First Response

INTERVIEW WITH RABEEL BHASHIR (8.40 p.m.)

Rabeel Bhashir was sitting at a desk wearing a paper forensic suit and with paper shoe covers on his feet. He had been given a cup of tea and a chocolate muffin but didn’t seem to have touched either. Chief Superintendent Gillard introduced himself and the detective sergeant who had accompanied him, Kevin Barlow, an SO15 detective, who was one of the anti-terrorism unit’s best interrogators. Gillard stood with his back to the wall as Barlow sat down opposite Bhashir. Barlow had an A4 notepad. He placed it on the desk and took out a cheap biro. ‘So you’re an ISIS warrior, are you?’ asked Cooke. ‘You must be the first real adult ISIS member I’ve come across. They’re usually kids who don’t know any better. But you’re, what, fifty?’

‘I’m forty-five,’ said Bhashir. ‘And I’m not a terrorist.’

‘The suicide vest you were wearing tells a different story,’ said Barlow.

‘They forced me to wear it,’ said Bhashir.

Barlow smiled and sat back in his chair. He slowly tapped his pen on the notepad. ‘Do you seriously expect me to believe that, Mr Bhashir?’

‘It’s the truth,’ said Bhashir. ‘Check the vest for yourself. The trigger didn’t work. It could only be detonated by remote control.’

‘By your boss, is that what you’re saying?’

Bhashir shook his head. ‘Not my boss. I don’t know him. He said his name was Shahid. He said if I didn’t do as he said, he’d kill me.’

‘But he didn’t, did he? You’re still alive.’

‘Maybe because I did as he wanted. I don’t know.’ Bhashir slumped in the chair.

‘Why did you let him put the vest on you?’ asked Barlow. ‘Why didn’t you resist?’

‘It happened while I was unconscious,’ said Bhashir.

‘And how did that happen?’ said Barlow, his face suggesting that he was sure Bhashir was lying.

‘I left the mosque last night after the Isha’a prayers. I walked by a van. Someone called my name, I turned around and something was pressed over my face. When I woke up I was tied to a chair and I was wearing the vest.’

‘You were tied to a chair all night?’

‘I don’t know. I think so. I don’t know how long I was unconscious for.’

‘You have to admit, Mr Bhashir, it sounds very unlikely.’

‘That’s easy for you to say,’ said Bhashir. ‘Your life wasn’t on the line. You didn’t see a man blown to pieces in front of you, like I did.’

Barlow leant forward and lowered his voice, for the first time sounding sympathetic. ‘Tell me what happened.’

‘We were all tied to chairs and had the vests on. One man kept arguing and Shahid told him to shut up but he wouldn’t so Shahid used his mobile phone to detonate the man’s vest.’ He shuddered. ‘It blew him to pieces. He said the same would happen to anyone else who disobeyed him. Do you think you would have done any differently?’ He shook his head vehemently. ‘No, you would have done as you were told. No one wants to die, not like that.’

‘And what happened then?’

‘Shahid put the hoods back on our heads and we were put in a van. Then he dropped us off one by one. When I left the van he removed the hood and told me to read the instructions in my waistpack. That’s what I did.’

‘What I don’t understand is why your wife didn’t report you missing,’ said Barlow. ‘You said you were taken after prayers. That means you didn’t go home last night.’

‘I work nights,’ said Bhashir. ‘I am a cleaner. Sometimes I go straight to work from the mosque.’

‘And the man who was giving you your orders. This Shahid. What can you tell me about him?’

‘He always wore a mask.’

‘But you could tell if he was young or old?’

‘Not young. Not old. Thirty, maybe. Or forty. He looked like he exercised. Like he went to the gym.’

‘And his accent?’

‘He spoke English well. But all accents sound the same to me. Except Scottish. I can never understand Scottish.’

‘But did he sound like he was born here? Or from another country?’

‘Born here, I suppose. Now, please, can I go home? I want to see my wife.’

‘We are arranging transport for you, Mr Bhashir. In the meantime, I’d like to ask you about your daughters. They are in Syria, correct?’

Bhashir nodded but didn’t reply.

‘They both married ISIS soldiers?’

‘They decided that was what they wanted to do. There was nothing I could do to stop them.’

‘Jaleela was only fifteen. Still a child.’

‘Do you have children?’

‘Yes, I do,’ Barlow said. ‘And as a father I would not have allowed them to travel abroad on their own at fifteen.’

‘They left without my knowledge.’

‘Did they?’

Bhashir frowned. ‘You think I sent my children to Syria?’

Barlow ignored the question. ‘What are your feelings about ISIS?’

‘I have no feelings.’

‘Do you agree with their aims?’

‘They fight for their religion,’ said Bhashir. ‘Who cannot agree with that?’

‘And do you agree that people of other religions should be killed?’

Bhashir said nothing.

‘You have called for Jews to be killed, haven’t you?’ said Barlow. ‘There is a video of you saying just that outside the Israeli embassy.’

‘I am a British citizen and I have the right to express an opinion,’ said Bhashir, folding his arms. ‘I have the right of free speech.’

‘Yes, you do, Mr Bhashir.’

‘And I also have the right to a lawyer, don’t I?’

‘You have not been arrested or charged, Mr Bhashir,’ said Gillard. ‘There’s no need for a lawyer.’

‘If I have not been arrested, I would like to go home,’ said Bhashir. ‘I have said all that I have to say.’