Ahmad El Maati, Abdullah Almalki, and Muayyed Nureddin are all too familiar with Maher Arar’s ordeal. Like Arar, they too were accused of having links to international terrorism and eventually found themselves in Syrian and Egyptian jails, where they were interrogated and tortured. In a report released recently, retired Supreme Court of Canada justice Frank Iacobucci found the RCMP and CSIS had indirectly contributed to the mistreatment of the three men by supplying their Syrian and Egyptian counterparts with inaccurate information. Iacobucci specifically criticized the RCMP for referring to Almalki as an “imminent threat” in a letter to Syrian officials, a description he characterized as “inflammatory” and “lacking investigative foundation.” Kerry Pither’s Dark Days presents an often chilling account of the horrors these men survived.
MAY 3, 2002
Abdullah hadn’t been in Syria for fifteen years so he booked a flight on Saudi Arabian Airlines, then called to tell his parents he’d be there at about 4 P.M. on Friday, May 3.
Abdullah’s parents had arranged a special welcome for Abdullah: A woman was waiting at the door of the airplane to take him to the airport’s ornate VIP lounge, where his mother was waiting for him. They embraced, and she introduced him to his cousin, whom he’d not met before. While Abdullah sipped lemonade with his mother, his cousin handed his passport to the VIP lounge staff, who took it to the immigration officials. When one of the officials came to say that airport security wanted to speak with Abdullah, he walked over with his cousin to see what they wanted. They were asked to go into an office.
In the office were three men. Abdullah asked if this had anything to do with his military service. By law, every male in Syria must serve thirty months of military service when they turn eighteen. Abdullah had left Syria when he was sixteen, and his father had since ensured that all of his sons’ military service deferrals were in order so that they could return to Syria without trouble whenever they wanted. That had to be done every five years, and Abdullah’s deferral did not expire until March 2003.
It had nothing to do with military service, the man replied. Abdullah’s cousin started to get angry and asked what was going on. One of the men asked him to leave. He did so, reluctantly.
Another man pulled out a book. “It is recent,” he said. “The report was received from the embassy on April 22, 2002.” Then he led Abdullah into another room. There, two other officials asked him about his family and why he hadn’t been in Syria for so long.
“He is wanted for Branch 235,” one of the officials said. Abdullah asked what that was.
“Far’ Falastin.”
Abdullah had heard of Far’ Falastin but didn’t know its reputation as a house of torture.
Not to worry, the man assured him, it wouldn’t take long.
“They told us to chain you from head to toe, but you don’t look dangerous,” one of them said. But Abdullah didn’t take him seriously. “They weren’t armed and were being so polite with me. I didn’t feel that there was any misunderstanding that I couldn’t resolve,” he says.
Abdullah followed the men out the door to a waiting minibus. It was the shuttle bus that brought the immigration officers to the airport; there were about ten workers on the bus. Abdullah looked out the window and chatted casually with the two men as the bus made its way from the airport into the city. They reassured him again that he wouldn’t be held up for long.
