The murder of Nahed Hattar – journalist, Christian, Jordanian – was not just a tragedy. It was a disgrace, a crime against all journalists, vicious proof that another ‘moderate’ government beloved of the West does precious little to safeguard the lives of its citizens when the Muslim Brotherhood is beating at the gates. The Jordanian prime minister himself had ordered Nahed Hattar’s arrest, and he was shot at the very gates of the court in which he wished to demand justice – and, just as we Westerners are frothing with righteous anger over Aleppo, we have already forgotten this feisty, eloquent, annoying, provocative and brilliant writer.
But first, let’s hear from his 27-year old son Mutaz a personal account he gave me of his father’s last moments when I called to see him at the family’s modest home in Amman. Opposite their front door, I could scarcely help noticing, was a squad of policemen. Let’s hope they take their constabulary duties more seriously than their colleagues did last September when they stood by and watched Nahed Hattar shot down in front of them.