Guantánamo holds family at bay

The impersonal white postcards bearing the return address "Camp X-Ray" stopped arriving more than a year ago.

Rabiye Kurnaz took little comfort from the short, vague messages she received from her son, who has been a detainee at the prison camp at Guantánamo Bay for nearly two years, but they let her know he was alive. Since then, Mrs. Kurnaz has all but given up trying to contact Murat or understand why he's being held.

"My youngest son often asks, 'What is he doing there, mama?' " says Rabiye Kurnaz. "And I have to answer: 'I don't know.' "

Neither do Mr. Kurnaz's friends, his lawyer, nor German investigators. Since January 2002, Kurnaz, who just turned 22, has been one of more than 600 prisoners held in legal limbo. A German resident alien, born and raised in western Germany, yet holding Turkish citizenship, is one of an estimated 20 Europeans at Guantánamo Bay.

Their detention has been a flashpoint in the transatlantic relationship virtually since the camp's inception. Senior diplomats and judges, as well as human rights groups, have not minced their words in criticizing both the camp and treatment of prisoners.

Last fall, the European Parliament took the Bush administration to task for denying prisoners access to legal review.

"Even the worst criminals must have the right to a fair trial," said Graham Watson, who heads the liberal democrat group in the parliament.

In November, the US Supreme Court agreed to review a case brought on behalf of 16 Guantánamo Bay defendants challenging the Bush administration's right to hold them without due process. In the coming weeks, Kurnaz's lawyer, Bernhard Docke, will decide whether to add his client's name to the list of prisoners who have filed suit.

The Court's decision has already produced some results, say lawyers for the detainees. Since November, 60 prisoners have been freed, according to the Pentagon, which says the releases are simply part of an ongoing process. By comparison, 44 were released between October 2002 and July 2003.

Among the recent releases were five British prisoners, two of whom are named in the suit before the Supreme Court. The Spanish, Danish, and Russian governments have also lobbied successfully for the release of their citizens.

But for the past two years, Mr. Docke, Kurnaz's slight, bespectacled human rights lawyer, has been able to do little more than gather information on his client in 10 thick binders.

"I'm in an absurd situation," says Docke, sitting in his airy, bright Bremen office. "I don't know the charges, my client, or whom to sue. It's something between Kafka and Orwell."

As perplexing is Kurnaz's path from well-adjusted teen to "Detainee JJJFA."

The eldest of four children, he was spoiled by his mother and father, who live in a simple, three-level brick home not far from the DaimlerChrysler plant where his father works.

He fitted seamlessly into the multicultural landscape of the city, whose shipyards and car plants attracted thousands of Turkish "guest workers" invited by the German government to work in the 1960s and 1970s. The city had many sons like Murat, who mixed Friday prayers at the mosque with Saturday night discos and German girlfriends.

Page: 1 | 2