Funeral, ended the mourning. The city returned to business as usual. But this is only superficially. Go to any of these people, passionate conversations, strolling with kids and dogs, bored behind the counter in a shop, the words about pain will pour from them, because in this city where every second person is a friend or an acquaintance, a friend, someone else’s grief does not happen. As the family lived Vladislav Roslyakov, what now remember neighbors, what they believe, and then fear fact.
- Shooting at College in Kerch: 21 people were killed and over 40 injured
- The tragedy in Kerch – the main
- “A person is scared to realize that his baby – killer”
- Kerch. Remember them so
- “You knew them or not – it is a terrible shared our grief,” Kerch said goodbye to the victims of the tragedy
On the fourth day of the tragedy, it may seem that the Kerch gradually comes to life. Black iron gates of the station of blood transfusion tightly closed because Saturday, a day off, around, on Karl Marx street, consisting, as all the poor town of two-story houses with peeling plaster and a gray five-story panel, no soul, did not seem to come with their families and not waiting for hours for their turn to help the victims. In the open window, through the mosquito net, why the face becomes barely distinguishable, the duty explains that in the early days of blood collected even more than was required, so wanting unfold and went home.
Emptied and Kerch hospital: seriously injured was taken to Sevastopol, Krasnodar, Moscow, and those who didn’t suffer much, released. The official mourning also ended, although a small Russian flag at the departmental agencies still bandaged with black tape, and even people on the streets said less about the tragedy, more about your.
But this is the usual state of the city outward seeming. Go to any of these people, passionate conversations, strolling with kids and dogs, bored behind the counter in a shop, the words about pain will pour from them, because in this city where every second person is a friend or an acquaintance, a friend, someone else’s grief does not happen.
Look closely, and you will see women, men, girls and boys with two or four carnations. Most likely they will sit 40 bus, going from the center, you will pass twenty minutes past the markets and shops, five-story building and a stunted private houses, past the vacant lots, construction sites, hanging noses gantry cranes, and exit at the stop near the steel plant.
A hundred meters above, on Voykova street, staring at the abandoned Palace of culture named after Engels empty sockets of the Windows in the place where previously was the dining room, is the Kerch Polytechnic. Since that day he is tightly surrounded by Asgardia, so the memorial was organized near the bus stop. People come families, with children, bring flowers, toys and candles. Among them, it is easy to know those who were in College: with the lost boys looks, girls with trembling hands.
“Call an ambulance, I want to live”
In the alley between the main building, where the explosion occurred, and “five” – another building of the Polytechnic, – are sitting with bowed heads and clasped his fingers into the castle, two young men. Here, about College, friends, first-year students Vadim Vlasyuk and Andrew Herman somehow gets easier. The night guys had it again last gunshots, the explosions, the figure of the arrow in the window, and they didn’t know what to do with myself. And came here to utter all that hurts inside, open, even a stranger, and as if to briefly let go.
– I wanted to go to the dining room, but a minute before the explosion, what I realized, and I said to myself “no, don’t go” – clenching his fingers, lost eyes looking at the College building, says Vadim. – His friends said, “Send to class”. We climbed the stairs, and the explosion occurred. My classmate was in the dining room. She’s fine now, but the psyche of her… carrying Her out through the hall, where were the bodies, she saw it all. With our group of two was taken to the hospital: the boy, because he, too, the psyche was, and a girl with injuries.
My teacher in Informatics were killed (approx.: Anastasiia Baklanova). For half a minute before the explosion I was with them, she and her mother talked. I went into the hall, they are on the stairs, an explosion occurred, and they died.
After the first explosion, everyone was shocked, did not understand what was happening. The alarm went off, we were told to leave the second floor and we went outside. And when we were on the second floor, we also heard that in distant parts of the body the explosion that small, because in classes cracked window. Apparently, someone opened the door and threw small explosives.
We went down to the street, there were a lot of victims, wounded by shrapnel, girls fell, fainted from fright. We pumped as I could, transferred to a safe place. Then they heard the shots. The girls ran out, screaming that someone walks, shoots…
I never haven’t experienced. In the first five minutes I thought war. We went outside, saw the wounded, immediately began to help. We have seen girls fall, blood flows, but we had nothing to fear, in the minds of the mind was not.
First came MOE. We were lying near a girl, I could not find a pulse, tried CPR. Mchsniki ran, passed on the radio that the girl is in critical condition. Yesterday I learned that she had her heart failed and she died.
To the girl to move, we found a stretcher somewhere in the barn. When we dragged, he saw that the courtyard lies a boy alone. Then it went to help, we told the girl, too, ran there and told us that he died. It was a classmate of the boy, we pumped the girl. He just fell to his knees, we fell, started to cry, and then I just said: “enough is enough”
I climbed over the fence, I was shaking and I saw that already carried the wounded and dead. Carried on anything. Stopped taxis, trucks…
Then Vadim talks about what he’s talking about the whole city, filled with rumors, fears and uncertainty. Ask anyone in Kerch, and he will tell you: Roslyakov was not alone.
– It is said that he was alone, but this is impossible, because there were witnesses who saw that walked into the building, three masked men. It is unknown how he activated the bomb. Either someone turned on a bomb and died, I don’t know.
I’m afraid to walk around the city. A lot of information throw. My friend wrote that ostensibly in their area found the explosives. The information was false, that mined in Kerch medical College. Scary, just scary.
– Scary – echoes that of Andrew. – There was information that the funeral had to be acts of terrorism.
– I friend was forbidden to go. Maybe they have accomplices were.
– And went goodbye?
– I could not go. I lost a teacher, died last night our other friend. Had to say goodbye. They are our Polytechnic, they’re family. The first time will be hard, nightmares dream about. And then we’ll see. Some want to pick up the documents and transferred somewhere. Scary.
– You realize that you were here, you never forget it, – continues Andrey. – I have a classmate, he carried corpses and people with no legs. He went to a psychologist and it’s just called crazy.
Yes, many psychologists turned. But what will they do? They say: “you do something to forget”, and you can’t. Because the information comes from everywhere, and rumors.
– I that day, came home, and what do I do? Thought to watch a film to distract us, through his teeth, clenching them tightly, clenching his fingers, says Andrew. – What’s the movie… Like a movie before my eyes all this. Runs in front of me guy, he has half a face is all shot up, and shouted: “Call an ambulance, I want to live!” How to escape from it?
Strategisation port Kerch stretched along the Crimean Peninsula and looks out to the mainland. Since the bridge was built, people in the season increased, but as the town has the Spa status, but rather industrial, tourist, compared to the same Feodosia and Yalta, especially does not happen much now. This, on the other hand, well, say local because tourists always provoke a rise of prices, and so prices have risen since then, as the Crimea became part of Russia.
In Kerch, they say, well “pensionering”: air, climate, the rhythm. And if the inhabitants of the Northern cities come to age, the young kerchane go for education or jobs in Sevastopol, Ukraine, “over the bridge” – in Krasnodar, Moscow, St. Petersburg. The work, of course, you can find here, though not the most highly paid. There are plants “Bay”, “Arrow”, metallurgical on the street Voykova where to go to work the graduates of the Polytechnic, as everywhere, there are taxis, shops and hotels.
And even Kerch – the city is so relaxed, even sleepy. Still in recent history only two events briefly woke lulled by the sea land.
The first skirmish in the establishment of “Interclub” in 1996, which killed the gang’s criminal mayor Victor Killzone, including himself, but those were dark times, and the dismantling of criminal authorities no one was surprised.
The second event that raised over town – the referendum in 2014, sharing the life of the streets into two stages: “in the Ukraine” and “Russia”. Nina could remember – I got a passport and fled headlong to vote in favour. For her, as for most pensioners, the difference is obvious: in the Ukraine, she received a pension of 1000 rubles and didn’t know how to live on 8 thousand minimal, and on top of that 2 and a half – the increase in disability. You can now pay communal, to buy the grandchildren gifts, and something else is to life.
Young people also for the most part like it. 17-year-old Andrew said that now at least there is no war, and that is good. In addition, we built a bridge, build a road, really slowly, gradually ennoble the city, which – and this is evident – came in a strong desolation.
When passions with the referendum settled, the streets of habit healed quietly, so mass murder at the Polytechnic College was a shock from which it will recover not soon.
– Look around, all scared. Walked past the music school – moms fuss over their children. Driving to school, waiting for their lessons. Such at us never was, – says another pensioner Lyudmila.
She lives in a hostel in the street of Leo Tolstoy, near the barracks, where he rented an apartment the family Roscovich, but neither the mother nor the boy were not familiar.
– Live and do not know each other. Indeed, as sleepy. Driven-driven by his cart, that stopped to see what’s going on.
“He lived near us!”
All passing and passing through thick, broken street closer to the outskirts of the city, consisting of vacant lots and a terrible five-story panel, as Lyudmila, a stop opposite to the house of Vlada Roslyakova. Here riot police on duty around the clock, working the investigation Committee and at almost any time scurrying around, trying unsuccessfully to break through the cordon to home, journalists.
– What happened here? What are they looking for? – connect new passers-by.
– Yes you that, here he lived! With us! And we didn’t. On this most on our stop got on the bus. And there go our children. What a nightmare.
The barracks represent a sad spectacle. Little ramshackle houses with doors and fall out through one boarded up Windows once, probably, was built by captured Germans at the time, but these days it’s cheap housing rented to poor families and lonely elderly. On the contrary, the broken brick plant – a weedy field that was once a stadium, say, Roslyakov ran here in the morning; the stadium is an abandoned kindergarten, and on the other side of the barracks, the factory, also abandoned, where, according to rumors, the criminal learned to shoot and blow up.
– While we are here, and the stadium and the vacant lots, still all was quiet, and we never were afraid of their children to go outside, – continues Lyudmila Nikolaevna, alone with me and with other neighbors. – I the fourth day of crying, can’t stop, so sorry kids. Although there was not I have friends… No, sosedkin son is studying there. But he just ran to the store.
And I was haunted – picks up the other woman. – 15 years ago from Sebastopol came to my tenants: girl with a two year old son. The high, beautiful, with a long braid. And boy she had such good. Dad something did not work, they come here. Then she met a man, got married and moved out of my house. And here I see a picture of that boy, he is 15 years already, I learned the names – Vlad, Verdeborgo and see her, this woman, as she is killed in front of the coffin.
– And the mother of this kid what is that all this grief has done? – connects the third.
– Where is she do you know? – ask.
– I don’t know, it’s not any of us did not communicate. With whom she was friends? These Jehovah’s (Jehovah’s Witnesses religious organization banned in Russia, approx.ed.). Somewhere they’re hiding. Now Russia is chasing them. Oh, Woe one Woe, and all. She hand wanted to impose, and colleagues stopped her and called the psychologist. It may be in the hospital if she isn’t, and maybe in the house he is sitting, who knows – suggests one neighbor.
They say she hanged herself, is included in the conversation second.
– And I heard today a rumor that has gone mad, sympathetic nods of the third.
Family Roslyakova as if it was not in Kerch until 17 October. About where mom worked, she went to banned in Russia as a religious organization “Jehovah’s Witnesses” that did not allow the son to have fun, local as well as the whole country will know from the news, so to speak, where the truth from witnesses, and where picked up by the ear, hard. But the whole town is convinced that “yoga or Jehovah, or whatever they are” also relevant to the tragedy, especially because of their prayer house to the closing was in the area, now they are hiding in basements, and the pensioner Baba Masha their eyes saw today “yogis” in the market of flowers – “it means the boy will be buried, and they’re going to a funeral”.
Little more is known about the grandparents and the father. They live a five minute walk from the house of Vlad, on the street Nesterov, parallel Tolstoy, in an unremarkable five-story building. Grandmother Galina neighbor, I see not often, mostly when she goes out to walk the dog. An ordinary woman. Saw sometimes and Vlad – in the barracks of the problems with the water, he came to grandma’s to swim. The guy guy, very quiet, always said Hello in passing, what about him to say?
“Tore his clothes and bandaged the wound”
“Hatred” was written on the t-shirt Vlad Roslyakov put on to shoot the students and teachers of the College. Hatred, pain, and fear, and a lot that words cannot Express, the feelings of the College student, who requested anonymity, standing in front of the house Roscovich on thick. She walked to the bus stop and some unknown force made her stop, look at this dilapidated house, as men in uniform trying to find in it the answer to why Vlad woke up that morning and went to kill her friends.
It was the most ordinary, unremarkable day. The students spent two couples went to eat in the dining room or chat in the alley. At this time in the neighboring building, which is called “five”, as usual, was the next event and the next day, Thursday, on the curatorial hours the sophomores were scheduled to meet with the police College regularly held any meetings.
College for me – a second home, here I spent day and night at the student Council. I came home at 7-8 PM. It was fun, cool, says sophomore Ksenia Kovtun. Together with classmates Anna Derevenets and Vladimir Polaznika they came to my University to pick up my stuff the guys were running away from the offices, throwing everything.
– What I feel standing here? Feel like it’s all happening again. As if you stand and shoot you, – says Vladimir.
I was in the backyard, saw his silhouette as he walks and shot people. We helped to pump out one girl during the explosion, refused to heart. We restored her heartbeat, but then said she died. I lost two friends, two odnogruppnitsy, teachers.
– Did you offer each other help?
– Yes, that I remembered from the course OBZH.
– Tore his clothing, bandaged wounds. Our nurse just didn’t know who to run faster, she was all in blood, – Xenia continues. – It was hard to get through, call for help, and when we got through, came only one ambulance,
Even those who were not injured physically, you know, many injured psyche. They just come to this place, at the bus stop, and they begin to shake hands, so scary. Gossip on the Internet, and many believe. And suddenly happens again.
As proof Kusinich words meet at the memorial to the two girls of sixteen children. They stand silently looking at the mountain of flowers and toys.
– The flowers you brought here? – ask.
– We have no money, and so would have brought flowers.
-And you were in College that day?
– I’m not, you’ll ask her.
– I don’t wanna talk, I’m afraid. Suddenly they will see it. It will be worse, they will find me, says the ringing voice of the girl, her hands shaking.
– Who are they?
– Those who accept it.
– I will not write down your name, they don’t know.
– I am still afraid. I’m shaking. I can’t say.