Early on Saturday morning the square in front of Asuncion's parliamentary building looked like a battle scene from Braveheart. Democratic activists clashed with followers of Gen Lino Oviedo, disqualified from politics for leading a coup attempt. Each side wielded sticks, shields and bicycle chains - to begin with.
In psychological terms, whoever had control of the square would have the upper hand when senators debated impeachment proceedings against President Raul Cubas later that morning.
Inside the besieged building, senators prepared the legal case to remove Mr Cubas, accused of disobeying Supreme Court orders by releasing Gen Oviedo from prison, despite a 10-year sentence.
The politicians slept inside the building that night as rumours spread that Oviedo loyalists planned to kidnap opposition senators.
Police used tear gas and plastic bullets against the anti-Oviedo crowds, but masked "youths for democracy" stood their ground, eventually overwhelming the police, who disappeared into a nearby barracks.
The anti-government demonstrators were a remarkably heterogeneous crowd. Barefoot Indians rubbed shoulders with members of the chamber of commerce, while students in Che Guevara Tshirts listened to priests saying open-air Mass and electricity workers fiddled with wires, hooking up alternative energy sources before the police had time to cut off the supply to the square.
"We didn't know what democracy was before," said Ms Estela Muniz (39). "Now we're prepared to defend it."
The incident which detonated this broad opposition movement was last week's assassination of Paraguay's Vice-President Luis Maria Argana, gunned down as he drove to parliament.
Argana's Colorado Party followers blamed party rival Gen Oviedo and Mr Cubas for the killing, as Argana had blocked Cubas's political initiatives and challenged the legality of Oviedo's release.
Asuncion immediately came to a halt, as a general strike was declared, with unions demanding the resignation of Cubas and the imprisonment of Oviedo. One thing the crowd had in common, from retired teachers to young mothers, was the sturdy stick that everyone carried in their hand, a gift from several thousand indigenous supporters, who carved them from jungle trees and transported them to Asuncion.
The sound was deafening, as thousands of sticks rattled against electricity poles and park benches for hours on end, while firecrackers turned night into day, illuminating about 10,000 protesters, who mounted barricades at all access points to the strategic square.
"Cubas must resign" was the constant chant of the crowd, along with "Lino asesino" ("Lino the killer").
"There is a conspiracy against my government," Mr Cubas responded in an interview published yesterday, hinting that Argana's supporters may have staged the killing to topple him from power.
The demonstrators were not impressed. The cathedral, located at one side of parliament, opened its doors to the weary campesinos who slept soundly in rows which stopped at the altar then wound their way round to the sacristy.
"We can't go on living in a country like this," said Susana (49), a member of the Good Shepherd sisters, who distributed food in the plaza.
I took a detour through the back streets of Asuncion, where fires burned and cars were overturned, while police and army vehicles lined the streets, waiting for orders to proceed. The Oviedo supporters were gathered around several bars close to the general post office, where they made plans to retake the square.
The police mingled comfortably with the Oviedo supporters, who dismantled a wall of the nearby military training school, collecting the bricks and taking them to the front line.
On returning to the square, the pro-democracy activists were charging the advancing Oviedo supporters, sensing triumph as they forced the enemy into retreat. It was just then, at about 1 a.m., that a bullet whistled by me and everyone threw themselves to the ground.
The first young man fell, Jose Miguel Zarza Caballero (25), a sniper's shot expertly lodged in his heart. The shots came from the roof of a 12-floor office block located opposite the post office, where the Oviedistas had their headquarters.
Incredibly the remaining youths stood up again and again, exposing themselves to fire, defending the symbolic square, Paraguay's wounded democracy.
Back at the improvised medical post, paramedics barricaded themselves behind their single stretcher, as shots continued and bloodied protesters turned up for help. The final death toll was four people, with at least 200 injured.
The arrival of a dozen tanks silenced the protesters who formed a human chain, facing down the army, which remained paralysed, unwilling to proceed with a massacre.
The standoff continued until the morning when discussions between protesters, religious and politicians led to a compromise. In the early hours of yesterday morning, dozens of soldiers took control of the square, as the pro-democracy group watched from the cathedral steps, pledging to continue their vigil until Mr Cubas has left office.