In Beslan, many residents have directed their anger not only at Putin but at the regional leader, Alexander Dzasokhov. In an effort to dispel those concerns, Dzasokhov made a televised visit Sunday to hospitalized children and apologized for failing to protect them adequately.
"I fully understand my responsibility," said Dzasokhov, the president of North Ossetia, the region near Chechnya where Beslan is located. "I want to beg your pardon for failing to protect children, teachers and parents."
In Moscow, Russian Orthodox faithful place candles for the victims of the Beslan school seizure as mourning echoed across the country.
(Mikhail Metzel -- AP)
_____Hostage Standoff Ends_____
Photo Gallery: The hostage standoff at a school near Chechnya turned tragic with hundreds of children and adults killed or injured during fighting.
For many families in the town, there was not yet time for political recriminations as they searched for missing relatives and buried those who have been found. But people have grown increasingly despondent, acknowledging that many bodies were burned beyond recognition in an explosion that caused most of the casualties.
"We keep receiving complaints from relatives saying they haven't found the bodies," said Lev Dzugaev, an aide to Dzasokhov who gave the now-discredited total of hostages during the standoff.
At the Beslan House of Culture, which has been a gathering point for families throughout the crisis, volunteers taking down names of the missing said the figure stood at 190 as of Sunday afternoon. Many families have left not only names but snapshots, such as one of a little girl celebrating the new year wearing a snow princess dress and surrounded by boys in white rabbit costumes.
All along Beslan's Pervomaiskaya (1st of May) Street, people were burying the dead Sunday. The tops of wooden caskets stood upright outside the large ornate gates of walled homes, signaling a house of mourning. Clusters of people, men and women walking separately, hundreds in all, moved up and down the long, potholed street. The wails of those who were grieving joined the cries of those farther down the street until, in some moments, it sounded as if all of Beslan was in tears.
At 103 Pervomaiskaya St., the body of 75-year-old Rimma Kusova, wrapped in plastic and covered by a thin orange blanket, lay on a table in the home she had shared with her husband and two grandchildren. Her husband, Timur, stood outside, inviting visitors to view the badly disfigured corpse.
Kusova had taken her grandson, Azamas, to school when both of them were seized. The boy escaped; she did not.
Timur Kusova, who is a retired factory worker, said he lost his only daughter to renal failure when she was 16 and his son, the boy's father, to an injury he received as a soldier in the Soviet army that fought in Afghanistan. "I'm the only one now," he said.
Across the street, at number 100, the relatives of 42-year-old Irma Zagoyeva had just come back from the morgue after spending more fruitless hours looking for her body. Zagoyeva had accompanied her 6-year-old son, Chermen, to his first day of school. He made it out. "He said his mother fell down and didn't move," Zagoyeva's sister-in-law said. "That's all he remembers."
The body of Elza Guldayeva, 36, was brought home to number 52 on Saturday. Relatives were waiting Sunday afternoon outside a courtyard draped with vines for the body of her daughter, 12-year-old Olesya, to arrive. Guldayeva's husband was at the hospital with the couple's seriously injured second daughter, 11-year-old Alina.
"They killed our women and children," said Felix Guldayeva, a cousin. "Our women and children."
A large crowd stood outside 44 Pervomaiskaya St. Felix Totiyev, the family patriarch, stood with a cane beside two velvet-draped caskets for his two granddaughters, Lyuba, 10, and Anna, 8. Four more of his grandchildren were missing. From within the house, a constant moan of grief emerged.
At number 35, Batraz Tuganov lay dead under a silver and white sheet and dressed in a jacket. His head was still covered with a bandage. A single man, he was executed during the siege. His 72-year-old mother, Valentina, sat by the body, wordlessly accepting the hugs of the women who surrounded her.
Tuganov had driven two children and a mother to the school last Friday morning, relatives said. He decided to walk into the school courtyard with them.
At number 30, the funeral was over. Volodya Khodov, 10, who was shot in the chest, was buried Sunday afternoon, and a series of tents covering tables were set up on a side street for the mourners to drink and eat from. Volodya's mother, Zifa, was one of 25 hostages released during the siege with an infant. But she was forced to leave behind Volodya and his younger brother.
Still, there was one piece of good news for this family to savor: Volodya's younger brother survived.
Finn and correspondent Peter Baker reported from Beslan.