The Siberian Ripper In December 1991, the Soviet Union ceased to exist. What it left behind in cities like Novokuznetsk, a steel and coal city deep in the Siberian Kuzbass, was not freedom but a wound: mass unemployment, the collapse of social welfare, the disappearance of the institutional scaffolding that had held communities together through compulsion if not through genuine solidarity. Into that wound, Alexander Spesivtsev returned from a forensic psychiatric hospital, carrying a history the city had no record of and a psychology its institutions had no capacity to address. What followed was five years of predation on the most invisible population in a city that had stopped watching: the besprizorniki, the street children of the post-Soviet collapse, whose disappearances were processed as routine by a police force overwhelmed by chaos and stripped of the tools that might have revealed a pattern. Spesivtsev did not act alone. His mother, Lyudmila, lured victims to the Pioneer Avenue apartment, disposed of their remains in the Aba River, and cooked and ate what her son had killed. When a plumbing emergency forced a door in October 1996, investigators found a dying fifteen-year-old girl and the physical record of dozens of deaths that the legal system of 1997 could acknowledge on only four counts. The Siberian Ripper is the full reckoning this case has always demanded, forensic, psychological, and unflinching.