Former Marine detained in Russia may be near death, advocates warn

Robert Gilman, the former U.S. Marine jailed in Russia since 2022, slipped into a stupor in June and has continued to decline, prompting his sister and advocacy groups to warn that he may be near death. The warnings have pushed his case back into view as one of the most alarming American detainee cases in Russia.

Gilman has been in Russian custody since Jan. 17, 2022, after he was arrested on a train in Russia and later convicted of kicking a police officer while drunk. He was sentenced to four and a half years in prison. Supporters have also raised allegations that he was tortured and injected with mind-altering drugs. In 2024, Gilman said he was being "poisoned" in jail.

His deterioration sharpened after he was admitted to a Russian hospital on July 9. Family members and groups that monitor Americans detained abroad have leaned on public warnings because access to him is limited and independent verification is difficult. The James Foley Foundation lists Gilman as a currently detained wrongful detainee in Russia, while the Free Robert Gilman campaign says he is the third Marine imprisoned in Russia on what it calls unsubstantiated charges and overly severe sentences.

Washington’s leverage in a case like this is real, but narrow. A March 7, 2025 letter from U.S. senators to Secretary of State Marco Rubio said Gilman had been in Russian custody since Jan. 17, 2022, and urged the U.S. Department of State to do everything in its power to obtain his release. That kind of pressure can keep a detainee case on the diplomatic agenda, but it does not guarantee movement from Moscow.

The clearest precedent remains the August 2024 prisoner exchange that brought home former Marine Paul Whelan, journalist Evan Gershkovich and reporter Alsu Kurmasheva. In that deal, 24 prisoners moved in total, with 16 going from Russia to the West and eight sent back to Russia. It showed that the United States can still secure releases when a detainee becomes part of a broader negotiation, even if the path runs through a bargain that also serves Moscow’s interests.

Gilman’s case now sits at the intersection of those precedents and his worsening health. His sister, Lexie Hudson, and the advocacy groups pressing his case have made a blunt calculation: when a prisoner’s condition turns life-threatening, public pressure is often the only way to force urgency onto a system built to keep the outside world at arm’s length.