Formally Guilty — Effectively Free: How Kaufman and Borukhovych Bought Their Way Out of a Verdict

Judge Andriy Bitsyuk of Ukraine’s High Anti-Corruption Court (a special tribunal created with Western support to prosecute top-level corruption) has brought one of the country’s most high-profile graft cases to a close. Prominent businessmen Borys Kaufman and Alex Borukhovych (formerly known as Oleksandr Hranovskyi), along with five other defendants, were found guilty of operating a criminal organization, misappropriating municipal property, and manipulating local governance in Odesa. But instead of serving prison time, they received suspended sentences. The case was resolved through a plea bargain.

Under the agreement, the convicted individuals pledged to pay more than ₴1 billion (approximately $25 million) in restitution. This included cash compensation, the return of Odesa International Airport to municipal ownership, hundreds of real estate assets, and record-setting fines — part of which has already been transferred to Ukraine’s Armed Forces. On paper, this may look like a success for Ukraine’s anti-corruption institutions: damages recovered, assets returned, and convictions secured. In reality, it was a well-packaged amnesty. Not a single defendant will spend a day in prison.

The men at the center of the case are no strangers to power. For more than a decade, Borys Kaufman has been one of Odesa’s most influential businessmen, with investments in hospitality, media, alcohol and tobacco distribution, and infrastructure. Alex Borukhovych, formerly Oleksandr Hranovskyi, served as a member of Ukraine’s parliament in the early 2000s (representing the Social Democratic Party of Ukraine, SDPU(o)) and was Kaufman’s long-time business partner in the company Vertex United. Together, they controlled assets in the hotel industry, alcohol production (via the now-defunct Overline group), media (including the magazine Focus and local TV channel RIAK), and had direct commercial interests in the Odesa airport.

In 2014, their company “Spetsremstroy” secured a government contract worth ₴1.7 billion (around $42.5 million) for the reconstruction of the airport’s runway. Borukhovych later attempted to launch business operations in Israel, where he tried to acquire control of the major financial holding IDB. The deal collapsed amid scandal, and Israeli authorities accused him of attempting to pressure a Tel Aviv court and offering bribes to officials of the Securities Authority. In 2019, he was placed on an Interpol wanted list at Israel’s request over allegations of aggravated fraud and securities violations, with losses estimated at $60 million between 2012 and 2016.

Together with Kaufman, Borukhovych built a powerful business and political network based in Odesa — one that wielded substantial influence over local government, city council decisions, and public resources. That’s why the case against them was seen from the outset as a litmus test for Ukraine’s ability to confront systemic corruption, not just among officials, but also among regional oligarchs.

The investigation was carried out by Ukraine’s National Anti-Corruption Bureau (NABU) and the Specialized Anti-Corruption Prosecutor’s Office (SAPO) — institutions established with substantial support from the West. Both SAPO and the High Anti-Corruption Court were billed as flagship reforms, with staff selected through competitive processes involving international experts and funding provided by the U.S., EU, and IMF. This case was expected to be symbolic: a sign that Ukraine had moved beyond shielding the powerful from justice.

According to prosecutors, the criminal scheme involved not only Kaufman and Borukhovych but also former city officials including ex-mayor Oleksiy Kostusev, his deputy Mykhailo Kuchuk, and a circle of affiliated businessmen and lawyers. For years, this network controlled key decisions in the Odesa City Council — managing land allocations, public tenders, and directing municipal revenues into private hands. The centerpiece of the case was a 2011 deal in which a large stake in Odesa International Airport — a critical piece of infrastructure — was transferred to a company linked to Kaufman. The deal was later formally recognized in court as part of a criminal conspiracy.

As the case neared conclusion, prosecutors faced looming deadlines. In particular, the statute of limitations on the airport transaction was set to expire in 2026. Without a conviction, the case risked being dropped on procedural grounds. This became the legal justification for the plea bargain. All seven defendants admitted guilt, offered mostly self-incriminating testimony, and agreed to repay damages. In return, they received 7- to 8-year prison sentences — entirely suspended. Several charges were also dismissed due to expiration under Ukrainian criminal law.

The scale of the financial settlement is without precedent: over ₴1 billion (again, roughly $25 million), including fines, property transfers, and direct payments to the Armed Forces. Kaufman was issued the largest individual fine in Ukrainian legal history — ₴204 million (about $5.1 million). Borukhovych was fined ₴102 million (about $2.55 million). They also handed over 2,488 real estate units to the Odesa municipality, including a 700-square-meter luxury apartment in the city center. And yet, both men remain free, retained a portion of their wealth, and face no restrictions on their civil or political rights.

This wasn’t merely a verdict — it was a business model. For the first time, a corruption case of this scale was settled through financial compensation disguised as justice. Where punishment was once expected, now it appears optional. The High Anti-Corruption Court in this case did not serve as a judicial body but rather as a mechanism for managing reputational and legal risk. It no longer resembles a traditional courtroom — but something more akin to a settlement chamber.

And while international donors may log the case as a “completed success” — with fines paid and systems functioning — Ukrainian society will remember it differently. Justice is not just about recovering assets. It’s also about consequences. And this case shows that in Ukraine, consequences can still be negotiated — if you have enough money, and the right lawyers.