The movement caught the attention of dozens of demonstrators, many of whom wondered whether this meant Terri Schiavo had died, 13 days after her feeding tube was removed.

The crowd hushed as Schindler family adviser Brother Paul O'Donnell approached a makeshift camera studio on the sidewalk just after 10 a.m.

``It is with great sadness that it's been reported to us that Terri Schiavo has passed away,'' he said.

For a moment, it was quiet.

Then came the sounds of people beginning to mourn. Some started cutting down their cardboard protest signs and stuffing them into bags like garbage. Others clutched their hands to their faces and knelt, praying around picnic blankets, coolers full of water and tarps used for shade.

After weeks spent at vigil in front of the hospice, supporters seemed to retreat, to one another, to makeshift tents they had built, or to news reporters asking questions.

Many did not know where to go, or what to do next.

The person they had hoped to rescue was gone.

A crossing guard hugged one protester. ``I hope they are happy now,'' blurted Carl Crisp, 71 of Largo, while hugging Dawn Kozsey, 47, of Ocala National Park.

Kozsey wept and said, ``I know this is God's work somehow, but this is a sad day. Where do we go from here?''

A few people gathered in a circle, singing ``Amazing Grace,'' surrounded by a circle of television cameras. ``Keep praying, stay here all day,'' O'Donnell told supporters.

Then came questions. Was Michael Schiavo in the room when his wife died? Police would not say. Were her parents there? Did she die quietly? Rumors flew.

News helicopters began circling above as more reporters rushed in and the line of cars at a police checkpoint grew. A green garbage truck drove past, ``R.I.P. TERRI,'' written in soap on the windshield.

Sitting, quietly crying under a tree, Harvest Bashta, 15, of Chicago clutched a Bible. ``This will only make me pray harder for our nation,'' she said. ``I was hoping for a complete healing for Terri.''

At 11:14 a.m., two white vans from the Pinellas County medical examiner's office emerged from the parking lot and drove in separate directions, each with police motorcycles and a trail of running photographers behind. One had Schiavo's body. One was a decoy.

Supporters mingled, speaking with reporters from around the world until 4:30 p.m., when Schindler family members gathered at the microphone. Reading a statement, Terri's brother, Bobby, said he had a message for his deceased sister.

``You were unable to speak for yourself,'' he said. ``But you spoke so loudly. ... You stood with grace and dignity and made your family proud.''