A chaotic form of martial law remains in place, as at least four groups of armed men vie for power in the city. Federal troops retain a limited presence in daily life, keeping a distance from the local pro-Moscow Chechen police, a broad sweep of men - mostly former separatist fighters - who prop up the regime of president Alu Alkhanov. Then there are the Kadyrovtsi - the thousands-strong private army once loyal to late president Akhmed Kadyrov, assassinated in May. His son, the brutish and volatile Ramzan, has increasingly failed to command the respect of his father's entourage - and some factions are now pursuing their own ideas, relying on kidnapping and extortion to fund themselves.
Days after two airliners were simultaneously blown up by militants over Russia, and days before the republic would be asked to elect Alkhanov, Tuta Batayeva stood in the modest courtyard of her home and showed me the holes left by the bullets fired by militants fleeing a clash with local police. One went through her son, Isa, 43, killing him, then through her gate, then her fridge.
"We don't know who is good or bad any more. They all look the same and nobody protects us," she said. "And whoever you vote for, they still ensure the killing goes on." It is the twisted consequence of Moscow's decision to hand control over to loyal Chechens: a simple loathing of the occupation force has been replaced by fear of men in masks who act with impunity.
Monday, February 14, 2005
Email from Grozny
Nick Paton Walsh, writing from the Chechen capital:
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