Thursday, November 23, 2017

Letter from axel 18nov 2017

Dear Gareth
In the course of two and a half years l have got to know you well enough to understand what your life is all about. Your story and its ramifications, trials, terrors, tribulations, temptations, truths and untruths told so searingly honest has been a veritable education to me, who thought l had one.
It is a tale of profit and loss, courage and endurance such as l have not encountered in  all literature.
Having covered  most of the journals there still many questions l want to ask, but you must be so tired of them by now that l must ask them after my work is almost done.
It is a modern story of gathering and scattering according to seasons the is recorded in Ecclesiastes.
Most impressive is the underlying faith you have despite the hostile environment regarding that.

I hope l live long enough to complete this so that justice to your cause can be done.The journals map the route you have taken  through family, friendships, education, army, profession, business, life experience, need, compensation, fortunes gained and lost, freedom won and lost, and existential angst, trauma and pain in the very core of your being. At this point you are surrounded by positive people all working in your cause.
These appear as bright stars in a darkening universe, with Gavin, Carlos, Nick, Kim and Yianni, Kim S and Shireen prominent among them.

The trouble in Kim S's life caused by her son's erratic educational progress and flirtation with harmful substances has occasioned intense night prayers in sleep and out of sleep from me.

They see a psycholgist today.
Then Shireen's trauma that night has similarly brought about night prayers through broken sleep and quiet awakenings. My own mother, an imperious lady with whom l had a strained and difficult relationship, would say l can't live people's lives for them. True, but one of my characteristics is empathy. I suppose it is this feature l could  use to train emotional casualties and social misfits at school through drama the rapy.
But now all that is gone, and here l am still doing what l did all those years ago. Healing through story telling. Some folk, like the two ladies recently introduced, are  capable of great and vivid articulation. This is what becomes so clear to me - all possess a strong presencd, an incisive style of relationship and recording of their stories so vividly that l am in awe of such reality and what l must learn still. There can be no substitute for real life when it comes to writing. You have it, l have it, they have it. All as individual as a fingerprint and as universal as a galaxy of stars.You will know then there us not a page in your collected writings that does not affect a visceral response in the reader. Because your experience is so real it must reach a wider readership. I am only a courier. TS Eliot, one of my favourite poets, says in Little Gidding something to the effect that after all we have experienced we arrive at the place  where we began and know it for the first time.This is indeed what has happened to me. I just hope  l don't  run around in circles like a marble in a revolving cup.

Yours, as always,  in the cause of free spirits

AXEL B

Here’s wishing you a safe countdown to your release and  your freedom.

 

I know the challenges are going to be great, but at least you will have a chance to recover from the trauma and the endless waiting, not to mention the dislocation of your life. You have indeed been blessed by your friends and your family during this period.

 

The most important thing that I have gathered from this saga is that you will have left behind you a number of sincere friendships and a fine example of selflessness. Your transition from bewildered and frantic prisoner to a balanced and well-controlled inmate may have left a lasting impression of both those with whom you were incarcerated and those who incarcerated you. That I believe is the central tone of the writing. There is still much to write yet and edit. So again patience becomes essential.

 
10th aug 2018 book progress

Some of the work I have done has required research as you know, and this was not easy, nor was it pleasant. Circumstances may have changed, but human nature stays essentially the same. There have been times when I have shared your trauma in the second and the third degree to the extent of needing anti-depressants myself. Compassion is an essential sentiment, but can be costly.
If anything, I have learned never to take anything for granted, especially the goodwill of others and the freedom surrounding one alone and in company. I shall continue working in your interests (i.e. writing) as long as it may take.

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: "Axel and Ruby" <axelruby@gmail.com>
Date: Feb 28, 2018 7:49 AM
Subject: Upping the stakes
To: "Gareth Rutherford" <rutherfordgareth@gmail.com>
Cc:

Dear Gareth

It comes as no surprise that your stance on your innocence in the course of the last ten years has not changed. The persons responsible  for your present circumstances have benefitted largely by your sentence and incarceration, and most of them are  unchallenged.

It is my  belief that the work l have been doing over the last year has not been in vain. It slows down then it picks  up pace as l research the background of each section.

The negatives have been the climax of the setuo, arrest, trial and incarceration. The positives  have been your assimilation  into a new and potentially hostile environment which may have (and may yet) altered your thinking and attitude. You have made circumstantial friendships and strong interpersonal connections. You have adapted yourself to the milieus of society and faith within the context  you find yourself. You have earned the respect of your jailers. People  far and wide have supported your cause. All of us outside know, love  and care for  you,  but have been overwhelmed by the fact that despite your innocence, you have been kept inside relentless of the injustice of your sentence. Finally, the damage done  to your family is unconscionable. That alone deserves the utmost compassion and the condemnation  if those who pinned this charge in you. I know about taquiya, and jihad methods, and know it is embedded in the regional  faith. I have no issues to discuss in that regard since  it is a regional belief, and particular to its people.  It does become very frightening when such principles  are deployed to entrap and destroy the worthy and the innocent to negative advantage in the extention of an imperial and supremacist dream.

Small man you may be in the eyes of the general public who  know little about  about you. But to us you  stand tall as a giant in spirit and principle.

I continue  to write and hope l shall complete my work to facilitate your freedom. 

Yours 

APB. 

Just thought you might be interested to see this letter by my ghostwriter.. Axel in simonstown

Thursday, October 26, 2017

Book progress from axel Nov 2017

Dear Gareth
In the course of two and a half years l have got to know you well enough to understand what your life is all about. Your story and its ramifications, trials, terrors, tribulations, temptations, truths and untruths told so searingly honestly, has been a veritable education to me, who thought l had one.
It is a tale of profit and loss, courage and endurance such as l have not encountered in  all literature.
Having covered  most of the journals there are still many questions l want to ask, but you must be so tired of them by now that l must ask them after my work is almost done.

It is a modern story of gathering and scattering according to the seasons as  recorded in Ecclesiastes.
Most impressive is the underlying faith you have, despite the hostile environment regarding that.
I hope l live long enough to complete this so that justice to your cause can be done.
The journals map the route you have taken  through family, friendships, education, army, profession, business, life experience, need, compensation, fortunes gained and lost, freedom won and lost, and existential angst, trauma and pain in the very core of your being. At this point you are surrounded by positive people all working in your cause. These appear as bright stars in a darkening universe, with Gavin, Carlos, Nick, Kim and Yianni, Kim S and Shireen prominent among them.

The brief trouble in Kim S's life caused by her son's erratic educational progress and flirtation with harmful substances occasioned intense night prayers in sleep and out of sleep from me. They saw a psycholgist today.
Then Shireen's trauma that night has similarly brought about night prayers through broken sleep and quiet awakenings.

My own mother, an imperious lady with whom l had a strained and difficult relationship, would say l can't live people's lives for them.
True, but one of my characteristics is empathy.
I suppose it is this feature l could  use to train emotional casualties and social misfits at school through drama the rapy. But now all that is gone, and here l am still doing what l did all those years ago. Healing through story telling.

Some folk, like the two ladies recently introduced, are  capable of great and vivid articulation. This is what becomes so clear to me - all possess a strong presence, and an incisive style of relationship and recording of their stories so vividly that l am in awe of such reality, and what l must learn still. There can be no substitute for real life when it comes to writing.
You have it, l have it, they have it.
All as individual as a fingerprint and as universal as a galaxy of stars.
You will know then, there is not a page in your collected writings that does not affect a visceral response in the reader. Because your experience is so real it must reach a wider readership. I am only a courier. 

TS Eliot, one of my favourite poets, says in Little Giddings, something to the effect that, after all we have experienced we arrive at the place  where we began, and know it for the first time.
This is indeed what has happened to me. I just hope  l don't  run around in circles like a marble in a revolving cup.

Yours, as always,  in the cause of free spirits
AXEL B

Friday, May 12, 2017

If.. Rudyard Kipling

"If." ... by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you  
    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,  
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
    But make allowance for their doubting too;  
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;  
    If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;  
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
    And treat those two impostors just the same;  
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
    And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
    To serve your turn long after they are gone,  
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
    Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,  
    Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
    If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,  
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,  
    And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!


Friday, March 10, 2017

Ch (15) One Turn of Pitch and Toss

March 2017 ..

I try to keep my head together when it seems the world is in such a turmoil.
Confidence in myself, as all who doubt me and the simple truths Ive shared.

Details that are viewed with suspicion and even contempt.
But I listen to them, and I learn as the subversive antagonists conspire in their lucrative plunders.
Their lies and manipulations continue unabated and in full view daily.

Looking back over the years at my achievements and great prides, I see now only shattered memories and dreams of what could have been.

Everything Ive ever worked for, with dilligence and applomb, now so depleted.. broken and lost.
But not ever me or my resolve to recover... and then a chance to try again.

I am better now and stronger every day and better set to face the trials that glitter on the horizon.
My determination enhanced by the challenges and greater confidence in my abilities and endurance.

There are many great and honourable men.. fellows who inspire and encourage my every step.
Men who follow me closely toward a certain success.
There is much work to be done
and these successes will be widely shared amidst a lot of fun.
I ve taken my chances in life and that wont change.
Ive tripped up and lost it all in a day.. but I will recover and continue on better again
and pay it forward.

Friday, February 3, 2017

By Great Friends Encouragement

Dear Gareth,

Thank you all this amazing, particularized narrative.

Your honesty and integrity are as truly remarkable as your ability to write. There can be no doubt that your life was in reflection dramatic and spectacular.
The recent experience seems almost as if it was a turn of the screw, intensifying your experience. You are more than qualified to write your own story and make it literature.

I believe that you do not need an emanuensis to script your story, only a recorder and an analyst. This you have in three persons, if not more.

Once I have relayed my collated info overseas, the documents will be labelled, packed, and returned to Tammy from you can collect or have sent back upon your release.I believe you have same qualities as St Paul, because of your Christian witness.

You have saved lives, given life, brought release and peace to some of those unfortunates with you. Your own intense suffering has so sharpened your wits so as to more than qualify your writing for a more permanent place in the literature of our times.Remain the shining example you are in the very hand of God. 

Monday, January 30, 2017

My old Teacher from Sacs

Gareth,
thank you so much for your amazing voice message.
One of the things that is for me so important in your message, is the huge success that your boy has achieved at Reddam.
So good to have an inspiration from a teacher who cares and who knows, there may even be some transmitted inspiration from you in spite of what his mother has done and is doing.

You must be so proud of his academic achievement.
Hopefully you will have an opportunity to teach him some of the basic truths of life still.
I will continue to connect with you and visit Tammy to keep track of developments.
You are such an incredibly brave person and maybe Leo Benning and Tony your swimming coach, were right and it is that instinct that came through in the military and now while going through this endless ordeal.
I am sure that we can sit together soon and just communicate our feelings in words and sometimes in silence at what the world has given you to endure. You are an inspiration in persistance and inordinate patience.

I hope I am an inspiration to many of the kids that I have taught and continue to teach. I try to have faith even in those who have not responded or who are part of the Rhodes/Feesmustfall group of young, inexperienced, Old Boys who have yet to endure and suffer and live some experiences.
They have not. To you, all the best for a speedy outcome in your favour and as they say in Afrikaans - 'Hou die blink kant bo.' Look to the good and the positive however tough it may seem as there is a bright light at the end of the tunnel which is the continuation of your next phase in freedom.

Take care.

Much love.

Geoff

Military 3 = The Right Stuff

.Hi G....where and when did you get awarded your HC after smokeshell..

Well.. It was a huge surprize actuallly..
The parade was in central Square in Bloemfontein shortly after my clearing out 1981.

I will try to explain how it all happened back then....

After the Angolan carnage in June1980. It was about October 1980..a few months before the end of my two years national service.
We were at a training camp in Lohatla in the Northern Cape...when I was requested, by popular demand... to be company chef.. and admittedly by my own choice.. to escape more days of gruelling training.. to the disdain of my shattered section.. who had to continue training without me.

I am not an army chef but I could cook with passion and it was very rewarding for me. 
My moms basics helped I think?
The intensely hard work was a good distraction and therapy for my deeply traumatised condition after Smokeshell.

I was busy cooking supper for the company when the whole  company was ordered to form up.

Capt Louis Harmse..the company commander, stood in front of the rows of us young men.
He addressed us all for the first time, complimenting us on our recent achievements on OpSceptic and also for the fine formation and execution of our vehicle training manoevers that week.
Then .. out  of the blue.. he announced that  o/korporaal Rutherford had been awarded the Honoris Crux for actions under fire on ops Smokeshell/sceptic

I was as shocked.. as everyone else.Haa!!.. I looked left and right and smiled at my mates thinking there was some kind of joke because I was the new chef.

We all waited for the other names .. but none came.
I didnt move.. frozen in surprize..
I didnt know what to say or think.. or how to react.. happy.. shocked.. bewildered..?
Proud.?
I stepped forward and the captain  shook my hand and the boys all clapped..I was completely stunned..but grateful for this recognition.
But for what..?
For what exactly... I had no idea.?At that stage there was no citation that I knew of ..nor any further info spoken of.

I remember the whole company getting back into the vehicles to drive back to our tents about ten km away in the veld.
There were no rowdy pats on my back.. no cheers of pride or good morale.. only business as usual.

A couple of the boys came up to me and said well done or                "congratulations".. but it was a quiet response.. if also slightly cold..I was so confused but elated I suppose... as I loaded the food containers onto the trucks amid the chatter of my compatriots.
I chose to run back to camp so I could have time to think. 
It was after five pm and I set off alone and I literally flew.. 
I never felt my feet on the hard red earth and the kilos flashed by as my mind reeled. 

I ran and ran and ran... not knowing what to say.. what think..
I  shouted to the sky and my head was awhirl..and I got lost..
 I ran right past our camp.. lost in shock and sadness. I realized then, that this award was to do with those I had attended under fire as they lay dying in the sun and the bewildering realization that I had not been killed right next to them and why was I still alive.?

Lohatla is a huge tract of wide open plains and I really went far...alone on foot out there.. I was completely lost... until luckily as it was getting dark...
I found a small group of oumanne or campers having a braai at a small group of tents. 

They sat me down and I rested... had a beer and told them what had happened..and about the medal that I was due to recieve.

They didnt know me at all ..but they cheered in wonderment at first.. and then as they realised that what I had told them was true ...raised me on their rowdy shoulders and applauded me almost like their own hero.
For exactly what.? It would take me a long time to figure it through and therefore I couldnt tell them much more than a bit about the operation we had done in Angola in June...but they guessed that it was something I must have done right.

They didnt want to let me leave and were so kind and appraising.. and...so proud of me.. and they were not even my own company..they had never seen me..but they cheered.

I explained to them that I had a kitchen to run.. food to prepare for 220 and I was late.. and they obliged me with a lift back to my group 8km back down the road I had run.

I had run 18km without even thinking.. and was super fit and strong.. and inspired.. but still lost..and lost in my head. 
And that was only the beginning of many years of coming to grips with survivor guilt and Ptsd.

Lost in my head ..as the recent deaths of my closest compatriots was fresh in my mind and that blood smell still in my nose. 

It was all so surreal and bitterly confusing as our battle group carried on training here as usual without those lost compatriots.
Lost in my head.. I became a bit morose I think.. being rewarded as my closest pals lay dead.. and notably..those in my platoon ..my team mates who were next to me there under fire in action.. equally brave... were unseen heros.. unsung ?

So ..of course I felt awkward then..
But time has helped me see it all as I step back now.
As it happens...I think I did ok..

I was seen doing the right stuff by many on the battle zone...
And most notably.. by the highest ranking officer on the operation that day.
I kept my head.. under fire.. I never ran away.. I challenged the savage enemy alone, running through their base with only my rifle and my wits.

I ran to the aid of dead and dying comrades and performed medical procedures to the book.. I thank my trainer Dr James Gibson today for much of that.
He went to the same school with me and was four years my senior.

All the ops medical that I did there was right, and I'm most proud to mention that Peter Brent was stoically by my side and completely unfazed by the extent of the blood and gore we had to contend with. The others in my section were less able to deal with the sight of such carnage and were deployed bravely in circular defense of our position, fighting off the well concealed and deadly surrounding enemy forces. All this was under the most incredibly well coordinated instructions by the platoon commander 2lt Paul Louw and Cpl Gary Braithwaite.

Peter Brent appeared over my shoulder and started helping me to get the dying soldiers into more protected positions and more comfortable as best we could, because it took us both a few vital minutes to comprehend our situation and that we were the only medical hands available. 

Initially all of our shocked responses caused further delays and confusion and I was the only able bodied soldier who dared to initiate medical procedures because of the sheer bloody carnage that suddenly faced us. 

This was not "supposed" to have happened and was not in any training manuals.
 The burnt flesh..blood and shattered bone was real.
My medical training was good but still never prepared me for the extreme dismemberment of my closest friends.

Later others gradually overcame their initial shock at the sight of such carnage and started helping  as I got the situation more under control.... and I never forgot them or what they did.

It was a great relief to have some help and not to be all alone.. with the dead and dying..Peter Brent was there and that was a great relief for me. 
I tore open shredded uniforms and severed hanging strands of skin and flesh.
I cut off a leg below the knee and picked up a foot still inside a boot.

Michael, My running partner's foot.
I bandaged and tourniqued and vomited..
 I applied heart massage and kiss of life as my face was covered in chunks of gore coming out of my desperate and dying patients.. my close friends.

I inserted drips and injected morphine on the worst.. and ..I held their bloodless dying hands and boosted their morale.. and it  was seen by all those terrified by the sight of so much blood and gore.
And it was right that someone noticed..this was not my nomination.

So.. I never got shot.. Enemy sniper bullets hit the body of the vehicle above our heads as we worked.
I should have been dead many times over.. as the others sat safe behind the machines and tucked low behind cover..as I ran around outside tending wounded.

By luck or chance or a guardian angel.. I dont know how or why.. but I survived those days.

They gave me a medal for that I think.?
... whew.!!

A huge parade in bloemfontein..centre city..

They cut the bushelters out off the square and layed out red carpets everywhere ..19 of us were honoured that day..
My mom and dad were flown in by Defence hq.

Pik Botha . PW.. Magnus... and Constand Viljoen..my father spoke with them all and swelled with pride as Constand..chief of Army,  said that my citation was most exceptional.
I met all the big wigs.. it was so scary for this little lancejack  "onderkorporaaltjie."
It was a huge parade and I was really anxious..
I never smiled because I knew that the families of the dead and all my compatriots were watching..so naturally... I was pensive and sad and I felt then , so out of place... so undeserving.. a fraud.?

 Yes of course I was proud of the great honour and recognition..but it was completely shrouded in sadness and confusion...and sealed by trauma that few would really know.

I was reserved..in respect for those that died under my hands... and my myriad of inadequacies.?
Today I look back and read the stories of all the others.. their accounts of great valour and achievement.. and I am so proud to have been there with those others.
It was because of their actions.. It was because of their competent battle efforts.... That I lived that day.

 It was such a huge team effort and I would have been dead if not for those other ratel platoons.. their fearless gunners and tenacious teams on the ground.
My actions were not only combative hand to hand facing the enemy.. but included comprehensive medical procedures under fire ..and boosting of morale under the pall of death.

As it turns out today.. it is clear ..a good few of my comrades who endured the most terrifying enemy sharps, explosive events, ran away in terror and confusion from the immediate contact zone. Some coming to further grief.. but thats another story that has no place at this stage.

So.. I look back today .. differently..my citation is well substantiated..

I see now what others did so bravely.. so selflessly.. and what I did..
And it was all good...

Today I no longer cower in sadness and regret..and guilt... but I am proud  ... that I did well ...what I was trained to do... compliments to my trainers...and when the chips were down ...  
I was on top form.!. coherent and efficient..!

And someone saw me doing that. 

I also kept a daily journal of all those events which has formed part of the historic detail we are still piecing together today. 

So in 1981..I was awarded a medal for gallantry ..along with a group of very brave soldiers from all over the country..who were on other daring operations..and who, in some way or other..had saved lives at great risk to their own.

And I was one of them.

Im still here...

Thats what happened....

Thursday, January 19, 2017

Ch (9) Rain on my Brain

19th January 2017
Ive been locked down in my tiny cell for more two weeks...
Today, at last...We were allowed to go  outside into the yard covered by steel grids.

There was no sun..
a storm was brewing..
the sky was an orange glow...
and I shivered in my thin plastic jacket as I walked down the cold long passage...

But i went on out, following the few others who appreciated the opportunity to take a breath of fresh air.
Air that has not been rebreathed or tainted so foul by these tightly closed cell blocks.
As i walked out over the dry powdery earth.. the sky opened.

This hot dry desert so long, so harsh.
The rain poured down in big heavy drops.
Bursting cool on my scalp..
was  so wow !!
I walked on out into the long bleak high walled yard as the damp smell of wet dust rose around me.
I tore off my jacket and the wrinkled old tee shirt and stood with my arms out sideways as the rain gushed over the startled bare skin of my shoulders and back.
My face to the sky.. and eyes closed .. drops plopping on my eyelids and face..
I prayed a thank you.. and the others must have thought me a bit crazy..
but I ignored that..
as they came out from the sheltered edges and copied me in my ritual of chilly gratitide and acceptance of the great gift.

I think it was for me..

Just to say.. stay..

Im here...

Keep Faith...

Friday, January 13, 2017

Summary of events

The Gareth Rutherford Case

Gareth Rutherford is a British Citizen, born in Cape Town and educated at South African College School.  He studied Civil Engineering and has worked in engineering consultancy and run a small contracting company.
Having been conscripted into the South African Army at the age of 20, he was awarded the Honorus Crux medal for bravery (South Africa’s highest military bravery award); as an infantry medic he had tended to wounded soldiers during a fierce battle, saving lives whilst under fire with no regard for his own safety.

Gareth later worked as a civilian “Ministry of Defence” contractor for a British company in Basra, serving the British Military based at the Basra airport military enclave in Iraq.  As such he fell under British military close protection and was obliged to follow UK Military safety procedures.  By 2008 he had held this post for five years.

In the early morning of the 18th of September 2008, Gareth was heading off on leave via a booking made through the RAF Movements Office.  He flew with a RAF C130 from Basra in Iraq to the Kuwait Military Airport where he arrived along with British Embassy staff who were also on leave; he travelled with them in the official embassy vehicle to Kuwait City.

Gareth then slept for a couple of hours at a hotel used by his company.  A company vehicle had been left for him at the hotel and he drove off to see his employers who were expecting him at the company office in Kuwait City. Gareth was carrying company cash with him.

Whilst on his way to the office, Gareth got a call from his Iraqi interpreter in Basra asking him to collect some equipment from a specific garage in Jahra; the collection was apparently a favour for their cement suppliers. At the garage two Kuwaiti citizens loaded wheelbarrows, spades, tools and a large tyre onto the pickup - one of a set of tyres that the men had in their car. As Gareth was refuelling the vehicle, the interpreter called again and spoke to Gareth for a few minutes to check the progress of the collection, he told Gareth to drop the equipment at a known tyre repair shop near the Holiday Inn in Kuwait City.        

Gareth headed off and was subsequently arrested by approximately ten waiting policemen as he approached the tyre shop. He had been nowhere near a border crossing or back to the international airport and was driving a vehicle that had been kept at the hotel in Kuwait. All of these facts could have been corroborated if investigated.

Gareth’s arresting officers and accusers alleged that he had driven across the border from Iraq with the spare tyre filled with drugs in the vehicle and was thus a “trafficker”, the most severe of the drug offences. They claimed that the company cash he was carrying was evidence of this. Kuwaiti citizens at a garage in Kuwait had loaded the tyre on to the vehicle; there were many witnesses to this, but it was never investigated.

The Criminal Investigation Police forced Gareth to sign a statement under extreme duress, having been threatened, manhandled and kept in isolation in the dark for four days.  The statement was written in Arabic and he was told that it was a translation of his statement of the events. It transpired that it was not a translation of his statement but rather a fabricated confession that he had brought the tyre filled with drugs over the border from Iraq. Gareth had not been given access to an independent interpreter or an English-speaking lawyer at this stage.  

A trial was held during which Gareth was not able to testify. There was no clear or correct translation provided during the proceedings.

The trial ran for a period of approximately six months, Gareth made only eight, very brief, appearances, the longest lasting for around ten minutes. Gareth was given an UK embassy appointed lawyer who consulted with Gareth for no more than 40 minutes throughout the entire case; the lawyer was not even present at all the court appearances.

An appeal was held two months after the initial verdict: a life sentence of 25 years. Gareth made an appearance lasting 7 minutes; his lawyer did not consult with him at all for the appeal appearance. There was no opportunity for testimony, no witnesses were called and no evidence was presented. The outcome was the same, a life sentence of 25 years in Kuwaiti prison.

Gareth has been in prison in Kuwait since 2008 following these two very questionable trials.

We wish to raise a voice of appeal to the Emir of Kuwait, the Kuwaiti Government, the UK Government and the UK Prime Minister.

This case needs to be properly investigated and Gareth must be released.