How a 15-Year-Old Boy Was Extracted from War-Torn Ukraine by a Marine Vet: 'I'm Going In'
Anthony Sabio Timur McAlicher (left), Anthony Sabio
As chief of security at a Washington, D.C.-based firm, Tony Sabio is well-versed in providing protection for company executives, high net-worth individuals and the like. One thing that wasn't on his resume was overseeing the extractions of those stuck in war-torn countries.
But when the 47-year-old Marine Corps veteran got a call from the friend of a colleague on Feb. 25 — asking if he had any resources that could help get a teenage boy out of Ukraine, where Russia's invasion had just begun — he was more than willing to try.
Fifteen-year-old Ukrainian American Timur McAlicher was stuck in Kyiv, Ukraine's capital, Sabio's colleague explained. Timur's dad is American, and lives in Rohrersville, Maryland. Timur's mom is Ukrainian, an employee of the United Nations who felt a deep sense of allegiance to her country and wanted to remain there even as the attack was unfolding.
Both of the boy's parents, however, wanted their son out of Ukraine.
The State Department had given Timur permission to leave the country for America — he is a dual citizen who had the backing of his parents — but they wouldn't provide any assistance to get him to the border, given the risk of escalating the conflict with Russia.
That's how Sabio got involved. A father himself, he felt a personal tie to the boy's plight, quickly connecting with all of his resources, including contacts in Romania and Ukraine, hoping to find someone who could extract Timur.
"I reached out to friends at former jobs to assess the lay of the land," Sabio tells PEOPLE. "They told me they had no assets in the area, that it was unsafe and unstable and nobody should be going anywhere around there. They basically said, 'Tell this kid to stay in place and see what happens.' "
That, Sabio says, "just wasn't an option."
By Feb. 27, the situation felt more dire. Watching the news from his home in Brooklyn, Sabio knew what he had to do.
"I made the decision: I'm gonna get in a plane and figure this out," he says.
His employer — Colorado Security Agency — backed his decision, immediately booking him a flight to Romania and working their own assets in the region to figure out a plan to get Timur out of Kyiv and to the Ukrainian border, where he could meet with Sabio.
But any initial plans that were made quickly unraveled while Sabio was en route, those involved say: One contact who initially agreed to take Timur out of Kyiv soon backed out after the contact's brother was shot by Russians. Others offered similar stories. By the time he landed in Romania on Feb. 28, Sabio found himself faced with the same challenge he had when he left America: how to get Timur out of Ukraine.
After catching a ride to to the Ukrainian border with a Romanian contact, Sabio made the decision that would change his (and Timur's) life: He would cross into Ukraine himself and take Timur back out of the country, all under the threat of Russian forces and the specter of mounting civilian casualties.
Meanwhile, those first few days of war in Ukraine passed by in something of a blur for Timur.
In his own interview with PEOPLE, the 15-year-old described waking up to a loud bang outside his window the morning the fighting broke out on Feb. 24. He initially passed it off as a firecracker — a favorite pastime, he says, of some kids in his neighborhood — but a glance at his phone several minutes later alerted him that Russian President Vladimir Putin had invaded Ukraine in what Putin insisted was a necessary security operation.
The sound Timur had heard wasn't a teenage prank at all. It was the aftermath of the assault.
"I ran to my mom's room and said, 'Mom, the war's started.' I was kind of trapped [and] I wanted to go. I knew it wouldn't be a very short war," he says.
Timur's dad, Auria — who spoke to PEOPLE via Zoom alongside his son — was watching the news back in Maryland, where he was "absolutely terrified" for his boy. His fears about Timur's safety, he says, quickly trumped any worry he might have had about handing his son to a stranger.
"Doing what it took to get him out of the country was more important than whether or not it was a stranger who took him out," Auria says.
Auria reached out to the leadership at Colorado Security Agency, who connected him with Sabio.
Just days later, Sabio was prepared to enter Ukraine after his flight to Romania and car ride to the border. He was outfitted with nothing but his American passport, some Romanian currency, an old medic bag from his time in the Marines and the resolve to get a teenage boy to safety.
Anthony Sabio Anthony Sabio (left), Timur McAlicher on the flight to America
Once he made it to the Ukrainian border, Sabio says, he learned that Russians were bringing surface-to-air rocket launchers from Belarus to cut off Kyiv to the west. That gambit ultimately failed, but it would take weeks before the Russians withdrew from the Kyiv area and the danger subsided.
"My contacts told me, 'Either get the kid out now, or tell the kid to hunker down and hold off [on extraction],' " Sabio tells PEOPLE. "But these were bunker bombs. I knew that even if he hid in the garage, the kid wouldn't be safe."
So Sabio sent a group text to his employer and others at the Colorado Security Agency: "I said, 'This is the situation. I'm going in.' One of the owners immediately called me and asked, 'Are you sure you want to do this?' I said, 'I have to. There's no other option.' "
His American passport got him across the Romania-Ukraine border border. His old medic bag also proved useful.
"I went across in the cover of humanitarian aide," Sabio says. "Once I was in, I helped people however I could — distributing bandages, that kind of thing. And I started asking people on the ground, 'Hey, I need to connect with my humanitarian group in Kyiv, can you help me find a driver?' "
Vetting people on the fly, Sabio hired a number of drivers to take him on various legs of the journey toward the capital.
"There's a lot I didn't know going in," he admits. "I couldn't read the signs, I didn't speak the language. I used an app to translate everything I said to Ukrainian while my colleagues back in America were sending me updates on the war. And I quickly found out Romanian money was worthless in the Ukraine."
That last problem was remedied by calling his bank back in the U.S. and arranging wire transfers — or, in one case, using an ATM in Ukraine to take out $8 at a time ("That also required a call to the bank, because they had to keep allowing me to make withdrawals," Sabio says with a laugh.)
While traveling amid the invasion, Sabio was able to connect with someone willing to get Timur out of the city center, so Sabio could meet him on the outskirts of Kyiv.
"I befriended Timur on WhatsApp, while I was on my way to get him so we could build a rapport," Sabio explains to PEOPLE. "When he was coming out of Kyiv, I was tracking him through an app that basically turns your phone into a radio. Meanwhile, the team back home was tracking me."
Describing his trip toward Kyiv as one largely "based on faith," Sabio says he could hear bombs and planes in the distance and see signs of the fighting that had already passed the areas through which he was passing. "There were cars blown up on the side of the road. There were air sirens everywhere," he says.
Anthony Sabio A car blown up in Ukraine
But he was spared from the fighting itself, which he estimates was as close as 12.5 miles from where he stopped along the way to Kyiv.
His colleagues back home were monitoring where the fighting was concentrated, so Sabio and his drivers could avoid those hot spots as they drove toward Timur. Much of their route was also determined in the moment.
"A lot of the routes we had planned were destroyed — bridges bombed, potholes that made driving impossible," he says. "So we used a lot of avoidance. When I was with the drivers, if we saw something that looked dangerous, we drove around it."
Some 400 miles later (the distance from the border to the outskirts of Kyiv), Sabio was able to meet Timur face-to-face.
"When I finally got to him, and I saw him, it was such a sense relief. It was like, now I can actually take care of him, instead of wondering," Sabio says. "I put my hands on his shoulders, I looked at him in the eyes, and I said: 'Hey, I got you, man.' "
Together and with drivers they found along the way, the two then doubled back, stopping at a hotel so Timur could get some sleep (and so the two would be adhering to the 10 p.m. curfew instituted during the war).
Sabio, meanwhile, stayed on alert.
"I was up for 90 hours straight," he says. "I drank Monster energy drinks, which I was amazed I could find in Ukraine. At a certain point, I knew that if I fell asleep, I may not wake up and miss our timelines. Extractions like this, in the military, you would always have two people: one to sleep, one to stay awake ... I wanted Timur to be able to sleep. I stayed up, so if we heard the sirens I could get him out of bed and move him to a safe area."
Anthony Sabio Anthony Sabio (right) with a driver in Ukraine
The return trip to the border had its own challenges, including a lack of food ("We ate whatever we could find," despite emptier store shelves, Sabio says) and drivers not equipped at quickly escaping towns under attack.
"I saw buses that were shot by tanks. I saw military bases that were fully destroyed," Timur says.
"On the roads between the cities, it was constant air sirens," Sabio adds. "When we were exiting Ukraine, we were just one step ahead of the Russians. I was telling the drivers: 'We cannot stop, we have to keep going.' "
Timur tells PEOPLE that, though he didn't witness any violence in real time, he was "really scared."
"These things I saw destroyed — they hadn't been destroyed 10 years ago, they had been destroyed a day before. So I was worried it could get worse," Timur says.
Sensing that the boy was worried throughout the journey, Sabio encouraged him to engage in his favorite hobby — drawing — to ease his nerves.
On the final leg of the journey (which, in total, required four drivers and some 600-800 miles, round-trip), the two hunkered down at a hotel for a night. "[Timur] drew directly on the wall," Sabio says. "I told him, 'When the war is over, we can return to this room — room 702 at the Small Hotel — and see the mark he made.' "
Anthony Sabio a drawing by Timur McAlicher
The next day, the two finally made it back to the Romanian border. "I went in to Ukraine on Monday morning at 6 a.m., and I came out Wednesday, 3 a.m. local time," Sabio says.
After crossing back into Romania, they headed home to the U.S., where Timur and his dad were able to embrace in person for the first time since Auria had visited Ukraine last Christmas.
"I felt really good to see my dad again," Timur says. "I felt safe."
Auria concurs, saying he "can't even begin to explain" the stress of the few days before their reunion.
Anthony Sabio Auria McAlicher (left) and Timur
Now at home with his dad in Maryland — where he spends his free time watching Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy's regular briefings, eating Chick-fil-A (which has usurped McDonald's as his new favorite) and working to get enrolled in a local high school — Timur says he is forever grateful for Sabio's help.
Sabio, meanwhile, says it's a trip he'd make again and again — "in a heartbeat" — if he was asked.
"On the plane ride back to America, I turned to Timur and I told him: 'If you ever find yourself in a war zone again, you just call Uncle Tony.' "
