The man
who would testify against Sharon is blown up. Was this another targeted
killing?
By Robert Fisk in Beirut
Elie
Hobeika: lady-killer and blood-soaked war criminal
Who
on earth would want to murder the key witness for the prosecution in a war
crimes indictment against the Israeli Prime Minister, Ariel Sharon?
Why would anyone want
to car-bomb the former Lebanese Phalangist militia leader and government
minister Elie Hobeika in Beirut – less than two days after he agreed to
give evidence against Mr Sharon in a Belgian court, which may try the
Israeli leader for the murder of up to 1,700 Palestinian civilians in the
Sabra and Chatila refugee camps in September, 1982?
Elie Hobeika, of
course, will not be giving evidence against Mr Sharon. His body – in bits,
some bones blackened by fire – were all that remained of Lebanon's most
hated man yesterday, scattered 50 metres from his burning Range Rover.
Call it a
"targeted killing"; which, by chance, is how the Israelis
describe their death squad execution of Palestinian militants in the West
Bank and Gaza. The man who led his murderers into the Palestinian camps on
Israel's orders 19 years ago was dead – to the jubilation of millions of
Palestinians. "Our blood was not in vain," they screamed
yesterday in the refugee camp of Bourj el-Barajneh.
When I reached the
cramped Beirut Christian suburb of Hazmiyeh a few minutes later, all that
was left was Hobeika's smouldering, shattered Range Rover, a fiercely
burning Mercedes – in which the bomb had been placed – and carbonised
skeletons.
It needed at least four
men to assassinate Hobeika – one outside his home 100 metres away to alert
the bombers, another to have guarded the car bomb, two more to have
"line of sight" and press the detonation switch.
Within hours, Belgian
lawyers seeking to indict Mr Sharon – the Israeli defence had only finished
giving its reasons for opposing a trial on Wednesday – expressed their
"profound shock" at Hobeika's murder.
"Mr Hobeika had
several times expressed his wish to assist the Belgian inquiry on the
massacres at Sabra and Chatila," a statement from the lawyers said.
"His determination to do so was reported widely on the eve of his
assassination. The elimination of the key protagonist who offered to assist
with the inquiry is an obvious attempt to undermine our case."
In this area of
Christian east Beirut, Hizbollah militia men or Syrian agents would have a
hard task to set up such a murderous ambush. Which was why I couldn't find
a single Lebanese who didn't believe Israel was behind the killing.
"Just watch who gets murdered next," a policeman muttered. "Relatives
will want revenge – and we'll be able to find out who the murderers
were."
Less than two days
before the killing, at 5pm on Tuesday, to be exact, Hobeika had met two
Belgian senators, Josy Dubie and Vincent van Quickenborne, in east Beirut,
agreeing to be a witness at any trial for the Sabra and Chatila massacre.
The meeting was supposed to be secret: Hobeika reportedly told the Belgians
he had been threatened with death, but it was leaked to the Lebanese press.
This may have been Hobeika's death certificate.
Just before 10am
yesterday, he was driving his blue Range Rover from his home on Marroukoz
Street with his three bodyguards, Dmitri Ajram, Walid Zein and Faris
Suedan, when a white Mercedes 280 – parked in a basement garage level with
the road – blew up. An estimated 100 kilos of explosives blasted Hobeika's
vehicle across the narrow highway, killing all four men instantly.
Arshalouis
Katchadourian, an Armenian woman living across the road, ran to her window
to see if her grandmother Verikine had survived in her apartment above the
car bomb. "First I heard the explosion," she said. "Then I
saw a fireball and so much smoke. But there was a man with a Kalashnikov
firing lots of bullets. I thought 'someone is going to kill him'. But who
was he?" Nobody knows.
Charbel Moussalem, whose sister was wounded on his
apartment balcony, says he saw only smoke and fire enveloping the building
above the car bomb. "Elie Hobeika often drove down this road to his
office," he said. "Not every day. But we knew him." So did
the murderers.
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