Both told me that a critical but fair article would not lead to the killing of the hostage. “It would be worse if it would be a one-sided British propaganda piece,” the friend said.
I told him that he had to be aware that our article would of course be critical and mention all the killing for which Emwazi was responsible. He said that this was clear, but they were sure it would be fair. When I asked if there was any chance I might get a short interview with Emwazi, the friend shook his head.
“No chance. ISIS has him on lockdown,” my source said. “They seem to know something might come out soon.”
I got back to the hotel and reached Peter. I said I’d spoken to some people who knew the “subject” and that they didn’t think it would have an effect on the British hostage.
“Okay, I’ll let the editors know.” I later learned from Peter that U.S. officials were also skeptical of the British argument that Cantlie would be endangered by the story’s publication.
In the meantime, Adam and I wrote messages back and forth regarding the article and various revisions. Hours passed before Peter called me back on Skype.
He said the paper had told the British authorities that we would go ahead with the piece. They had asked for forty-eight hours to inform all the families involved, both Emwazi’s and those of the hostages and victims. “We agreed to do this,” he said.
But a couple of hours later, I received a message from Adam. It seemed that someone very high up at the BBC had called the Post and said they’d heard we were planning to reveal the identity of Jihadi John.
“Does this means the Brits are playing games with us?” I asked. “Are they trying to stop us from writing about the case with the argument that it would endanger the hostage, so they can leak things to the BBC?”
I endured another sleepless night. The next day I got an encrypted message from one of the people I’d talked to in London: “Souad, something weird is going on. Some BBC and ITV people are asking about the guy.”
“How detailed?” I asked.
“They go around in the community and ask about the guy and know his name.”
Now I was getting angry. It looked to me as if British authorities were trying to trick us. First, they had used Cantlie’s safety as an argument to delay us. Then they’d said they had to inform the families and take precautions. Now it looked like they were leaking all kinds of information to the BBC and ITV, so that a British news organization would break the story.
We had worked so hard to get this information carefully and ethically, and now we might get beaten on the story anyway. I called Peter and told him what I’d just heard.
“Don’t you think we should reconsider the forty-eight hours?” I asked. There were still twenty-four hours left on the clock, and a lot could happen. He said that the Post would honor the agreement for the sake of the families, but that if I heard that someone was about to break the story we would go ahead.
Something else had been occupying my mind. A friend who worked for an Arab newspaper called me that night. He said a friend from the BBC had told him that the Post would publish the name of Jihadi John the next morning. He’d assumed I was somehow involved. “Do you think it’s wise to put your name on that story?” he asked.
I’d been wondering the same thing. How would the notorious ISIS executioner react to seeing his real name, Mohammed Emwazi, in print? And how would the Islamic State respond to the knowledge that a Muslim woman had unmasked him? Would it make a video broadcasting my face to the world and accuse me of being the enemy or a spokesperson for the intelligence services?
I didn’t seriously consider taking my name off the story, but I did some risk assessment and damage control. I’d done what I could to make sure that Emwazi’s friends knew we had reported the story fairly. Through the person I’d met in the park, we gave Emwazi’s mother and siblings, who were still in London, a chance to speak, which they declined.
I had my own reasons for acknowledging my role in the story. I wanted to send a message to Jihadi John and others like him: we will tell the world who you are and stop you from spreading fear—and a Muslim journalist, a woman, has the power to do this.
In the end, we broke the story with the BBC snapping at our heels. I was proud of our achievement, but it also had a personal resonance. I was sending a message to those in the West who blame every Muslim and Islam.
15
Terror Comes Home
Austria, France, and Belgium, 2015–16
The train stations in Austria were packed with people when I arrived in September 2015 to cover the refugee crisis that was paralyzing swaths of Europe. In some corners, food stands and kitchens had been set up; elsewhere, there were field beds for the newly arrived crowds to nap on. Helpers from many backgrounds and all corners of Austrian society had come to support the needs of the refugees, who were streaming in from Syria, Iraq, and Afghanistan, but also from other places, as I soon learned. Many journalists were covering the story. As I read German media accounts and listened to the politicians talk, I sensed a completely uncritical euphoria about the newly arrived foreigners.
Wir schaffen das—translated variously as “We’ll manage it” or “We can do it”—was German chancellor Angela Merkel’s slogan, a way to encourage Germans to take an optimistic view of the refugees’ arrival. This upbeat, determined spirit was echoed in news articles and TV programs. I shared the hope that these refugees fleeing horrific circumstances in their home countries would be accepted and find peace in Germany and other countries. But I also knew this would be a perfect opportunity for all kinds of jihadi groups to send recruits to Europe, where they could operate as sleeper cells.
In the train stations of Austria, I began to see signs that this was already happening. Merkel had spoken of the magnitude of the refugee crisis and the need to temporarily open Germany’s borders to families fleeing war. But in some parts of the world, her speech wasn’t fully translated or was shared in fragments on social media. It was interpreted by many as an open invitation—a onetime shot at a new life in Europe. People from all over North Africa, the Middle East, and even South Asia flew to Turkey, destroyed their passports, and joined the flood of refugees. The numbers were so large that European authorities didn’t have time to set up a comprehensive system of translators and others who could verify people’s identities or at least confirm that they were really Syrian or fleeing severe conflict.