The Disappeared

by M. R. Hall

  Mrs Jamal scowled at her, all her efforts to appear reasonable unravelling with her final outburst. Several of the jurors exchanged dubious glances. Jenny doodled a row of question marks on her pad. Try as she might, she couldn't take Mrs Jamal at her word.

  Yusuf Khan got to his feet with a placatory smile. 'Mrs

  Jamal, you said that your son would never have done a bad thing. Do you honestly believe that?'

  'He would never have hurt another human being. I swear on my life.'

  'Do you believe he went abroad to join a jihadist organization?'

  'If he did, it was not of his free will. That was not his way.'

  'You told this to the police and Security Services at the time, I presume, but what - they wouldn't believe you?'

  She shook her head. 'They believe only what suits them.'

  Khan said, 'Did they give you the impression that they believed your son was an extremist, a young man seduced into sympathy with violence against the West?'

  'They didn't have to. It was written in their faces - even the Indian one, Singh.'

  Jenny glanced at Alun Rhys. He caught her eye, his expression saying: just wait.

  'And did they even appear to entertain the possibility that your son or Mr Hassan might have been the victims of a crime, even though there were signs of forced entry on both their doors?'

  'No. Never.'

  Khan turned to the jury. 'Were you made to feel, Mrs Jamal, that your son was one of the enemy within?'

  Jenny threw him a warning look. She wasn't going to tolerate grandstanding.

  To her credit, Mrs Jamal didn't give him the soundbite he was hoping for. 'I was made to feel that nobody cared. But I prayed to God every day, and I still believe there can be justice.'

  Khan snapped back: 'You don't think this inquest has been permitted merely to seal your son's reputation as a traitor and a jihadi?'

  'Mr Khan,' Jenny said, 'I'll warn you once and not again - this is an inquest, not an opportunity for you to score political points. Next time, you're out.'

  The murmur of dissent rose like a wave. Accusing glares turned on her.

  Khan said, 'You're quite right, ma'am. Perish the thought that an inquest should ever be used to play politics.'

  And as he smiled someone sniggered, then another joined him. A moment later the hall was filled with the sound of mocking laughter. Thrown, Jenny hesitated long enough to lose all face. She felt her cheeks redden and her heart crash against her ribs.

  Chapter 9

  The halved beta blocker Jenny had gulped down on leaving the courtroom had barely got to work when Alison tapped on the door and let herself in before she could answer.

  'Mr Rhys would like to talk to you.'

  'Tell him he can send me a note.'

  'He was insistent.'

  'I don't talk to interested parties during the inquest. He should know that.'

  Alison gave a dubious nod, turned halfway to the door, then looked back.

  'What?' Jenny said, impatiently.

  'I think you should clear the gallery, Mrs Cooper. They're not interested. It's just a mob with a few ringleaders. They're already out at the front talking to news cameras.'

  'How could I claim to be holding an open and fair inquiry if I shut out the public?'

  'Do you think those people care? Nothing will change what they think.'

  'And what's that?'

  'Their solicitor as good as said it. He thinks this is window dressing. You're just here to prove those two boys ran off to become terrorists, or whatever we're meant to call them.'

  'I can handle a few rowdy kids. Tell Rhys to get lost.' She took a gulp of water from the glass on her desk. Alison watched it shake in her hand but made no comment.

  Jenny said, 'Have you got hold of McAvoy yet?'

  Alison grimaced. 'His office says he's been in court on a long-running trial, but he'll try to get over this afternoon.'

  'Do you know him?'

  'Everyone in CID knew McAvoy.'

  'Really? What's the story?'

  'Whatever he says it is, it isn't.'

  She left the room.

  Jenny sat back in her chair, closed her eyes and tried to relax. She had conducted stressful inquests in the full public glare before and got through, just. All the morbid, anxious and unwanted thoughts that were assailing her were merely the by-products of stress. They had no meaning. She was in control.

  Her limbs were finally starting to feel heavy when her phone bleeped alerting her to a text message. Her eyes started open and she reached for it. It said: Have it you're way. Your on you're own. Working for MI5 and he couldn't even spell.

  The mood was noticeably more sober when the court reconvened and Anwar Ali took his place in the witness chair. Composed and confident, he seemed to command respect among the young Muslim men. Jenny ran her eyes over the faces in the public gallery and couldn't see Rhys. She felt a flutter of anxiety and realized how quickly his presence had become a safety blanket. She found herself desperately curious about what he might have said had she let him speak to her. A coroner only ever acted alone, she had to remind herself; a coroner was independent and answered only to the Lord Chancellor. She didn't need anyone else.

  She began with the uncontroversial questions, establishing that Ali was thirty-two years old and had been part way through a post-graduate MA in politics and sociology when Nazim and Rafi disappeared. He was currently employed by Newport Borough Council as general manager of the refugee centre where Jenny has visited him, and was a part-time doctoral student at the University of Cardiff. His thesis was entitled: 'Anglo-Muslim Identity: Integration or Cohabitation?' He claimed not to be a member of the British Society for Islamic Change although he admitted to having contributed several articles to their website. He described himself as 'a politically engaged British Muslim concerned with promoting peaceful coexistence between communities'.

  'During your time at Bristol, Mr Ali, you were a regular at the A1 Rahma mosque, were you not?'

  'Yes, I prayed there on Fridays.'

  'And this was a small mosque in what had once been a private house?'

  'It was.'

  'What was its purpose? There were other mosques in the city, weren't there?'

  'It was progressive. Mullah Sayeed Faruq established it in the mid-1990s to cater for young men and women who had a different vision of their place in the world.'

  'How would you describe Sayeed Faruq's theology?'

  'Mainstream.'

  'His politics?'

  'Questioning.'

  'Could you enlarge on that?'

  Ali thought carefully before responding. 'He questioned to what extent Muslim identity was being diluted by Western influences and values. Many of us wanted to talk about a future that wasn't based on materialism and violence. We wanted to rediscover the essence of our religion.'

  'I understand the police believed him to hold radical and extremist views. Did he?'

  'If you mean did he personally advocate violence, no, he did not. Persuasion, force of argument, asserting that the Islamic way was better for the spiritual health of mankind, yes.'

  'Was Sayeed Faruq a member of Hizb ut-Tahrir?'

  'I believe he was,' Ali said. 'I was not, nor to my knowledge were Nazim or Rafi. But you ought to understand, ma'am, Hizb specifically does not advocate violence to promote Islam. Its purpose is to argue and persuade. It has attracted much suspicion, but in the vast majority of free countries it is not an illegal organization.' He turned to the jury. 'The name means party of liberation.'

  'Thank you, Mr Ali. I've done a little research myself. I've read that Hizb's methods of persuasion involve inviting young people to meetings - halaqah - such as the ones you held in your flat at Marlowes Road.'

  'I hosted discussion groups, but I was never a member of Hizb or any other organization.'

  Unflappable, he had a smooth, well-rehearsed answer for everything. Jenny pushed and probed, but he wouldn't budge from his position tha
t at both the mosque and his discussion group only peaceful means of spreading the Islamic message were discussed. Both he and Sayeed Faruq had believed in working towards the establishment of an international caliphate, but violence and terrorism were condemned as sacrilegious except in self-defence.

  Interesting as their exchange was, Jenny noticed a number of jurors beginning to yawn. The finer points of Islamic theology weren't holding their attention. It was time to push on into more contentious territory.

  'When did Nazim Jamal first come to the Al Rahma mosque?'

  'In October '01, I think. I couldn't say exactly. Rafi came first, Nazim a few weeks later.'

  'And when did they start attending your discussion groups?'

  'About November time.'

  'Who else was there apart from you and them?'

  'Various people came and went. They were mostly students.' He rattled off half a dozen names but claimed not to have kept in touch with most of them. Jenny made a note. She'd track them down if necessary.

  'Can you give us an idea of a typical discussion - the kind of subjects covered?'

  Ali shrugged. 'We talked about Palestine, possible solutions to the conflict; the war in Afghanistan; American paranoia and how Muslims should respond to it.'

  'How would you describe Nazim's politics?'

  Ali glanced over at Mrs Jamal. She met him with a searching gaze. She was looking at a man who had seen a side of her son she knew nothing of.

  'At first he was quiet . . . then he became more confident, more inspired. I remember he was a good scholar. He knew his Koran.'

  'Inspired to what, exactly?'

  'Ideas. To the notion of a society built on religious principles. He had the untainted enthusiasm of youth, you might say.'

  'What was his take on the use of political violence?'

  'He was against it, as we all were.'

  'And Rafi Hassan?'

  'He was quieter. More of a listener than Nazim. I didn't feel I knew him as well.'

  'Did he hold similar views?'

  'As far as I know. Really, you have to understand, no matter what the police or Security Services may have thought, our discussions were no more radical than those you would have heard at any of the university's political societies. We were young men grappling with ideas, that's all. I believe we were watched simply because Sayeed Faruq was on a list of Hizb members. He was automatically assumed to be part of a fifth column. Little was known about British Muslims at the time except that they shared a faith with some notorious terrorists.'

  Thus far Jenny hadn't learned a single piece of new information from the one witness who had been closer to the two missing boys than anyone else she would be calling. She went in harder, pressing Ali to admit that the subject of fighting the Muslim cause must at least have been discussed, but he wouldn't have it. He denied coming into contact with anyone recruiting potential jihadis to fight abroad and maintained that none of the regulars at Marlowes Road halaqah had ever shown the slightest inclination to take up arms. He insisted that he had no clue as to where Nazim and Rafi had disappeared to and denied even suspecting that they had extremist tendencies. She pressed him as to whether he recalled a change in Nazim's mood the weekend before he disappeared, as Mrs Jamal had described: he claimed not to have. Ali had been close to the members of his halaqah, he said, but not so close that he knew the details of their lives. They held spiritual, intellectual gatherings, not social ones.

  It was a masterful performance and Jenny didn't believe half of it.

  Growing frustrated, she said, 'You must have some idea where they went. You would have heard rumours, at least?'

  'No. I must have spent hundreds of hours answering these questions at the time and my answer hasn't changed. I swear before my God, Allah the most merciful, that I do not know where they went or what became of them.'

  The solemnity of his oath was greeted with a respectful and reflective silence. All the young men room were still and sombre. Even Alison seemed to be affected by its sincerity.

  Jenny said, 'What became of Sayeed Faruq? Where did he go?'

  'He went to Pakistan. He was wise enough to know that he would always be under suspicion in this country.'

  'You're sure he had nothing to do with their disappearance?'

  'Again, I swear it. Whatever happened to them is as mysterious to me as it is to you.' He turned to Mrs Jamal. 'I sincerely wish it wasn't so, ma'am.'

  Fraser Havilland and Martha Denton both declined the opportunity to cross-examine. Having failed to open up a single fissure, Jenny sensed they were content not to risk accidentally succeeding. It gave the lie to Gillian Golder's claim that the Security Services were as anxious as she was to find out the truth, but came as no surprise. Jenny was beginning to agree with Yusuf Khan that her inquest had only been allowed to proceed because they were confident it posed no danger other than to project the already diabolical image of young Muslim men. The meaning of Rhys's text message still puzzled her, but perhaps he simply meant that she would have to face the consequences of a non-result alone: it would be she, personally, who would take the blame for failing to unearth the truth.

  Pushing these troubling thoughts aside, she asked Yusuf Khan if he wished to cross-examine.

  'Only briefly, ma'am.' He turned to the witness. 'Mr Ali, you must have heard the rumours, as I have, that in the preemptive war on terror, agents provocateurs have been used to lure potentially radical young men abroad to a fate we can only guess at.'

  'Yes, I've heard those rumours.'

  'Has anyone ever approached you, or anyone you know, in this way?'

  Ali stalled long enough before answering no for Jenny not to believe him. And from the look Yusuf Khan gave him, she could tell he didn't believe him either.

  Dani James was twenty-eight years old and now practised in a prosperous solicitor's firm in Bath which specialized in handling the estates of the seriously wealthy. She had an open, attractive face which inspired trust, and spoke with an endearing trace of a Manchester accent. Uncomplicated, was Jenny's first impression: straightforward. Dani had waited patiently all morning and didn't seem to begrudge her enforced absence from a busy professional life.

  Jenny established that she had been a law student in the same year as Rafi and Nazim and had occupied a room on the first floor of Manor Hall. She hadn't had much to do with Rafi, she said, apart from attending the same seminars; he was a quiet student and kept mostly to himself. She had seen him talking with other Asians in the common room and had formed the impression that he liked to be among his own. Nazim, on the other hand, was more sociable. She remembered seeing him at a number of parties in the autumn term - he was a good dancer and always full of energy. What she saw of him, she liked.

  In the spring term she hadn't recognized him when he passed her in the corridor wearing a beard and a prayer cap. She tried to say hello a few times, but didn't receive much of a response. She noticed that he and Rafi had taken to dressing the same way and had seemed to have withdrawn from student society. They didn't come to parties or hang out in the bar as they had in their first term, even to drink orange juice. She remembered thinking it was a shame, but it had happened to a number of Muslim students. They seemed to develop chips on their shoulders and form cliques. There was a girl on her course who had started out wearing mini-skirts and sleeping with a different man each weekend, who, by the end of the spring term, was teetotal, celibate and fully veiled. Each to his own, had been Dani's attitude. She didn't blame them for being defensive when everyone talked about Muslims as terrorists.

  'You made a statement to the police on 8 July 2002,' Jenny said. 'What prompted that?'

  'They were coming round the halls knocking on doors, asking everyone what they knew about Nazim and Rafi. What was the last time we saw them? Who were they with?'

  'Were you able to help?'

  'Not really. 1 just remember telling them that I'd seen someone strange coming out of Manor Hall on the Friday they were meant to
have disappeared.'

  'Friday, 28 June?'

  'Yes. I'd been out late somewhere. It was about midnight. I was coming through the main door, not exactly sober, and this tall man, fortyish, came rushing down the stairs and shoved past me. He was in a real hurry and didn't seem to care he'd thrown me halfway across the room.'

  'What did he look like?'

  'Thinnish . . . kind of wiry. He had a baseball cap pulled down over his eyes, so I couldn't see his face. He had a blue puffy anorak on, which seemed odd as it was the middle of summer. I think he had a rucksack over one shoulder.'

  'In your statement you said "large rucksack or holdall".'

  'I don't remember in detail, just that it seemed strange. I do remember thinking he had a real attitude shoving me like that.'

  'Have you any idea what the police did with this information?'

  'No. I made a statement, that was it.'

  'Do you know if anyone else saw him?'

  'Not that I know of. It was late.'

  Jenny said, 'My office has made contact with a lot of students from your year, yet virtually none of them seems to have anything to say. Do you have any idea why that is?'

  'Because they didn't know them, I guess.'

  Jenny nodded. Her own brief excursion through the university precincts had been enough to convince her that Dani was probably right: devout, politicized Muslims would have occupied a world apart.

  She was ready to hand the witness over for cross- examination by the lawyers when she remembered the statement that Sarah Levin - a witness not listed to appear until tomorrow - had given to the police a short while after Dani had spoken to them. She reached for a file and turned up the flagged page. It was brief, only two paragraphs, the first giving her personal details and stating that she was in the same year and faculty as Nazim, and the second detailing a conversation overheard some time in May 2002.

  'Do you remember a student in your year called Sarah Levin?' Jenny said.

  'Vaguely. I think she lived in a different hall.'

  'That's right - Goldney. She gave a statement to the police on 10 July saying that in May 2002 she overheard Nazim talking to some other young Asian men in a canteen on the main campus.' She read aloud. ' "I overheard him saying that some of the "brothers" were volunteering to fight the Americans in Afghanistan. That's all I heard, just a snatch of their conversation, but I got the impression they were talking a lot about other young Muslims who were committed enough to fight for their beliefs. I remember the expression on Nazim's face - he seemed to be in awe of them." Did you ever overhear any conversations like this?'