Kim Sengupta: He was a smiling, helpful, quiet man

Baha Mousa said he had had problems at British Army checkpoints but not more so than the others

Kim Sengupta
Thursday 08 September 2011 19:00 EDT
Comments

Your support helps us to tell the story

From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.

At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.

The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.

Your support makes all the difference.

In the late summer of 2003 I met Baha Mousa at the place where he worked, the Ibn al-Haitham Hotel in Basra. I had gone there with an Iraqi colleague, Nour al-Khal, to ask community leaders about the problems they faced in the aftermath of the invasion.

I had left Baghdad at a time when the Iraqi capital, and the American forces stationed there, were facing waves of ferocious bombings and shootings. The British-run south, at the time, was relatively safe, not the menacing fiefdom of Shia militias it was to become later.

Those we spoke to complained about acute shortages of water and power, the lack of the promised reconstruction and the jobs it would bring, and the abuse they said they were suffering at British checkpoints. Baha Mousa was one of the quieter of those present, polite, smiling, ensuring in his capacity as the receptionist that we were not disturbed as we talked.

He, too, had had problems at checkpoints, but not more so than the others. His father, I was told, was a police colonel under Saddam and I wondered if he had been targeted because of this link. I promised to keep in touch with him and some of the others.

A month later Baha Mousa was dead. I heard what had happened to him when I went back to Basra the following year to try to find out about several killings of Iraqi civilians at the hands of British forces. Baha's father, Colonel Daoud Mousa, described what he knew about the killing, breaking into tears and thrusting a photograph of his son at Nour and me.

Four years later, I covered a court martial in which the details of Baha Mousa's death emerged – 93 injuries, face pushed into a stinking toilet. Five soldiers, including their commanding officer, Colonel Jorge Mendonca, were cleared: the judge ruled they had no case to answer. One who pleaded guilty to war crimes charges, Corporal Donald Payne, was sentenced to a year in prison. I spoke on the telephone to Colonel Mousa. He said he was sad but not surprised – it was pointless to seek justice in a British court.

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in