Burying loved ones, instead of Easter preparations, By Ghanna Mamonova & Anna Tsyhyma

Sumy, home to 200,000, feels the tragedy deeply. People recognise friends, classmates, and colleagues among the dead and wounded. Everyone you speak to planned to attend the Congress Center’s children’s show. The tragedy drained Sumy’s joy, yet few want to leave. Residents say a Russian missile could strike any Ukrainian city… Overnight into 18 April, days before Easter, a Russian drone hit a bakery making traditional Easter breads, killing an entrepreneur picking up orders.

The Holy Week began with a Russian missile strike on Sumy, claiming 35 lives, including two minors, and injuring 125 others. For the city, the 13 April attack was the deadliest on civilians in three years of full-scale invasion. The strike hit on the morning of Palm Sunday, a time when many Christians head to church. According to Ukraine’s Main Intelligence Directorate, Russian forces launched Iskander-M/KN-23 missiles from neighbouring Voronezh and Kursk oblasts. These ballistic missiles, each costing up to $3 million, are designed for strikes up to 500 kilometres. Sumy is just 30 kilometres from the Russian border. The missiles reached their target in minutes, leaving people no chance to take cover. Last month, Russian forces regained control of most of the Kursk Oblast, previously held by Ukrainian troops, intensifying attacks on Sumy and the region with various weapons. Amid talks of a ceasefire and negotiations involving the new US administration, Russian drone and missile strikes on 12 frontline Ukrainian regions have doubled in the past two months compared to early last year, according to Ukrainian analytical centre, Texty.org.ua.

Sharp, razor-like metal shrapnel scattered across hundreds of metres, tearing through bodies. “People arrived at the hospital with severed limbs, shattered internal organs, and 10-20 metal fragments in their bodies,” said Artem Firstenko, a surgeon at the regional hospital. It was his day off, but he rushed to operate after hearing the blasts.

The surgeon explained that with so many metal fragments, victims bleed out rapidly. Survivors will live with shrapnel, as removing it all is impossible.

Nearly a week later, 32 wounded remain in hospitals. Among them is 56-year-old Viktor Voytenko, a security guard at the Institute of Applied Physics. He was in the building during the second blast; shrapnel hit him, fracturing his spine and leaving him paralysed.

In a nearby ward lies 76-year-old Alla Shyrtokala. She was heading to friends for a countryside getaway when shrapnel severed blood vessels in her arm. “I was saved because a boy opened the bus door,” she said. Her rescuer was 13-year-old Kyrylo Illiashenko.

Kyrylo was riding with his mother, Maryna, to visit his grandmother. Glass, metal fragments, and stones rained down. Maryna couldn’t open her eyes and screamed her son’s name: “Kiryusha, Kiryusha.” “The seconds he was silent were the worst of my life,” she recalled. Kyrylo grabbed her hand, saw her face covered in blood. He tried exiting the bus, but the doors wouldn’t open. Jumping through a window, he pushed them open from outside.

That act saved many passengers.

Days after the tragedy, Maryna’s face is bruised. Doctors removed a metal fragment from Kyrylo’s head, but two remain deep in his skull, likely for life.

Kyrylo’s heroism became a beacon for Sumy’s grieving residents. People bring him gifts and fruits to the hospital.

A freestyle wrestling enthusiast, Kyrylo got a call from his idol, Ukrainian Olympic Greco-Roman wrestling champion, Zhan Beleniuk. “Mom, my head barely hurts. I’ll compete in May,” he said, buoyed by the support.

A viral photo on Ukrainian social media showed a blue scooter buried in debris.

It belonged to one-year-old Kira. She, her mother, and her six-year-old sister, Elina, were out walking. The first blast knocked them down; passersby rushed them to the hospital, sparing them from the second explosion. Kira has only bruises, but Elina is in intensive care. Metal fragments pierced her lungs, trachea, and bronchi, and shattered her ribs and collarbone.

Recovering from the shock, their mother, Viktoriya Rudyk, asked people on social media to find Kira’s scooter. The girl was upset. Someone brought it home.

Only the Grandmother and the Dog Remain

On the morning of 16 April, Pastor Artem Tovmasian taped a family portrait of the Martynenko family and two red carnations to the doors of a Protestant church. Mykola was days from turning 41, his wife Natalia was 49, and their son Maksym will forever be 11.

Among the 35 fatalities, this family’s loss was a distinct wound. Left alone is Natalia’s 75-year-old mother, Nadiya, bedridden for over 17 years. At the farewell, Nadiya was wheeled to each coffin: “Who’ll bring me water now?” she asked her son-in-law. “My dear daughter, my Maksym, why did you have to go with your parents? May the earth swallow them whole. That damned Putin.”

During the farewell service at the church, their friend, Svitlana Holub, sat by the three coffins, wailing: “Forgive me, I love you so much. You promised to visit, but I never saw you.” Svitlana and Natalia sold clothes and cosmetics at the market. “They were always together and died together,” she said.

Another woman supported a man as he approached the coffins, clutching white chrysanthemums, his legs buckling. A local woman hugged her son tightly. A boy weeped by Maksym’s coffin, placing a stuffed toy inside. Someone left a football. Maksym loved football and was headed to practice that day.

The family lived in a village near Sumy, visiting the city on weekends. The parents usually took Maksym for football, then went to church. That day, they decided to stroll the city together. The blast severed Maksym’s leg.

Trying to console mourners, the pastor insisted that there’s a choice between living in fear or with faith. “This family lived with faith,” he said. “There wasn’t a soul who didn’t know how kind they were. They were always ready to lend a hand.”

Maksym’s friends, teenagers, stood in the back, crying as they scrolled through his photos on their phones.

Among the 35 fatalities, this family’s loss was a distinct wound. Left alone is Natalia’s 75-year-old mother, Nadiya, bedridden for over 17 years. At the farewell, Nadiya was wheeled to each coffin: “Who’ll bring me water now?” she asked her son-in-law. “My dear daughter, my Maksym, why did you have to go with your parents? May the earth swallow them whole. That damned Putin.”

The entire village attended the burial. Maksym’s school canceled classes. His classmates huddled around their teacher, Dariya Doroshenko. She said Maksym loved his dog, Rex, who came to school with him. These days, Rex runs to the school looking for him. On the funeral day, a frightened Rex sat outside the family’s apartment.

“The hardest part is explaining everything to the kids. They know Maksym is gone but don’t grasp it. You enter the classroom, and it’s empty. A psychologist visited. The kids decided to plant a tree for Maksym,” the teacher said.

“Let your deaths not be in vain. Let the world hear. A whole family killed,” said Natalia’s friend, Liliya Kurasova, who knew her for 23 years, while addressing a crowd.

To the cemetery, people walked behind the hearse. Liliya said it was her first child’s funeral. “He’s not the first child in Ukraine killed by Russia’s war. They don’t want a ceasefire; it’s not their goal. Their national mission is to destroy us,” she said on the way. At the graves, silence fell. In line with the Ukrainian tradition, each person tossed a handful of dirt into the grave. Children asked parents if they’re throwing dirt on Maksym’s coffin correctly. In horror, mothers clutched them close.

Double-tap Strike to the City’s Heart

For a week, Sumy residents have brought roses, chrysanthemums, and stuffed toys to the intersection of two streets. The stream of people continues even during work hours, coming with children.

Flowers appeared at the site of the two missile strikes within hours of the tragedy. In days, a spontaneous memorial formed: stuffed bears, elephants, bunnies. A bus headlight honoured driver Mykola Leon and his passengers. A poster of Monkey D Luffy, the pirate king from Japanese anime, was left for 17-year-old Oleh Kaliusenko, who loved playing guitar and caring for animals. He was heading to church to bless willow branches that day.

“It was vile,” said volunteer Oleksiy Kliuyev, helping clear rubble. “They hit Sumy’s heart — streets where many walk. That Sunday, even non-churchgoers went. Some were market shopping for Easter. They struck twice.”

Double-tap strikes are a war tactic in which a second attack follows the first, often targeting rescuers, medics, or civilians aiding victims.

European leaders condemned the Sumy attack. Two weeks earlier, a similar tragedy struck Kryvyi Rih, southern Ukraine. A Russian missile hit a playground, killing nine children and 11 adults. Ukrainian authorities said the same type of weapon, the Iskander-M ballistic missile, was used. Russia’s Defense Ministry claimed it targeted a meeting of Ukrainian commanders and Western instructors, a claim debunked by the video evidence.

That day, as medics loaded bodies into black bags, Russia’s Defense Ministry claimed it hit Sumy with Iskander missiles, targeting a “meeting of the Northern Command,” killing 60 Ukrainian soldiers “hiding behind civilians.”

Witness accounts refute this. The first missile struck the Congress Center, often used for cultural events and lectures, killing passersby, including 19-year-old friends Svitlana and Dariya.

As café and shop visitors ran to help, the second strike hit, burying them in debris. Teacher, Maryna Chudesa, and her mother, Liudmyla, died after stopping their car to assist. 17-year-old Oleh Kaliusenko called his mom after the first blast to say he was alive, but he died minutes later from wounds.

The Public Interest Journalism Lab, documenting war crimes, reviewed surveillance footage from the Institute of Applied Physics. The first missile exploded at 10:19 a.m. The second strike disabled cameras, and clocks at the institute stopped at 10:23 a.m., hit by debris. The second missile detonated 140 metres from the Congress Center in the street.

The regional military administration reported that the missile carried a cluster munition, designed to maximise human casualties.

“I carried wounded people from the bus, saw people burning in cars,” Kliuyev said. “At the second strike site, I know of only one soldier killed. He was passing through.”

No official data specifies how many died in each strike or if soldiers were among them.

European leaders condemned the Sumy attack. Two weeks earlier, a similar tragedy struck Kryvyi Rih, southern Ukraine. A Russian missile hit a playground, killing nine children and 11 adults. Ukrainian authorities said the same type of weapon, the Iskander-M ballistic missile, was used. Russia’s Defense Ministry claimed it targeted a meeting of Ukrainian commanders and Western instructors, a claim debunked by the video evidence.

The Palm Sunday strike on Sumy was widely covered by conservative US media. Commenting, US President Donald Trump said Russia “may have made a mistake.” Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, speaking to reporters, asked how launching a cluster missile into a city centre could be a mistake.

Artem Semenikhin, mayor of the town of Konotop near Sumy, said a military award ceremony occurred at the Congress Center an hour before a children’s performance, prompting Russia’s strike. Zelenskyy sacked the regional governor who greenlit the event.

Lawyer Anna Mykytenko, who specialises in international humanitarian law and works with the Public Interest Journalism Lab’s Reckoning Project, said that “a mistake” is no excuse. “It doesn’t absolve Russia’s responsibility; they committed a war crime. Even if soldiers were present, the Geneva Conventions require minimising civilian harm, and any military advantage must be direct and concrete and outweigh civilian damage. 35 dead and over 100 wounded civilians are seemingly unacceptable collateral losses. Also, Russia again used banned double-tap strike tactics,” she noted.

Sumy, home to 200,000, feels the tragedy deeply. People recognise friends, classmates, and colleagues among the dead and wounded. Everyone you speak to planned to attend the Congress Center’s children’s show. The tragedy drained Sumy’s joy, yet few want to leave. Residents say a Russian missile could strike any Ukrainian city.

Overnight into 18 April, days before Easter, a Russian drone hit a bakery making traditional Easter breads, killing an entrepreneur picking up orders.

Russia regularly targets Ukrainian civilian cities, with most attacks thwarted by air defences, saving lives. Ballistic missile strikes are best countered by US Patriot systems, but Ukraine has limited munitions. Patriots are a critical part of US aid, hard for European allies to replace. The first Patriots arrived in Ukraine over a year into the invasion, in April 2023. Ukraine has fewer than 10 systems. Military officials say 25 could fully protect Ukraine’s skies. For comparison, Poland, with a similar-sized territory, requested 48 Patriots from the United States in 2023.

Ghanna Mamonova and Anna Tsyhyma are a Ukrainian journalist a photographer/videographer.

Produced by the Public Interest Journalism Lab, part of The Reckoning Project, uniting Ukrainian and international reporters, analysts, and lawyers to document war crimes.