“What Bastian did was nothing short of torturing him to death,” said another.
They were angry at Aisha for viewing Syria as “romantic,” for thinking it was “cool” to wage a war against the West.
Aisha’s mother lived in their neighborhood. Which of them would tell her? Should they all go together? It was unbearable. They agreed to seek the advice of an imam.
The imam told them it was not their responsibility to inform the mother of the terrible news. “That’s something your friend has to do herself,” he said.
The media beat Aisha to it. In late February, TV2 covered news of the death.
“A two-year-old Norwegian child, taken by his mother to Syria last year, where she planned to join the terrorist group Islamic State, has been killed,” the report began.
The only person named in the report was Bastian Vasquez. But the reporter made reference to having spoken to the father of the child, who claimed Vasquez was responsible for the child’s death. Social media quickly identified Arfan Bhatti as the father.
No one had informed Aisha’s mother of her grandson’s death prior to the news item. She called and texted everyone in her list of contacts who could know anything. Eventually she reached one person who could confirm that yes, it was true.
She had not seen her daughter or her grandson since last summer. Aisha had left for Syria without saying goodbye after marrying Bastian on Skype. The last the grandmother had heard was a voice message in which Aisha had said that they were fine and she hoped everyone at home was well.
Her initial reaction was to travel to Syria and be with her daughter, but she had no idea where to find her.
The father of the child gathered the inner circle of the Prophet’s Ummah to discuss how to avenge the murder. Should someone be dispatched to Syria, or could one of the Norwegian jihadists down there end the life of their former brother?
Bastian’s blood was halal for them now, killing him was permissible. A life for a life.
* * *
“He’s the one who held a knife to my throat,” Sadiq wrote to Osman. Bastian was the man who had wanted to kill him at the prison in al-Dana, he told friends in Oslo.
“Really?” Osman wrote back.
The Chilean was the man who had tortured him, Sadiq confirmed. He had recognized him from his photo. The same unkempt hair, the same crazed look on his face as the one who hit hardest in the prison, the fat one with the broken Arabic.
“Wow. I know him too. I’ve met him,” Osman wrote, but Sadiq was done talking about Bastian.
“Send me the photos of the Norwegians!” Sadiq urged.
“Calm down. I had an accident last night. It was raining a lot, I dropped my smartphone and now it’s fucked.” Several weeping emojis followed. “All my photographs were erased. The phone’s IC was wiped.”
“How, how is that possible??”
“We’re going to Tabaqa on Wednesday. That’s near Raqqa. We’ll try to get some new photos of the Norwegians then.”
“Inshallah.”
“But, my friend, what happened with wiring the money? Time is running out. The lads are waiting for you. They are waiting for me. It’s time for both. I gave people my word. What am I to do, my dear friend? Seriously, Abu Ismael.”
“Just tell me what you need from me?”
“We have to buy a camera to take better pictures and I need a computer. I also have to pay for the trip to Raqqa. It’s best if you come. Don’t be late.”
Osman texted again around midnight to remind him.
“Are you sleeping, my dear friend? Time is running out. If you want to be here when we get the girls back you need to come quick as a flash.”
“When should I come?”
“Today!”
* * *
That same week a trial opened at Oslo District Court. Three men were accused of having participated in, planned to participate in, or supported hostilities in Syria. It was the first time a Norwegian court of law would try someone for suspected violation of section 147d of the General Civil Penal Code, which stated that “imprisonment of up to six years shall be imposed on those who form, participate in, recruit members, or provide financial or other material support to a terrorist organization, when the organization has taken steps to realize their purpose by illegal means.”
Section 147 was known as the antiterror paragraph and was the basis for the conviction of Anders Behring Breivik. It was supplemented with part d in June 2013 in order to take account of those connected to international terror organizations. The prosecution claimed that the Kosovar Albanian brothers Valon and Visar Avdyli and Somalian Djibril Bashir had illegal ties to the Islamic State. All three denied the charges.
The court case revealed the three men’s activities in Syria. It also shed light on friends of theirs, including Hisham and Bastian. Egzon, the third Avdyli brother, who once had brought Aisha home after she’d been thrown out into the staircase by Arfan, had been killed in combat the previous year. Evidence produced included photographs of the accused posing together with weapons. E-mails containing details of arms purchases were read aloud. PST had bugged their apartments and their cars, and set up listening equipment at their regular haunts. When the police overheard two of them discussing blowing up a kindergarten, they no longer dared allow them to walk around freely.
“You see, we can’t come home anyway, we’ll be put in prison if we do!” Leila said to her mother. Leila knew the wife of the eldest Avdyli brother; she had remained in Raqqa when her husband had returned to Oslo for a short visit.
Was the girls’ hijra also deemed criminal? Would they face charges if they returned home? They had, after all, taken part in, planned to take part in, and supported a terror organization. Perhaps, Sadiq considered, it would help to say that they were brainwashed. Would a waiver of prosecution be granted on the grounds of someone being brainwashed?
A couple of days into the
