From
The Guardian
A former London schoolboy accused of being a dedicated al-Qaida
terrorist has given the first full account of the interrogation and
alleged torture endured by so-called ghost detainees held at secret
prisons around the world.
For two and a half years US authorities moved Benyam Mohammed around a
series of prisons in Pakistan, Morocco and Afghanistan, before he was
sent to Guantánamo Bay in September last year.
Mohammed is alleged to be a key figure in terrorist plots intended to
cause far greater loss of life than the suicide bombers of 7/7. One
allegation, which he denies, is of planning to detonate a "dirty bomb"
in a US city; another is that he and an accomplice planned to collapse a
number of apartment blocks by renting ground-floor flats to seal, fill
with gas from cooking appliances, and blow up with timed detonators.
In an statement given to his newly appointed lawyer, Mohammed has given
an account of how he was tortured for more than two years after being
questioned by US and British officials who he believes were from the FBI
and MI6. As well as being beaten and subjected to loud music for long
periods, he claims his genitals were sliced with scalpels.
Drawing on his notes, Mohammed's lawyer has compiled a 28-page diary of
his torture. This has been declassified by the Pentagon, and extracts
are published in the Guardian today.
Recruits to some groups connected to al-Qaida are thought to be
instructed to make allegations of torture after capture, and most of
Mohammed's claims cannot be independently verified. But his description
of a prison near Rabat closely resembles the Temara torture centre
identified in a report by the US-based Human Rights Watch last October.
Furthermore, this newspaper has obtained flight records showing
executive jets operated by the CIA flew in and out of Morocco on July 22
2002 and January 22 2004, the dates he says he was taken to and from the
country.
If true, his account adds weight to concerns that the US authorities are
torturing by proxy. It also highlights the dilemma of British
authorities when they seek information from detainees overseas who they
know, or suspect, are tortured.
The lawyer, Clive Stafford Smith, says:
This is outsourcing of
torture, plain and simple. America knows torture is wrong but gets
others to do its unconscionable dirty work. It's clear from the evidence
that UK officials knew about this rendition to Morocco before it
happened. Our government's responsibility must be to actively prevent
the torture of our residents.
Diary Extracts
They cut off my clothes with some kind of doctor's scalpel. I was naked.
I tried to put on a brave face. But maybe I was going to be raped. Maybe
they'd electrocute me. Maybe castrate me.
They took the scalpel to my right chest. It was only a small cut. Maybe
an inch. At first I just screamed ... I was just shocked, I wasn't
expecting ... Then they cut my left chest. This time I didn't want to
scream because I knew it was coming.
One of them took my penis in his hand and began to make cuts. He did it
once, and they stood still for maybe a minute, watching my reaction. I
was in agony. They must have done this 20 to 30 times, in maybe two
hours. There was blood all over. "I told you I was going to teach you
who's the man," [one] eventually said.
They cut all over my private parts. One of them said it would be better
just to cut it off, as I would only breed terrorists. I asked for a
doctor.
Doctor No 1 carried a briefcase. "You're all right, aren't you? But I'm
going to say a prayer for you." Doctor No 2 gave me an Alka-Seltzer for
the pain. I told him about my penis. "I need to see it. How did this
happen?" I told him. He looked like it was just another patient. "Put
this cream on it two times a day. Morning and night." He gave me some
kind of antibiotic.
I was in Morocco for 18 months. Once they began this, they would do it
to me about once a month. One time I asked a guard: "What's the point of
this? I've got nothing I can say to them. I've told them everything I
possibly could."
"As far as I know, it's just to degrade you. So when you leave here,
you'll have these scars and you'll never forget. So you'll always fear
doing anything but what the US wants."
Later, when a US airplane picked me up the following January, a female
MP took pictures. She was one of the few Americans who ever showed me
any sympathy. When she saw the injuries I had she gasped. They treated
me and took more photos when I was in Kabul. Someone told me this was
"to show Washington it's healing".
But in Morocco, there were even worse things. Too horrible to remember,
let alone talk about. About once a week or even once every two weeks I
would be taken for interrogation, where they would tell me what to say.
They said if you say this story as we read it, you will just go to court
as a witness and all this torture will stop. I eventually repeated what
was read out to me.
When I got to Morocco they said some big people in al-Qaida were talking
about me. They talked about Jose Padilla and they said I was going to
testify against him and big people. They named Khalid Sheikh Mohamed,
Abu Zubaidah and Ibn Sheikh al-Libi [all senior al-Qaida leaders who are
now in US custody]. It was hard to pin down the exact story because what
they wanted changed from Morocco to when later I was in the Dark Prison
[a detention centre in Kabul with windowless cells and American staff],
to Bagram and again in Guantánamo Bay.
They told me that I must plead guilty. I'd have to say I was an al-Qaida
operations man, an ideas man. I kept insisting that I had only been in
Afghanistan a short while. "We don't care," was all they'd say.
I was also questioned about my links with Britain. The interrogator told
me: "We have photos of people given to us by MI5. Do you know these?" I
realised that the British were sending questions to the Moroccans. I was
at first surprised that the Brits were siding with the Americans.
On August 6, I thought I was going to be transferred out of there [the
prison]. They came in and cuffed my hands behind my back.
But then three men came in with black masks. It seemed to go on for
hours. I was in so much pain I'd fall to my knees. They'd pull me back
up and hit me again. They'd kick me in my thighs as I got up. I vomited
within the first few punches. I really didn't speak at all though. I
didn't have the energy or will to say anything. I just wanted for it to
end. After that, there was to be no more first-class treatment. No
bathroom. No food for a while.
During September-October 2002, I was taken in a car to another place.
The room was bigger, it had its own toilet, and a window which was
opaque.
They gave me a toothbrush and Colgate toothpaste. I was allowed to
recover from the scalpel for about two weeks, and the guards said
nothing about it.
Then they cuffed me and put earphones on my head. They played hip-hop
and rock music, very loud. I remember they played Meat Loaf and
Aerosmith over and over. A couple of days later they did the same thing.
Same music.
For 18 months, there was not one night when I could sleep well.
Sometimes I would go 48 hours without sleep. At night, they would bang
the metal doors, bang the flap on the door, or just come right in.
They continued with two or three interrogations a month. They weren't
really interrogations, more like training me what to say. The
interrogator told me what was going on. "We're going to change your
brain," he said.
I suffered the razor treatment about once a month for the remaining time
I was in Morocco, even after I'd agreed to confess to whatever they
wanted to hear. It became like a routine. They'd come in, tie me up,
spend maybe an hour doing it. They never spoke to me. Then they'd tip
some kind of liquid on me - the burning was like grasping a hot coal.
The cutting, that was one kind of pain. The burning, that was another.
In all the 18 months I was there, I never went outside. I never saw the
sun, not even once. I never saw any human being except the guards and my
tormentors, unless you count the pictures they showed me.