… then who can you trust?
It was a dark and stormy night. The Tsar and his wife and children were sleeping soundly inside the Ipatiev “House of Special Purpose” in Ekaterinburg. Suddenly, in the wee hours of July 17, 1918, a Bolshevik entered the room. “Wake up, Tsar,” he said. “We want to take a picture of you and your family.”
The Tsar rubbed sleep from his eyes. “It must be one o’clock in the morning,” he muttered to himself. “What’s that you say? You want to take photos of us? At one in the morning?”
“Yes, yes, Tsar. Lenin has telephoned and he wants some pictures.”
“Oh well,” thought the Tsar, “If you can’t trust a Bolshevik, then who can you trust?”
So Tsar Nicholas II woke his wife, the Empress Alexandra. They and their five children – Olga, Tatiana, Maria, Anastasia, and the Tsarevich Alexei – headed downstairs into the cellar of the Ipatiev house. With the royal family were Eugene Botkin, Anna Demidova, Alexei Trupp and Ivan Kharitonov, who had chosen not to desert the Romanovs. They all crammed into the small cellar, a room measuring 17 feet by 14 feet.  Then the Bolshevik “photographers” also entered the tiny room, further cramping things.
“Excuse me,” said the Tsar, “I didn’t mean to bump elbows with you, Mr. Photographer.”
The Bolshevik “photographer” replied, “That is quite all right. Except I am not really a photographer.”
The Bolshevik “photographers”, who really were an execution squad (so the story goes), pulled their pistols and began firing. By some miracle, none of the bullets ricocheted back and hit any of the Bolsheviks.
And so the Romanovs were dead (so the story goes). Did anyone take photos of the slain? The idea supposedly was, “The Tsar is dead. There can be no turning back.” Without photos, some of the ordinary Russians might doubt the entire family had been shot dead. In fact, that did happen: Many Russians claimed the Romanovs had not been murdered in Ekaterinburg.
But to get on with the story: The corpses were loaded into the back of a truck. The truck drove into a deep dark forest. “Where will we bury these people?” wondered the Bolsheviks. A “Four Brothers mineshaft” was found. And into that mineshaft is where the bodies were dumped. 
But wait. The Four Brothers mineshaft was only ten feet deep. It was too shallow to hold all those bodies. So the bodies were lifted out. Three nights passed while the hapless Bolsheviks, besieged at this point by White Russian troops hostile to the Reds, worried about burying some bodies. At last these Bolsheviks took the corpses by truck to a different spot within the deep dark forest, called the “Pig’s Meadow”. There, nine of the bodies were buried, according to the Red folklore. Two other bodies were burned in a fire. And that is that, the real story. 
But wait. No, that was not it (the Bolsheviks later decided). It was all the bodies that were burned in a bonfire. “The ashes were pitched into the air and carried away by the wind,” one of the burial crew later explained during his deathbed confession. (Except it wasn’t really his deathbed and he lived for 17 more years.) 
And so, the Bolsheviks finally got their story straight (you might think). Except there was the question of how could such a total cremation have been accomplished so quickly with only a bonfire? It was then that the creative powers of the Bolsheviks (or the British) came up with another element to the tale: Sulphuric acid.
This sulphuric acid element of the tale was pondered by Marie Louis Joseph Lasies, a Frenchman who was a reporter for the Le Matin newspaper. On May 18, 1919, Lasies encountered Robert Wilton, a reporter for the London Times, at a train platform in Ekaterinburg. Also present was a Commander Bolifraud of the French Military Mission at Ekaterinburg, who corroborated Lasies’ version of the encounter between the French reporter and Robert Wilton.
Said Lasies, “Monsieur Wilton, I truly doubt a mere bonfire could have vanished so many bodies.”
“Hmmm…”, said Wilton. “Let me take a walk and think about that.” So Wilton went off for a half-hour stroll. When Wilton returned, he exclaimed, “I have the explanation!”
“Very well, Monsieur Wilton, let us hear it,” said Lasies.
To this, Wilton replied, “Here is what happened. The victims were burned with eleven carboys of sulphuric acid.”
After a moment of reflection, Lasies sarcastically remarked, “My dear Wilton, only English sulphuric acid diplomatically prepared can also produce magic effects.” 
And there you have it at last, a “True Tale” from those masters of amazing narratives, the Bolsheviks (and/or the British). I hope you have enjoyed this fantastic story. A new element of miraculous DNA evidence was later added to the yarn.
——- Sources ——-
 The File on the Tsar by Anthony Summers & Tom Mangold. New
York: Harper & Row, 1976. ISBN: 0-06-012807-0.
 A Romanov Fantasy, by Frances Welch. New York: W.W. Norton & Co., 2007
 The Hunt For the Czar, by Guy Richards. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1970