An Aborted Interview

Since security agencies in Iran these days intervene and interfere in cyberspace activities and by sending various emails and news attempt to misinform and disrupt cyber public activities, I decided to ignore this email. While it is true that in his mail, the man had had sworn that he had been against the recent events in the country and had even written, “you do not know what kind of beasts we are dealing with here” [meaning security and police agents], I was still not fully convinced to trust him. But my curiosity persisted, and I dialed 00989191669961 (the long distance telephone number for calling Iran from outside the country).

The phone rang 4, 5, 6 times and no one answered the call. With each ring came a greater degree of disappointment. Then I heard the voice of a young girl who sounded disoriented as she said, “Baleh”, the Farsi for yes.

• May I speak with Mr. Sadri

• And you are?

• I am calling from a newspaper. Rooz Online Internet newspaper.

There was a short silence and then I heard her say, “Daddy, they are calling you from a newspaper.”

I heard more sounds in the distance, and eventually Mr. Sadri came to the phone. His voice said it all: sad and with quivers.

• Yes?

• Alo

• Please go ahead.

• Hello

He replied to my greeting with a bitter response.

• Salam alaikum

• We have heard something terrible has happened to your son. We wanted to express our condolences to you.

Another noise came from the background and then he said, “Nothing is clear yet.”

I ignored this.

• Do you know whether he has been killed? Where was he killed?

• No, it is not clear at this time. I am searching for him all over. It is not clear now.

I deliberately used the past tense to check him.

• How old was your son?

His voice broke up.

• 25 years, maam, 25.

I heard voices and noise coming from his house, as if someone cried. Then I heard someone say, “I hope his mother dies” [an expression used in Iran when a mother hears very bad news regarding her child and wishes that she was the victim not her child.]

• What did she say?

• Nothing.

• So you do not know whether he is alive or not?

• No, nothing is clear at this time.

• When you went looking for him to the authorities today, what did they say?

• They gave no answer. They said they would provide an answer tomorrow.

• Do you think he may have gone to the demonstrations and something may have happened there?

• That is possible. Possible.

Again I heard a weeping sound from inside the house on the other side.

• What was that? - Nothing.

I asked again.

• What did they tell you there?

• Nothing maam. Nothing.

• You must be very disturbed.

I could hear his pain.

• How would you feel if your 25 year old son was hurt?

• It is very clear how I would feel.

Silence

• What did he do?

• He worked at a private company.

• What else did they tell you there?

• Nothing, maam! I have nothing to say.

• Mr. Sadri, has your son not been killed?

He responded with confusion:

• I don’t know.

• What do you mean you don’t know: he is either there or not there.

• I don’t know.

I heard a scream.

• Was that your wife?

He replied in confusion and disturbed:

• No, it is a child.

• Then …

And the line was cut.

As I held the receiver in my hand, I thought perhaps the news of the death of this man’s son was not correct. I hoped the news was wrong. But I could not let go of this. So I called again, hoping may be I could talk to his sister. Ask for his name, etc.

I called again. The same long rings without a response. Then I heard someone pick up the receiver and bang it hard on the table unit. I thought to myself: why?

I would probably never have the answer to this question if I had the telephone not rang 5 minutes later. I answered the call.

 

• Did you just call here

- Excuse me, who are you?

He repeated his question:

• Did you phone Mr. Sadri’s house?

- Who is this?

A short silence and then:

• I am his relative.

- OK. What is the new?

• Who gave you the phone number?

- What is the difference? Has anything happened?

He repeated his question as if it was a tape:

• Who gave you the phone number?

It is one of the advantages of being out of reach of these “brothers”, as they like to be called, and so I said:

• Sir, we are familiar with such voices. Are you a security brother? What is it, they are not allowed to talk?

- Why do you wish to talk with them?

I repeated my question:

• Are you from the security agencies? Who are you?

- What do you want from them?

• I am a journalist and because I have heard of the death of their son I would like to speak with them.

• You cannot!

• Why?

• You can’t.

• If you do not let me, then I will call the office …

And as I came to this point, I was wondering where or whom can I call? Which government office? Which government minister? Even though I have no answer, I must pursue this.

• The office of the supreme leader of Iran!

No response for a while. Then:

• Call back in 5 minutes. I must consult with someone.

Again the same sound of a receiver being banged on the table unit.

I called again, but no one answered my call. This interview was cut short, it was aborted. The security agent temporarily intervened in the gloomy atmosphere, and then leaves. Does he really believe that this is the end of the affair and the curtain has fallen?