One Year Later: Chosen Company, the NYT, and the Cost of Truth

Post-NYT

Today marks the one-year anniversary of the New York Times article that profiled Caspar Grosse and me, exposing systemic war crimes perpetrated by Chosen Company in Ukraine under the leadership of Ryan O’Leary. It is necessary now to set the record straight.

O’Leary’s public relations response has been methodical and strategic. From the moment the article was published, his objective was clear: eliminate any trace that Caspar had been present on Operation Shovel and obfuscate the mission’s details to create plausible deniability. He meticulously removed footage and references to Caspar across media and internal communications. But the violations of international law extended well beyond a single operation. What Caspar and I encountered—what others alluded to quietly—was a pattern of criminal behavior, largely concentrated around a man known by the call sign “Zeus,” a Greek national named Tasos Antonakos.

O’Leary’s first act of damage control was an appearance on Preston Stewart’s YouTube channel. Stewart is a respected American milblogger, and I hold genuine admiration for his work. I regret the deterioration of our relationship and wish him well. O’Leary leveraged that platform to introduce ambiguity and sow doubt. The consequences fell squarely on Caspar. Critics accused him of fabricating his presence on operations, struggling with addiction, or being administratively dismissed. I reject those assertions. I lived beside Caspar in a dugout bunker for three weeks. He was neither impaired nor unreliable. He was respected by his peers—more than I was, frankly. He kept a meticulous diary. More importantly, he had no incentive to lie. He did not seek attention; he has since retreated from public view. Why invent a story that brings only hardship?

Journalist Timothy Gibbons Neff behaved ethically throughout the process. He contacted us independently and did not disclose who else he was speaking with. In my case, he reached out via Instagram. I was reluctant at first, and there is documentation to prove that. I was not seeking press coverage; this story came to me.

To clarify: I did not witness executions with my own eyes. However, I heard of them with unsettling frequency, from a wide cross-section of men within Chosen Company. Executions were discussed as if they were routine—standard procedure. This became embedded in the operational culture. I was not shocked. I have seen how men justify killing under stress, particularly when the enemy is hors de combat. I do not condone it, but I understand the mindset.

What I did observe firsthand were repeated claims by soldiers that M18 smoke grenades had been modified to deliver a chemical payload. “Don’t breathe this in,” one warned. “It’s war crimes gas. It’ll kill you.” That was not gallows humor. I’ve participated in gallows humor and have regretted it. This was serious. During a specific QRF mission, O’Leary clearly stated that we were ordered to execute prisoners who were incapacitated. That moment remains with me. It was not framed as a rogue suggestion; it was issued as a directive.

The fallout has been significant. At the time of the article’s publication, I was already nearing psychological collapse. I subsequently checked into a mental health rehabilitation facility in Poland—the Zeus Center—for a three-month stay. I have remained clean from benzodiazepines since.

Caspar has endured worse. He received a suspicious package containing white powder, postmarked from Belarus. The address was written in a way that suggested a Russian, not Belarusian, author. Since then, strangers have approached him while in hiding, claiming they recognized him from the Times article. Both of us have received death threats. We have been interrogated by law enforcement agencies in the United States, the European Union, Switzerland, Serbia, and Russia; even representatives from Putin's own party have reached out to me in regard to clarifying the record surrounding these incidents.

I understand why some label us traitors. But let me be unequivocal: I believe Russia is a revanchist, imperialist power. I believe Ukraine deserves to win. I believe in the cause. But the West cannot preserve its legitimacy by abandoning its moral obligations. If we fail to hold our own accountable, we decay from within. Our adversaries do not need to defeat us militarily—they need only demonstrate that we are hypocrites. Every unpunished atrocity becomes a propaganda tool. The strategic costs are severe; the moral costs are worse.

Investigations are ongoing. I believe the SBU has not concluded its review. That may be optimism, but I retain faith in justice—however delayed. I did not come to Ukraine seeking validation. I lived there in 2019. I had meaningful friendships. I believed in the country’s potential. I still do. But mere survival is not victory. Lasting victory requires reform, introspection, and fidelity to the values a free society claims to represent.

I regret being drawn into this maelstrom. I did not choose to be assaulted by Greg Stenway from Chosen. I did not want a protracted, toxic online feud. But the unit’s supporters made their intention clear: to erase me. Figures like Anthony Scott, known online as Anthony Scott, worked deliberately to undermine me. He misrepresented my military service; I served as a .50 cal gunner on Humvee patrols through the Sunni Triangle, while he was an e-sports commentator. He claimed I was not a service-connected disabled veteran, which I am; this has been documented repeatedly. He has not apologized. If he ever does, I will accept it. Despite everything, we share many foreign policy beliefs and, at one time, were both working toward the same goal: supporting Ukraine.

I was also publicly condemned by Sarah Ashton-Cirillo (@SarahAshtonLV), who accused me of a history of fabricating war crimes. I understand her perspective, particularly given the controversy surrounding the so-called Velcrogate scandal. But that incident involved a redacted, context-stripped audio clip from a private conversation with someone I believed to be a friend. It failed to reflect the nuance of what I was trying to convey about the Georgian National Legion—a unit that was, in fact, filmed executing bound prisoners of war in a March 2022 video reported by Reuters. Even their commander, Mamuka, stated, “We will take no prisoner.” That occurred. I understand that Sarah’s role is public relations, but in protecting an image, she undermined accountability. That is the price of selective silence in war.

Yes, that hurt. Her response came after the New York Times article was already published, not before. She did not influence my decision to speak; she reacted to it. But even if I acted out of anger, I still stand by what Caspar said.

For context, Russia spared me no quarter; they formally charged me—along with several others—with the crime of “mercenarism.” They didn’t have to do that unless they considered us enemies. I am not an asset to Russia. I am a fugitive. They want me imprisoned. That should tell you everything about whose side I was truly on.

Much will be clarified with the release of War Tourist, my forthcoming memoir. I am represented by a major literary agency. This book is not limited to Ukraine—it is an excavation of the events that led me there and the psychic toll that followed. People can attempt to silence me, discredit me, erase me—that’s fine. I am publishing op-eds. I am shaping narrative. I am not here to fight foreigners serving in Ukraine. I am not here to suggest Ukraine is unworthy of survival. I am here to set the record straight, and I am doing so in a format people want to read.

I now control the narrative. That is what matters. The more resistance I encounter, the more ground I will reclaim. This is no longer just about a war. It is about life purpose: sovereignty and narrative control.