From this and other surrounding villages have come reports of Coalition-led midnight raids: doors are broken down, sleepy inhabitants are dragged into the night air, some are bound and hooded, and many are detained. Other reports describe the bulldozing of sections of orchards, demolition of homes, helicopters strafing the countryside with machine-gun fire, lobbing of mortars, and random killing—all at the hands of soldiers intent upon putting down the resistance.
I have come to investigate a claim—the latest made by villagers—involving the killing of Ali Hameed Mehia, a 24-year-old linguistics student in his final year at a college in Baghdad. According to reports, he was shot and killed by us troops while walking from morning prayers with two friends on Friday, February 6, just three days before my arrival in Iraq. I interview Fa’ath Musleh Hussein, a farmer in Abu Hishma, at his home. His 15-year-old son is among the 30 to 240 people detained by Coalition forces (the exact number could not be verified); he has been held since July. Fa’ath tells me that Mehia’s two friends were detained and taken to the nearby military base. He suspects they were targeted because the Army found missiles buried in the ground, aimed at the base, able to fire automatically. It is unclear how Mehia would have been targeted as a result and then shot. His body was kept at the base until Sunday, when it was delivered to his family and buried the same day.
While driving home from the funeral with his teenage son and cousin, Taha Rasheed Lattef, a 39-year-old farmer and father of 26, was shot from behind while seated in his pickup truck. I ask if I can see the truck and am immediately taken to the site of the funeral. A huge mourning tent is set up in front of a home, where the dead man’s pickup is parked under an awning. I am shown the entry hole directly behind the driver’s seat, the exit hole in the bloodstained seat, and a broken area at the base of the steering wheel, where the bullet supposedly lodged. All piercings are in a straight line. Villagers claim that a helicopter strafed the pickup from “20 meters above the ground when it fired without warning” three bursts of machinegun fire before flying off. The two witnesses to the shooting do not answer direct questions about the incident, it is later pointed out by our translator. We only hear from the many other men gathered around us.
There are conflicting stories as to the nature and whereabouts of the bullet, which I ask to see. Some say it was a dum-dum, others say it was from a machine gun. But the bullet is nowhere to be found. An Iraqi police officer arrives. After asking that his identity not be revealed, he recounts his story: “I was on patrol in my truck that night. I heard three bursts of shooting, although I did not see it. I immediately went to where I heard it and, when I reached it, saw the helicopter hovering overhead at about 20 to 30 meters. I turned on my lights and siren to let the helicopter crew know that I was responding to the incident, and they flew away. I then took the shooting victim to the hospital.”
I come away with more questions than answers. The villagers’ claims do not add up. The bullet hole is directly behind the driver’s seat, as if a sniper assassinated him—one shot, not several, as a machine gun from a helicopter would have left. All of this my peace journalist friend seems unable to accept, as if the troops must be to blame for everything that happens here. But among the Iraqis very real tribal and religious feuding is going on and villagers accuse one another of being close to and collaborating with the Americans in order to get special attention and aid. Perhaps the troops are being scapegoated while the real killer remains free.