SOKE, Turkey: Those in the small Turkish town of Soke who knew Mevlut Altintas, the smartly dressed, clean-shaven young man who shot dead Russia’s ambassador last week, recall a lonely taciturn boy twice rejected by university before leaving home and joining the police.
Altintas was 22 when he shot Andrei Karlov in the back at an Ankara art gallery before being himself gunned down by police. Few in Soke would have recognized the figure in black suit and tie who stood near the diplomat’s body screaming about Aleppo.
For his family, as for Karlov’s, it was a tragedy.
“I have always admired their son,” said a next-door neighbor, who spoke to Reuters from behind her closed door and from time to time broke down in tears. “He was respectful and calm, a very nice young man.
“When the police arrived at the door, we assumed he had been killed on duty and they were here to tell the family of his martyrdom. The mother was devastated when she heard,” the neighbor said.
The Dec. 20 killing, for many, illustrated the turmoil in a country that has been transformed under Tayyip Erdogan. Turkey has to contend with conflicts across the border in Syria and Iraq, and Kurdish insurrection and attacks by Daesh at home.
The police force Altintas served, as a member of the riot squad, is also in some tumult, its command and rank-and-file purged of what Erdogan calls traitors and terrorists after a failed coup against him in July. The Turkish police has long had secret networks and allegiances in its ranks.
Altintas’ family lives on the fourth floor and laundry could still be seen hanging out on the balcony, two days after police detained them for questioning. Media said they were later released.
His father, Israfil Altintas, said he had spoken to his son by phone on the day of the attack. The young man’s behavior started changing after he became friends at police academy with a man identified as Sercan B.
“As far as I know, he was not a member of any terrorist organization, religious network or group,” Israfil Altintas told police, according to Turkish broadcaster Haberturk.
“However, he started becoming focused on his prayers, more introverted and silent after he became a policeman.”
Israfil said his son had ignored his suggestion that he should remain in Izmir and had gone with Sercan to Ankara, where they lived in the same house.
His mother, Hamidiye Altintas, said she had also called her son on the day of the attack.
“He asked, ‘What are you doing, Mom?’, and I told him I was on a visit and would call him when I was available. He then hung up, saying ‘Alright Mom, be in God’s care, give me your blessing.’
“My son was an introverted and silent boy,” she said.
Former acquaintances of Altintas recall a distant figure who spent much of his time with his step-sister and grandmother. No-one seemed to know of any open allegiance to Gulen in young adulthood.
“He was always in need of help,” said Bahri Gokciyel, who was from the same neighborhood and now works at a teahouse in Soke, a lower-middle-class town of 117,000 overshadowed by the upscale resorts that dot the Aegean coast.
“He was a silent kid who had no friends all through school,” he said, adding that Altintas twice failed to get a place at university.
Whatever his academic shortcomings, Altintas planned the killing meticulously, scouting out the gallery in advance, calling in sick on the day of the attack and using his police ID to bypass security checks and get into the venue with a gun.
Although Altintas lived in Ankara, he came home from time to time and was seen by neighbors.
“Mert stayed with his grandmother a lot, and we used to see him on the street when we played games,” said 22-year-old Tolga Tosun, who grew up with Altintas, and now is involved in local politics for the main secular opposition party, the CHP, the dominant party in Soke.
“He never joined, and he never spoke to anyone. He was always alone and silent,” Tosun added.
Altintas was 22 when he shot Andrei Karlov in the back at an Ankara art gallery before being himself gunned down by police. Few in Soke would have recognized the figure in black suit and tie who stood near the diplomat’s body screaming about Aleppo.
For his family, as for Karlov’s, it was a tragedy.
“I have always admired their son,” said a next-door neighbor, who spoke to Reuters from behind her closed door and from time to time broke down in tears. “He was respectful and calm, a very nice young man.
“When the police arrived at the door, we assumed he had been killed on duty and they were here to tell the family of his martyrdom. The mother was devastated when she heard,” the neighbor said.
The Dec. 20 killing, for many, illustrated the turmoil in a country that has been transformed under Tayyip Erdogan. Turkey has to contend with conflicts across the border in Syria and Iraq, and Kurdish insurrection and attacks by Daesh at home.
The police force Altintas served, as a member of the riot squad, is also in some tumult, its command and rank-and-file purged of what Erdogan calls traitors and terrorists after a failed coup against him in July. The Turkish police has long had secret networks and allegiances in its ranks.
Altintas’ family lives on the fourth floor and laundry could still be seen hanging out on the balcony, two days after police detained them for questioning. Media said they were later released.
His father, Israfil Altintas, said he had spoken to his son by phone on the day of the attack. The young man’s behavior started changing after he became friends at police academy with a man identified as Sercan B.
“As far as I know, he was not a member of any terrorist organization, religious network or group,” Israfil Altintas told police, according to Turkish broadcaster Haberturk.
“However, he started becoming focused on his prayers, more introverted and silent after he became a policeman.”
Israfil said his son had ignored his suggestion that he should remain in Izmir and had gone with Sercan to Ankara, where they lived in the same house.
His mother, Hamidiye Altintas, said she had also called her son on the day of the attack.
“He asked, ‘What are you doing, Mom?’, and I told him I was on a visit and would call him when I was available. He then hung up, saying ‘Alright Mom, be in God’s care, give me your blessing.’
“My son was an introverted and silent boy,” she said.
Former acquaintances of Altintas recall a distant figure who spent much of his time with his step-sister and grandmother. No-one seemed to know of any open allegiance to Gulen in young adulthood.
“He was always in need of help,” said Bahri Gokciyel, who was from the same neighborhood and now works at a teahouse in Soke, a lower-middle-class town of 117,000 overshadowed by the upscale resorts that dot the Aegean coast.
“He was a silent kid who had no friends all through school,” he said, adding that Altintas twice failed to get a place at university.
Whatever his academic shortcomings, Altintas planned the killing meticulously, scouting out the gallery in advance, calling in sick on the day of the attack and using his police ID to bypass security checks and get into the venue with a gun.
Although Altintas lived in Ankara, he came home from time to time and was seen by neighbors.
“Mert stayed with his grandmother a lot, and we used to see him on the street when we played games,” said 22-year-old Tolga Tosun, who grew up with Altintas, and now is involved in local politics for the main secular opposition party, the CHP, the dominant party in Soke.
“He never joined, and he never spoke to anyone. He was always alone and silent,” Tosun added.
