Roman Starovoit, Russia’s former transport minister, was officially dismissed from his post on July 7. That very evening, news broke that he had died by suicide. Investigators say his body was found with a gunshot wound inside his personal vehicle in the Moscow region. Before his appointment to the Transport Ministry, Starovoit served as governor of Russia’s Kursk region from 2018 to 2024. His replacement, Alexey Smirnov, was later charged with embezzlement tied to the construction of “dragon’s teeth” fortifications near the Ukrainian border — defenses that were built under Starovoit. Meduza asked anti-corruption expert Ilya Shumanov to explain Starovoit’s political rise, his connections to the powerful Rotenberg brothers, and his likely involvement in corruption schemes tied to state construction projects.
The following analysis has been lightly edited and abridged for length and clarity.
Roman Starovoit became known to the general public in 2012, when he was appointed head of Rosavtodor, Russia’s Federal Road Agency. Before that, he’d worked in the government apparatus — first as an aide, then as deputy director of the Department of Industry and Infrastructure — so he wasn’t well known to analysts or journalists.
Prior to this, Starovoit worked in the St. Petersburg city government, where he oversaw investment policy and eventually rose to become first deputy chairman of the city’s Investment Committee. It was a significant position, given that a lot of municipal money is spent on infrastructure projects. For that reason, St. Petersburg can be seen as the launching point of his career.
In essence, Starovoit owed [his career] to the Rotenberg brothers — members of Vladimir Putin’s inner circle. I don’t know when Starovoit first met the Rotenbergs informally, but it was likely during his time in St. Petersburg, where the brothers had numerous investment ventures. St. Petersburg was the Rotenbergs’ home turf, and Starovoit was first deputy chairman of the city’s Investment Committee. I think that’s where their “cooperation” began. From there, Starovoit moved into the government apparatus, expanding his network of connections, until he landed at Rosavtodor [in 2012].
The Rotenbergs wouldn’t have [lobbied for] someone disloyal to them as the head of Rosavtodor. Clearly, that appointment followed a track record of successful collaboration — one the brothers were satisfied with. In that role, Starovoit oversaw the distribution of state funding for major infrastructure projects. These included Olympic venues, key transportation hubs, and highways. This is an area with enormous financial flows and one of the most corruption-prone sectors. Starovoit oversaw road construction projects in Crimea, including the Crimean Bridge. That was his moment in the spotlight: he traveled there regularly for inspections.
After the completion of the Crimean Bridge, Starovoit briefly served as deputy transport minister before moving on to lead a region. [This was] an opportunity for him to prove he could work on the ground: manage a region, interact with people, and build a degree of legitimacy, including electoral legitimacy. In 2018, he was appointed acting governor of the Kursk region, and in 2019, he officially won the election with 81 percent of the vote.
When Kursk became a frontline region in 2022, Starovoit began actively working with the security forces. All high-ranking officials who come up through the regions gain a certain degree of authority and recognition and are entitled to seek higher-ranking positions. Starovoit remained governor until 2024, when he was replaced by his own protégé — Alexey Smirnov, a member of his team.
Starovoit’s move to the federal government as transport minister was less about his success in the region and more about his ties to the Rotenberg brothers. [Russia] has no shortage of successful governors, but not all of them get a position in the federal government. The most recent government formed under [Prime Minister Mikhail] Mishustin can be seen as a consensus or compromise cabinet — one designed to accommodate the interests of various Kremlin clans, including the Rotenberg clan. The Rotenbergs, in turn, viewed Starovoit as someone who had been thoroughly tested and proven loyal to them.
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The Rotenberg brothers hold substantial stakes in the Russian economy. We’ve seen businesses nationalized in their interests, as well as major infrastructure projects where they earn money — particularly in road construction, where they control a sizable share [of the market]. The transport industry is of special interest to them. In that context, appointing Starovoit to a federal ministerial post was a rational decision — he’d established a good rapport with presidential aide Igor Levitin since his time heading the Federal Road Agency. Levitin, too, worked actively in construction and infrastructure development. Starovoit also had a good relationship with [Deputy Prime Minister] Marat Khusnullin, who oversees all [government] construction projects, as well as with the prime minister himself.
Despite his connection to the Rotenbergs, Starovoit had still come up through the “school of governors.” This points to a technocratic path — his entry into the governors’ pool and advancement through it were shaped by the team under Sergey Kiriyenko [the head of the Kremlin’s domestic policy bloc]. It’s clear that building a pipeline of political personnel — both at the gubernatorial level and in senior government positions — is also part of the domestic policy bloc’s agenda, particularly its technocratic wing, which is developing its own political base. This, too, can be seen as a key point of support for Starovoit’s career.
Another was representatives of state-owned companies, who play a major role in shaping both Russia’s economy and its political decisions. That includes Russian Railways, Avtodor, and major aviation and transport companies like Aeroflot. Of course, Starovoit built solid working relationships with their executives — and, in some cases, personal ones. But, as we’ve seen, even that wasn’t enough to save him from dismissal [as transport minister].
Starovoit arrived in the Kursk region with his own team in tow. His protégés occupied key positions, and he replaced the chairman of the regional parliament and district heads with loyal appointees. Given that Kursk is an agricultural region, he also had a good working relationship with Miratorg. In other words, he had influence at the regional level that allowed him not only to appoint his own people but also [to organize] shadow schemes.
The cherry on top was the Kursk Region Development Corporation, a version of which exists in nearly every region. In practice, these are opaque slush funds: commercial entities used to conceal schemes for siphoning off public funds, allocate land under the radar, and push and lobby for friendly projects. The head of this corporation, Vladimir Lukin, was in direct contact with the governor — a fact that came to light during a criminal investigation against him.
The final pillar of Starovoit’s career was the security forces — and in a broad sense. Not only law enforcement but also Defense Ministry employees. I believe Starovoit’s [later] conflict with the security apparatus had a major impact on his career. He developed a relationship with them during his tenure as governor of the Kursk region: a governor of a border area works closely with the military, the FSB’s border service, and counterintelligence agencies. Starovoit made frequent appearances along the border, using the construction of fortifications as a platform for public visibility. Even after he became transport minister, his footprint remained in Kursk. He’d left behind a team to carry out his agenda.
[After Ukrainian forces broke through the border in August 2024, and] it became clear that the Kursk region had failed to build the kind of infrastructure that could ensure real protection, there was a scramble to shift blame. This is a familiar dynamic among the Russian political elite — the question of who to blame. The Defense Ministry suffered reputational damage. And we’ve seen what that meant for [former Defense Minister, current Security Council Secretary Sergey] Shoigu’s people — many of the top people in the ministry have lost their positions, and some are now facing criminal charges.The story around infrastructure provision also involved the civilian administration, the Kursk regional government. In that sense, it was logical to hold the current administration accountable, and Smirnov ended up facing criminal charges for embezzlement. But he didn’t operate in a vacuum — he had the backing of Starovoit and was part of his team. The investigation into Smirnov’s case appears to have led prosecutors to Starovoit, since the scheme in question was already functioning before Smirnov took office.
By 2024, political analysts were already predicting that Starovoit would suffer reputational damage. The money had been stolen from his own project, one he’d used to promote himself — the construction of “dragon’s teeth” fortifications. Security officials investigating the case needed to assign blame for the failure to defend the Kursk Region and the incursion by Ukrainian forces. The result was a two-layered narrative of responsibility: First, the military, which failed to hold the line (which is why we’ve seen arrests and dismissals at the Defense Ministry); and second, the civilian leadership — Smirnov, Lukin from the Kursk Region Development Corporation, and ultimately Starovoit himself. In that sense, what began as working relationships and friendships with the security forces turned into a confrontation. If the Ukrainian military hadn’t breached the border, there would’ve been no threat to Starovoit.
To me, the circumstances around Starovoit’s death are strikingly similar to the [string of] deaths among top executives at Russian state-owned and private oil and gas companies. I draw that parallel for a simple reason: those deaths are riddled with unanswered questions. We’ve seen all kinds of suspicious details — people falling out of windows while apparently in good mental health. Sober, stable individuals suddenly reaching for a weapon or dying of heart failure in their offices. And it hasn’t been just one case; it’s a pattern. That’s why stress alone can’t explain these deaths. Logically, the pattern looks highly irregular.
In Starovoit’s case, there’s a chain of events: the head of the corporation, Lukin, gave testimony against Governor Smirnov, who, in turn, likely testified against Starovoit. But Starovoit may not have been the final link in the chain. It’s plausible that he could have pointed further up — to interactions with the Rotenberg brothers or other federal players. That level of risk could have been enough to warrant murder staged as suicide.
Of course, there’s a lot of speculation here, and I don’t want to lean into conspiratorial thinking — there simply aren’t many facts. But it is important to remember that Starovoit was considered part of the Rotenbergs’ inner circle. And by the laws of [Russia’s] corporate-clan system, they should have kept their man in the position of federal minister and pulled him out of the line of fire. That’s the job of clan leaders: those who help divvy up corrupt gains and have the ear of the president. In this case, they failed.
Yes, it’s possible Starovoit took his own life for personal reasons. He was going through a divorce. Some sources mention drinking, depression, difficulties with law enforcement because he was a witness in Smirnov’s criminal case. All of it left stains on his career that blocked any hope of further advancement in the federal government. Analysts, insiders, and Telegram channels with ties to the security services had long speculated he might be on his way out. And that under that kind of pressure, and with a service weapon in his possession, [it’s possible that] he simply couldn’t cope and ended his own life. That’s the simplest explanation.
But when it comes to simple explanations, I would expect some kind of evidence. We know the Russian authorities have shown themselves willing to eliminate opponents and stage deaths to look like natural causes — all the more so when it comes to insiders, people within the system who might pose a threat of exposure. That alone is reason enough not to take the official account at face value and to demand proof. But I doubt we’ll get it — just like we never did in those mysterious deaths of executives from Russia’s state and private oil and gas companies.
Starovoit was seen as a rising figure. After his move to the federal government, there was talk that he could eventually be promoted to deputy prime minister or become a committee chair in the State Duma. The Rotenbergs had invested heavily in him — promoting him, nurturing his career, and expecting loyalty in return. But the Ukrainian breakthrough in Kursk Region upended those plans. And when it came to that kind of failure, the Rotenbergs had nothing to offer in his defense.