“When I got home, I burst into hysteria and panic. “My husband couldn't look at me, the children were scared and hugged me,” Natalia Bumova, a survivor of the massacre perpetrated the day before at the Crocus concert hall, outside the building, said through tears this Saturday. With a broken voice, Bumova approached the improvised tribute to the victims that the Muscovites had raised on the outside fence of the premises. Just a few meters from the dozens of flowers and toys placed at the tribute, a row of funeral vans still remained parked. At least 133 people lost their lives in a massacre that some compare to that of the Dubrovka theater in Moscow in 2002.
“Listen: pam. I thought it was a firecracker, that they had received the artists like that. But they didn't stop. The screams and panic began. I realized something was wrong,” says Bumova. This woman had arrived with her husband at the leisure center after 7:30 p.m., half an hour before the Picnic group's concert began. By chance, her sister called her when they had already settled on the second floor of the hall, whose capacity was full with 6,200 tickets sold. “I didn't know my sister had come too.”
The couple realized that “something was wrong” and started running. “I looked down, they were shooting at those people,” she says, her voice dull. There were not many people on the upper floors and it seemed safe to them. They found a guard, who guided them to an emergency exit along with other survivors.
“I was afraid, I couldn't see anything and everything was burning… What if they were there? The first to run opened the doors for all of us, we kept hearing the shots,” adds the victim. They all headed towards the road. One of the women who had fled could not locate her son. When she picked up his call, she only had 3% battery left. “We tried to calm her down,” explains Bumova. The drivers traveling on that route stopped to remove the survivors with the Crocus room burning in the background.
Join EL PAÍS to follow all the news and read without limits.
Subscribe
This Saturday, Muscovites approached the site of the tragedy, still closed under strict police control while the investigation by the security services continued.
“I don't understand who gains anything from this, it only evokes negative emotions in me,” says Kiril, in his twenties, on his way to the tribute with a flower in his hand. “These things happened when he was little, it seemed like everything was a thing of the past. This is happening again,” he laments.
“It was an attack against defenseless people, a barbaric act,” says a student who does not want to mention his name. “We did not expect an attack. It has been a long time since there has been such a high number of victims. And they did not take hostages,” he denounces with visible anger on his face before emphasizing that “no one has done this before.”
All of Moscow has been shocked by the attack. Its advertising posters have been replaced by the image of a candle on a black background with the motto “we cry, 02.22.2024.”
Angelina, a separated mother with a daughter, tells this newspaper by phone of her shock at having been at the scene of the attack a couple of hours before the massacre took place. “We had been to an exhibition in Crocus this week, and I returned yesterday to pick up something, but before the end of the work day. “When everything happened, we were already gone,” she says before stating that upon reading the news shortly after, she had “a panic attack and tears.”
Follow all the international information on Facebook and xor in our weekly newsletter.
Subscribe to continue reading
Read without limits
_
#Moscow #mourns #victims #attack #defenseless #people #barbaric #act