The saga of the London hearing PrivatBank vs Kolomoiskyi and Boholiubov dragged on for so long that one of the juiciest cases in Ukrainian history turned into dried fruit. Still, dried fruit can be even healthier. So now we have a judgment that is unprecedented in its severity, upholding the bank’s claims in full.
The now state-owned PrivatBank filed its lawsuit back in late 2017, demanding that former owners Ihor Kolomoiskyi and Hennadii Boholiubov return assets siphoned from the bank totaling approximately $1.9 billion. At the same time, the High Court issued an order to freeze the defendants’ assets to ensure the plaintiff could expect at least partial compensation in the event of a victory. The case was finally concluded in November 2023. By that time, interest had accrued, raising the total claim amount to $4.2 billion, which also confirmed the legitimacy of the original asset freeze imposed in 2017. However, in March 2023, when the defendants, observing the rapid devaluation of the hryvnia against the dollar, rushed to change the currency of the claim to avoid paying extra, the amount was reduced to $2 billion.
To put that in perspective: it's equivalent to two Patriot systems, or half a million 155 mm shells, or the combined annual budgets of Lviv, Odesa, Dnipro and Kharkiv. In other words, a hefty figure.
As a reminder, the basis for PrivatBank’s lawsuit was a scheme for extracting funds from the bank through 270 loans to 46 borrowers affiliated with the former owners. This scheme was covered, like a fig leaf, by so-called “debt recycling”—where previous loans were repaid using funds from subsequent ones—but a portion of the money disappeared “along the way” amid countless transactions (we’ve described this mechanism many times in related cases). According to the lawsuit, the funds were funneled out via six companies affiliated with Kolomoiskyi and Boholiubov, which are also named as defendants.
A classic setup: the first three companies are registered in the UK, the others in the British Virgin Islands:
- Teamtrend Limited
- Trade Point Agro Limited
- Collyer Limited
- Rossyn Investing Corp
- Milbert Ventures Inc
- ZAO Ukrtransitservice Limited
All of them claimed to be so independent that, at first, they didn’t even have their own legal representation in court. The stakes in the case are anything but minor, so their real owners (among whom we wouldn’t be surprised to find relatives of the bank’s former owners, as well as individuals named Mindich and Kipperman) might have made an effort from the start. But apparently, they placed their trust in the grand schemer—until the London court ordered the firms to disclose information about financial transactions involving PrivatBank funds. This clearly upset all the defendants but certainly strengthened the plaintiff’s position. As did numerous other “details” concerning Kolomoiskyi and Boholiubov, who evidently had their own understanding of British legal proceedings.
They clung to their public narrative—that everything, from the bank’s nationalization to litigation, was “political persecution” and “a violation of human rights”—to the very end. Though, over the years, that flag had faded, burned out and grown tattered. Much had happened in the meantime: lawsuits filed by the bank against its former owners in other countries, an FBI investigation into money laundering in the US, Kolomoiskyi’s arrest in Ukraine, Boholiubov’s bizarre flight to Austria. All of this stood in stark contrast to their self-portrayal as prisoners of conscience, further undermined by their conduct in the London courtroom.
First of all, Kolomoiskyi and Boholiubov refused to testify in court, offering no acceptable explanation, despite knowing that the court would certainly hear from the plaintiff’s witnesses.
The judge also repeatedly criticized the defendants for deliberate negligence and for delaying the case on nearly every issue. One ruling directly states that Mr. Kolomoiskyi “ignores court orders and does not conduct the case expeditiously or reasonably,” adding that his behavior “may be described as getting blood out of a stone—which falls far short of cooperating with the court in achieving the overriding objective.” Remarkably, the judge had never seen Kolomoiskyi in person, yet described him with pinpoint accuracy. Perhaps it was for the best that he refused to testify—it might have only made things worse.
The claim was frequently amended with what the judge described as “belated” changes such as the amendment changing the currency of the claim in March 2023. The plaintiff received everything from the defendants either on the last day of the court deadline or after it had passed. The defendants also made frequent procedural requests to the court, asking for a hearing, a paper review, more time to provide evidence or to disregard the fact that no evidence had been submitted at all. They behaved in London courts much the way they do in Ukrainian ones, but the British judiciary was notably irritated by what it termed “unreasonable and potentially harmful delaying tactics.”
The climax came when Ihor Kolomoiskyi asked to relax the terms of the asset freeze, claiming seven aircraft needed to be sold urgently. It was December 2024, flight bans were still in place, and the aircraft in question were grounded in Kyiv and Odesa—and in any case, unairworthy. But they needed to be sold immediately. As per tradition, the request reached the court one day before the supposed sale date. The judge was already unenthusiastic—and then came the details: the previous year’s valuation put the aircraft’s worth at $113.6 million, yet Kolomoiskyi sought to sell them for just $40 million via some shady company that had never sold aircraft before and was unknown to certified industry brokers. The court was deeply concerned, again.
And it didn’t recover from that concern. Especially after learning that Mr. Boholiubov—who had long pretended he had nothing to do with any of this and despite the court-imposed freeze—had in 2023 liquidated about 30 companies in the British Virgin Islands that owned his assets. This came as another deeply unpleasant surprise for the High Court and added further shading to an already unflattering portrait of the defendants.
So for those who followed this drama closely, the outcome—and the court’s unusually severe judgment—came as no surprise.
Of course, there is the possibility of an appeal—and the defendants will likely use it—but they will still be required to pay half of PrivatBank’s legal costs, which alone amount to a six-figure sum.
Yet the ultimate consequences of this judgment could go far beyond financial compensation.
First, fraud is no small matter. True, a finding of fraud in a civil lawsuit does not mean arrest, handcuffs or imprisonment. The purpose of civil proceedings is to recover assets or obtain compensation. But that doesn’t mean this civil finding of fraud won’t have criminal consequences. In fact, British law enforcement could initiate criminal proceedings based on this very judgment. While such proceedings aren’t automatic, the presence of Mr. Boholiubov’s assets in the UK—rumored to be worth £400 million—is a strong incentive. It would also be harder to drag out such a case, as evidence has already been gathered and evaluated in court.
This judgement could also serve as a procedural catalyst in Ukraine. It is no coincidence that one Artem Solonik, who is said to have “risen” from a minor assistant to Mykhailo Kipperman to the “chief financial administrator” of the unnamed “Privat Group,” hastily left Ukraine—reportedly on instructions coming directly from the detention center of the Security Service of Ukraine. They say he left on the same day as Tymur Mindich (who was heading off to bring back Oleksii Chernyshov, former Minister of National Unity) and ended up somewhere in Greece. Solonik’s rapid ascent from “nobody” to “chief” makes him extremely vulnerable to pressure from law enforcement. He has no deep personal loyalties and is unlikely to defend anyone else's interests. Which is why it’s better to keep him out of Ukraine.
Second, despite the mantra that courts in one jurisdiction have no bearing on those in another, such influence very much exists—and sometimes directly.
In June of this year, a court in Delaware, hearing a similar claim brought by the bank against its former owners, ruled that Ukrainian court judgments have a preclusive (i.e., binding) effect on PrivatBank’s lawsuit in the US. The ruling was clearly unfavorable to the bank, as it cited two cases in Ukraine, one of which the bank had already lost. The second is also likely to be lost, and any success in the US now appears doubtful. However, the Delaware court also clearly outlined three conditions for preclusion: the ruling must be binding; the facts must be examined by the court; and the party must have participated in the proceedings. It appears that not only the ruling of the Kyiv Commercial Court but also that of the London Commercial Court meets these criteria. One needs only to slightly expand the boundaries of the preclusion effect.
Third, let’s not forget that the FBI investigation into Kolomoiskyi and Boholiubov is still ongoing—and the London judgment is a gift for it. I don’t know how they handle preclusion in the US, but they’ve certainly exceeded reasonable time limits, and a little acceleration wouldn’t hurt. It’s unlikely that the judgement will go unnoticed in Ukraine either. Even considering local interpretations of justice, if not the judgement’s weight, then its impact on Kolomoiskyi’s financial capacity will certainly influence the course of events.
Still, let’s not get carried away. The greatest risk of this victory is that it will be perceived as final. And it is not. Despite the massive sum and findings on all counts, it is still not enough to truly punish the embezzlement of $5.5 billion in depositor funds, one of the largest financial frauds on record.