Marcel Winatschek

Twenty-Five Dead and Still They Stayed

By mid-morning on February 19th the death toll held at twenty-five and the Maidan was still occupied. Reports, images, and eyewitness accounts were arriving faster than anyone could process them—Vice and Mashable had people on the ground, testimony coming through on social media in fragments. The opposition was calling for blood donations. The streets that had been burning a few hours earlier were still smoldering.

And the crowd that remained was chanting the same thing, continuously, as if repetition could force the outcome: he has to go. Yanukovych. He has to go.

Whether the coming night would be calmer was the question no one could answer. The previous weeks had answered it badly, repeatedly, with no obvious reason to expect differently.