NEW YORK — To many, it felt exquisitely right: This is where it began. This is where it must end.

Others wished the actuality of it pushed far away, to a setting much less tormented by that one indelible date.

This sharp duality of reactions greeted the news on Friday that the government would have the accused plotters of the Sept. 11 attack stand trial in New York, in a solemn federal courthouse a few brisk blocks from where two tall towers of the World Trade Center once stood and then fell.

The decision got people asking, Does the city want this? Can it possibly bear it?

“Let them come to New York,” said Jim Riches, a retired deputy chief of the New York Fire Department, whose son, Jimmy, also a firefighter, died in the attack.

“Let them get on trial. Let’s do it the right way, for all the world to see what they’re like. Let’s go. It’s been too long. Let’s get some justice.”

A trial will mean a forced public reattachment to a terrorist act that took almost 3,000 lives and singed the city’s soul and tested its resilience. Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, the professed mastermind of the attack, along with four others accused in the plot, will be ferried to the city’s own jail cells and put on trial almost in sight of the flattened crime scene. And everyone will be watching.

New York’s public officials, for the most part, lined up in support of a trial here. And many others accepted the development as poetic justice, an appropriate circling to an endpoint.

“I welcome anything that would bring these terrorists to trial,” said Sally Regenhard, whose son, Christian, was killed in the attack, his remains never recovered. “After eight long years there has been no justice on this on any level, and we want these people brought to justice.”

Variety of emotions

The lingering wash of emotions of Sept. 11, however, runs strong, and they run differently. To many others, the prospect of the trial was both unfair and too repulsive to entertain.

“It’s absolutely disgusting,” said Joan Molinaro, whose son, Carl, a firefighter, also died in the attack. She said of Mohammed, “He was willing to plead guilty in a military court. Now he comes to New York and gets all the rights of an American citizen, which he isn’t. He’s going to be, what, two blocks from ground zero, where he can see his handiwork and mock those he murdered.”

Molinaro used to live on Staten Island, but has moved to a small town in Pennsylvania. She couldn’t take hearing the wailing sirens of fire trucks.

She started crying. “Every day I get up and know I’ll never see my son again,” she said. “This is just a smack in his face.”

Margit Arias-Kastell lost her husband, Adam Arias, in Tower 2. She, too, could not countenance the prospect of the suspects being defended by lawyers in a court in her city. She was among scores of relatives who had signed a letter opposing regular criminal trials for them.

“It’s totally unfair,” she said. “Why do we have to constantly relive this? When do we get to be at peace? They should be hung.”

The divergent reactions of victims’ relatives very much echoed a similar split vote among the full universe of New Yorkers.

Many of the city’s elected officials endorsed the decision. Mayor Michael Bloomberg said in a statement, “It is fitting that 9/11 suspects face justice near the World Trade Center site, where so many New Yorkers were murdered.” He pointed out that the city had been the setting for other terrorism trials, including that of Omar Abdel Rahman, who was convicted in 1995 in a plot to blow up New York landmarks.

Rep. Jerrold Nadler, whose district includes Lower Manhattan, said in a statement, “New York is not afraid of terrorists, we want to confront them, we want to bring them to justice and we want to hold them accountable for their despicable actions.”

Yet there has been widespread public opposition to allowing any U.S. city to accept for trial, or detention, detainees being held at the military prison in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. Various legislators have argued that their entry would be dangerous and put populations in peril.

“I fear trying them in our country,” said Mike Low, whose daughter, Sara Elizabeth Low, died on one of the planes that struck the towers. He worries that “the defense will have so many tools.” He worries that “we’re giving these monsters a forum to spew their garbage once more. They’ll make a circus out of it and just play it to the hilt.”

Ronald L. Kuby, a New York lawyer who has represented defendants in terrorism investigations, took the position that it was important that the attack’s victims, which he counted as most people in the city, could “walk downtown and see if justice is being done,” adding, “The citizenry of New York has a right to bear witness to this proceeding.”

But to what extent do New Yorkers, especially relatives of victims, want to see the faces of the accused plotters and listen to their lawyers argue in their defense?

“If you had a child who’s murdered, do you avoid going to a trial?” asked Maureen Bosco, whose son, Richard E. Bosco, died in the towers. “That’s where we stand. My son was killed by these people. It’s out of respect to him and to get closure for us.”

“My son died,” Riches said. “I want to speak for him. I’ll go wherever I have to go. I want to see these guys convicted.”

Others said they would not go. “There’s never going to be any closure for me,” said Elaine Leuning, who lost her son, Paul Battaglia. “I don’t want to be involved in the trial. It’s not going to do it for me, it’s just not. It’s not going to make me feel any better. This is my son. This is a piece of me that’s gone.”

What will trial bring?

Those who live and work in the downtown neighborhoods near ground zero had apprehensions of their own about the coming trial. They have long grudgingly endured flocks of tourists and souvenir peddlers. Now they face a mass migration that will likely descend on the court: demonstrators, curiosity seekers, media crews and the souvenir vendors.

Mike McCalman, 42, who lives in a 25-story building called Chatham Towers, next to the courthouse, said that he and his neighbors were resigned to the disruption that was likely to accompany the trial. “We heard about it this morning and said, ‘Here we go,’” he said, adding: “They have to be tried somewhere.”

Anthony Maruffi, a parking lot attendant, said he had no problem with the decision. “If they are going to be tried, they should be tried here,” he said. “This is where they committed their crimes.”

Yet George Zouvelos, who owns Spartan Bail Bonds, which has an office near the courthouse, worried about security. His solution? “Send them to Washington.” Domingo Nunez, who works at Spartan, said, “This community is going to raise hell,” predicting that “it’s going to be very rough on some people. I’m getting goose bumps just thinking about it.”