<div style="text-indent:1em;">Ramius Pavlova was a close follower of Peter Struve, founder of Soyuz Osvobozhdeniya. As such, he orchestrated many protests against the Russian <span style="font-style: italic">government</span>. The latest, a march to present a petition to Tsar Nicholas II, would be his last.</div><span style="color: #FFBF80">St. Petersburg, Russia...1905. </span><br/>On this particular morning, he was joined by his seventeen year old daughter,<span style="font-weight: bold">Vera Pavlova</span>. Vera, an impressionable student of politics, idolized her father. Her entire world revolved around him.<br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">Near the front of the crowd, they walked towards the palace, chanting various chants as they approached. There were more guards than usual, posted almost shoulder to shoulder around the palace. As the crowd drew near, Ramius watched as the guards actually raised their rifles, and aimed them into the crowd. "No way" he thought, "would even Nicholas himself be so naive as to order these unarmed citizens shot down in the street." His heart sank when he heard the one word cry.</div><span style="font-weight: bold">"FIRE!"</span><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">The next three and a half seconds seemed to last a lifetime. In many cases, it did. His precious Vera fell into him just as he heard the shots. She had been standing beside, and a little in front of, her papa, when the shot hit her in the abdomen.  Chaos ensued.</div><div style="text-indent:1em;">Ramius was in shock as his young daughter fell into his arms. Blood splattered everywhere. The crowd seemed to be closing in on them, as he stood helpless in that eternal split second. More shots rang out. Screaming. Blood. Panic. As he held onto his daughter, the surge of the crowd forced him to the ground.</div><div style="text-indent:1em;">He eased Vera to the ground, kneeling beside her momentarily. The wave of the hysteric mob forced him down. He instintively covered his little girls body with his own in an attempt to protect her from the stampeeding hoards. His last heroic act. Suffering several broken bones, both lungs punctured by shards of ribs, Ramius Pavlova was trampled to death. His lifeless body draped across that of his daughter.</div><div style="text-indent:1em;">Vera lay on her back in a pool of blood, both hers and her Papa's. She was pinned under the weight of her father, and could not move. Trapped and totally helpless, she received several kicks in the head as the mob rushed by. She thought she was going to die, right here in the street, gunned down like a dog.</div><div style="text-indent:1em;">Father and daughter lay among scores of other victims laying dead or injured in the street. Breathing was becoming a chore for Vera, both from her injuries and the weight of her fathers body laying across hers. As she waited for death to rescue her from the tremendous pain in her belly, a face suddenly appeared in her view. It was a handsome face. She tried to speak to the face, but nothing would come out of her mouth except blood. Why wouldn't she just die? The pain was becoming more than she could bear.</div>