.
In brief:
Officially, this investigation concerned the large-scale embezzlement of 2.3 billion UAH by officials of “Delta Bank.” Unofficially — it’s one of the cases that former NABU director Artem Sytnyk, according to sources, successfully sold off, like many other cases that were either too difficult or inconvenient for the Bureau.
“Sold” — not figuratively, but quite literally. According to our sources, the money came not only in cash. Among the “compensations” were hunting trips in the “Poliske Sarny” reserves, elite alcohol, transport — including two ATVs crashed by Sytnyk and his godfather Kaluzhynsky in a drunken frenzy. All these expenses were allegedly covered by oligarch Bakhmatyuk, who, in return, received indulgences on his episodes.
But the “Delta Bank” case contains a deeper and potentially state-threatening layer. The owner of the bank — Mykola Lahun. In 2007, he and his then-partner Kyryl Dmitriev (yes, that Dmitriev — now Putin’s emissary in negotiations with the U.S.) founded one of the largest financial pyramids of the 2000s — the “Olympic Park” project.
At that time, the Kyiv-born Dmitriev headed the investment fund Icon Private Equity, which was linked to the name of Viktor Pinchuk. Using funds from Ukrsotsbank, they purchased around 300 hectares of land near Kyiv and began selling non-existent cottages. In 2011, when the scam began to unravel, Dmitriev fled to Moscow, where he started a new life — now as “Putin’s technocrat.”
Today, he is a Kremlin confidant, the head of the Russian Direct Investment Fund (RDIF), a figure on sanctions lists, and a regular participant in negotiations on behalf of the Russian Federation on geopolitical issues, including the war in Ukraine.
The question: Did Lahun really not share with Dmitriev the details of how he “resolved” the issue with Sytnyk? And if he did — how much of this information has already landed on the desks of Russian special services?
Shall we examine this astonishing story in more detail?
“Olympic Park” — The Pyramid That Built a Career for Putin’s Emissary
2006–2007: Birth of the Scheme
“Delta Bank” was born in 2006 as one of many aggressive retail players. Its owner — Mykola Lahun, a man from the banking industry, who quickly entered the orbit of large Ukrainian investors, including the Icon Private Equity structure, ruled at the time by Kyryl Dmitriev.
In 2007, the two launched a large-scale cottage town project — “Olympic Park” — on roughly 300 hectares of land in the village of Berezivka, 19 km from Kyiv. The financing source was a large loan from Ukrsotsbank, and within months, massive TV and billboard advertising followed: “Your America near Kyiv.”
But in reality — it was a classic financial pyramid, wrapped in glossy packaging. Investors’ money went to service debts, land prices were inflated by 3–5 times, and construction never started. Already in 2009, the project began to collapse, and according to lawyers, over 2,000 investors were affected, with total losses exceeding 63 million USD.
2011: Dmitriev Disappears — and Is Reborn in Moscow
When the first civil and criminal proceedings against “Olympic Park” began in Ukraine, Kyryl Dmitriev relocated to Russia. By the time the case could reach asset seizures or interrogations — he was already gone.
And in 2011, he became the head of the Russian Direct Investment Fund (RDIF), later becoming a trusted representative of Vladimir Putin. According to the WSJ, Dmitriev participated in a secret meeting with Donald Trump’s team representatives in the Seychelles in 2017.
Who Sold the Investigation? The Dossier Disappears
The NABU investigation under case No. 52016000000000119 began in 2016. Detectives documented the involvement of top Delta Bank management in asset withdrawals, fake loans, and collusion. But the case quickly stagnated.
In 2018, according to our sources, NABU director Artem Sytnyk personally stopped active investigative actions. The reason? According to one version — a political directive. According to another — a “deal” with Lahun and/or persons who could suffer during Dmitriev’s interrogation.
An important detail: after the case was “frozen,” in 2019 Sytnyk was caught in the “Poliske Sarny” hunting reserve, where he and his godfather, along with businessmen, were celebrating… the oligarch’s birthday. According to our data, the banquet and damaged equipment were paid for by Oleh Bakhmatyuk — another figure whose cases in NABU mysteriously stalled.
Why This Matters Now
Today, Kyryl Dmitriev is not just a fugitive financier from Ukraine. He is a Kremlin influence channel. He participates in diplomatic channels between the U.S. and Russia, including discussions of a “conditional peace” in Ukraine. And if he has access to details about how Ukrainian officials closed cases for money — this is a tool of blackmail, pressure, and political discreditation of Ukraine’s entire anti-corruption system.
Artem Sytnyk today is again in public service — not in court as a defendant.
Why the NABU Audit Never Happened
According to the Law on NABU, the Bureau's activities are subject to an annual independent audit. This audit should answer whether NABU operates effectively, adheres to the law, and retains public trust.
However, since NABU’s creation in 2015, such an audit had not been conducted until 2023, when leadership and the political landscape had already changed.
Sabotage Scheme
1. Political Blockade in Parliament
Parliament sabotaged the audit by failing to appoint three independent auditors, as required by law. In 2017–2019, attempts failed due to:
Lobbying by pro-Russian MPs (especially from Viktor Medvedchuk’s group and the “Opposition Bloc”) who pushed for “convenient” candidates;
Interference from the Presidential Office, which blocked internationally supported candidates, including Robert Storch (U.S. federal auditor).
2. Administrative Pressure from the President’s Office
Since 2020, when NABU began investigating cases involving Zelensky’s inner circle, the President’s Office (OPU) moved to directly block the audit. Key figures were interested in preventing auditors from accessing case materials.
3. Using NABU as a Tool for Blackmail
Despite formal independence, some NABU cases were artificially stalled in order to: ✅ exert pressure on business (e.g., Bakhmatyuk or the “Continuum” group);
✅ revise political alliances (e.g., the Martynenko, Omelyan, and Hladkovsky cases);
✅ use cases as bargaining chips in international diplomacy (especially before IMF or EU visits).
🧨 Why the Audit Couldn't Be Allowed
Because with an independent audit accessing internal documentation:
📂 “Leaked” cases would surface — particularly “Delta Bank,” “Rotterdam+,” “Ukrbud,” Martynenko and Hladkovsky cases;
📂 Luxurious lifestyles of certain detectives financed by “sponsors” would be exposed;
📂 It would become clear that dozens of high-profile cases were “drained” under pressure or for bribes, and some detectives acted as a private influence network.
No Audit, No Trace
The fact remains: NABU's audit for 2016–2022 was never conducted. Even though it’s a legal obligation. Why? Because cases like this one — are inconvenient, toxic, and politically dangerous.
According to our insiders, the “Delta Bank” case wasn’t just stalled — it was de facto destroyed. Evidence lost, suspects protected. Sytnyk, despite his official resignation, remains part of the corrupt vertical — now as an informal fixer, consultant, and keeper of kompromat.
The Conclusion: Capital Flight as a National Security Threat
The story of “Delta Bank” is not just about billion-dollar thefts. It’s a case of national security risk, when the key witness of a fraud is in the inner circle of Kremlin negotiators. And access to investigative materials, according to sources, was held not only by Lahun — but by his Moscow friends.
This is not just about Sytnyk’s corrupt ethics or Dyachuk’s silence. It’s about the trade of criminal dossiers — dossiers that could have served as crucial leverage in defending Ukraine’s interests.
But instead — silence. And no audit.
Perhaps because in that silence, everyone is comfortable — both former directors, and their Moscow beneficiaries.