For Christchurch survivors, killer's sudden guilty plea is an answer to prayer
Those injured or bereaved in the Christchurch attacks on 15 March only found out about the court hearing when their phones started buzzing with calls and messages after it had finished. They felt joy, relief, and utter shock.
“It was completely out of the blue,” says Aya Al-Umari, 34, whose brother Hussein Al-Umari, then 35, was killed at Al Noor mosque last year. The gunman had initially pleaded not guilty to the counts of murder, attempted murder, and terrorism, with a lengthy trial due to begin in June. On Thursday, he abruptly changed his plea to guilty.
Al-Umari scarcely believes the news, which arrived when she had just finished her morning prayers, in which she asked that justice would be served in the case.
“This is one of the things I pray for, periodically I don’t but today I did,” she says. Then a message arrived telling her the gunman had pleaded guilty. “I thought – that was fast. The line of communication must have been open.”
The gunman – who broadcast footage of his attacks live on Facebook, and posted a manifesto seeking an audience for his white supremacist views and killing spree – admitted to his crimes in front of just 17 people, each sitting considerable distances apart to avoid the risk posed by coronavirus. He had written of his plans to use his trial as a platform for his views, so for many, including Al-Umari, his sudden change of mind was bewildering.
“It’s good but I’m conflicted because now I have more questions than I have answers,” she says. “But in a good way.”
“Now that he is accepting he is guilty he is saving lots of people’s time,” says Temel Atacocugu, who survived nine bullets from the killer in Al Noor mosque.
Thursday’s hearing at the Christchurch high court was so hastily convened that reporters were told of it only on Wednesday evening and most of the survivors and bereaved families were unaware it was happening. Because of New Zealand’s strict lockdown measures, which came into effect at midnight and prevent people leaving their homes except for essential purposes, just two representatives of the Muslim community were permitted to attend: the imams of the two attacked mosques, both of whom were present during the attacks.
Privately, some of those affected asked why they had not been allowed to watch proceedings by video call, and why they had not been given more warning of the hearing or its content. Most heard of the guilty pleas 10 minutes before the media reported them, and some learned the news from reporters.
But most were happy the ordeal of the court process was over bar the sentencing, which will take place when the national lockdown is over.
‘To me he’s already dead’
Noraini Abbas, who survived the attacks at Al Noor where her son, Sayyad Milne, 14, was killed, says the admission of guilt was “a blessing”.
“I don’t want to think anything about him. To me, he killed my son, and to me, he’s already dead,” she said. “I feel that the punishment is really enough that he feels guilty. I don’t care any more.”
Atacocugu says it is “very important” the killer receive “the highest punishment ever seen in New Zealand history”. “It needs to show people that terrorism is not acceptable in New Zealand.”
No one has ever been sentenced to life with no chance of parole in New Zealand before.
Maysoon Salama, whose son, Atta Elayyan, was killed at Al Noor and whose husband was badly injured, was earlier part of a group petitioning the government to allow the death penalty. They had been told that would not be considered.
“According to Islam the punishment is really that he doesn’t deserve to be alive because he gave himself the permission to take the soul of not only one, but 51,” she says.
When the Guardian visited Christchurch last month, ahead of the oneyear anniversary of the attacks on 15 March, conversation frequently turned to the bewilderment, anxiety, and at times defiance survivors and bereaved relatives felt before the trial. At the time, those comments could not be reported because they risked affecting the accused’s right to be treated as innocent until proven guilty.
The case had presented a challenge to reporters: suppression orders, and the man’s right to a fair trial, had to be respected – even though the gunman had broadcasted the attack live on Facebook in a video posted under his name that also showed his face.
After his court appearances, survivors and the bereaved often stopped outside the courthouse to vent their frustrations to journalists, in comments that also could not be reported.
In October, Wasseim Alsati – who was shot along with his four-year-old daughter at Al Noor – lamented that the gunman was distressing the families by smiling and laughing during his hearings.
“When he is pleading not guilty, he’s saying that there’s nothing bad that he has done,” Alsati said at the time. “And by law he’s got the right to do that. But what about the others? What are their rights? Is it our rights to just be patient and see him happy all that time?”
On Thursday, the thoughts of victims turned to what they might say at the sentencing, which has been set nominally for 1 May, but could be held later because of the Covid-19 pandemic. Many said they were keen to speak and some already knew what they would say, including Temel Atacocugu.
“We are the winners and you are the loser,” he said.