I first met Abdul Basit Al-Maqrahi in 1993 with his friend Al-Amin Khalifa Fahima in his house in Tripoli. They were both accused of blowing up a PanAm airliner over the Scottish town of Lockerbie on Dec. 21, 1988. For over a year now, Abdul Basit has been in a maximum-security prison in Glasgow, Scotland. When he asked me to visit him there, I agreed immediately.
It was raining when I got to Glasgow. I was received by three of the staff of seven at the Libyan Consulate there. I stayed in the Hilton Glasgow — the same hotel where, according to The Mail on Sunday, the Maltese trader Tony Gucci stayed with his family for four days as part of a six-day freebie from Scotland Yard. That of course was before his testimony in Abdul Basit’s trial in 2001, according to the newspaper.
The paper added that Gucci was trained to answer questions from the attorneys handling the case. Gucci, a clothes merchant, is the only witness in the case, and it was his evidence that he had seen Abdul Basit buy clothes from his store on the day of the Lockerbie incident that led to Abdul Basit’s conviction.
Before going to see Abdul Basit, I went to his family’s house in a quiet area of Glasgow. His wife and five children and his brother live in a five-room house some 35 km from the prison, which was bought through an arrangement with the British government under deals with Libya that preceded Abdul Basit’s extradition. Like any other prisoner, Abdul Basit is only allowed a 30-minute visit a week, or a two-hour meeting every 28 days.
On the way to the jail, Abdul Basit’s wife Ayesha told me that life in Glasgow is not always comfortable. In addition to strange looks from neighbors, stones and eggs have been thrown at the house. But all that stopped when the family installed cameras around the house, she said. “Things have improved now. Last Christmas we sent out cards to all our neighbors and they sent cards in return, except for one.”
We arrived at the prison on schedule. Abdul Basit looked pale and depressed. Some of his hair had turned white, and he seemed resigned to his fate. His cell consists of two rooms, one has a bed, TV, and table, the other is where he spends most of his day reading whatever newspapers he can get his hands on.
“They say that I should be treated like any other prisoner regarding following regulations and visiting hours, but when the social worker came to the prison to examine my case, the prison administration refused, saying that I was not an ordinary prisoner,” he told me.
Abdul Basit says his fellow inmates, now that they have got to know him, have realized that he is a “good person.” He recalls the Lockerbie trial down to its smallest details, the investigation, the testimonies, and the witnesses. He started telling me about Gucci’s testimony, saying he had never seen the man before in his life.
“One of the gaps in Gucci’s testimony was that he was not able to clearly identify me and was not sure of the date the clothes were purchased from his store.”
Abdul Basit thinks Gucci had been primed specifically to identify him. But earlier he said that the man who bought the clothes from him — an umbrella and two pairs of pajamas — was nearly 60 and was about 180 cm tall, whereas Abdul Basit at that time was 36 and is much shorter.
Gucci, Abdul Basit said, was not able to identify him well, either from the photos that police showed him or in front of the judge. On one occasion he chose Abdul Basit’s photo saying: “He looks like the person who bought the clothes from me.”
Another time he chose the picture of a Palestinian prisoner in Sweden whose name is Muhammad Abu Talib. Gucci also picked Abdul Basit only hesitantly out of the lineup. “They made me wear shoes that were different from anyone else’s so I could easily be identified,” Abdul Basit said. “Everything he said about me was untrue. Even the information about the weather on that day (the day when the plane exploded) was proved to be incorrect.”
Gucci was not positive about the date of purchase either. “He mentioned two dates: One in late November 1988 and the other was Dec. 7 of the same year. He mentioned that the person who bought the umbrella opened it as he left the store because it was raining that day. This was denied by the meteorologist. A monitoring team from the United Nations who were following the trial said in their report that such contradictory statements were insufficient to indict someone.”
Abdul Basit says weekends and bank holidays are the worst time in prison. “During those days there is a shortage of security guards, so I am locked in my cell from Friday night until Monday morning and am not allowed to get out. The long nights are endless.”
There are special guards responsible for supervising Abdul Basit. For example, while we were talking, three guards — two males and a female — kept a close eye on us. According to the arrangement, the convicted defendant has the right to receive unlimited assistance from the Libyan Consulate, which means that personnel from the Libyan Consulate, opened in Glasgow a month after his arrival in prison, have the right to visit him every day within the visiting hours. Visiting hours for his family and friends, however, remain the same: 30 minutes every week. Personnel from the consulate sit with Abdul Basit alone or in a group. “The daily visits mean a lot to me,” says Abdul Basit.
Abdul Basit reminded me of the first time we had met in 1993. I still remember how shocked he was to learn that he was accused of involvement in the PanAm airlines explosion. The other person charged was Al-Amin Fahima. Both men’s fates have been linked since the day they were charged with responsibility for what happened over Lockerbie. They thought they would both be acquitted or both convicted, especially considering all the contradictory testimony. But the surprise came with Al-Amin’s acquittal and Abdul Basit’s indictment.
“I was really happy for Al-Amin. I embraced him and congratulated him. I told him that it was only a matter of time before we were together again in Tripoli while the case was being appealed,” added Abdul Basit. But he never found the justice he expected; when his sentence was appealed, his conviction was upheld.
“One of the newspapers in Scotland said that I called Al-Amin and told him how beautiful Scotland was and that I was enjoying my stay here. I have not seen the country since I came here and only saw a little from the window of the airplane when I was brought in from the Netherlands,” Abdul Basit said sarcastically. “I was in a terrible condition and the security was unusually tight,” he added.
What about Al-Amin? Do you still keep in touch or have you lost contact? I asked him.
“I know that he has suffered a great deal. I was happy that he went home. It is not true what the Scottish newspapers have reported that I am in constant contact with him. I have only talked to him once since he returned to Tripoli and that was when a relative told me that he was asking about me. It was a short phone call; I asked about his health and also asked him to write to me.”
Have you had any letters from him? I asked.
“No,” he answered sadly.
Abdul Basit recalled when his eldest daughter’s marriage ceremony was held in prison. “We held the ceremony right here, on this very table we are sitting at now,” he said. “The groom is a polite young man from a good family. He came with his family to the prison where we had the ceremony and celebrated the occasion together. Later both families celebrated in Tripoli and the bride now lives there after having received a degree in language studies while she was in Scotland,” he added.
The difficulties that Abdul Basit’s family experience are resolved by the Libyan Consulate. The house his family lives in as well as the children’s education is taken care of by the consulate. There were, unfortunately, some difficulties when the Ministry of Interior insisted that the children be expelled from school because their legal stay had expired. The Scottish educators, however, refused to do so, saying that the children had nothing to do with the circumstances they found themselves in and like all children, they had a right to an education.
Abdul Basit remembers former South African President Nelson Mandela visiting him and how he stressed the importance of moving the Libyan to a Muslim country where he could serve his life sentence.
“Is there an Islamic country which the West trusts?” Abdul Basit asked.
The visit with Abdul Basit lasted for more than an hour and 15 minutes. I felt sorry because I was taking up the private time he should be spending with his family which is allowed to him every two weeks.
As I left, he took my hand and asked: “Do you think that there might be developments that would change my situation?”
“I am sure of that,” I replied.
He shook his wife’s hand and we were escorted out by the same woman who had brought us into the meeting room.
“Don’t forget the appointment with your doctor,” he reminded his wife as she left.
- 14 September 2003