The Suspicious Deaths of the Romanovs

Profile: Alexandra Fyodorovna

Date of birth: 6 June 1872

Date of death: 17th July 1918

Location of death: Yekaterinburg, Russia

Cause of death: Murder, by the Bolsheviks

Titles: Princess Alix of Hesse and by Rhine, Empress of Russia

Father: Louis IV, Grand Duke of Hesse and by Rhine

Mother: Princess Alice of the UK

Siblings: Princess Victoria of Hesse and by Rhine, Grand Duchess Elizabeth Feodorvna, Princess Irene of Hesse and by Rhine, Grand Duke Ernest Louis of Hesse and by Rhine, Prince Frederich of Hesse and by Rhine, Princess Marie of Hesse and by Rhine.

Husband: Tsar Nicholas II

Children: Tatiana, Olga, Maria, Anastasia, Alexei

Personality traits: supportive, trusting, cheerful (childhood), reserved, withdrawn, devoted, romantic, shy, nervous, introverted, insecure, family-oriented, reclusive

During the revolution: Being a German princess meant that she was instantly hated and distrusted by most of Russia. When Russia began to experience serious losses, Nicholas stepped up to try and fix things where his advisors and generals had failed. So, to support her husband on the battlefront, Alexandra took charge of the domestics aspects of running and maintaining a country during wartime. But as more Russian men died of war, starvation and illness, the public began to look for someone to blame. The Tsarina, the powerful Empress of Russia, became the focus of a conspiracy theory. The Germans were taking down Russia from the inside through her.

The sad truth about Alexandra is that she wasn't an all-powerful, insidious spy trying to destroy mother Russia from the inside: she was a very introverted woman, terrified that at any moment she could lose her child. Between trying to help the Russian people, trying to support her husband, looking after a haemophiliac son, and raising her mostly adolescent daughters, Alexandra was being worn down. She regularly fell ill, suffering from severe migraines, and had gradually grown to depend on the support of a one Gregori Rasputin. The wild holy man.

Towards the end of Nicholas' reign, despite her illness and her family duties Alexandra began to notice strange details about her people. One particularly concerning detail she noticed was that her guards were suddenly wearing white handkerchiefs around their wrists – a subtle show of support for the Duma, the government that her husband had disbanded.

When Nicholas returned home, the family was arrested. Alexandra was interrogated about her relationship with Rasputin, but was fortunately not punished for her faith in him. At this point in time, very few people realised that her reliance on Rasputin was due to the fact that he was the only doctor they had found who could help their son, Alexei, when he started bleeding. The royals hadn't wanted to show this weakness to the world, and so no one understood their situation. It was assumed the Alexandra was having an affair, and that her husband simply didn't mind.

The Provisional Government at this point still had sympathy for the Romanovs; they merely wanted to evacuate the Royals to another country, preferably the UK or France. When neither European country accepted to take the royal refugees, the government resorted to sending the Romanovs to Tobolsk, where the family stayed until the Bolshevik revolution in 1917.

On the 30th April 1918 the Bolsheviks moved Nicholas, Alexandra and their daughter Maria into Ipatiev House, in Yekaterinburg. There they were searched – their privacy was non-existent. The Tsar tried to defend his wife's privacy, tried to argue with the guards, but as they began to threaten him she grew scared for his life. She calmed him down and insisted that her privacy was nothing compared to his life. This was, of course, amusing to the Commandant of the household – the head honcho, the guy in charge – who was a brute, a complete monster of a man twisted by his own past traumas into someone to be avoided. He drank heavily, and would regularly shout that the Royals could all "Go To Hell!" His favourite name for Alexandra was "that German Bitch."

By this point, little Alexei couldn't walk. His condition was getting worse, and his family members and their servants would take turns carrying him. And as everyone focused on looking after the little boy, Alexandra found the perfect opportunity to retreat further into herself. The introverted princess had grown into a reclusive Empress and now, in those days, she found herself beginning to fantasize about heaven.

A new Commandant was brought into the house on the 4th July 1918, and for the briefest of moments the family felt they could breathe. But instead of a drunk insulting them, they now had a strict military officer taking away what few privileges they had left. Most of their jewellery was confiscated, leisure time in the garden was limited, and conversations were restricted to Russian only so the guards could listen and report back to him. In the days that followed the Commandant was efficient. He made sure that priests from the local monastery were brought to the house to say the last prayers with the Romanovs, who remained blissfully unaware that their days were numbered. Everything they were experiencing just seemed to be what life had become. They were prisoners of war in their own country.

On Tuesday 16th July the family seemed normal, as happy as was possible given their circumstances. While they busied themselves with housework, the Commandant sent away a local boy who had grown close to Alexei, and at 7PM ordered his soldiers to prepare their guns.

That night, Nicholas and Alexandra went to bed at 10:30PM.

They had barely slept three hours before being dragged out of bed. For the first time in months the family began to feel some shred of hope. Alexandra looked at the eager faces of her children, all of whom were suddenly showing some signs of life in their eyes, and she thought for her little Alexei. There was a chance that someone could finally help him.

The Royals were marched downstairs, into the basement; seats were bought down for Alexandra and Alexei, whose health had deteriorated significantly more than the rest of the family. Just as they had settled down into their seats the Commandant returned and demanded that they stand.

Alexandra's hatred for the man was obvious. Her entire being radiated the disdain she felt for him and his callous attitude towards her children. And in those last moments, you could not fault her for how she felt.

The Commandant stared down at the family, like criminals on trial. It was just after 2AM, everyone was exhausted, but he seemed to be almost buzzing with excitement. With everyone's attention focused solely on him he announced:

Your relatives have tried to save you. They have failed. Now we must shoot you.

A cry rang out. Nicholas spent his last breath trying to protest, but it was to no avail. The first bullets struck his chest, taking him down quickly. Alexandra watched as her husband, the love of her life, died in that dark, cramped basement, and with his death marked the death of all hope she had held for salvation in this life. Her love had died trying to argue for her life. For their children's lives. And now the realisation was setting in: they were all going to follow him.

Another body hit the ground. And another.

She couldn't bear to look anymore.

In those last seconds, gunman Peter Ermakov took aim at her from six feet away, staring her straight in the eye. She turned away, frantically signing the cross across her chest. But she never got to finish it.

The bullet entered, just about her left ear, and come out at the same place above her right ear.

She no longer had to fantasize about heaven.