Tightknit Slavic Community Faces Hardships, Shares Pain

At the height of the Cold War, Michael Lokteff, a devoutly religious man, set up a small short-wave broadcast studio half a world away from his Russian homeland.

For the next 40 years, he would beam the word of God, in Russian, back to the atheistic Soviet state. For millions there, the scratchy broadcasts were the only link to religious beliefs forbidden by their government.

Years later, many would say the Word of Russia broadcasts, as they were called in the U.S., allowed them not only to keep their faith alive but to glean information about the faraway city--Sacramento, California--where they originated.

“Many thousands of people were listening to these radio programs. Some were blocked by the KGB, but others got through,” said Alexander Krainiy, program director for the Slavic Community Center of Sacramento. “When the iron curtain fell and the doors opened, the choice for many of them became Sacramento.”

To some, the only city in the United States they had ever heard of was Sacramento. On Monday, the community they built there was stunned by news that one of their own, Nikolay Soltys, 27, had been accused of killing five family members.

Wave upon wave of Slavic immigrants settled in nearby North Highlands, Rancho Cordova--sites of Monday’s slayings--and West Sacramento, a working-class area across the river from the capital.

Maintaining a tight-knit community, those who had come first helped the later arrivals, giving them food, furniture and shelter until they could establish themselves in the new land.

They became a city within a city, setting up their own newspapers, private schools, restaurants, grocery stores and, always at the center of their lives, congregations such as Bethany Slavic Missionary Church and Slavic Trinity Church.

As a result, Krainiy said, the Sacramento area became “the single largest community of evangelical Christians from the former Soviet Union in the United States.”

By 2000, about 70,000 Russians, Armenians and Ukrainians had settled in California’s capital and surrounding areas.

And still they kept coming. Landlords welcomed them as tenants because the families did not drink, smoke or gamble. They drew attention to themselves only when they complained of their frustration with the public schools because they didn’t allow Bible studies or teach creationism.

Among the recent immigrants were Soltys, from Ukraine; his wife, whom authorities identified as Lyubov, 27; an elderly aunt and uncle; and two cousins, ages 9 and 10. All but Soltys were found dead Monday.

Searching for ways to come to grips with the tragedy, dozens of recent immigrants rushed to the murder scenes in North Highlands and Rancho Cordova.

“Government needs to spend more money on immigration,” said one young man, a Ukrainian immigrant who lives in North Highlands across the street from the duplex where Soltys allegedly stabbed his wife to death.

“See what happens?” said the man, who refused to give his name. “They need counseling. They need not to be left alone.”

Although there is a strong support network for recent Russian immigrants in Sacramento, Krainiy said he believes more needs to be done to help the newcomers.

“When people pack all their lives in three suitcases and move oversees, they are facing tremendous problems in assimilating,” he said. “There is a post-traumatic syndrome, complicated by a language barrier.

“We are trying to tell the world around us that we need assistance--group workshops, family counseling, psychiatric counseling . . . I don’t mean to say that this is the reason why [the tragedy] happened. But one thing leads to another.”