'They didn't make it': How Ukraine war refugees fell victim to Hurricane Helene

For two weeks, Lysa Gindinova clung to her family’s harrowing journey out of Ukraine for hope.

She tried to believe they escaped Hurricane Helene’s floodwaters before it swept them away, just as they had escaped the bombarded city of Kherson in the first months of Russia’s invasion.

But that hope fell apart when a North Carolina sheriff presented her family with a gold earring a search team found on the body of a deceased woman. Gindinova immediately recognized it as a prized possession of her aunt, Anastasiia Novitnia Segen.

“We saw the earring, and everyone stood quiet,” Gindinova told USA TODAY. “That was the moment when there was nothing else we could come up with, no crazy scenario. There was proof they didn’t make it.”

A search party had recovered Anastasiia’s body 10 miles from the family’s home in the mountains outside Asheville. About a mile away, authorities found the body of Anastasiia’s husband, Dmytro, who was identified through a fingerprint.

Now, as loved ones mourn the beloved couple, search operations are still underway for the Segens’ 13-year-old son Yevhenii and Anastasiia’s mother, Tatiana Novitnia, both of whom remain unaccounted for.

The many victims of Helene

The Segens are among hundreds of people who have either been identified as fatal victims of Helene or are still missing in the storm’s wake.

Nearly three weeks after Helene unleashed record flooding and ravaged communities dotting the southern Appalachian mountains, the storm’s death toll has climbed to at least 228 across multiple states. Many remain missing – a problem exacerbated by early widespread power and communication outages.

In North Carolina, at least 81 people were unaccounted for as of Tuesday, Gov. Roy Cooper said, adding the number is “not a definitive count” and he expects it to fluctuate as more reports are filed and other cases are resolved.

As searches approach their third week, Gindinova said she still believes there’s a chance her teenage cousin, Yevhenii, will be discovered.

“It's hard to let go of hope when the body isn't found yet,” she said. “In the back of my mind, I'm still hoping.”

From Ukraine to Poland to North Carolina

The Segen family had long enjoyed a tranquil life in Kherson, Ukraine, an industrial port city near the Black Sea.

Dmytro worked in construction and sowed a reputation as an expert handyman. Anastasiia occupied herself with her son, Yevhenii, who from a young age showed great talent in engineering, often reviving relatives' computers and game consoles that were thought to be unsalvageable.

Tatiana tended to her large acreage of farmland and often spent her evenings knitting socks or crafting complex cross-stitch patterns of landscapes, animals and ballerinas.

That all changed when Kherson became the first major Ukrainian city seized by Russian forces in February 2022. As bombardments and evacuations ensued, Anastasiia and Dmytro decided it was too dangerous to stay. They packed their car with their most cherished belongings and, with Yevhenii and Tatiana, fled their home country.

The family of four first drove across western Russia, a dangerous trip during wartime in which they constantly feared a stop by Russian authorities. They managed to get through the border into Latvia before they journeyed across Lithuania and entered Poland, where they stayed at the home of a family friend. For months, they navigated a bureaucratic labyrinth as they worked with relatives to obtain permission to enter the U.S.

"It was a stressful time," said Gindinova, who lived near the Segens in Ukraine before she moved to New York in 2016. "We didn't know for a long time if they would be able to come here."

In the summer of 2022, the Segens were accepted into a U.S. humanitarian program offering temporary stays for Ukrainian refugees, Gindinova said. They flew to Miami before they joined relatives in Micaville, North Carolina, an unincorporated community set in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

The Segens’ life in the mountains

The Segens lived for months in the home of Anastasiia’s sister before they moved just a quarter mile away into a manufactured home, which they affixed with a pair of flags: one American, one Ukrainian.

The three-bedroom house, which was lifted several feet off the ground, sat just meters from the South Toe River, where the family took up the local customs of swimming and trout fishing.

Dmytro worked for a local heating, ventilation and air conditioning company and Yevhenii enrolled in public school. Anastasiia cared for her son and mother but also took up jobs cleaning nearby homes and Airbnb rentals.

Tatiana made a small garden, which paled in size to her garden in Ukraine but was still large enough to grow a great variety of crops including parsley, onions, garlic and bell peppers.

The nearby river, which the Segens could hear from their bedrooms, reminded Tatiana of the Dnipro River near Kherson.

“She never wanted to leave Ukraine, but when she came down to North Carolina, she was shocked,” Gindinova said. “She loved the river and the views.”

Helene’s wrath

By the time Helene made landfall in Florida on Sept. 26, days of heavy rain had already soaked much of western North Carolina. Outside the Segen home, the South Toe River had begun to rise.

The last time Gindinova spoke to her aunt was around 6 p.m. that September evening.

“She said 'The water in the river is rising,'" Gindinova recalled. "She made a joke that she hopes their Titanic – referring to their house – is going to hold."

Early the next morning, the river surged nearly 6 feet in seven hours before the gauge was damaged and measurements ceased.

Nearby, Anastasiia’s sister and brother-in-law heard what sounded like a train. The couple grabbed their two children and fled out the back door to a house higher on the mountain.

As they made their way up, they watched as water inundated their two-story home. Within hours it reached the top of the first floor and it hurled all their furniture and appliances downstream.

The cresting river pulverized a nearby bridge and swallowed entire homes, sheds and vehicles. Ricky Wiebe, a relative of the Segens, compared the water to a violent tidal wave.

“It looked like an ocean,” said Wiebe, whose brother fled from the floodwaters with his wife and children. “I get sick just thinking about it.”

The aftermath

For several days, Gindinova's calls and messages to the Segens went unanswered.

She called out of work and sat in front of her computer, listening to newscasts as she connected with people scouring Micaville and the surrounding neighborhoods for survivors. She called rescue teams as well as local, state and federal authorities.

After several days with little more information, she flew to North Carolina with her mother, determined to search for the Segens herself.

As she passed through Asheville and made her way to Micaville, the luscious green landscapes she’d relished during family trips appeared more like war zones.

Gindinova saw washing machines dangling from tree limbs, dozens of overturned campers and residential streets in which all the houses were either blown out or completely flattened.

No trace of the Segen family home survived the flood, save for the concrete blocks it once sat on. The garden, the flags, the staircase, everything was gone.

She stayed with relatives near Micaville and spent several days searching where the Segens had lived to no avail. Meanwhile, groups of people from states including Pennsylvania, New York, Texas and Alabama dropped by the house to say they had heard about the Segens through social media or news coverage and were actively looking for them.

A week after the discovery of Anastasiia and Dmytro several miles down the South Toe River, multiple groups continue to scour a vast swath of mountainous terrain in search of Yevhenii, Tatiana and other missing residents.

Gindinova said she has tried to maintain resolve by focusing on the logistics of the search effort and potential end-of-life ceremonies – instead of thinking directly about the Segens and sinking into despair.

Nevertheless, her days have been filled with recollections of loving memories of the Segen family: Tatiana gifting her a pair of socks she hand-made; Anastasiia’s warm, consoling smile; Dmytro practicing his English; Yevhenii handing her an octopus he made with his 3D printer.

“I don't think it's settled in all the way, what has happened,” she said. “But what can we do? We just need to cherish their memory as a great, happy family.”