School Caught in Oil Tycoon's Misfortune

Russia Freezes Assets of Khodorkovsky-Funded Home Serving Orphans of Conflict

KORALOVO, Russia -- On the grounds of an 18th-century estate, Rita Dzgoyeva has found some refuge from her memories and a place to get a free, first-class education.

The 17-year-old was a hostage during the Beslan school siege in September 2004, and her mother and older sister were killed in the standoff's bloody end, which left 331 people dead.

Dzgoyeva, who still bears scars from shrapnel, is one of 135 students at a private boarding school here in the far suburbs of Moscow. Most are orphans, the offspring of Russian servicemen killed in action or the victims of terrorist attacks linked to the conflict in the southern Russian republic of Chechnya.

Government officials used to visit and marvel at the state-of-the-art school, built in the middle of the estate, and the student dormitories, which rival the fancy weekend homes that dot the surrounding countryside of rolling fields and woods. Regional governments from across Russia clamored to secure admission for children from their regions.

No more. The patron of the Podmoskovny Lyceum, as the school is called, is Mikhail Khodorkovsky, the former oil tycoon who is serving an eight-year prison sentence for fraud and tax evasion following a prosecution that supporters said was politically motivated because he represented a threat to President Vladimir Putin's authority.

Khodorkovsky has been stripped of much of his wealth and his company, Yukos, has been largely dismantled. Now prosecutors are targeting his philanthropic projects. Earlier this month, the Russian prosecutor's office froze the school's assets, the prelude to what the school's directors -- Khodorkovsky's parents -- fear will be a full-scale legal assault to shut it down.

"They know very well that for Misha this is like a favorite baby," said Marina Khodorkovskaya, 71, using the diminutive for Mikhail to refer to her son, who is serving his prison term thousands of miles away in Siberia. "It's another attempt to take revenge."

She said she was bewildered that a state that has already seized billions of dollars worth of property from Yukos is now targeting a school that is helping children scarred by some of the country's worst tragedies. The school, Khodorkovskaya said, has not been told why its assets have been frozen.

A spokeswoman for the prosecutor's office confirmed that the school's assets were frozen but declined to comment further.

In March, prosecutors seized the bank accounts of Open Russia, a nongovernmental organization that Khodorkovsky founded to promote democracy and human rights. Starved of cash, the group was forced to close. The courts have rejected arguments that it is a separate entity and should not be a party to the case against Yukos.

The school is being funded by the Khodorkovsky Foundation in London, which is beyond the reach of Russian prosecutors, but the 250-acre piece of prime real estate is a fat target.

Khodorkovsky acquired a 99-year-lease on the estate in 1994 and created a home for children, who were bused to local schools. Three years ago, at a cost of $15 million, he opened a school on the grounds, as well as seven dormitories that could house as many as 250 children. Within months, he was arrested.

The school costs about $30,000 a year per student to run. In addition to core subjects, it offers music, dance, choir, art, photography, theater and fashion design. There is a gym, a small swimming pool, computer rooms, a large library, and a kitchen and canteen that defy stereotypes about school lunches. The wall of the school is adorned with student work and valuable paintings donated by Khodorkovsky.

There is also a clinic with four doctors, a dental suite and a staff of psychologists on-site to assist the children. A room made of tons of mineral salt provides relief for children with breathing problems.

"We are an elite school for children with problems," said Alexander Yarulov, the headmaster. The school is loosely modeled on a British public or elite school. The students, all in uniform, appear unfailingly polite. They universally beam when Khodorkovsky's mother passes by, and some stop to kiss her. Khodorkovskaya spends most of her time at the school now.

"Not any school can replace your home, but this school had replaced mine," said Viktoria Nikitina, whose father, a Russian border guard, is stationed in a remote area that has no educational facilities. "I've loved it here."

A deep unease has settled into the student body. At a school assembly last week, students reported on the week's news, as they do every week, but Thursday's report included material on their own uncertain fate. A student reported straightforwardly that human rights activists and others planned to protest in Moscow. He also noted that the Moscow Helsinki Group, a leading human rights organization, had called for the release of political prisoners, including Khodorkovsky.

"It's a special place," said Dzgoyeva, from Beslan. "And if it hadn't been for this school, I don't know what would have happened to me."

"We're all trying not to think about what might happen," said Sasha Zakharova, 16, an orphan from the Tyumen region in Siberia who came to the school three years ago when her grandmother could no longer care for her. If she hadn't been accepted, she likely would have ended up in a bleak state orphanage.

Khodorkovsky, who was recently slashed in the face by another inmate, has spoken to his father about what has been happening at the school.

Marina Khodorkovskaya said her son told his father that, as long as they both persevered, "This lyceum will continue to live."

By Peter Finn
Washington Post Foreign Service