By Ruslan Shamayev

Most of all, Larisa Askharova is surprised by Strasbourg's silence.

After years in Chechnya with the constant rumble of bombs, artillery, and jets flying overhead, the peace of the provincial French town where she now lives seems to her unnatural.

But 40-year-old Askharova comes here almost daily, to the building of the European Court of Human Rights, where she waits for information about the fate of her husband.

Husband's Disappearance One Of Many

On May 18, 2001, Russian soldiers took her husband Yusup away. Like many others, Askharova has filed a case at the European court, holding Russia accountable for his disappearance.

"Early in the morning, we awoke to a rude knocking at the door," Larisa recalls. "I understood that this was not a friendly visit and ran to the door with the words, 'Wait, I'll open.' But they [soldiers] barged into the house, breaking the door. They put me up against the wall, and cocked their weapons. They went into the bedroom and without a word, grabbed my husband, put handcuffs on him, a bag on his head, and threw him to the ground. Then they asked his name and took him away."

Larisa and Yusup Askharov were childhood sweethearts. They met at school in Serzhen-yurt, a village 35 kilometers southeast of Grozny. In the village, nestled in a mountain ravine, locals called them Romeo and Juliet.

They were married as soon as Larisa was old enough. They had everything they needed: a house, a family, work, relatives, friends.

Larisa says that the soldiers took nine men from the village that day. She says six of them were discovered that evening on the side of the road, bearing signs of torture.

In those days, it was usual for people in Chechnya to disappear without a trace. For years, Larisa searched for her husband. Fearing that she would make things worse, she didn't complain to the authorities about the actions of the soldiers that morning in 2001.

But meeting Politkovskaya changed Larisa's mind. "I was desperate and did not know what to do. Then I met Politkovskaya. She told me that if I don't talk about my grief myself, no one else will worry about it," Larisa says. "She was very personable. She understood human psychology. She knew how to speak to people overcome by grief. Poor woman, she perished herself. I was deeply saddened to hear about this."

'Without Her, I Would Never Have Come Back'

With her husband still missing, what keeps Larisa going is the stories of survival. Stories like that of Tamara Abdurakhmanova, who was reunited with her eldest son, Iznaur Dalayev, after he was detained by Russian soldiers in Grozny. She credits Politkovskaya with finding her son.

"They said that my son died and until we surrender one machine gun, they will not give us his remains. 'What are you talking about, where will an old woman find a machine gun for you?' said Politkovskaya, because she knew how to go about these things," Abdurakhmanova says.

"She said that we'll look for my son. We stopped the funeral and started looking for my son. She found him in [an isolation ward in] Chernokozovo. She found my son. Thank God, first of all, and then Politkovskaya, that I got my son back alive," she says.

Her son, Iznaur, was detained for three months in Chernokozovo, a prison camp in northern Chechnya. "They detained me by the old building of the oil institute [in Grozny]," he says. "They tortured me. They set the dog on me, burned me with cigarettes, drove paper clips under my nails, pulled a gas mask on me, gave me electric shocks. This went on for three months. Then Politkovskaya started writing to everyone, telling [them] about me. If it weren't for her, I probably would never have come back."

But her eldest son's return wasn't the end of Tamara Abdurakhmanova's grief. "I lost a second son. He disappeared without a trace," she says. "I have been meeting with journalists for a long time and know many of them. She [Politkovskaya] was a very good person."

'When There's Nothing Left'

Russian human-rights organizations estimate that between 3,000 and 5,000 people are still missing, feared dead, in Chechnya since Russian troops launched a second campaign in 1999 to crush the republic's self-declared independence.

There are a growing number of Chechen civilians, like Larisa Askharova, who are looking to the European Court of Human Rights to hold Russia accountable for atrocities committed by federal troops in the North Caucasus. Many victims say that because Russia's own justice system is flawed, the Strasbourg court is the only legitimate alternative.

As a member of the Council of Europe, the court's decisions are binding, and Moscow has to pay compensation. But some of those who have filed cases in Strasbourg have said they have been harassed by the authorities.

That is why Larisa Askharova decided to leave Chechnya. "I have to do all I can to find him," she says. Then she recounts the words written by Politkovskaya after her final visit to Chechnya.

"The land is ruled by the ideology of hating one's neighbor.... And that is why every day, in every village in Chechnya, there are funerals. And almost everyone who is buried, is either killed, tortured, blown-up, or torn apart. However, that isn't the greatest tragedy," she says. "The greatest tragedy is when there is nothing left of the person at all."