Ten seconds after he enters the frame of the surveillance video, he’s gone.
The man on the bicycle pulls himself over the curb and begins to pedal down the sidewalk of West Brighton Avenue, headed toward West First Street. The timestamp reads 11:44:49. He moves past cars waiting for the traffic light at Ocean Parkway, past a restaurant, a pharmacy and a supermarket, their signs all in Russian. The day is October 20, just before noon, in Brighton Beach.
Five minutes later and two blocks away, Alla Kamenev lies dying on the sidewalk. She is bleeding onto the pavement in broad daylight next to the black wrought-iron fence separating Asser Levy Park from Sea Breeze Avenue. She is 65 years old and will be pronounced dead at Coney Island Hospital that afternoon.
Later that day, police learned from witnesses that the person who had shot her was a man on a bicycle wearing a white baseball cap, two-toned jacket, blue pants and white sneakers. After shooting Alla three times in the torso, he pedaled away.
Police talked with an employee at the medical supply store who had seen the shooting happen. They talked with Vlad Godin, reportedly her lover—it is unclear whether they are married—who shared an apartment with her at Brightwater Towers at 601 B Surf Ave., just three blocks away. They talked with her son, Vsevolod Kamenev, who lives with his father, Dimitry—Alla’s estranged husband—in what was once her home on Brighton 7th Street. They canvassed the neighborhood looking to talk with anyone who might know something about why a 65-year-old woman had been killed in a safe neighborhood in the middle of the day.
This is a story filled with mysteries set in a corner of Brooklyn where people refer to the Atlantic Ocean as the Black Sea. It is Little Odessa. Whatever neighbors may know about the relationship between Alla and Dimitry Kamenev, they keep to themselves. She was, in fact, so little known that in the makeshift memorial set up at the site of her murder, a card reads: “We never knew you in life but we mourn your passing as neighbors.”
This is what is known. On October 25, police arrested and charged Dimitry Kamenev with criminal possession of a weapon in the second degree and murder in the second degree. Police allege that Dimitry was the man who approached Alla on a bicycle and shot her three times before riding away.
Bernard Udell, Dimitry’s defense attorney, met his client for the first time last week. Dimitry, he said, was walking with “a couple of canes,” but appeared to be in good health “for a man his age.” They spoke to each other through a translator—Dimitry speaks limited English, Udell doesn’t speak Russian. One thing Udell does know is that Dimitry denies the charges against him.
This is not Dimitry’s first run-in with the law. In 1988 and again in 1991, he was arrested for allegedly committing assault, according to the New York Police Department. The charges were dropped in 1988; the record doesn’t show why. In 1991, Dimitry was indicted on charges of reckless endangerment in the first degree and two charges of criminal possession of a weapon. He pled guilty to the charge of third-degree criminal possession on Nov. 15 and was sentenced on Dec. 6. He spent the next two months at the Eric M. Taylor Center on Rikers Island and was discharged on Feb. 14, 1992. That’s where his criminal record ended.
Dimitry lives in the house on Brighton 7th Street at the intersection of Neptune Avenue that Alla purchased in 1994. In 2007, Alla signed the deed for 2851 Brighton 7th St. over to her son Vsevolod Kamenev, and a year later, she bought an apartment on Surf Avenue. The Kamenev house sits on a residential block adjacent to a Pakistani fabric shop and across the street from a laundromat and a day care center.
The immediate Kamenev family consisted of Alla, Dimitry and their two sons, Vsevolod and Alexey. The former lives in the house on Brighton 7th Street. The latter lived in New York and currently resides in Illinois.
The rest of the story remains a mystery.
Since the day she died, police and reporters have descended on the block asking the Kamenevs and their neighbors about Alla’s family and her life. Eleven days after she died, they couldn’t or wouldn’t talk. Detectives told Kamenev’s next door neighbor he couldn’t speak about Dimitry to the press. Those inside the Kamenev house wouldn’t. A blonde-haired woman refused to open the front door for reporters and shooed them away as she peered through the white slatted blinds covering the front window.
Later that day, a man who refused to identify himself but who matched the description of Vsevolod and who was wearing a blue auto mechanic jumpsuit with a patch reading “KAMENEV” on the left breast, spoke long enough to say, “I don’t talk to reporter. This is a private matter.” He turned and walked back toward the house.
Alla had owned a fifth-floor apartment at Brightwater Towers since 2008. She was living there with Vlad Godin at the time of her murder. She had recently retired, and Godin said in a TV interview that they were looking forward to spending more time together. The fluorescent lighting makes the lobby of their building feel like a hospital. A security guard at the front desk monitors security cameras and checks in guests. Down the hall, past the laundry room, sit the elevators.
Vlad Godin had seen his fair share of reporters over the last eleven days. On Halloween, he answered yet another knock on his door to find yet another reporter waiting outside. “You’re the third one today,” Godin said, leaning his head against the door and blocking the view of his apartment.
He was quiet, and his eyes were red. The TV blared in the background and the shades of his apartment were drawn. He sounded tired when he said he didn’t want to talk. He didn’t close the door, but he didn’t volunteer more words.
On the streets of Brighton Beach, even those far removed from the Kamenev family had no answers to questions about Alla, Dimitry, or the day that he allegedly killed her. Stan, the owner of the Pharmacy Anteka on Brighton Beach Avenue, had a little to contribute: Alla had purchased medication once at the store one year ago. None of the staff at Anteka remembered her, though; they found her name when going through their customer database after hearing about the murder. Stan had also seen Dimitry walking in the neighborhood, though they had never interacted. That was the extent of what he knew about the Kamenevs.
“I’m not surprised it could be an ex-husband who did it,” he said, pausing to hand out candy to trick-or-treaters. “But I’m surprised someone that age could have a gun or do that.”
At the site of her murder, the makeshift memorial for Alla Kamenev consisted of two wilted bouquets of roses, a candle burnt down to its wick and a Ziploc bag containing the card from neighbors who barely knew her. The factory-printed message read, “In this time of sorrow, please know that you are not alone.” Inside the card for Alla, they bid her farewell and wrote, invoking God’s name in Hebrew, “May Hashem keep you.”
Courtesy DCPI
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More coverage of Alla Kamenev’s murder by The Brooklyn Ink:
76-Year-Old Coney Island Man Indicted for Ex-Wife’s Murder | Mon., Oct. 31, 2011
Suspect Arrested in Brighton Beach Shooting | Tues., Oct. 25, 2011
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