NAME | Yerlan Ayaz |
---|---|
DOB | 18 years old |
Place of residence | Kazakhstan, Shymkent |
Location of Incident | Kazakhstan, Shymkent |
Citizenship | Kazakhstan |
Applicant | Zhazira Turdykulova |
Kinship | Mother |
Citizenship | Kazakhstsan |
Zhazira Turdykulova, mother of the deceased Yerlan Ayaz.
The last time I saw my son was on January 2, 2022. We kissed each other and said goodbye. He left. The next day I called and asked him how he got there. He said all was well. I asked him if he had taken the clothes he had taken. He said that everything fits very well on him. That was our last conversation.The next time I called him was on January 6, 2022. I couldnāt find a place for myself. I heard a big rally in Shymkent, and I began to look for my son. I always thought that everything was calm in Shymkent. I called all of his fellow students. But no one saw him.
On January 7, 2022, I went to look for him in the city of Shymkent. My son-in-law went with me. We traveled to all the hospitals. We went to the Karatau district police department. No one found his name on their lists. When we went to Shymkent City Hospital No. 2, we were sent to the morgue. They said that a young man was lying there, he had an iPhone phone with him. My heart began to beat hard, but I couldnāt believe that such a thing was possible. I began to ask God that it would not be my son. My son-in-law told me not to come in and look at the body myself. I sat and looked at my son-in-lawās face. He went out of there in tears. I said he was acting confusing and didnāt find out; itās not my son. I walked in on my own. There lay my son, all white and cold. I didnāt think I would find my son in the morgue. I was looking for him and thought that was it; I wouldnāt let him go anywhere else. No matter how difficult it is for us. But it didnāt work out.
One bullet hit his body and went through; the second bullet hit him in the head. I didnāt even look at his body. I didnāt even think about it. I was in a state of shock when I saw my son. I couldnāt accept that he was dead. Even when his body was at home, I didnāt examine his body. He was lying down, very white and handsome. I didnāt think he was going to die. I still cry for my son.
āMom, donāt worry, weāll buy a house. Iāll finish my studies. Yelnar and I are working; you are working; we will soon buy a house together, do not worry. Then Iāll buy you a car, Mom. I will live in Kokshetau, and I will buy you a house here, mother. And you will come to visit me,ā my son told me. I asked if he wanted to live with me. But he always said that he would live in Kokshetau. My son was very calm in character. He didnāt like to talk much. He could say something if you asked him. He was shy and did not like to be the center of attention. He wasnāt a naughty boy at all. Never fought with people. He always told me āokayā and did what I asked. I remember his laughter. I miss my son very much. I love all my kids, but he was special to me. I always think heās about to arrive. Sometimes I forget everything and think heās in school. āYerlan is coming soon,ā I think from time to time. But no, heās not coming again. Iām crying, what else to do. I try not to show tears to my children at home. I donāt want them to say afterward that Iām constantly crying. I try to cry less. I cry at night when I remember him. This is my son. I canāt let him go. Again and again, I remember his jokes, his laughter. Sometimes I feel like I hear his voice as he says to me, āMom!ā
My son was very young; he would have turned 19 on March 12, 2022.
I thought about putting a stone monument over his grave for his birthday. But I couldnāt. During Ramadan, I think about doing it. May he rest in peace; what else can I do for him. I still scold myself for letting my son go then. I should have said not to buy clothes and continue wearing what he has.
My son was in his third year of college. He and his friends had already rented an apartment for themselves. He worked and was independent and didnāt want to burden me. I let him work. I think he went to the rally out of curiosity. I donāt think he went under the bullets intentionally.
The police interrogated me, and I went home. They didnāt tell me anything else. They didnāt say who fired or why they fired. I do not know anything. I want to know who shot my son. But, of course, even if I find out who shot, thereās nothing I can do. But still, I want that person to be punished.
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