Interview
Samereh Alinejad tells the Guardian she had no intention of sparing her son's
killer, Balal, until the moment she asked for the noose to be removed from his
neck
The Guardian, Saeed Kamali Dehghan, Friday
25 April 2014
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Samereh Alinejad, right, slapping blindfolded Balal, who was convicted of murdering her son Abdollah. Photograph: Arash Khamoushi/AP |
The idea
she might pardon her son's killer first came to Samereh Alinejad in a dream. It
was a message she didn't want to hear.
Abdollah
Hosseinzadeh was stabbed and killed in a street brawl in the autumn of 2007
when he was only 18. He had known his killer, Balal. The two, barely out of
their teens at the time, had played football together. Abdollah was the second
son Alinejad had lost, her youngest died as a boy in a motorbike accident when
he was 11. Furious in her grief, she was determined Balal would hang.
But as
Balal's execution date drew nearer, Abdollah appeared to his mother in a series
of vivid dreams.
"Ten
days before the execution was due, I saw my son in a dream asking me not to
take revenge, but I couldn't convince myself to forgive," she told the
Guardian. "Two nights before that day, I saw him in the dream once again,
but this time he refused to speak to me."
Speaking by
phone from Iran's northern Mazandaran province, on the Caspian Sea, Alinejad
said she had no intention of sparing Balal's life until the moment she asked
for the noose to be removed from his neck. Her last-minute pardon was a remarkable
act of humanity that moved hearts across Iran – and the world – but it took
Alinejad by surprise as much as it did Balal, his relatives and her own family.
A stream of
relatives, her brother and her mother, flowed through her house the night
before the execution. Painfully aware of the grief she had carried in the seven
years since her son was killed, none of them attempted to change her mind.
"I stood very firm in my belief that I want him punished, so they didn't
expect me to forgive."
As Abdollah's
legal guardian, Alinejad's husband Abdolghani had the power under Iranian law
to overturn the death penalty, but he had relinquished that responsibility to
his wife.
"We
couldn't sleep that night, we were all awake until morning. Until the last
minute, I didn't want to forgive. I had told my husband just two days before
that I can't forgive this man, but maybe there would be a possibility, but I
couldn't persuade myself to forgive." Alinejad had been assured: "My
husband said, look to God and let's see what happens."
In the
early hours of last Tuesday, Alinejad was outside the gates of Nour prison,
among the crowd gathered for Balal's execution.
"You
have the final say, my husband had said," she recalled. "He said
you've suffered too much, we'll do as you say."
After
recitation from the Qur'an was read, prison guards had hooked a rope around
Balal's neck as he stood on a chair blindfolded, his hands tied behind his
back. Iran's Islamic penal code allows the victim's heir –
"walli-ye-dam" – to personally execute the condemned man as Qisas
(retribution) – in this case by pushing away the chair he was standing on.
Seconds
away from what could have been his final breath, Balal pleaded for his life and
called out for mercy. "Please forgive," he shouted, "if only for
my mum and dad," Alinejad recalled. "I was angry, I shouted back how
can I forgive, did you show mercy to my son's mum and dad?"
Others in
the crowd watching the scene in anguish also called out for the family to spare
Balal's life. "Amoo Ghani (uncle Ghani), forgive," they shouted,
calling the victim's father by his first name.
Balal's
fate then took an unexpected turn. Alinejad clambered up on a stool and rather
than pushing away his chair, slapped him across the face.
"After
that, I felt as if rage vanished within my heart. I felt as if the blood in my
veins began to flow again," she said. "I burst into tears and I
called my husband and asked him to come up and remove the noose." Within
seconds, as Abdolghani unhooked the rope from Balal's neck, he was declared
pardoned.
Balal's
mother Kobra, sobbing, reached across the fence separating the crowd from the
execution site, and embraced Alinejad before reaching to kiss her feet – a
gesture of respect and gratitude. "I didn't allow her to do that, I took
her arm and made her stand up … she was just a mother like me, after all."
Arash
Khamoushi, a photographer for Iranian news agency Isna, captured the
extraordinary scene in a series of pictures that flooded internet sites,
newspapers and television sets across the world. Among the most poignant images
is of the mothers, facing each other for the first time, holding one another in
their arms.
"She
was extremely happy, it was as if someone had given her wings to fly,"
Alinejad said. Hours ulater, after sparing one woman's child, she went to visit
her own son's grave.
Abdollah
was brought up in a religious family. Alinejad is a housewife, Abdolghani is a
retired labourer who works as football coach in the local club where both
Abdollah and Balal used to play. Having lost both their sons, the couple now
have only their daughter. Balal remains in jail. A victim's family can only
save a killer's life, they can't lift a jail sentence, which is at the
discretion of the judiciary in Iran, which has the worst record for executions
worldwide after China.
Alinejad
has not spoken to Balal's family other than when they met at Nour prison.
"I didn't utter a single word to them in all these years, nor complain
directly about why their son killed mine," she said. "But they're in
touch with our relatives.
"Balal
was naive. He didn't want to kill, it wasn't in his nature, he was angry in
seconds and had a knife in his hand."
Finding
herself suddenly a figure of inspiration for people across the world, Alinejad
has one lesson she hopes her tragedy will help others to learn: "For young
people not to carry knives when they're going out. When they kill a person,
they don't just kill that person, mums and dads die too as a result."
She is
pleased, she said, so many people were happy with her decision: "I'm glad
when people now call me their mum."
One week
after pardoning Balal, Alinejad has found a peace lost since her son's death.
"Losing a child is like losing a part of your body. All these years, I
felt like a moving dead body," she said. "But now, I feel very calm,
I feel I'm at peace. I feel that vengeance has left my heart."
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Balal's mother, left and Hosseinzadeh's mother embrace after
the execution was halted. Photograph: Arash Khamooshi/Isna
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