The entire life of Muscovite Timur Haziyev was connected with music, and the Dubrovka theater, also known as the House of Culture of the Moscow Ballbearings Factory. He had been here since childhood, studying at the 'Lyre' music studio, and here, while a member of the orchestra performing for 'Nord-Ost', death came for him.
Timur's parents, Tukai and Roza, used to live in a communal apartment near the theater hall, and their two sons Eldar and Timur learned to play the accordion at the House of Culture on Dubrovka. The teachers advised the younger son, Timur, to continue his studies — he was talanted. After 10th grade, he passed the musical course for percussion instruments in a single year, and entered the course for wind instruments, which he completed in only 3. Later he attained his dream of attending the Gnesinski Institute. His teacher there called him 'Rafinad', meaning that he was very refined, holding his drumsticks in a special, almost aristocratic manner. Parallel with his studies at the Gnesinski, however, he performed with the symphony orchestra of the Ministry of Defense. He performed with them in Norway, and was supposed to play in Spain, but because of October 23rd, this trip was put off forever…
«Here, I got his uniform ready… and his concert frock. Heavy starch, so that it wouldn't wrinkle,» says Roza Abdulovna, opening a wardrobe. «It's from the Ministry of Defense, but they never came for it.»
Little blonde Sonya grabs the garrison cap with the shiny visor, places it on her head runs across the room: «Papa! Papa!» Tanya does not have the strength to endure the scene, and leaves the room.
When he was done with the Gnesinski, Timur was offered a spot in the orchestra for 'Nord-Ost'. It was his third job, but he agreed: he had a family, a tiny child, and his wife Tanya had taken a low-paying job at their daughter's kindergarten, instead of continuing her career as an actress and director.
Of course, one can, perhaps, not believe in mysticism, or in forbodings. But…
«A month before the terrorist attack, Timur started sleeping poorly,» Tanya recounts. «I'd wake up in the morning, and he'd be sitting there. I'd ask him: 'Lay down, what's bugging you?' and he'd say: 'Something is making me scared'.»
His family decided that Timur was just tired. His day always began early: he'd take Sonya and Tanya to the kindergarten, then over to his parents' place to practice. His instruments were there: lately he had sprained his left arm, but was happy that it was better. He'd practice awhile, then once again he would jump in his car and drive to the military orcestra for practice, and from there to the 'Nord-Ost' musical. He would return home close to midnight, and early the next day it would start all over again. They say that he gave one the impression of a person who was in a hurry to live. Why? He was only 27… But no one can answer this question. Nor another: why was Timur even at 'Nord-Ost' on the 23rd of October? Once again, mysticism…
«It was Wednesday,» explains Tanya. «This was supposed to be our family day off. On Wednesdays a different drummer worked at 'Nord-Ost', but he asked Timur to switch with him, because his girlfriend just had to be with him that night. She saved the fellow… But mine swtiched shifts, and died.»
«You know, we didn't want our son's things to just be laying around. That's normal, isn't it?» Asks Roza Abdulovna. «And so we went THERE…»
Of course, the cell phone was gone. Timur was just starting to get his head above water, and had bought one. Not a new one, though.
THERE, next to Timur's belongings, Roza went into hysterics. They only gave Timur's relations his old jacket, with the print of an army boot on the back, and his t-shirt. Nothing else.
Judging from the shirt, Timur had been laying in the street. Roza Abdulovna was never able to wash out the Moscow street dirt, a mix of gasoline and oil.
When Timur went to work for the last time, he carried with him ten different picture IDs: as a musician with the 'Nord-Ost' orchestra, his passport, his driver's license, and others. When his family received his body on October 27th, the only ID was a tag, attached to his arm by a rubber band: '2551 Hamiyev U/I'.
«How could this happen?» asks Roza Abdulovna. «Why did we have to look for him for SO LONG?»
The mother is referring to the day after the storming of the theater, that long day of October 26th, which the Haziyevs would never forget.
«From morning until 4 PM, his name was not on a single list,» explains Tukai Valiyevich. «While we were going around all the morgues and hospitals, suddenly there was this little list, with about 20 names, and it said that Timur was alive at Hospital No. 7. We cried from happiness, and our friends congratulated us… Tatyana and I hurred to No. 7.»
A security guard at the gates would not let anyone in. He said that it was forbidden by the Moscow authorities, but he told Tukai that it was bad. That if 'his' were there, it meant that the situation was hopeless. Tanya started asking questions, and the guard felt sorry for her and let them in. Once inside, they were met by a policeman with an assault rifle.
«You know, he was a fellow with no heart,» says Tanya. «Not a single word, such as 'bear up' or 'hold on'. He just said it straight out: 'He's dead, get out of here'. I cried for 20 minutes, then some doctors ran up and demanded: 'Who let you in?'.»
When Tanya got ahold of herself, she begged them to let her bid Timur farewell, before the autopsy. She begged and begged. The policeman said sarcastically: «Go ask Putin for permission.» Then a trio from the government showed up, and asked: «Well, why are you in such a hurry? You'll still be able to close the coffin!» This was followed by: «What was the last name? Haziyev? The Chechen?»
Here was the crux of the matter. The family is certain that the reason for Timur's death from lack of medical assistance, was that he was mistaken for a Chechen. When the Haziyev men took his body from the morgue, in large letters on his chest was written '9:30', the time of death at Hospital No. 7. No other marks were on the body: not a single trace of medical intervention, no IV, injection, or intubation. Here was the whole story of the 'rescue'.
…And the last bit of family news: not long ago Tanya got Kiryusha and Frosya, a turtle and a cat. She did this so that there would be someone to come home to. Sonya still does not understand what happened to Papa, she is very young, but she does not like to go home after kindergarten when there is no Papa.
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