In Shindisi, the families gathered for a bus carrying sacks of rice and flour said they were too afraid to speak. One old man had a badly beaten face. When asked what had happened, another man answered in his place: “Nothing happened to him.”

About 90 percent of the town’s residents had fled, a village elder said. The fear was palpable in those who remained. Many people trembled; their bloodshot eyes looked as if they had been crying for days. Out of earshot, a few men pulled a reporter aside.

“They stole everything,” one said, of the looters.

He placed the blame on Ossetian looters and not Russian Army soldiers. During the day, three families said that the looters had appeared afraid of the Russian troops and had not often operated around them, although journalists in the past 10 days have seen looters intermingled at times with Russian units.

Almost all the people interviewed asked that their names be withheld, out of fear of reprisal while they lived in the lawless zone. Three were so reflexively jumpy by the experiences of the past week that they dashed into the remains of a store at the sound of an approaching car.

The events the residents described underscored how hard it is to assess the scope and scale of the violence and crime, and eventually to assign precise blame. There is no clear estimate yet either of the number of dead and injured or of the number of refugees.

Some Georgian residents said they had been robbed in repeated cycles of home invasion: Three or four armed men would show up with a truck or car, rush through the house and cart off whatever they desired, and then go away. Later, another car would arrive with a different gang.

This went on for days, and apparently was committed by a legion of criminals. But assessing the origins of each individual offense was difficult. Victims spoke of looters from Ossetia, Russia, and, in one case, Chechnya.