Searching for son, infant left without mother, phones ringing under rubble: Kyiv’s day of mourning
“Mom, can you see me, hear me?” Yulia asks, worried about her 86-year-old mother, who recently survived a heart attack.
Their battered three-story building stands a few hundred meters from the strike site in Kyiv’s Sviatoshynskyi district. The air is thick with dust, debris, glass, and shattered window frames and doors. After a sleepless night, the elderly woman learns from us that the neighboring two-story building, reduced to ruins by a Russian missile, has claimed lives:
“That building?! Nine souls lost?! My God…” she weeps.
Those covering their faces with their hands, likely having lost someone close, silently shake their heads, signaling to journalists—each trying to ask questions—that now is not the time. I understand and leave them be.
I watch a woman pacing behind the caution tape near the destroyed building. She makes a call, cries, and walks back and forth, unable to find peace. She approaches the entrance, and someone hands her belongings. Neighbors later say her son died there.
On a nearby bench, a group of teenagers has been here since 5 AM, praying their 17-year-old friend Dania and his mother are pulled out alive, like the man who survived over six hours under the rubble.
I know the chances are slim, but I pray with them.
“We hear mobile phones ringing from under the rubble”
Hundreds of people fill the street. All nearby buildings are damaged. The scale of destruction is hard to grasp: at least 25 buildings affected, per the Ministry of Internal Affairs.
Some residents stand in shock, others gesture in panic: “Where will we sleep? What do we do?” A policewoman addresses them:
“You’ll enter your apartments one at a time. Bring your passport and any property documents you have. After inspection, contact the criminal investigation team to file statements and give testimony. You’ll need the Unified Register of Pre-trial InvestigationsURPI extract number for compensation claims, which the investigator will provide.”
A coordination hub for aid is set up on-site.
“Psychologists are working here, especially with parents of children still being searched for by rescuers. Over 30 people have sought psychological help,” says Pavlo Petrov, spokesperson for Kyiv’s Main Directorate of the State Emergency Service (SES).
The strike was from a ballistic missile, though its exact type awaits expert confirmation, per the Ministry. What’s clear is that it’s another war crime.
Casualty figures shifted throughout the morning. The SES clarified that the ninth reported death was actually body fragments. By 4:45 PM, the toll rose to 10, then 12, with fears it could climb further.
“The number is imprecise, but up to 10 people are missing,” said Interior Minister Ihor Klymenko at the scene. “We’ll work day and night until we’re certain we’ve recovered all bodies or, God willing, saved more people trapped. We hear mobile phones ringing below, and we’re verifying every report from relatives who’ve lost contact with loved ones.”
He added, “Preliminary information indicates two children from one family died here. Their parents were at their country house.”
Later, it was confirmed that a 21-year-old brother and 19-year-old sister, children of a doctor at Kyiv National University’s University Clinic, were among the fatalities.
"We don't know how we survived"
Oleksandr lived on the second floor of the first entry section of a building now gone. He doesn’t know how he survived, but managed to shield his 18-month-old daughter.
“It happened so fast. Suddenly—dust, darkness, and I’m under rubble. A neighbor found me,” he says.
His wife, in another room, died in the ambulance. He learned this in the morning.
His friend Oleksiy is now raising funds for the family. Oleksandr notes that strangers have already helped with clothes and formula. His daughter was breastfed.
“May those ‘katsaps’ all rot,” says a woman with trembling hands from a nearby building where her brother lives. His room, like all in the building, is destroyed.
“My father, from the five-story across the street, is in the hospital, concussed. He was pinned, barely pulled out,” says Maria, wiping tears, standing with a young man. Their apartment is also in ruins.
“We don’t know how we survived. Everything at home is gone. We thought the missile hit our building.”
Some residents plan to stay with friends or go to country houses. For those with nowhere to go, the coordination hub promises help.
“A few people left their numbers, offering to host individuals or families,” a policeman says.
Murzik left without an owner
During rescue efforts, responders call for moments of silence to listen for voices under the debris.
They work with dogs, rotating shifts, both exhausted.
“I just saw a dog resting. I asked the handler, ‘How long has she been working?’—‘Since 2:30 a.m. She’ll rest and go back,’” says the SES spokesperson.
A rescuer carries a cat from the rubble.
“We’ll take him to the psychological aid point; it’s quieter there. We’ll look for his owners,” he says.
“His owner… she’s gone,” a neighbor replies, then speaks into her phone: “Aunt Liuda, they found Murzik.”
Neighbors offer to take Murzik in temporarily.
The tenth fatality—Dania
“My son’s friend and his mom still haven’t been found. He’s so worried, I’m scared for him,” says Olena, mother of one of the schoolboys at the site since morning.
“This friend’s sister is in the hospital. Their dad died here. He’d been on the front since 2022, a tank operator, then injured and in rehab,” she says, breaking down. “The Russians claim they targeted military sites. This is their ‘military target’?”
Among the schoolboys, I notice a beautiful girl with tear-filled eyes.
“I’m his girlfriend,” she manages, then rushes with friends to ask rescuers if it’s true a 17-year-old boy was saved.
“We’re praying it’s Dania.”
Like them, I cling to a flicker of hope, desperately seeking confirmation. But I find none.
“No new information yet,” the SES responds.
After 5 PM, their hope—and mine—is crushed: “The tenth fatality in Kyiv was a 17-year-old boy, whose friends were waiting for him nearby.”
I don’t know if they recovered his or his mother’s body. But I can’t stop thinking about his 14-year-old sister, who will wake up in the hospital to realize she’s now an orphan.
April 25 is a day of mourning in Kyiv.