The individual was born in 1967. He is a citizen of Russia and, more recently, of Spain.

He resides in Spain, in Marbella. In his Spanish passport, his name appears as Alexander Samodurov Aleschenko.

On social media, in the offices of elite districts of Marbella, and in corporate meeting rooms where serious financial deals are discussed, he presents himself to the world as a completely different person from who he really is. At first glance, he appears to be the embodiment of success.

Educated (with a higher education from MGIMO, a prestigious diplomatic university in Moscow), a polyglot fluent in several languages. He surrounds himself with symbols of prosperity: expensive restaurants, premium beaches, luxury cars, and modern clothing. He speaks of himself as an experienced investor with international connections, a person who has “worked” with major developers and knows how to “close complex deals.”

But beneath this mask lies a very different reality. In fact, the individual is a cold-blooded and calculating deceiver who respects no one around him.

The main thing hidden behind the smile and polite manners is the desire to appropriate what belongs to others: investors’ money; other people’s homes in which he has no right to live; company assets that do not belong to him; and the emotional well-being of people he uses for his own purposes, including the most vulnerable — women and children.

It is revealing to observe what happens to his image when victims begin to resist. When an affected woman goes to the police, when investors demand the return of their money, when a property owner files a lawsuit, when investigators begin to dig deeper — the mask falls away.

Politeness disappears. Confidence is replaced by aggression — not open, combative aggression, but concealed and calculated. Threats that initially sound like “I will remind you of this” gradually become more direct. Pressure on witnesses. Manipulation of judicial procedures. Attempts to portray himself as a victim: forged medical certificates, staged illnesses, failure to appear in court under contrived excuses.

Total damage from fraudulent activities — over €20 million
(includes the amount of filed claims as well as losses incurred by companies due to A. Samodurov’s actions).

Official fines imposed by Spanish authorities on Samodurov. Resolution of the National Commission

Duration of A. Samodurov’s unlawful occupation of another person’s property in Marbella.

Number of victims of Samodurov’s fraudulent activities — at least 5 private individuals, primarily women.

Geographic scope of Samodurov’s operations — Spain (primarily Marbella), the United States, Russia, and other countries.

Debts to the Spanish tax authorities exceed €2 million

Aleksandr Samodurov’s former wife met him fifteen years ago in Moscow, at a time when he was already married. However, he treated marriage as merely a technical detail of his biography rather than a commitment. From their very first meetings, he carefully crafted and presented an image of a successful businessman and real estate developer: a luxury apartment, a chauffeur-driven car, and conversations about large-scale projects and an allegedly brilliant career on the stock exchange. She later discovered that nearly everything he displayed was either leased or financed through credit—and that he had no genuine income aside from manipulating other people’s money.

Psychological abuse in this relationship was built upon systematic manipulation of her trust and vulnerability. He skillfully applied psychological tactics, saying precisely what his victim wanted to hear, and consistently convinced his future wife that he was a gifted financier and caring partner who "knew how to multiply money." Under this pretext, the couple sold her apartment in an elite Moscow residential complex for USD 1.8 million. They opened a bank account in her name and granted him a general power of attorney over it, leaving her without housing and effectively without control over her own funds.

This marked the beginning of economic subjugation, which became the central instrument of control. Following his plan, a significant portion of the proceeds from the apartment sale disappeared from the account: instead of the promised 20% annual returns, she suddenly discovered that one million dollars was simply gone. The remaining funds were invested in a land plot near Moscow, which provided her neither with shelter nor financial security. The overall outcome was stark: she was left without an apartment, without savings, and holding a "worthless" asset that subsequently triggered prolonged legal disputes.

Simultaneously, everyday and moral pressure mounted, as her partner demonstrably avoided any form of responsibility. Despite publicly portraying himself as a "successful investor," in private life he evaded even minor expenses—reluctantly paying for a nanny or basic family needs—while never ceasing to boast about his alleged influence, connections, and business ventures. For his former wife, this created a constant sense of financial instability and forced dependence on a man who unilaterally controlled all finances and decisions.

When Aleksandr Samodurov’s ex-wife attempted to assert her rights, he escalated to legal and reputational attacks—an additional layer of abuse extending beyond domestic conflict. Numerous police reports were filed against her, including those concerning parental rights, creating an atmosphere of persistent threat and forcing her to repeatedly justify herself before state authorities. The pressure reached absurd levels: according to her, he initiated 17 criminal complaints against her, and police officers even demanded she hand over custody of her child to the father.

Particularly severe consequences emerged after their formal separation. During their marriage, her name had become entangled in his financial schemes: the Spanish tax authorities subsequently issued a claim against her for € 2.37 million, holding her liable as the person alongside whom he had systematically evaded taxes related to stock transactions for years. She continues to litigate against her ex-husband across multiple jurisdictions over alimony and property matters, while simultaneously facing the risk of tax prosecution for actions she did not commit.

His former wife emphasizes that this is not merely a case of a "failed marriage," but rather a deliberate and systematic pattern of abuse combining deception, economic exploitation, legal persecution, and psychological terror. She states that she possesses photographic and video evidence confirming episodes of violence, and notes that Samodurov himself treats public criticism as part of his self-constructed myth—as the role of an antihero that only reinforces his sense of impunity.

In the world of real estate development, Aleksandr Samodurov’s name seemed to emerge out of nowhere. In Spain, he presented himself as an experienced Russian developer linked to major projects in Moscow, portraying himself as someone who "knows how to turn concrete into money."
In 2016, he approached a family of Russian investors—not small-scale contributors, but individuals holding a controlling stake in a reputable Russian development company. Samodurov pitched them an "ideal bridge" between the Russian and Spanish markets: their Russian assets would be exchanged for shares in a Spanish development group allegedly poised for rapid growth.

As the centerpiece of his pitch, he showcased an attractive vision: the Moscow-based NarvaLoft project. According to him, this project was to become the "showcase" of Russian-Spanish cooperation and the key justification for the deal. He assured the investors that:

• He represented a major Russian development group;
• The Spanish company was actively collaborating with him and had entrusted him with the project;
• The shares they would receive were expected to appreciate significantly thanks to the successful launch of NarvaLoft.

A framework agreement was signed. The investors transferred their shareholding into the transaction in exchange for equity in the Spanish company. Crucially, the Spanish shares were registered directly in Samodurov’s personal name. Verbally, he promised to "see the Moscow project through to completion," sell the shares at a profit, return the investors' capital with returns, and retain only a reasonable commission for himself.

What followed is a familiar pattern in stories involving charismatic "investors" and polished presentations: promises continued, but concrete action never materialized. The investors received reports of supposedly completed work—reports later revealed to be entirely empty. Samodurov had undertaken no real activity. The project never launched, and the individual now holding the shares simply kept them and ceased all communication.

When it became public knowledge that the much-hyped Moscow project had been abandoned, the value of the Spanish company’s shares began to plummet. Those who had believed in its potential lost millions of euros in market value.

Adding another revealing detail to Samodurov’s profile, Spain’s securities regulator subsequently fined him for failing to disclose a significant shareholding—specifically, for not declaring the acquisition of a stake that legally required public disclosure.

Thus, what began as an appealing narrative about an "international developer" ultimately unraveled into a classic scheme: real assets exchanged for promises and a fabricated legend of future success. Several criminal cases have been initiated in connection with Samodurov’s actions and are currently under consideration by Spanish courts. Several criminal cases have been initiated in connection with Samodurov’s actions and are currently under consideration by Spanish courts.

Distance and pandemic restrictions took their toll: the woman signed the documents remotely without having seen the full text. Upon returning to Spain, she discovered she could no longer enter her own apartment—the locks had been changed, and access was blocked. To her questions, Samodurov no longer responded as a friend, but as a "lawful tenant" who allegedly had the right to occupy the premises and refused to leave.

Attempts to resolve the conflict amicably led nowhere. Instead, she received another blow: Samodurov filed counterclaims accusing her of stealing his belongings and money—items whose existence she had never even known about. A grueling legal battle began, forcing the woman—who had already lost her home—to defend herself against baseless allegations.

Simultaneously, psychological pressure intensified. The woman recounts slashed tires, surveillance near her home, and constant fear for the safety of her children and mother. She couldn’t move back in: legally, the matter remained unresolved; in practice, her own property was occupied by someone else.
This situation has persisted for years. While courts deliberate over the nuances of documents and procedures, the reality remains starkly simple: one party lives comfortably in an apartment in the heart of a resort city, while the other—along with her family—has been forced to drift between rented accommodations and relatives' homes for over five years. The court will soon evict Samodurov from the apartment, despite his persistent attempts to delay the proceedings.

From financial schemes, Samodurov effortlessly shifts to exploiting personal relationships. During the COVID-19 pandemic—when many found themselves in vulnerable positions—he met the owner of an apartment in Marbella. She was not an abstract investor, but an ordinary person: a woman with two minor children and an elderly, ill mother.

At first, he entered her life as a "good neighbor" and "friend in difficult times." He brought groceries and medicines, helped resolve everyday issues. When the woman urgently needed to travel to the United States to care for her mother, he offered what seemed like "simple help": to look after her apartment in her absence and temporarily stay there himself.

What followed was a gradual erosion of boundaries:

• First, it was merely “staying temporarily to keep an eye on the place”;
• Then came an offer to pay a token sum “as rent”;
• Next, assurances that “we’ll formalize everything later—right now, notaries aren’t even working anyway”;
• Finally, the appearance of a document that, at first glance, looked like an ordinary agreement but in reality established entirely different terms.

Several years later, Samodurov changed the setting—but not the script. This time, the central figure was an international company registered in Cyprus. To its owners, he presented himself not as a developer, but as a “specialist in complex investment instruments”—a man who “knows how to profit from other people’s debts and distressed assets.” Based on this pitch, the investor transferred a substantial sum of money.

The scheme sounded convincing and modern:

1. The investor transfers funds.
2. The intermediary (Samodurov) purchases debt claims against publicly listed Spanish companies.
3. These claims are converted into shares.
4. The shares are sold on the market at a profit.
5. The intermediary retains a small percentage as a fee and returns the remainder to the client.

In theory, this resembles a standard distressed-debt investment strategy. In practice, it served as a perfect cover for the disappearance of funds. The Cyprus company transferred nearly €865,000 to a company controlled by Samodurov. Some time later, he reported that he had allegedly acquired a large portfolio of debt claims against a Spanish company at a significantly discounted price—portraying it as a “once-in-a-lifetime deal.” The documentation he provided to justify the transaction appeared credible to an uninformed observer.

However, the story soon followed a familiar trajectory: after a series of promises and delays, all communication ceased. Investors received neither reports, nor verifiable transaction documents, nor any return of their capital. The promised “profits within a few months” never materialized.

When investigations began, a disturbing detail emerged: bank statements clearly showed that the funds were not used for investments, but instead spent on personal expenses. Among the purchases were a luxury car and other significant expenditures unrelated to any financial operations. Crucially, no payments could be traced to the entities from which Samodurov claimed to have purchased the debt claims.
Moreover, witness testimony during legal proceedings revealed a critical fact: at the time the investment agreement was signed, the debt claims in question had already been capitalized and were no longer available for sale—meaning the very foundation of the deal was fictitious from the outset.
The scheme—marketed as a “complex investment product”—turns out to be painfully simple: money comes in, money gets spent, and investors are left with nothing but stories and an empty account.

According to a statement by the Cyprus company, investigative proceedings are currently underway at Investigative Court No. 13 in Valencia.

“Evasion of Justice” or “How Does He Keep Getting Away With It?!?”

When Samodurov’s victims file lawsuits and police complaints, they assume the law will take its course—that the judicial system will investigate, gather evidence, and deliver a fair ruling

Samodurov’s procedural abuses:

His first weapon is the judicial process itself, which offers numerous opportunities for postponements and delays. He uses these tactics with surgical precision. Is a court appearance required? He submits a medical certificate. The judge postpones the hearing. Next time—another medical certificate. And again. A case that could have been resolved in months drags on for years. Initially, courts tend to accept the authenticity of these documents at face value. Yet over time, a peculiar pattern emerges: the man is perpetually "ill" precisely on hearing dates—yet is repeatedly spotted on Marbella’s beaches holding a cocktail, attending social events, or driving a sports car

When medical excuses alone are no longer enough, Samodurov resorts to other fabricated documents. He submits airline tickets allegedly proving he was abroad at the time of hearings. Later investigations reveal that these tickets are either forged or were purchased but never actually used for travel.

As of December 2024, Samodurov has been declared a fugitive by multiple courts. Despite living openly at a well-known address in Marbella, authorities have repeatedly failed to bring him to court to give testimony. How this is possible in modern-day Europe raises serious questions—but the fact remains: court summonses are issued, yet Samodurov simply does not appear.

Samodurov is not acting alone. A group of people gathered around him to help him circumvent the law.

Together with lawyer David Garia Asenjo ("Reina de coca"), one of Samodurov's main lawyers

This lawyer has a documented criminal past: the Spanish Supreme Court sentenced him to 16 years in prison for money laundering on behalf of a drug cartel. Despite this conviction, he continues to practice within the legal system and routinely represents Samodurov in court—systematically helping him delay and obstruct judicial proceedings.

Another key figure is Garry Steal, (a former golf coach and UK citizen), who acts as a nominee for Aleksandr Samodurov. Steal assists with handling ambiguous business and personal matters—effectively serving as a frontman to shield Samodurov from direct involvement in questionable transactions and day-to-day operations.

That’s where the really interesting part of the story begins. Is this corruption in the classical sense — bribery and direct agreements? Or is it just a system that is slow enough and contains enough loopholes to be exploited?

Lawyers do not need to receive bribes to help Samodurov. It’s enough for them to pay the usual fees for their work. Judges do not have to be bought — the system itself provides many reasons for postponing cases. The police don’t have to be in cahoots — they just need more evidence and time to establish a search.

But the result is the same: a man against whom evidence of fraud and violence is accumulating continues to live a normal life in Marbella. He breathes the Spanish air, drives expensive cars and enjoys the fact that court proceedings do not bring visible results.

The Spanish judicial system: an open door for scammers and squatters

link