GOODBYE: Relatives mourn two sisters killed at the school
Posted Sunday, September 5, 2004; 11.27 BST
Regional officials started talking to the gunmen, and Russian diplomats arranged for a late-night Security Council meeting calling for the hostages' immediate freedom. But from inside School No. 1, the terrorists made their own demands: the withdrawal of Russian troops from Chechnya and the release of their comrades imprisoned in Ingushetia. Russian officials ordered broadcasters not to repeat the demands, and an offer by Chechen separatist leader Aslan Maskhadov to go to the scene to negotiate the hostages' safe return, contingent upon guarantees of his own safety, was also suppressed. The terrorists rejected offers of safe passage and suggestions of swapping children for adult hostages, and even turned down offers of food and water — fearing that supplies could be drugged, or that their delivery could provide cover for an attack.
Relatives waiting at the Palace of Culture were growing restless and angry at the lack of news. On the second day, a senior Interior Ministry official and the press secretary of President Dzasokhov showed up to give them a rundown of events. One repeated the official line that there were 354 hostages, which the relatives knew was bunk. "Have you no shame?" a woman shouted. "How can we trust you if you can't even count the number of hostages?" yelled a man. The officials quickly left.
Inside the gymnasium, there was one positive sign. Ruslan Aushev, an Afghan war hero and former President of Ingushetia, went into the school to negotiate. Bitterly disliked by the Kremlin, he is widely respected in the Caucasus because he rejects terrorism but is sympathetic to the Chechen cause. Before he entered the gym, the rebels put on their masks and told the hostages to lie still. Aushev entered the room and surveyed the hellish scene. "I understand," Kasumova heard him say. "There will be negotiations." The masked men agreed to release mothers with babies; 26 people reached safety. But the hostages' relatives milling
Outside the school, The guerrillas opened fire on us, and I saw one child go down, and then another.
— ELENA KASUMOVA, teacher at School No. 1
around the town's Palace of Culture, desperate for news, could still hear sporadic gunfire and explosions coming from the school.
Inside the gym on Friday morning, a rumor passed from hostage to hostage that they would soon be released. Kasumova didn't know where it came from or whether to believe it. But the guerrillas seemed to be waiting for something, too. A deal had been struck for members of the search-and-rescue service to remove some corpses. Dressed in blue coveralls with bright red stripes, with the logo and initials of the service prominently displayed on their backs, six officers approached the entrance to the gym at about 1:05 p.m. The men weren't wearing bulletproof vests or carrying guns. That's when the great explosion ripped the air, and the final battle began. Two of the search-and-rescue officers were gunned down by rebels.
It still isn't clear what triggered the explosion, whether it was intentional or a mishap. Russian officials say it was a rebel booby trap. The security forces appeared unprepared for the chaos, implying that the government had not abandoned its commitment to negotiate, but that something had gone awry. "This melée seems to have come up quite unexpectedly and went out of control," said one special-forces officer in Moscow. But some journalists on the scene thought the apparent disorganization could have been cover for an attack that had been planned all along, citing as evidence the deployment of crack troops, tanks and special forces the night before, and the imposition of reporting restrictions that often precedes major raids.
No matter who initiated the final battle, the deadly result was a crushing defeat for the security forces and for Putin, who has carefully constructed an image as the man whose uncompromising toughness can deliver security to Russians. The bloodbath, with chaotic scenes of half-naked, bloody children running through the streets, cruelly mocked those promises.
Analysts stressed the danger of a spiral of reprisals between the largely Christian Ossetians, outraged at the school carnage, and the predominantly Muslim Ingush, some of whom were said to be among the hostage takers. Only hours after the siege ended, the reprisals seemed to have begun. According to human-rights activist Timur Aliyev, who was in Beslan during the siege, Ossetians took a handful of Ingush hostages in the village of Chermen, 20 km southeast of the grieving town. "Tensions are mounting," Aliyev says.
Back to the Drawing Board [May 24, 2004]
After the assassination of Moscow's man in Grozny, Putin must devise a new exit strategy for Chechnya
No Way Out [Oct. 09, 2003]
After the election in Chechnya, Putin wants to declare victory and get out.
Profits of Doom [Oct. 09, 2003]
A Russian special ops commander says the Chechen war is really being fought for oil, arms and money
Awfully Familiar [July 21, 2003]
The war in Chechnya — now sending suicide bombers to Moscow — is becoming Russia's version of Palestine
No End In Sight [Jun. 30, 2003]
The war in Chechnya helped Putin win the Russian presidency. With a wave of new suicide bombings, could it now become his downfall?
Living on a Powder Keg [Feb. 07, 2003]
The forgotten link between Chechen terrorism and the war in Chechnya
Mogadishu at 60 Miles an Hour Arms merchants are once again doing brisk business after a rapid change of power in this tough town, but so far the peace has held
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