BUG. The massacre shocked the whole world.
A year later, the “Road of Death” in Butja is full of life again.
But Oleksandr Turovsky, 68, is still at a loss for words every time his grandson asks:
– Why didn’t dad hide – he had promised?
The ground has been scrubbed clean of bloodstains and corpse smell.
Only the bullet holes in the stone stairs remain.
Oleksander Turovsky, 68, straightens the Ukrainian flag that has twisted in the wind. Then he backs off and fixes his gaze on the eight portraits hanging on the brick wall.
The patch he stands on is muddy, with slanted cement tiles. It is only ten steps high. Unassuming.
But the address has echoed around the world:
Jablunskagatan 144.
The images of the bestial massacre, here from the back street in Butja, are some of the most widely spread throughout the war year.
The process is well documented.
A surveillance image from March 4 last year shows nine men being herded across the street, in ranks with bowed heads, of soldiers with drawn weapons.
Butja had just been occupied by Russian forces. The verdant suburb, three miles outside Kiev, quickly became a base for the Russians to attack the capital.
A month later, the Russians were forced to withdraw from northern Ukraine, after intense resistance from Ukrainian forces.
Then the brutality of the war in the occupied territories was revealed – and sent shockwaves across the continent.
– This is genocide, said Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyi.
Along the streets of Butja, the Russians had dumped the bodies of the local population. Several were tied behind, executed at close range with a shot to the neck. Mass graves were found. Torture centers. Systematic rapes.
To accusations of war crimes, Russia has responded that the photos are fake, that bodies were placed after the fact.
But satellite images show the bodies were left to rot for weeks. Intercepted conversations also reveal that the Russians spoke of “zachistka” – cleansing.
They had lists, prepared by the intelligence service, and went door to door to identify people. Anyone suspected of helping Ukrainian troops was executed.
In total, the police found 450 murdered inhabitants of Butja. The town, which before the war had around 30,000 residents, will forever be synonymous with brutal abuse.
For the residents, Jablunskagatan became known as “Death Road”.
Around 40 bodies were found along the route. And behind the pink house – house number 144 – were found the men being led to their place of execution that spring morning.
Eight bodies, with distorted faces. One of them was Oleksandr Turovsky’s son. Svyatoslav Turovsky turned 35 years old.
When found, he is wearing a brown hoodie. Open mouth, yellow-gray skin, sunken eyes. Shot three times at close range.
– I want the whole world to see the pictures, to see what the bastards have done. Monster, says Oleksandr Turovsky, clenching his fists.
When Aftonbladet visits Jablunskagatan – or “Äppelträdsgatan” in Swedish – the house lane is full of life again. Homes are renovated, the mail is delivered, an elderly couple rushes with grocery bags.
The traces of terror are gone.
As we continue driving through Butja, Oleksander points out where he saw the Russian tanks.
Were you scared?
He lived under Russian occupation for a couple of days, but then managed to escape to Kiev. The son was left. He had joined the Territorial Defense Force of Ukraine, civilians joining the defense, and wanted to protect Butja.
At 06.18 in the morning, on March 4, Oleksander received the last text message from him.
“There are 8 of us, an old man saved us. I can’t hear from you anymore, don’t call me.”
Hours later he was led to his death.
Oleksander shows around the home, upstairs in an apartment complex. Each crawl is a kaleidoscope of color and pattern; glitter wallpaper, carpets and tapestries.
Along one short end, he has built an altar with photographs of his son.
– Here was Svyatoslav’s teenage room. Today, no one is allowed to sleep here, he says.
With his hand he shows where the bed used to be. Browsing the photo albums from the holidays. Svyatoslav liked going to Italy and fishing, he says.
– The last picture we took.
On the card held by Oleksander, Svyatoslav wears white camouflage suit, helmet, a cautious smile. First day in civil defense.
It was a friend who first called and told Alexander that he had heard Svyatoslav had been brutally killed. That the eyes were gone.
At the mortuary in central Kiev, they said “Even if I let you in, you won’t be able to identify him, we’ve got 50 people in here right now. You will not find him”.
The hunt continued. A couple of days later – on his birthday – Olekander had to meet a prosecutor who showed him the photos from the alley. One by one. Some covered the prosecutor with their hand. “Believe me you don’t want to see”. Nevertheless, he recognized the son immediately.
– I just wanted to vomit, says Oleksander.
A year has passed since Äppelträdsgatan turned into the road of death. But tidy alleys don’t heal the wounds.
– He used to come here every day after work, at 6 p.m., Oleksandr begins and sits down on the green sofa.
He breathes heavily and quickly as soon as he thinks about it.
– If I hadn’t had my problems with my legs, I would also have been standing there on the front line! Even though I am 68 years old. I had stood there – to try to wring the necks of them all.
A knock on the door.
Then quick footsteps, and a dizzy woman in a pink cap throws herself into Oleksander’s arms.
Anastasia, 5, hands over a gift. A bag of chips. Oleksander suddenly lights up.
– And this… is Svyatoslav’s daughter, he laughs so that the gold tooth is visible.
They hug and Oleksander spins around, around. The girl with the inherited icy blue gaze, arms outstretched, like an airplane. The tassels swirl with speed.
– She also likes Italy – just like her father, he says proudly.
– Ciao, ciao, answers Anastasia.
She is off from preschool for a couple of days, as the Ukrainian authorities believe there is an increased risk of new missile attacks around the anniversary of the Russian invasion.
Together, grandfather and Anastasia look at the medals that Svyatoslav received posthumously. She makes big eyes.
Oleksander says that the grandson occasionally asks uncomfortable questions.
About things he can’t answer.
– When she walks past the cemetery on her way to preschool, she always says “here lies my father”. And she still wonders: “Why didn’t dad hide – he had promised?”.