After Baha Mousa died, his mother broke down every time she entered his room. So the family moved all his belongings out of sight and turned it into a sitting room reserved for special occasions.
On Sunday, beneath a whirring fan his father, brothers, cousins and two young sons gathered there to hear the reports from London that up to 11 British soldiers could be prosecuted under international war crimes legislation for his death.
It would be the first time British forces were charged under the International Criminal Court Act, a legal landmark with potentially far-reaching ramifications for future military engagements.
”If this brings justice, it’s a good thing,” said his father, Daoud (59). ”They hurt him so much, they ignored his cries.
”My wife cries all the time. The trip to Baha’s grave in Najaf is long and perilous but she insists on going every few weeks. ”She can’t stop thinking about him.”
Mousa dabbed his eyes with a handkerchief and the other hand gripped a mobile phone so tightly the knuckles gleamed. ”Baha did everything for us. I think we’ll never get over it.”
Members of the Queen’s Lancashire Regiment allegedly beat Baha Mousa (26) a hotel receptionist in the southern Iraqi city of Basra, to death in September 2003.
Four days after he was seized with six colleagues in a raid on the hotel, his father identified his battered corpse at the British military morgue.
At least four QLR soldiers face charges of murder and abuse and on Sunday it was reported that they and another seven soldiers and officers could face wider war crimes charges under legislation enacted in 2001 after the establishment of the International Criminal Court.
The Army Prosecuting Authority has apparently yet to finalise its decision on who will be prosecuted, and on what charges, but the revelation that war crimes may be included in the charge sheet was welcomed by the victim’s father.
The nuances of international law and legal precedent held little interest for Mousa, but he hoped the development would bring justice and compensation a step closer.
”The punishment for the killers is for British law to decide. But if it was here in Iraq, and it was my choice, I would say execute them.”
A police colonel built like a wrestler, he spoke softly as tears rolled down his cheeks.
On the sofa beside him, his two orphaned grandsons, Hussein (7) and Hassan (5) fidgeted and smiled, aware they were the focus of the assembled adults but unsure why.
Hussein is the image of his father. He has had trouble settling into school and is hyperactive. Hassan resembles his mother.
She succumbed to cancer six months before their father died. After that Baha would sleep between the boys.
On monthly visits to his grave, they expect to see him and they return home to Basra disappointed and puzzled, said relatives.
”When they see British patrols in the streets they point and say ‘Those men killed my father’,” said Mousa. ”But they don’t really understand.”
The occupation was six months old in September 2003 and the British-controlled port city was febrile, with sporadic attacks on British forces, when the soldiers raided the Ibn Al Haitham hotel.
They found five assault rifles and two pistols used for hotel security. Unable to locate their quarry, one of the hotel’s owners, they took Baha and six colleagues to the British military base.
According to Kifah Taha (46) a maintenance engineer who was one of the six, beatings started immediately. There was a competition to see which soldier could kickbox a prisoner the furthest, he claimed.
Each prisoner was allegedly given a footballer’s name and beaten if he failed to remember it. Freezing water was allegedly poured through hoods placed over their heads.
Baha suffered the most and on the second night he was taken to another room from which Taha said he could hear him moaning
”Blood. There’s blood coming from my nose. I’m going to die.”
After punches and kicks, Taha’s kidneys failed and he nearly died. He and the other five survivors were eventually released without charge.
Backed by human rights advocacy groups, including the UK-based Iraqi League, last year the six men launched a high court challenge to the government’s refusal to order independent inquiries into the deaths.
Back at work on Sunday, fixing the hotel’s generator, Taha said he still had nightmares.
”When I see the British in the streets, my soul leaves my body and I remember the day I was arrested.”
Army prosecutors have been under pressure to act since the high court ruled last December that the UK had broken the Human Rights Act by failing to prevent Mr Mousa’s death or to prosecute his alleged assailants.
British officers have visited the family home in the Kafa hat suburb of west Basra several times to apologise.
As a senior police officer, Baha’s father works with and respects most British soldiers. ”They make a good impression. We tackle terrorism together.”
But he said he rejected as an insult the offer of $8 000 compensation, contrasting it with the $10-million Libya agreed to pay for each victim of the Lockerbie bombing.
”Is an Arab life worth so much less? Are Arabs less human?”
However, despite the delay in prosecuting the case, Baha’s father expressed confidence in British justice. ”I think everyone is under the law in your country. I visited London and the people were friendly, they did not like what had happened to my family.” – Guardian Unlimited Â