Kyiv: In the shadow of war, Ukrainian investigative journalist Valeriya Yegoshyna walks through the ruins of her homeland with a mission: to expose war crimes and keep alive the fragile hope for justice. Since the Russian invasion began, Yegoshyna has dedicated her reporting to documenting the brutalities inflicted on Ukrainian civilians—gathering evidence, recording testimonies, and honoring the dead through truth.

For Yegoshyna, who reports for Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty, journalism is an act of national solidarity. “It’s different when you’re telling the story of your own people,” she said. “It demands empathy—and respect.” Her journey began in 2016 with anti-corruption investigations, but since 2022, her focus has shifted to tracking war crimes, identifying Russian soldiers and officers involved, and building cases that could someday be tried in international courts.

The cost of this work is high. “It is terrifying,” she admitted. “Some nights I don’t sleep because of the bombing. But I’ve never thought about leaving. My family, my country—they are here.”

For Yegoshyna and others, this is a defining moment. Their reporting may one day help bring perpetrators to justice, provided the evidence is understood and used wisely. “As journalists, we can present the facts, but society must also learn to discern truth from disinformation,” she said.

The toll on Ukraine’s press corps has been devastating. According to the National Union of Journalists and the International Federation of Journalists, 117 media professionals have died in the line of duty. Among them were brave voices like Vira Girych, killed in a missile attack on her home; Tetiana Kulyk, slain in an airstrike; and Victoria Roshchyna, who returned from Russian captivity mutilated beyond recognition.

The war has claimed not only lives but also the potential of those who once bore witness. Celebrated Ukrainian writer Victoria Amelina, who joined the NGO Truth Hounds to document war crimes, was among the casualties. Killed in a July 2023 Russian bombing in Kramatorsk, her posthumously published work, Looking at Women Looking at War, stands as a haunting tribute to the women enduring—and resisting—the war.

In one unfinished chapter, Amelina leaves behind a chilling note: “Victoria Amelina did not finish writing this chapter.” But even through fragmented words and pain, her voice radiates strength. “I’m not afraid of dying anymore,” she wrote. “I remember that I have to finish this book, watch my son grow up, and maybe, one day, join the army. Then, I’ll go back to writing.”

These are not just stories of war—they are stories of defiance, of documenting horror to rekindle faith in justice. In the eyes of women like Yegoshyna and Amelina, the fight is not only for survival, but for truth that outlives the war.