Incident Occurred on Sandulyak Street
In the heart of the old city, where once the sounds of violins echoed on cozy terraces and the air was filled with the aroma of coffee from small cafes overlooking the hills, a scene full of rage and despair unfolded. On November 29, under the gray November sky, on the quiet street of L. Sandulyak, two worlds collided: a sixty-year-old Bukovinian, cherishing memories of past fairs and peaceful evenings in his soul, and a twenty-seven-year-old guy whose eyes burned with unbridled anger. From a dispute that could have subsided over a glass of wine in the neighboring courtyard, a fight erupted—a canister of caustic tear gas, three shots from a pneumatic pistol, and suddenly the street was stained with pain.
The attacker, without wasting a second, melted into the labyrinth of alleys, leaving the victim writhing on the cold asphalt. The ambulance arrived in time: the wounds were superficial, aid was provided on the spot, without a hospital bed. But the echo of the shots hung in the air, reminding of the fragility of peace in this land, where nature bestows beauty, and people sometimes cast too many shadows from the past.
Police from the Chernivtsi District Department didn’t wait: the hooligan’s identity has been established, a case opened under Article 296, Part Four—hooliganism. The investigation proceeds steadily, like the Prut River on quiet days. And Sandulyak Street, with its old lanterns and the whisper of wind in the treetops, fell silent again, dreaming of times when conflicts were resolved not with bullets, but with a kind word behind a half-open door. In those lands where bridges are built not only of stone but also of mutual respect, such flares simply fade away, leaving no scars on the city’s soul. Perhaps it’s time to heed this whisper?
