SERBIA: Patriotism mingles with resentment on the snowy streets of Pozarevac, writes Daniel McLaughlin
With Slobodan dead in The Hague, son Marko collecting his body, and wife Mira exiled in Moscow, perhaps none of the Milosevic family were at home to answer their doorbell yesterday.
Only a security camera seemed to peer down from the house in Pozarevac, the town 80km (50 miles) from Belgrade where the future Yugoslav leader was born, met his wife and embarked on a path that would end in a cell at the UN war crimes court in The Hague.
The Milosevic house is large, but less ostentatious than some of the other mansions that dot Pozarevac, a place now synonymous in Serbia with a family whose Byzantine behaviour dominated the country for more than a decade.
Although Slobodan's wars destroyed Yugoslavia, Mira was cast as the Machiavellian puppet-master pulling his strings. And Marko garnered a reputation as Serbia's playboy-gangster-in-chief: vain, violent, obnoxious, untouchable.
But the high green gate outside the family home tells a different tale in the red flowers that mourners have pushed through its bars and the candles that flicker below. "Slobo, you were a giant among the world's dwarves," reads the message on one garland. "You were and always will be a hero to the Serb people."
In the local headquarters of the Socialist Party, more candles illuminate a photograph of its former leader, and a small queue forms to sign a book of condolence.
Tomislav Bacic (60) signs his name, leaves the room with head bowed, and lets loose his anger in the hallway outside. "He was killed by the Americans with British help - poisoned!" he says. "They were scared of the truth."
And what of the Serb pathologists who observed the autopsy at The Hague?
"They were ordered to keep quiet by the CIA!" Mr Bacic rails. "If they were really honest about it, they would let the Russians do tests."
Most people filing past nod their approval of his diatribe.
"He should be buried in the Avenue of Heroes in Belgrade, as the greatest Serb leader of the 20th century," adds his friend, Pavle Djalovic (60). "But if he was buried here it would be a great honour. Whatever happens, his name will always be associated with Pozarevac."
Around the snowy town, where derelict buildings outnumber new businesses, far less love was lost for the Milosevic family.
"They should bury him in Russia, where his family can easily see him," says Dragana (48), who was recently laid off from the local electricity company. "If his family came to see him here, a lot of angry people would be waiting.
"People were scared of Marko and that old cow Mira. She had huge influence, was very ambitious and ruined her husband. And the children acted how they wanted, and often came here, surrounded by their bodyguards," she adds.
"If Marko picked out a cafe, it would be closed. If he picked out a person, he would be beaten up. He was aggressive and arrogant - really like a gangster."
Marko was controversially cleared last year of threatening Slobodan's opponents in Pozarevac - one with a chainsaw - while his sister Marija is still believed to be wanted by Serbian police for firing shots during her father's arrest in October 2000.
And many people here are appalled that the government might lift an arrest warrant against Mira for giving a state-owned luxury flat to her grandson's nanny, or allow her to escape questions over the murder of former Serb president Ivan Stambolic.
While some of Pozarevac's 50,000 residents would welcome Mr Milosevic home with flags and flowers, most want to forget his years of war, defeat and isolation.
"It will take us 20 years to recover," says Biljana (38), selling newspapers in a roadside kiosk. "We are still sad and scared from that time."