Mohammed A. (20) is a young man with a shaved head and a black beard. He is wearing a blue sweater and jeans. He was born in Syria and has lived in Vught since his childhood. Next to him is an interpreter who translates into Arabic (in that language he can make himself understood better). “Requirements to make a bomb belt: citric acid, lime acid, metal powder, baking soda, etc.,” reads the judge. Police found the drugs in his room. He shrugs. “He does not know. He doesn’t understand,” the interpreter translates.
Mohammed is also said to have purchased an AK-47 with ammunition
He is suspected of preparing an attack in the Netherlands, of swearing allegiance to IS, purchasing materials to carry out an attack and responding to an AK-47 and associated ammunition for sale. He is now in pre-trial detention.
His parents are whispering and sighing in the back of the room.
“Brother my heart breaks. I want both: first detonate the suitcase and then myself,” the judge reads from a Telegram chat with a jihadist in Iraq. ISIS propaganda and magazines describing how to blow himself up were found on his phone. The judge does not understand how he ended up with these people. Research shows that no one from the family or his environment knew about this or was involved. The parents actively help the police with the study of their son.
The lawyer says: “In Syria, Mohammed was already lagging behind. He didn’t start talking until he was three. He was put in classes where people were younger and he felt better about that too. He got stuck at a lower age level.” She advocates taking this into account.
His mother wipes away her tears. Her son appears to be easily impressionable, has a low IQ and his “ineptness” has led him to give his name and address to the jihad fighters, says the lawyer. “There needs to be a psychological assessment,” she says. But in what context? The judge decides on that.
“You almost succeeded in applying for a visa for Iraq. How did you do that? And you made a video in which you swear allegiance to IS. Explain how that works,” the judge asks. “Mohammed asks how he should respond to this,” the interpreter replies. His father crosses his arms and nods with a pained look.
According to the lawyer, it is not wise to lock him in a cell. “He is in shock and misses his parents.” While in custody, Mohammed’s mental faculties were examined by a psychologist, he was uncooperative and said nothing. That is different now: “He wants to be helped, but does not understand at all what is going on. In order to help him as best as possible, he must be observed in a protected environment,” says the lawyer. She advocates that he be sent home with an ankle bracelet or placed in a youth institution. “Mentally he is there with peers, people speak Arabic, it gives him more peace.”
Then there is noise in the room. Mohammed seems to be about to say something for the first time. He whispers in the interpreter’s ear. “Yes, he thinks a youth institution is good,” he says. “The only one who can provide insight into how it works for you is you,” the judge responds. His mother seems hopeful, but he slams back and is silent. Her eyes fill with tears. The judge says that Mohammed is being held because of the “firm” suspicions and because the investigation is not yet complete. She is also afraid that he will repeat himself.
In this pro forma hearing, which precedes the substantive hearing, the judge decides that he will be observed in the Pieter Baan Center (PBC) for seven weeks. “They can work well with Mohammed there, there are enough Arabic-speaking people, he can make himself understood in Dutch and in the PBC they have experience with these kinds of things,” says the judge. The investigation will be suspended and resumed in a few months.
Mohammed gets up and walks towards his parents. “Can we please give him a hug?” they ask. “Officially that is not allowed, I make an exception,” says the judge. He smiles at his parents and does not let go of his mother. Then a police officer taps his shoulder and says, “Time to go.”