Casefile True Crime - Case 78: The Janabi Family

Episode Date: March 17, 2018

During the Iraq War, four members of the Janabi Family were found brutally massacred in their farmhouse in the rural village of Yusufiyah. 14-year-old Abeer Qassim Hamza al-Janabi had been violently raped and the family’s home had been set on fire. ---  Episode narrated by the Anonymous Host Researched and written by Milly Raso For all credits and sources please visit casefilepodcast.com/case-78-the-janabi-family

Our episodes deal with serious and often distressing incidents. If you feel at any time you need support, please contact your local crisis centre. For suggested phone numbers for confidential support, please see the show notes for this episode on your app or on our website. This episode details atrocities committed against men, women and children. It is graphic in nature and won't be suitable for all listeners. Located in the rural, sand-swept, home-load of Dubai in central Iraq was a five-acre orchard lined with pomegranate and date trees, grape vines and various desert-resistant crops.

At the front of the spacious property was a dirt driveway that led to a one-story, tan-coloured concrete farmhouse. It featured a kitchen, living space, bathroom and a single bedroom interconnected by a narrow hallway. Each room was fully furnished with basic, well-worn furniture, cramped, but homely. Outside, a staircase led up to the building's flat roof, with a view of the surrounding country landscape, a desert patchwork of palm trees, wild grass and dry sandy flatlands intersected by long dirt roads.

Neighboring buildings were few and far between. Some were empty, others were in stages of construction. It was a quiet, isolated and sparsely populated area. If you didn't have a reason to go there, you wouldn't even know it existed. By the year 2000, the orchards owner was relocating 40km north to the capital city of Baghdad. As he didn't want to sell his rural property, he offered to pay $50 per month to anybody willing to tend to the farm in his absence. To mitigate the low pay, he also offered rent-free living in his furnished farmhouse and a cut

of profits from the sale of his harvest each season. The job offer peaked the interest of Qasem Janabi. Qasem was looking for long-term, reliable work to support his growing family. His wife, Fakriar, had recently given birth to a healthy baby, a girl they named Hadeel. Additionally, the couple also had two sons, Ahmed and Muhammad, and their oldest child, a daughter, a beer. At the time, the Janabi family were living in the rural town of Yusufiyah, almost 40km southwest of Baghdad.

There, they were close to the support network of Fakriar's extended family. When Qasem purchased a used motorcycle of a relative for $20 and wasn't capable of paying off the debt, the relative graciously let it go. Everyone wanted to help the Janabi family and did so without expecting anything in return. Qasem picked up work where he could, but it was mostly low-paying, sporadic jobs in farming and construction. In the meantime, the family moved between properties throughout town, trying to find somewhere they could afford with their low income.

But no place ever felt like home. Life was tough, but the Janabi's were always in good spirits. Qasem and Fakriar looked to the future with optimism. They shared dreams of owning a spacious family house and hoped to send their children to college one day. It was this need to provide their family with a better future that attracted the couple to the job offer at the orchard property in Dubai. The move would sever the network of support the family had come to rely on, but the stable

income and rent-free house convinced Qasem and Fakriar it was worth the risk. They packed their few belongings, said their goodbyes, and moved their family to the Dubai orchard. It was cramped living in the farmhouse for the family of six, but they made the most of it. Each day, Fakriar maintained the house, whilst the Janabi children would go outside and play hide-and-seek or kick soccer balls in the farmland. Nearby, Qasem toiled under the blazing desert sun, tending to the acres of crops.

Eventually, his hard work paid off. Come harvest, he'd sell the produce at local markets, and with his half-cut of the profits, netted his family upwards of an extra $30. Friends and family of the Janabi's visited and noted how well the family seemed settled into their new lifestyle. For the Janabi's, the entire world had shrunk to the size of a few dusty crop fields and an old square farmhouse. It wasn't the big, spacious family house they dreamed of, but it was home.

They felt safe there. By 2003, Iraq's government, led by President Saddam Hussein, had been drawing international condemnation. The near-decade-long Iraq-Iran War during the 1980s and the Gulf War only a few years later had bled Iraq's resources and people dry. Hussein was also known to repress internal dissidents with torture and killings, earning him the reputation as an enemy of the free world. Accusations he was researching and stockpiling chemical weapons, as he had done so a decade

earlier, put Iraq under further intense global scrutiny. The President of the United States of America, George W. Bush, believed the Hussein regime posed a growing danger to the rest of the world. On the night of March 17, 2003, President Bush publicly gave Hussein an ultimatum, leave Iraq within the next 48 hours, or experience the full might of the United States military. Hussein ignored the order. Three days later, on March 20, 2003, President Bush made good on his threat. The American military conducted a surprise invasion of Iraq under codename Operation

Iraqi Freedom. U.S. and Allied forces pressed forward into the flat plains of Iraq's western desert, charging along the immense seedy stretches towards the capital city of Baghdad to confront Hussein. Violent resistance from Hussein loyalists resulted in three weeks of intense battle before Baghdad finally fell on April 9, ending Hussein's 24-year rule. Once the dust of the battle had settled, Saddam Hussein was nowhere to be found. He had escaped the city and gone into hiding.

The subsequent search for the President of Iraq quickly became one of the biggest manhunts in the world. By December 2003, intel suggested Hussein may be found in the rural village of Ad-Dwa, approximately 150 kilometers northwest of Baghdad. Under the cover of darkness on the night of December 13, 600 U.S. military personnel raided the target area. However, the wanted President was still nowhere to be found. Whilst in the process of being extracted from the target area, a U.S. infantryman randomly

kicked at a pile of rubble on a mat. To his surprise, the mats slid away, revealing a small, narrow hole in the earth. Squeezed inside was Saddam Hussein, dishevelled and exhausted. He surrendered immediately. Hussein was tried in an Iraqi court for crimes against humanity, specifically for his involvement in the Dujjal massacre in 1982, where he orchestrated the executions of 148 dissenters, the torture of women and children, and the illegal arrest of 399 people. Hussein was found guilty and executed by hanging on December 30, 2006.

Pro-American Iraqis and the local population who bore the brunt of Hussein's tyranny celebrated his death. But supporters and admirers of Hussein viewed him as a martyr to the world's superpower and were irritated at America's involvement and influence in the politics of their homeland. A violent civil war arose between the two opposing groups and branched off into multiple sectarian conflicts throughout the land. In an attempt to stabilize the conflict-ridden country and clean up Hussein's legacy, the United States and its allies maintained a military presence in Iraq, but their prolonged

presence in the foreign country as well as their interference in the civil war only fueled the conflicts. They were constantly clashing with local insurgents who perceived outside a military intervention as an invading force. The civil war amplified over time and continued on for years after Hussein's execution. Iraq deteriorated into deadly and destructive, lawless chaos. Casualties of war reached into the thousands on all sides. Considerations the US should pull their military out from the embattled country began.

However, the situation was becoming more complicated by the day. US politicians were confident they were capable of securing the situation. They believed with utmost certainty that Allied forces would eventually suppress the violence in Iraq and bring peace, safety and freedom to its people. The crime and violence that flared after Hussein's capture quickly trickled south into the open rural landscape where it was much harder to contain. The constant fighting had turned the once vibrant rural towns and villages into no-go zones.

Scared residents had withdrawn into their homes. Rubble from destroyed buildings was piled along the streets. Power had been lost by constant targeted attacks on regional power plants. Roads were pothold from explosives. The thunderous roar of explosions and the piercing crack of bullets had become a regular backdrop to daily life. Locals seen out in about one day would disappear the next. The Janabi family were now surrounded by this constant danger.

Qasem Janabi legally armed himself with an AK-47 assault rifle, which he kept hidden behind a curtain by the bedroom window. American military permitted each Iraqi civilian family to own one AK-47 with 30 rounds of ammunition as a means of self-defense. During this chaotic time Qasem tried his hardest to bring his family a sense of normality and joy. When the roads were cleared of explosives he'd take his children on car rides to the market.

At night he would help his sons with their homework. Fakriar was equally supportive despite the circumstances. It wasn't safe for her to work outside of the home, so every day she stayed inside cleaning, preparing food, and taking care of their youngest daughter, 6-year-old Hadil. Hadil had grown into a curious and bubbly girl. She loved circling the exterior of the farmhouse, picking and munching on the edible, sweet-tasting wild grass. The Janabi's felt safe knowing there was a manned United States military checkpoint only

200 meters from where they lived. There was a static traffic control point known as Traffic Control Point 2, responsible for keeping constant guard of a main road leading to and from the nearby town of Yusufiya. Each morning at daybreak the American soldiers stationed at Traffic Control Point 2 swept the roads for buried bombs insurgents may have planted overnight. They performed daily security patrols of the surrounding area, conducted searches of homes, and locals, and stopped suspicious vehicles. When the Janabi's eldest daughter, a bear, tended to the front garden, she'd see the

American soldiers performing their routine security checks and foot patrols. Sometimes they would notice a bear too, smile, and give her a thumbs up. March 12, 2006 was almost three years to the day when the US military arrived in Iraq to capture Saddam Hussein. The now 14-year-old, a bear Janabi, watched as her younger brother's 11-year-old Muhammad and a 9-year-old Ahmed left for school. The decision was made by her parents that a bear would no longer attend school. It was far too dangerous for their girl.

Militants had been targeting local schools, and young, vulnerable women had been threatened, kidnapped, and killed by the worst of them. By midday that day, March 12, Muhammad and Ahmed were at school. A bear and her mother were inside in the kitchen, and Qasem was outside keeping an eye on her deal who was head down in the front garden, pulling out bunches of sweet wild grass to eat. School was out by 3.30pm that afternoon. It had been an uneventful day for the Janabi brothers.

After they farewelled their classmates, they started the walk home together. By 4pm, Muhammad and Ahmed reached the dirt track leading up to their farmhouse. Excitement to be home quickly turned to panic when they noticed a thick cloud of white smoke billowing out from the living room window. Their parents and sisters were nowhere to be seen. Sergeant Anthony Uribe of the US Military Bravo Company, 1st Battalion, 502nd Regiment of the 101st Airborne, was stationed at Traffic Control Point 1 on March 12, 2006. Traffic Control Point 1 was a large-scale checkpoint situated across a main transit

road just outside of Yusufair. It was a sturdy two-story building that acted as the main headquarters for all the other traffic control points in the region. There were around a dozen Iraqi and American military personnel posted at Traffic Control Point 1. It was nearing late afternoon when news reached Sergeant Uribe of a situation unraveling at a civilian farm property a few kilometers away in Dubai. 22-year-old Anthony Uribe, originally from Idaho, joined the United States military eight

days after the 9-11 terrorist attacks. Tall, broad-shouldered, and strong, he cut the figure of an ideal infantryman. This was his second tour of Iraq, his first in occurring a year earlier in January 2005. Uribe had hardened into a stoic, level-headed soldier with a magnetic ability to take command of other soldiers in stressful situations. Younger, less-experienced soldiers looked up to Uribe as a shining example of what they aspired to become. In return, he was fiercely loyal to his troops.

Uribe agreed to lead a team of American soldiers to the farm in Dubai to canvass the area and investigate the situation unfolding there. He radioed Traffic Control Point 2, the smaller scale checkpoint located only a few hundred meters away from the objective area. He ordered soldiers at Traffic Control Point 2 to gear up and get ready to escort him on patrol. When Uribe arrived a short time later to Traffic Control Point 2, specialist-promotable Paul Cortez and private first-class Jesse Spillman were dressed head-to-toe in full battle gear

with rifles in hand, ready to go. Twenty-three-year-old Paul Cortez from California was also in the midst of his second tour of Iraq. He was the most senior soldier at Traffic Control Point 2 at the time and had recently been put in charge of the checkpoint and the five other US soldiers stationed there. Unlike Sergeant Anthony Uribe, who had adapted under the ongoing pressure into a successful and well-respected leader, Cortez struggled and was seen as an inconsistent, average soldier. His career bogged down with infractions for fighting, drinking alcohol, and drug possession.

Cortez was eventually shipped out to the isolated Traffic Control Point 2, where it was believed there was little opportunity for him to find trouble, but every opportunity for him to knuckle down and reform his reputation. Twenty-one-year-old Jesse Spillman from Pennsylvania was a recent addition to Traffic Control Point 2, having only arrived just days earlier. He'd been in Iraq for seven months and in the military since completing high school, another sudden sign-up after 9-11. Quiet and meek, Spillman was a good, dutiful soldier who followed orders without question

or complaint. Approximately an hour had passed by the time Uribe's squad arrived to the farm. The smell of smoke lingered in the humid air, but whatever fire there had been was extinguished. Up a short dirt path ahead was a tan, concrete, square farmhouse with barred windows and a flat roof. A small civilian crowd had gathered around the building, Iraqi soldiers among them, exchanging anxious whispers. Sergeant Uribe was notably stern, straight-faced, and focused when approaching the building.

He commanded his squad quickly and efficiently as they swept through the farmhouse, performing the building clearance. They rushed down the corridor of the house, shouting and kicking down doors with their weapons raised. But there were no hostiles waiting for them. Clinging to the air was a foul odor of smoke, propane, and burnt meat. With the building secured, the shocking reality of what happened inside became clear. Inside the bedroom, they discovered the body of an older female laying on her back by the

door, eyes wide and unmoving. Uribe pulled around her body from a gaping bullet wound in her back. In one of the back corners of the bedroom was an older male, face down. His body and the wall closest to him covered in blood. He had been shot in the head. A similar wound was found on the body of a female child laying close by, no older than six. Her pink dress was stained with blood.

A bunch of wild grass stuck in her ridged fist. The horror didn't end there. Another gruesome discovery was made in the living room. The body of a teenage female was faced up in the corner of the room beneath the window. Her head and chest had been burnt to ash. A relative of the household explained he arrived shortly after the alarm was raised. He entered the house just to extinguish the fire, but did nothing else. While putting out the fire, the lower half of the victim's body remained preserved and

unburnt. Her dress had been lifted up to her neck, and her undergarments were on the floor nearby. She had been raped. The three bodies discovered inside the bedroom were identified as 45-year-old Karsam Janabi, his wife, 34-year-old Fakriar, and their six-year-old daughter, Hedil. The partially burnt body discovered in the living room was their 14-year-old daughter, a bear. Specialist's promotable poor Cortez was overwhelmed by the horrific scene and spent most of his

time outside dry heaving. Sergeant Anthony Uribe maintained his characteristic level headness and continued on with a grim job of investigating the crime scene, tailed by Private Jesse Spillman. The two hours they moved through the house, photographing the crime scene, sketching maps of the layout, inspecting the victim's wounds, and searching for anything left behind by those responsible. The murder weapon was believed to have been the AK-47 assault rifle that the family legally owned and kept in the bedroom of their house.

Several AK-47 shell casings were found throughout the building, but the weapon itself was missing. Anything else within the house appeared to have been tampered with or taken. A medic tended to the bodies inside, the Sergeant Uribe began carefully shifting furniture around to look for evidence. After flipping over a bed, Uribe found a green shotgun shell casing underneath. He called out to Cortez, who was still outside, overcoming his nausea. When Cortez entered the bedroom, Uribe pointed out the shotgun shell on the floor. Cortez collected the shell, and the two meticulously scanned the remainder of the room looking for

more shells, but there was only the one. The two surviving Janabi sons, Muhammad and Ahmed, were inconsolable. They were taken away from the scene by relatives. An Iraqi translator walked amongst the civilian crowd outside, seeking information on the private lives of the Janabis. Many of the locals were apprehensive to answer personal questions and were not forthcoming with information. Gradually, details emerged depicting the Janabis as conservative and respectable, who were

close to their extended family, but otherwise kept to themselves. No suspects were seen around the Janabi property prior to, at the time of, or after the attack. What particular significance was the personal attack of a bear? Rape was a sensitive topic in the conservative culture, meaning few people were willing to openly acknowledge and discuss it. To those who knew her, a bear was a wallflower, an ordinary teen, observant, but introverted. She was tall for her age, lanky, and suffered from asthma. She daydreamed a bright future, getting an education, marrying a good man, and moving

to a big city. Good-natured and polite, she was, according to her aunt, proud to be young. The attempt to burn a bear's body suggested her attacker may have wanted to cover their tracks and destroy evidence. However, due to the lack of resources available in the midst of war-torn rural Iraq, a thorough investigation of the crime scene was impossible. The Iraqi military didn't have the knowledge or means to perform comprehensive police work such as collecting DNA or fingerprints.

Sergeant Uribe was compiling enough details to complete a report on the matter, but there was little more his troops could do. They just didn't have the resources. There were no witnesses to the crime either, or at least none who were willing to speak. The son had almost set when Uribe and his team emerged from the house. Through their observations, they could only offer one explanation for the killings. The Janabi property was located on the western edge of an area of land US soldiers had nicknamed the Triangle of Death.

The Triangle of Death was a mapped out area 30 kilometers south of Baghdad, starting at the city of Mahmadiya to the north, the rural town of Yusufiyah to the west, and the city of Musayib to the south. Often experiences for bravo company during their time in the Triangle of Death is further detailed in Jim Frederick's book, Black Arts. The region within the Triangle of Death had earned the reputation as the most hostile area in the country, and was a centralized, unrestrained battleground for the civil war due to its proximity to Baghdad.

Inside the Triangle, massive waves of sectarian violence led to atrocities on all sides of the battle. Five mortars rained from the sky, killing anything within a 20 meter radius. Rocket-propelled grenades collapsed buildings, levelling entire townships. Unsuspecting victims triggered hidden bombs buried along roads. Militiamen sped utility vehicles across the expanse of flat, cracked desert, and propped up in the back tray were large automatic weapons firing indiscriminately. Any civilian social gathering, no matter how small or inconspicuous, was a potential target

for suicide bombers, as were police stations, power plants, oil refineries, gas stations, markets, and military checkpoints. Deadly gunfights between insurgents and the military were commonplace. Hundreds of attacks per week occurred within the Triangle of Death. Cord in the middle were hundreds of rural towns and villages, the homes to approximately one million Iraqi civilians. Insurgents were constantly threatened and brutalized by insurgents who maintained control through fear.

Each morning, the rising sun revealed the death and destruction from the night before. Dumped in canals, piled beside roads, and dug in shallow graves were the victims of late night executions. The violence was indiscriminate and unpredictable, and for those inside the Triangle of Death, there was little opportunity or means to escape. At the Janabi farmhouse on the western edge of the Triangle of Death, the US soldiers concluded that the slaughter was committed by insurgents. It carried the typical hallmarks of an insurgent crime, the brazen opportunistic nature, execution

style killings, and willingness to murder children, as well as the odd timing of the attack occurring in the middle of the day. Employing the killers held no fear of being seen, heard, or interrupted. It was unknown whether the Janabi's had any direct or indirect links to militias fighting in the area. Most civilians had an investment in the Civil War, but it didn't necessarily mean they participated in the fighting, they may have supported their chosen militias in other ways. It also wasn't uncommon for civilians to be threatened into actively or passively

assisting insurgents. The Janabi's isolated, unassuming farmstead would have been seen as the ideal place to stockpile weapons or for use as a safe house or hideout. Had Khasim refused the demands of militiamen, and was this his punishment. Every day the military confronted the aftermath of the brutal acts committed by insurgents on the civilian population, abductions, tortures, massacres, executions, rapes, mutilations, decapitations of men, women, and children. So frequent, many soldiers had become desensitized to the horror.

It appeared the Janabi's had crossed paths with these ruthless insurgents. Relatives of the Janabi family had similar thoughts. They couldn't comprehend that anyone in their local community was capable of committing such a senseless and vicious massacre. As news of the killing spread locally, so did the accusations. Every local militia group was blamed. Other theories suggest that the murders were the outcome of a feud, unpaid debt, or personal vendetta.

The following day the bodies of Khasim, Fakriar, Abir, and Hadil were buried together in a private area of desert near the farmhouse they had called home. As days, weeks, and months passed, the Janabi family massacre was forgotten in the fog of war. Sergeant Anthony Uribe had submitted his report on the matter, and that was the end of the US military's involvement. Hope of justice for the slaughtered family faded. Whoever murdered Khasim and Fakriar, and their two defunceless daughters Abir and Hadil,

had gotten away with it. On the evening of June 16, 2006, 96 days after the murder of the Janabi family, United States Army Specialist David Babineau and Private First Class Thomas Tucker were preparing for a long shift on guard duty together. 25-year-old David Babineau from Massachusetts predicted in his high school yearbook that in 20 years' time he'd be a five-star general in the United States Army. Before that summer was over, Babineau had enlisted. In May 2006, he was reaching the end of his second tour of Iraq and was preparing to head

back home to his wife and children. Then, the news came through that his tour of duty was being extended… indefinitely. Babineau visited home briefly and gifted his three children camouflage-declared teddy bears. But almost immediately, he was saying goodbye, and in what felt like the blink of an eye, he was back in his camo carrying his rifle, and beginning his indefinite stretch in the triangle of death. 25-year-old Thomas Tucker from Oregon never anticipated he'd wind up in the military.

Prior to enlistment, his life fell out of focus and his job in construction left him feeling unfulfilled. Wanting to do something positive with his life, he joined the military in July 2005. Tucker was a softie at heart, a talented piano player who loved spending lazy weekends fishing and tinkering with his Chevy pickup. By June 2006, Tucker had been in Iraq for five months and had already made an impact as an enthusiastic soldier, fully dedicated to his job. On June 16, 2006, Babineau and Tucker were guarding an armored vehicle launch bridge near

the tiny village of Jerf, Al Saka, about 25 kilometers south of Yusufia. The armored vehicle launch bridge was a military engineering vehicle that featured a long, flat metal platform that could be rapidly deployed to create a makeshift bridge across gap-type obstacles. At the time, the vehicle launch bridge was situated on the edge of the Euphrates River, a wide, marshy canal that cut through the center of Iraq and led all the way to the Persian Gulf. Also on post that night with Babineau and Tucker was private first-class Christian Menchaca.

Menchaca wasn't rostered on to guard the outpost at that time, he'd volunteered to take the shift so another soldier could have the night off for his birthday. 23-year-old Christian Menchaca from Texas was a quiet, humble man from a close-knit Mexican-American family. When Menchaca announced that he planned to enlist in the army, his family initially tried to talk him out of it. He wouldn't like it, they insisted. But Menchaca was determined, scoring high on his entrance test and convincing his family

that maybe he was right for the military after all. However, on a visit home during his Iraq deployment, Menchaca was visibly nervous, jittery and struggled to sleep. He'd also developed the habit of chain-smoking. Finally admitting to his family that life in Iraq had been difficult, Menchaca was dreading going back. Babineau, Tucker and Menchaca's outpost consisted of a Humvee vehicle that the three men occupied, one in each of the front seats and one spread out in the back seat.

It was an inefficiently designed outpost with no sense of safety. No road barriers or any early warning devices were set up. More Humvees and guards were supposed to be present, but they had moved on to other checkpoints. Brothers and manpower were spread dangerously thin in the Triangle of Death. The three soldiers wearily surveyed the dark desert farmlands from behind the windshield. They'd been warned to remain alert. The night before, insurgents had hit the outpost with gun and RPG fire. No one was seriously hurt, and strangely the insurgents fled the fight almost immediately.

But so far, the June 16 night shift had been quiet for the three US soldiers. There was no sign of the insurgents from the night before. At approximately 7.50pm, two separate US military outposts reported hearing a torrent of gunfire erupt from the direction of the armored vehicle launch bridge outpost. It was initially thought the gunfire was caused by Babineau and the others, probably shooting aimlessly to scare away suspicious persons in the area. But when a deep explosion echoed across the desert plains, they knew the armored vehicle launch bridge was taking insurgent RPG fire once again.

An attempt to establish radio comms with Babineau, Tucker and Menchaca was met with silence. Troops from surrounding checkpoints piled into vehicles and quickly descended on the outpost to provide backup. They sped along the dirt road towards the secluded outpost. Suddenly, vehicles screeched to an abrupt halt. Headlights illuminated several oil drums suspected to be IEDs placed across the centre of the road. But upon careful inspection, the oil drums were confirmed to be harmless.

The realisation set in, this was a well planned and coordinated attack. The oil drum decoys were a distraction that delayed backup from reaching the armored vehicle launch bridge outpost. The seemingly pointless attack on the outpost the night before had actually been a test. The real attack had just occurred. Specialists Babineau and privates Tucker and Menchaca were in serious danger. First responders arrived to the armored vehicle launch bridge outpost at around 8.15pm. The area was quiet.

The attack already over. Peppered around the Humvee were hundreds of shell casings. Large splatters of blood painted the ground. On top of the Humvee's hood were two US military brand M4 rifles. Both the Humvee's right hand side doors were wide open. Neither Babineau, Tucker or Menchaca were inside. Signs of their presence remained though, including each of their helmets, a packet of skittles candy and a PlayStation portable handheld gaming system.

They hadn't released a May Day signal, none of their weapons had fired a single bullet, and the Humvee's gun turret was still locked. The road was cordoned off as troops swept the surrounding area for the three missing soldiers. They shouted into the darkness, calling out the names of Babineau, Tucker and Menchaca. There was no response. A soldier trudged 30 meters along the marshy banks of the canal and discovered the body of Specialist David Babineau face down in a tangle of weeds.

Babineau's upper body had been shredded by bullets. The expectation was that Tucker's and Menchaca's bodies would be found somewhere close by. However, as the search radius expanded further and further from the Humvee's location, neither Tucker or Menchaca's bodies were spotted. A local Iraqi farmer whose field overlooked the armored vehicle launch bridge outpost came forward having witnessed the ambush. He said that seven masked gunmen, one carrying a machine gun, swarmed the Humvee. Before it could move off, they pummeled the vehicle with hundreds of bullets, killing

Babineau in the driver's seat. But Tucker and Menchaca were taken alive by the insurgents. Dread swept over the troops. Tucker and Menchaca were alive and in the hands of the enemy. Emotions ran high as a feverish search for Thomas Tucker and Christian Menchaca began. In the first five hours, troops had meticulously canvassed three objective areas in the vicinity of the attack site, but found no clues to the whereabouts of the kidnapped soldiers. The desperate search continued throughout the night and into the following day.

Then finally, a startling discovery. Along a straight stretch of dirt road leading to an abandoned non-functional power plant were several bloody drag marks. All in the drag marks were torn up pieces of a U.S. military body armor vest. A comprehensive search of the power plant led to a white pickup truck being found inside. In the truck's flatbed was a pool of thick blood. But Tucker and Menchaca were still nowhere to be found. Private first class Justin Watt was stationed at the U.S. Army's forward operating base

in the rural city of Macmudea on the northern point of the Triangle of Death, when news hit of the abduction of Thomas Tucker and Christian Menchaca. 23-year-old Justin Watt from South Carolina joined the military in 2004 after a bad relationship breakup. He'd always held great respect for the military as his father had served in the Vietnam War. Justin's father was somewhat surprised that his sons desired to join the military. Of his three children, Justin was the sensitive and introspective one, the least likely person to seek combat.

Nevertheless, Watt arrived in Iraq in 2005 and was sent to the front lines in the Triangle of Death. Each new morning was like a spin of a roulette wheel of what horrors they'd be facing that day. Would it be a squad made accidentally triggering a concealed explosive, an urban gunfight inside the unfamiliar maze-like rural cities, a suicide bomber wiping out an entire neighborhood with the flick of a switch, a split-second moral dilemma whether to kill the child strapped with explosives, a car bomb detonated at a school, local soccer match, funeral, or police

recruitment drive? The Iraq War was insidious. Trust between occupying military and Iraqi civilians was fragile. It was near impossible for soldiers to pick a civilian from an insurgent. One moment, a good-natured civilian would be casually approaching a U.S. soldier to say hello. The next, there'd be a knife deep in the soldier's neck. Bravo Company lost on average about one soldier per week.

The approximate stats at the time was that one out of every three soldiers were killed and one out of every two was wounded. Morale was at an all-time low. U.S. military bases, outposts, and checkpoints were a mess of grime and clutter due to the indifference of highly-strung soldiers focused purely on survival. Many never left the safety of their posts. Patrols had become quick drive-bys of objective areas with the main goal to return back to the base as quickly as possible.

Don't make eye contact with the Iraqi locals, new arrivals were warned. Don't stop and talk to anyone. Fire bullets at anything that seemed remotely suspicious. Civilians walking too close to outposts, cars driving too slow or too fast, rustling bushes, people in the rear trays of trucks, four-wheel drive vehicles with tinted windows, or anyone reaching under their clothes. Private first-class Justin White was profoundly impacted by the abduction of Thomas Tucker in Christian Manchaca.

Every of his two squadmates being tortured consumed his daily thoughts. When he managed to sleep, he had recurring nightmares of dead Iraqi children or slain soldiers blankly staring at him and whispering dying words he could barely hear. Whilst thousands of soldiers were out looking for Tucker and Manchaca, what was sitting with his team leader, Sergeant Anthony Uribe? The two traded fond stories of Tucker and Manchaca to raise their spirits. Sergeant Uribe seemed lost in troubled thought during one conversation. He suddenly asked what?

Do you remember that family that got murdered back in March? It had been a long time since Justin White heard anyone talking about the gruesome Janabi family massacre. Sergeant Uribe had led the squad who investigated the quadruple murder. At the time, he publicly concluded insurgents most likely killed the father, mother and two young daughters. But Sergeant Uribe was carrying a secret. He told Justin White that he no longer believed the killings were committed by Iraqi insurgents.

He now suspected they were committed by one of their own, a member of the United States military. White had no reason to doubt Uribe, who was far from the type who'd make up or lie about something so serious. But who amongst his military brothers would commit such a cruel and senseless murder? 21-year-old Steven Green from Texas joined the US Army shortly after a four-day stint in jail for his third misdemeanor. These of a failing, endless war in the Middle East had resulted in a recruitment shortfall

for the military. Troop numbers in Iraq were dwindling by the day, and there were not enough people signing up to replace them. So the military started granting moral character waivers to those with histories of juvenile delinquency and minor criminal charges. People with recorded behavioural problems who would otherwise be rejected for military service would now have the opportunity to sign up. Steven Green wasn't the type one would consider an honourable military candidate.

He was a loner and troublemaker who started fights and who coped with stress with drugs and alcohol. With a rap sheet of convictions going back to his teenage years, Steven Green's options were limited, so he took the military up on their offer. By the end of 2005, Steven Green was officially a private first class with Bravo Company, patrolling the Iraqi countryside in the Triangle of Death. On December 10, 2005, Green's unit was maintaining a traffic checkpoint. An Iraqi civilian, considered by soldiers to be a friend and trusted informant, approached

32-year-old Sergeant Kenneth Kasika. Kasika greeted the man, the two exchanged a seemingly friendly back and forth conversation in both Arabic and English. In the midst of their harmless conversation, the Iraqi civilian pulled out a 9mm handgun. Lifting it quickly towards Kasika, he pulled the trigger. Kasika was shot in the neck and fell to the ground. 41-year-old Sergeant Travis Nelson, sitting on a stool nearby smoking a cigarette, took a bullet to the back of his head seconds later.

The armed Iraqi civilian continued firing. Steven Green threw Sergeant Kasika on the hood of a Humvee and shielded his superior from the gunfire. The Humvee took off towards a field hospital. Private Steven Green later told a war correspondent for the Washington Post, quote, We were going 55 miles an hour and I was hanging onto him. I was like, Sergeant Kasika, Sergeant Kasika. He just moved his eyes a little bit.

I was just laying on top of him, listening to him breathing, telling him he's okay. I was rubbing his chest. I was looking at the tattoo on his arm. He had his little girl's name tattooed on his arm. Then I heard him stop breathing. He was the nicest man I ever met. I never saw him yell at anybody. That was the worst time.

That was my worst time since I've been in Iraq. Both Sergeant Snelson and Kasika died of their wounds. Later, Steven Green admitted the deaths of his superiors messed him up real bad and fueled his hatred for the Iraqi people, quote. There's not a word that would describe how much I hated these people. I wasn't thinking these people were humans. Over here, killing people is like squashing an ant. I mean, you kill someone and it's like, all right, let's go get some pizza.

Over the following months, Green's mental health deteriorated. He viewed the war and his involvement as pointless, quote. I've got to be here for a year and there ain't fuck I can do about it. I just want to go home alive. I don't give a fuck about the whole Iraq thing. I don't care. See, this war is different from all the ones that our fathers and grandfathers fought. Those wars were for something.

This war is for nothing. Even his own platoon were becoming increasingly uncomfortable by Green's mental instability. He snapped at superiors, found a joy in the macabre, and had jovially threw a puppy off a rooftop. He'd go on long, offensively racist rants before ending them with his desire to kill every last Iraqi on the planet. Acknowledging he wasn't coping, Green sought a military stress counselor, showing signs of behavioral problems such as agitation, irritability, hostility, and hypervigilance.

Green also displayed fear, severe anxiety, mistrust, and emotional detachment. He admitted he also suffered from nightmares and wanted to take revenge on Iraqis, including civilians. The counselor concluded Green had symptoms consistent with post-traumatic stress disorder. Due to Green's poor morale, high combat stress, and anger over the deaths of friends, the counselor labelled Green mission incompatible. It was recommended Green take a break from frontline combat to rest, and should he return, he needed stronger supervision.

The Green got neither. He was prescribed small doses of a mood-regulating drug to help him sleep, and was sent back to the drastically understaffed Traffic Control Point 2 on the secluded stretch of road just a few hundred metres from the Janabi family home. Traffic Control Point 2 was based out of a hollowed-out abandoned concrete house on a straight dirt roadside. The sleaking cots were laid out in two small rooms inside. Behind the house was a courtyard surrounded by a wire fence.

A military humby was parked out front observing the rural road in both directions. Traffic Control Point 2 had no electricity or running water. Soldiers there had little else but the uniform on their backs. Including Steven Green, Traffic Control Point 2 had a total of six men, barely enough to both adequately guard the checkpoint and conduct regular and safe patrols of the surrounding area. Their outpost had not been fortified, making the soldiers feel like sitting ducks. They were overworked, underslept, and incredibly high-strung.

Despite being prohibited by the US military, they'd taken up getting drunk on Iraqi whiskey and gin to cope. On March 12, 2006, when Sergeant Anthony Uribe and his patrol returned to Traffic Control Point 2 after investigating the Janabi family crime scene, he spotted Steven Green standing in the middle of the road, anxiously looking back and forth. When Uribe approached, Green pulled him aside and asked him what was going on. His breath reaped of hard liquor. Uribe gave him a quick situation report on the Janabi family massacre.

But Sergeant Uribe didn't believe him. There was no secret Steven Green was completely unstable, manic, medicated, and talked about killing Iraqis all the time, but never followed through. Green was constantly saying outrageous shit to try and get a rise out of others, and was always pushing boundaries between what he considered a funny joke and what others considered downright offensive. Besides, Uribe thought, there was absolutely no way someone like Private First Class Steven Green, far from a seasoned and skillful assassin, snuck out of Traffic Control Point 2 in broad

daylight, broke into the Janabi house, took control of everyone inside, corralled the parents and youngest daughter into a room, grabbed the family's AK-47, killed them one after the other, then forced the eldest daughter into the living room, raped her, set the place on fire, got away without being seen or heard, and returned to Traffic Control Point 2 without a single other soldier noticing he was gone. Sergeant Uribe didn't believe it was possible, so we told Green to shut the fuck up, and the conversation ended there. Over the following days, Sergeant Uribe's thoughts lingered on Green's confession.

Uribe reflected on the shotgun shell he found in the Janabi bedroom. American military were issued with combat shotguns for breaching doors and close combat indoor battles. Uribe couldn't get his mind off the shotgun shell. He knew its presence was problematic. If the rumor ever got out that an American soldier killed the Janabi family, the backlash from both the American and the Iraqi people would be career and potentially life-ending. It would intensify the war, giving the Iraqi population more reasons to resent and target

the Americans in their country. Sergeant Uribe continued to wrestle with the possibility Stephen Green had committed the murders. The more he thought about it. The more he started to think that maybe Green did get away without being seen. Did he finally snap and carry out his vengeful bloodlust? Was he truly capable of single-handedly slaughtering a civilian family? Not able to get it out of his head, Sergeant Uribe returned to Traffic Control Point 2

a few days after the Janabi family massacre to confront Stephen Green for more information. Green verbally walked through the entirety of the Janabi crime scene. He described it in such a vivid detail there was little doubt. Green had been there at some point. Uribe told Green, I'm done with you, you're dead to me. You get yourself out of this or I'll get you out myself. But Uribe took no immediate action after this interaction. Later that month, Green arrived at the forward operating base in Mahmoudia where he approached

the combat stress team for a mental health evaluation. Confessing his military transgressions and bad behavior, he stopped short of mentioning anything about the Janabi murders. After their evaluation of Green, the combat stress team concluded he had serious issues with impulsiveness and lying, lack of empathy and remorse, was aggressive and arrogant, and harboured a disregard for right and wrong. They diagnosed Green with a pre-existing antisocial personality disorder frequently associated with sociopathic and psychopathic persons, although they listed his potential

to harm others as low. On April 14, 2006, one month after the Janabi family massacre, Green was approved to leave Iraq and return home to the United States. Due to his diagnosed antisocial personality disorder and post-traumatic stress disorder, Green was not eligible for a second tour of duty. On May 16, 2006, Steven Green was honorably discharged from the United States Army. Back in Iraq, Sergeant Uribe was happy to see Steven Green gone and felt it ended his role in the Janabi situation once and for all.

He kept knowledge of Green's confession a secret, until his conversation with Private First Class Justin Watt. When Sergeant Uribe confessed all this information about Steven Green to Justin Watt in June, Watt was shell-shocked. It was a tough time in Bravo Company. Two of their brothers, Thomas Tucker and Christian Menchaca, had just been kidnapped, and another David Babineau had been killed. During the intense search for the missing soldiers, Sergeant Uribe had led his guard down and told

Justin Watt that an American soldier was responsible for the Janabi family massacre. Justin Watt later stated, quote, I couldn't believe what I was hearing. In one sentence, he had dismantled for me every good thing we'd done, every hospital we'd built, every school we'd protected. I had been prepared to fight the enemy, but I never expected to feel betrayed by my own people. Determined to find the truth of the matter, Watt insisted Green's claim should be properly

investigated. Forget about it, Sergeant Uribe replied, just like God sorted out. Watt found it impossible to follow Uribe's advice. He lay awake thinking over Green's confession. God truly believed Green wasn't lying, and he did kill the Janabi family. However, Watt struggled with the idea that Green acted alone. Green was the runt of the platoon, and not in the frame of mind to intricately plan, stage, and get away with the successful multiple murder on his own.

Furthermore, Traffic Control Point 2 wasn't a main base with hundreds of troops constantly coming and going. Watt was a small empty house with only six station soldiers. If one was gone for even five minutes, the others would notice. Watt was convinced someone else must have known what Green was up to. Green was protecting someone. Watt started conducting his own discreet investigation, it was above his rank and expertise, and risked his reputation, career, and possibly his life.

Yet, he was determined to discover the truth. Was Steven Green a lying madman, or was he really a murderer? The only ones who could possibly know the truth were the five other soldiers stationed at Traffic Control Point 2 at the time of the killings. The first soldier that Justin Watt spoke to was Private First Class Brian Howard. Eighteen-year-old Brian Howard from Texas had only been in Iraq for around five months. He was one of the soldiers stationed at Traffic Control Point 2 with Steven Green at the time of the Janabi massacre.

Howard was the youngest of the troops stationed there, a new recruit who was perpetually stuck in the hazing stage. Justin Watt's perspective to Brian Howard was the one most likely to talk. Howard didn't have the same long-term connection and loyalty to Green as the more seasoned soldiers at Traffic Control Point 2. Watt pulled Howard aside for a talk and shaped their conversation into a back-and-forth of really messed up stuff they had experienced in Iraq. Howard was eager to listen and trade horror stories, but seemed to intentionally skirt

around the Janabi killings. Watt instantly felt Howard's reluctance to bring up the topic himself, implied he was hiding something. So Watt casually brought up the Janabi murders. Careful not to raise Howard's suspicions that there was an ulterior motive for their conversation, but Howard remained hesitant to talk about it. Frustrated by Howard's reluctance to talk, Justin Watt decided to risk it all. Pretending he knew more than he did, Watt repeated details Sergeant Uribe had told him

about the crime, including labelling Steven Green as the killer. It was a massive gamble. If Howard sincerely didn't know anything about the crime, Watt would get around that Justin Watt was starting rumors implicating his own brothers. He'd be labelled a traitor and a liar, maybe a terrorist sympathiser. His career would be over. But the gamble paid off. It was as if Watt slid the right key into the lock.

Suddenly, Howard's guard lowered, and he began talking openly about the Janabi killings as though he was sharing a story they both already knew. But to Justin Watt, this was all horrifyingly new. Private First Class Brian Howard started his story on the morning of March 12, 2006. At Traffic Control Point 2, Private Seth Scala was pulling guard out front in the Humvee. The remainder of the squad were off-duty. The soldier in charge at the checkpoint, Specialist Promotable Paul Cortez, was out back in the courtyard.

With Cortez were privates Jesse Spillman and Steven Green, and the second-most senior soldier at the checkpoint, Specialist James Barker. 23-year-old James Barker from California was the mischief-maker of the squad. Described as a lovable dork, Barker was a quick-witted smart aleck whose timely humour brought levity to the harsh war environment. He joined the Army in 2003, as his prior history with gangs, drugs and alcohol made it difficult for him to find ordinary work back home. Barker had anger issues and was once reported for physically abusing his wife and child.

Barker insisted the situation was a misunderstanding, but he was forced to attend anger management classes anyway. His boots first hit Iraqi soil in October 2003. By March 2006, he was on his second tour. Despite his rocky past, immature behaviour and anger issues, Barker was noted as one of the best combat soldiers many of his superiors had ever seen. Cortez, Barker, Green and Spillman were sitting in plastic lawn chairs around a makeshift table playing a card game.

Brian Howard was not playing cards with the boys. He was inside the building, laying on his cot with headphones in, listening to music. Beginning sometime between 10am and 1030am, the group out back playing cards started drinking alcohol. They mixed whiskey and gin with several cans of energy drinks, then passed around the potent concoction, drinking liberally. When they ran dry, they mixed up a new batch. As the group got drunker, their boyish banter and chid chat turned to something more sinister.

Howard overheard fragments of their conversation through the wall, and realised they were discussing raping an Iraqi girl. A short time later, Cortez, Barker, Green and Spillman came inside the Traffic Control Point 2 building. They were buzzed from the alcohol and pumped up from energy drinks. Howard watched as they changed into what soldiers called a ninja suit. Its black silk, lightweight underwear, consisting of pants and a long-sleeved top, usually worn under clothes on cold nights.

After putting on their ninja suits, the soldiers also made makeshift balaclavas out of t-shirts and wrapped them around their heads, covering their faces. Spillman grabbed an M14 long-range sniper rifle. Cortez and Barker took an M4 assault rifle each, and Green carried a combat shotgun. Cortez told Howard they were going to go fuck an Iraqi girl nearby. Howard thought Cortez was insane, and didn't honestly believe that's what the group were really going off to do. He attempted to keep them from leaving by reminding them it was a really bad idea for

the four of them to abandon the Traffic Control Point, leaving only two soldiers on guard there. Cortez handed Howard a two-way radio, keeping the other for himself. He ordered Howard to tune into a different channel so no one else would hear their chatter. If there were any problems, they'd radio each other. Easy. They weren't going far. They could be back to the Traffic Control Point in minutes if anything happened. Cortez, Barker, Green and Spillman walked out the back, squeezed through a gap in the

wire fence that surrounded the checkpoint, and disappeared. Howard estimated the four of them were gone for approximately 15 minutes. When they returned, all of the men were in a heightened hyper and erratic state. One of the soldiers had blood on his clothing, but Howard couldn't recall which one. They also had an AK-47 assault rifle in their possession, which they didn't have earlier. After stripping off their ninja suits, Cortez and Barker poured a bottle of water over their genitals and started scrumming them clean. The clothes they wore out were collected in a box, and Howard was ordered to burn them.

Howard also recalled someone being ordered to throw the AK-47 assault rifle into the nearby canal. His memory was foggy though, so we couldn't remember exactly who made the order or who carried it out. Justin White masked his shock from Howard's revelations. His instincts were correct, Steven Green didn't act alone, but it was flawed to discover just about the entire outpost was in on it. After this conversation, Justin White confronted his team leader, Sergeant Anthony Uribe, with

the new details gathered from Brian Howard. But Uribe, despite his own suspicions, couldn't accept four US soldiers were involved in the Janabi crime. Howard's testimony was flaky, and he couldn't prove what the men did when they left Traffic Control Point too. They may not have gone to the Janabi property, they probably went to beat up some Iraqis to let off steam. As far as Uribe was concerned, everything Howard told White was hearsay.

Nothing Howard claimed conclusively proved without a doubt that Steven Green or any of the others committed the Janabi murders. Justin White felt defeated. At this point, he didn't know what to do. There was nothing in recruit training that taught soldiers what to do if their buddies have raped and murdered a civilian family. He couldn't confront any of the men Howard had implicated, they'd all just annoyed. Even his own superior seemed content to remain ignorant of the truth and forget about the

whole thing. As what chewed over thoughts about the Janabi family murders, upwards of 8,000 American and Iraqi soldiers were still searching for missing privates Thomas Tucker and Christian Menchaca. 25 combat operations were conducted, 12 villages were cleared, 11 airstrikes were ordered, 400 manual flight hours were locked as well as an additional 200 flight hours for unmanned drones. 29 IEDs were encountered, 17 of those were dismantled and 12 were detonated. One coalition force member died, 12 others were wounded, two insurgents were killed,

36 suspects were detained. Yet still after all that, no crucial intel was gathered pointing to the abductors or their location. American media reported news of the ambush and abduction. David Babineau was reported killed in action, Thomas Tucker and Christian Menchaca were duty status whereabouts unknown. Their families anxiously waited for updates and prayed they would be found alive. Reports initially suggested it was an act of retaliation for an American airstrike days

earlier that killed several militant group leaders. However, no one had come forward claiming responsibility for the ambush and abduction and neither a ransom or an exchange had been requested by the kidnappers. Until finally, on June 19, three days into the search, the Majahideen Shura Council of Iraq, an organization consisting of several insurgent groups opposing U.S. and coalition forces, published a press release claiming credit for the ambush and abduction. They bragged they'd humiliated the strongest army in the world and stated, quote, We give good news to the nation that we have carried God's verdict by slaughtering the

two captured crusaders. Shortly before 8 p.m. on June 19, U.S. troops conducted a nighttime sweep of an area almost three kilometers northeast from the power plant where the blood-stained road, drag marks and truck had been found. They spotted something up ahead on a secluded stretch of dirt road. On display in the center of the road were the bodies of Thomas Tucker and Christian Menchaca. They were near unrecognizable, caked with blood and mud.

Both soldiers had been mutilated, dismembered and burned. One of the men had been beheaded. Fears the bodies were booby-trapped by insurgents held off retrieval until daylight the following morning. The gruelling weight proved life-saving. An IED was discovered rigged between one of the victims' legs and three more were planted around the bodies. It took hours to safely diffuse the IEDs.

A memorial service was held for David Babineau, Thomas Tucker and Christian Menchaca in Iraq before their bodies were flown back home to the United States. Hundreds of people attended the memorial services for each man on home soil held in their respective hometowns. They were all bestowed a purple heart, awarded to military personnel wounded or killed on active duty, and a bronze star, awarded for heroic service and achievement within a combat zone. Justin Watt was overwhelmed with anger.

He asked himself, why did good, honorable heroic soldiers like Babineau, Tucker and Menchaca die, while Stephen Green, a confessed child rapist and killer, got to go home and live out his life as a false American hero? What was tormented by the helplessness Tucker and Menchaca must have felt during their capture and torture, a feeling he related to how custom Janabi must have felt as US soldiers marched into his home and began slaughtering his wife and daughters. The added realization that both Cortez and Spillman attended and investigated the Janabi crime scene with Sergeant Uribe, knowing full well what happened there, made Justin Watt

feel sick. Watt was compelled to seek justice for the Janabi family, but struggled with the fear of going against his squadmates as well as his superiors. Sergeant Uribe's complete disregard of the matter told Watt that he would rather bury his head in the sand, pushing him for an investigation was a dead end. Uribe had made it clear it was over as far as he was concerned. That June night, the phone rang in the Watt family home in South Carolina. Rick Watt answered.

The satellite phone link was clear, though somewhat delayed when his son's voice came through the receiver. Sounding obviously distraught, Justin Watt asked his father, if you knew something bad about your brothers, would you come forward? An army veteran himself, Rick knew when his son said brothers, he was referring to his fellow soldiers. Rick Watt pressed his son for more information, but Justin remained ambiguous. I really shouldn't say, but it's bad beyond anything you could imagine.

Rick Watt greatly honored and respected the bond of loyalty between soldiers. However, he could tell his son was carrying a great burden, perhaps more important than that bond, honor, and loyalty. Rick told his son to follow his conscience. He shouldn't let loyalty to his men get in the way of doing what was right. On June 20, 2006, Justin Watt approached a military mental health counselor. The only person he knew would be obligated to take his statements to investigators. After a deep, slow breath, he told them everything he knew.

An internal military investigation commenced immediately. Due to the sensitivity of the case, it was treated with utmost confidentiality. Many soldiers suspected an investigation was happening, but few had any idea what it was all about. Each of the soldiers who had been at Traffic Control Point 2 on the date of the crime were brought in for questioning, with the exception of Stephen Green, who was back in the States and no longer under military legal jurisdiction. All of the soldiers interviewed, Paul Cortez, James Barker, Jesse Spillman, Brian Howard,

and Anthony Uribe initially denied everything Justin Watt had asserted. So the investigative spotlight was then put on Justin Watt. He was immediately railroaded, caught a liar, threatened to be charged with making false statements and perjury. The interrogations of Watt were relentless, almost as though he was the bad guy, with no evidence to prove his claims, it was his word against the five other soldiers involved, and they were determined to remain tight-lipped. Justin Watt knew he was being intimidated to stay quiet, but despite their hardest efforts

to derail him, Watt stuck to his guns. Until finally, one of the five soldiers cracked. There was 21-year-old Private Jesse Spillman, who was the first to acknowledge what really happened. At first, he deliberately left out facts to avoid implicating himself, but through his revelations, each of the men involved began opening up to tell their version of events. As the investigation carried on, their candid statements stitched together a chilling portrait of what exactly happened on March 12, 2006.

In the early morning of March 12, 2006, after their routine roadside IED sweep, Paul Cortez, James Barker and Stephen Green were in the courtyard at the rear of Traffic Control Point 2. Barker was hitting golf balls over the fence line as the others watched. He remarked that he was going to waste a couple of dudes on his next guard shift. Cortez, who was in charge of the Traffic Control Point, warned him not to, as he didn't want to get in trouble for it. Barker then exclaimed he had a better idea.

His desire was to, quote, fuck an Iraqi bitch. The comments spurred a conversation between the three soldiers that carried on into a plan they plotted throughout the morning. Barker already had a target in mind, the girl in the farmhouse nearby. He didn't know her name, but had seen her almost daily outside in the garden. What about witnesses one of the soldiers asked? Answering this question earned Stephen Green his role in the plan. Barker knew Green was itching to kill Iraqis.

When asked if he was willing to take care of any witnesses, Green agreed. He wouldn't leave anyone alive. Barker and Cortez had both performed routine searches of the Janabi property before. They knew the father legally owned an AK-47 assault rifle that he kept in the bedroom. They described the layout of the house to Green, specifically where he could find the bedroom and rifle. Green was told to order the family to get on the ground and lay on their stomachs. When they were down, Green would put pillows over their heads, then shoot each of them

one by one through the pillow at point blank range. Cortez pulled rank and stated he would be the first one to rape the older girl. By now, Barker and Green were getting increasingly invested in the idea, but all of a sudden Cortez came to his senses and pulled the pluck, telling the others, this is crazy, fuck this, there's no way we are doing this shit. And the topic was dropped. For a while. The day then played out exactly as Brian Howard had described to Justin What.

Private Seth Skeller was on guard duty alone in the Humvee. Brian Howard was inside listening to music, and Cortez, Barker, Green, and Spillman were out back getting drunk and playing cards. An hour or two into their drinking session, Cortez, who had originally shut down the plan of rape and murder, suddenly stood up and said, fuck it, we are going to do this. The plan was finalized. Cortez and Barker would take the oldest daughter, and Green would kill the family. This was actually the first time Jesse Spillman heard what horrors his fellow soldiers were

hatching. When they asked if he wanted in, he said he was down. The group got changed out of their military clothes. Their aim was to look like insurgents in case they were spotted by any witnesses. After and Cortez changed into their ninja suits, Green removed the US military insignias on his uniform. They covered their faces and armed themselves. Cortez gave Howard, who was not participating in the crime, a radio to keep in touch.

Cortez, Barker, Green, and Spillman then left Traffic Control Point too. After squeezing through a gap in the wire fence surrounding the checkpoint, they entered a big field blocked in by walls and another chain link fence. Using a multi-tool knife, Barker cut a gap through this second fence, and the group squeezed through one after the other. Remaining in formation, they quickly followed a path past an abandoned property until they reached another chain link fence. This one already had a cut through it, so the soldiers just pulled it open and climbed

through. They marched through a grassy field shaded with palm trees until they reached their target location, the small, tan-coloured concrete farmhouse at the end of a dirt driveway. Specialist promotable poor Cortez, quote. The father and the little girl was outside, right by the front door in front of their car. Spillman had kind of pushed the little girl, kind of taking her inside, and then Green had grabbed the father.

By the time I got inside, Green had already had them all inside the room and was pushing the older daughter out to me and Barker. Me and Barker took her toward the back wall. I think she was hyperventilating, she was just breathing real hard, kind of scared probably. I threw her to the ground by her hair, I tore off her little silk weight, Barker was holding her hands down, up above her head. End, quote. Green entered the bedroom where he'd forced the carsome, Vakriya and her deal before shutting

and locking the door behind him. Private first class Jesse Spillman, quote. The bedroom door shut, then I went back to the front foyer area looking out again, just pulling security. I heard several gunshots coming from the bedroom. It kind of took me by surprise, so I ran over to the door. I started beating on the door and the door was locked. Just a few seconds went by and then Green kind of opened up the door, just cracked it

open a little bit. I asked him, is everything alright, is everything fine? And he was like, yeah, everything's fine. And he kind of opened the door the rest of the way, and I seen the older female on the ground and the older male in the corner on the ground as well. It appeared like they were both dead. I seen a shotgun shell on the ground, it didn't look like it was expended, it was not fired, and I pointed that out.

Green picked it up, he had a shotgun I remember seeing at that time. He put the shell back in the shotgun and kind of kept looking around on the ground looking for something. That's when I kind of backed up from the doorway a little bit, and I peered into the living room, and that's when I seen Cortez and Barker raping the female. And then Green comes out of the bedroom, enters the living room, the four of us are in the living room, and he kind of announces just to everybody, I killed them, and they're all dead.

And to then the other two, Barker and Cortez get up and they're finished, and they leave the female laying on the ground. At that point, Green was holding an AK-47 and he leans it up against the wall, and then he goes over. After Green was done, he gets up and kind of pulls his pants back up, went over to where he placed the AK-47 against the wall, walked back over to the young lady there, and I remember him putting a pillow over her face, and then he put the AK-47 up to the pillow, and then fired, probably five or six times.

I walked over to the body of the young female. My back was towards everybody in the living room, so I don't know who was in there. And I knelt down beside her and lifted up her shirt. I touched her breast. I really can't tell you why. I really don't know the reason why I did it. I just wanted to quote. At this point, Cortez was frenzied and started telling everybody that they had to get out

of there. Barker entered the kitchen and returned holding a glass lamp. He poured the kerosene in the lamp over a beer's body. They used spillman cigarette lighter to set the liquid alight. Spillman collected bags of clothes from the corner of the room and put them on top of the beer's body to feed the flames. Green pulled the hose off a propane bottle in the kitchen. The four soldiers then quickly fled the property and ran back the traffic control point too.

When they got back, they stripped off their clothes and burnt them. Cortez ordered Spillman to take the AK-47 Green had brought back from the Janabi property and throw it into a nearby canal. Green was hyper-energetic, bouncing around, exclaiming what they just did was awesome. That around 5pm that afternoon, they overheard a report on the radio from Traffic Control Point 1 of the murder and rape. When Sergeant Anthony Uribe arrived to Traffic Control Point 2 to pick up Cortez and Spillman for his patrol of the scene, he had no idea the soldiers were responsible.

Cortez recalled returning to the crime scene when he first saw what Green had done in the bedroom and made him physically sick and he had to rush outside the vomit. Later, when Uribe found the shotgun shell in the bedroom, Cortez realized Green had accidentally left it behind. He pocketed the shell and destroyed it later that evening. Later that same night, Cortez, Barker, Green, Spillman and Howard were standing under the stars staring into the flames of the fire together. Private Skeller, the other soldier at Traffic Control Point 2 was back on duty in the Humvee.

Skeller had no knowledge and no involvement in the planning, orchestration or covering up of the crime. While staring into the flames, Cortez told the others to keep quiet about everything, to keep it to themselves. Green told the others if it ever got out, just to blame everything on him. From that day onwards, none of the men involved spoke of the crime. Eventually, they were rotated out from Traffic Control Point 2. Spillman ran into Green months later in May at the forward operating base.

At that stage, Steven Green was processing through his discharge and preparing to go back to the United States. They played video games together, and at no point did they mention the murders. After their confessions, each of the soldiers were stripped of their weapons and placed under arrest. The entire situation was kept from the public. Considering the implications if word got out what US soldiers did to an Iraqi civilian family, it was believed to be safer for everyone to handle the situation internally.

On June 26, Justin Watt logged into his MySpace page. He'd often post status updates on his time in Iraq for friends and family back home. On that day, he posted an obscure message hinting at his frustration know what he perceived was a military cover-up. Quote, Nobody would know that I brought justice to a murdered family. On June 30, Ryan Lenz, a war correspondent for Associated Press, was tailing a unit north of Baghdad. He started hearing rumours amongst troops about a murder investigation involving American

military personnel. Prying around for more details, he interviewed several anonymous sources who were directly involved in the investigation and had intimate knowledge of the case. On July 1, Ryan Lenz published a comprehensive story on the crime titled, G.I.s May Have Planned Iraq Rape Slangs. Immediately, the story became an international scandal. On July 10, 2006, 21 days after the mutilated bodies of US privates Thomas Tucker and Christian Manchaka were found, the Majahideen Shura Council in Iraq released a video online.

The 4 minute and 39 second video begins with a brief introduction featuring the image and voice of Osama Bin Laden, the leader of terrorist organisation Al Qaeda. The video cuts to rough, grainy, handheld footage. The camera hovers over the bodies of the two soldiers. They are laid close to each other as insurgents move in and out of shot, pointing and poking. The statement was released with the video. Quote, Here is a film on the remains of the bodies of the two American soldiers kidnapped near

Yusufia. We are showing it to Avangio's sister who was dishonoured by a soldier belonging to the same brigade as these two soldiers. The media sifted through the history of members of Bravo Company in Iraq in a frenzied search for more information. Justin Watts' Myspace profile was found and the message he posted on June 26, nobody would know that Al Brot Justice to a murdered family, was published in the media, singling him out as the crime's whistleblower.

Watts was warned of possible threats made by other members of his unit and lived in constant fear of retribution for turning in his squadmates. He was moved from Bravo Company to Charlie Company in an attempt to create some distance between himself and those being investigated. Stephen Green's time back in the United States after Iraq was hollow and directionless. He spent his time driving around aimlessly with a pistol and rifle in his car. Green had gone back to old vices, drinking and drugs. When he nebriated or higher, he would reveal to friends the horrors he had witnessed in

Iraq, at one point mentioning witnessing a rape committed by American soldiers. However, when he sobered up, he told them to forget about what he said. In early July, Stephen Green attended the funeral for David Babineau held at the Arlington National Cemetery, a US military cemetery in Virginia. Two hundred people were in attendance, including Babineau's family and extended family, old school friends, wife and children, as well as a large contingent of American military members. Afterwards, Green visited his grandmother in North Carolina.

It was there that FBI agents stormed the house, arresting Green. As Green was technically a civilian at the time of his arrest, his trial was to be held before a civilian court. The other perpetrators, all still active duty soldiers, faced military court. Paul Cortez, James Barker, Jesse Spillman and Brian Howard had multiple charges to their names, including housebreaking with intent to rape, conspiracy to commit rape, rape, four counts of murder and arson. Specialist promotable Paul Cortez, who Green lit the rape, claimed he didn't realize

the family would actually be killed. On January 22, 2007, Cortez pleaded guilty in his court martial and wept as he apologized for the crimes, offering no explanation as to why he took part. Paul Cortez was sentenced to 100 years in prison. Specialist James Barker, who pitched the idea of the rape, accepted responsibility for his actions. Quote, I want the people of Iraq to know that I did not go there to do the terrible things I did.

I do not ask anyone to forgive me. To live there, to survive there, I became angry and mean. I loved my friends, my fellow soldiers and my leaders. But I began to hate everyone else in Iraq. On November 15, 2006, Barker pleaded guilty in his court martial and showed no emotion when he was sentenced to 90 years in prison. Private first class Jesse Spillman, whose participation in the crime was as the groups look out, accepted that his passive involvement made him just as culpable as the others.

Quote, I don't really blame my chain of command. I don't really blame anybody. I could have stopped it. I take responsibility for my actions. I thought about it that night, and I decided not to report it for a couple of different reasons. I mean, you go over there in the wartime environment and we're looking out for each other. And I just didn't feel like telling on the people that I served with.

And at the same time, I might end up like them too. You know, if I go tell the command, somebody might silence me, or something like that. On August 3rd, 2007, Spillman pleaded guilty in his court martial and was sentenced to 110 years. Spillman received a larger sentence than the others as he didn't know not to the full extent of his knowledge of the crime. He claimed he didn't know what the plan was when they went to the Janabi house, and when he found out, he was too scared to do anything about it.

He also interfered with a beer's body after she was murdered. As a part of plea deals, Cortez, Barker, and Spillman avoided the death penalty and had their non-parallel periods lowered to 10, 10, and 20 years, respectively. On the condition they gave evidence at each other's court proceedings. Private First Class Brian Howard, who overheard the others planning the crime but didn't participate, stated, quote, If I could go back, I would not have let it happen in the first place. I definitely would have told somebody.

Howard was sentenced to 27 months for obstruction of justice and being an accessory after the fact. He was released after 17 months for good behavior. Sergeant Anthony Uribe, who didn't report Greene's confession of murder, was charged with obstructing the investigation, specifically dereliction of duty and making a false statement. He was granted immunity from prosecution for his testimony in the trials of the others. Each of the soldiers involved were dishonorably discharged from the United States military, except for Sergeant Anthony Uribe, who was given a less than honorable discharge.

On April 27, 2009, Stephen Greene civilian trial began. He pleaded not guilty, but never denied his involvement in the crime. His defense team detailed what life was really like in Iraq for US soldiers, emphasizing the harsh and stressful wartime conditions, the lack of leadership, and the little help troops received from the army to deal with the loss of friends. They suggested the army should have removed Greene from frontline duty and provided him with more intensive mental health care, when it was clear he wasn't coping under the pressure. A psychiatrist at Greene's trial testified that his medical treatment in Iraq didn't

meet the acceptable standard of care. Soldiers with post-traumatic stress disorder in Iraq, who would normally have been removed from the battlefield, were retained to satisfy the need for combat troops. A 2008 MRI scan of Greene's brain showed he had been suffering from brain damage, and that people with his kind of brain injury often experienced major difficulties checking impulses, described as, quote, they won't have the brakes and they'll be easily aroused into action. Relatives of the Janabi family testified at Greene's trial. A cousin testified how they believed the Americans when they said the crime had been

committed by insurgents, quote, I thought it had to be terrorists. This was a massacre, not a crime. I thought no American would do such a thing. Other relatives detailed how Facriar Janabi disclosed to them on March 10 she had caught American soldiers leering at her daughter, 14 year old, a beer, and giving her unwanted attention as she worked outside in the garden. They would point to her daughter, give her a thumbs up, and say very good, very good. This behavior concerned Facriar so much she made plans for a beer to spend the night of

March 11 sleeping at her uncle's house. But the same relatives reassured Facriar and told her that the Americans would not do such a thing. Her beer did not take up the offer to stay at her uncle's that night, and it was the following day when she and her family were killed. A beer's harassment by the offenders was further substantiated by her brother. Muhammad Janabi testified at Stephen Green's trial that he recalled when the American soldiers were searching their house, and one of them ran his index finger down a beer's cheek, an action that terrified her. Muhammad also revealed that neither he or his younger brother Ahmed had any idea when they came home from school on March 12, 2006, and saw the smoke

coming from their family home, that it was coming from their sister's body. Both Janabi brothers stopped attending school after the murders as they no longer had the mood to study. Youngest son Ahmed stated he wanted to grow up to be a policeman, quote, so I can protect myself and other people and poor people. Stephen Green's trial lasted eight days. Each of the soldiers involved in the crime testified, explaining in grim detail the planning, orchestration, and a cover-up of the murders. On May 7, 2009, her federal jury convicted Stephen Green of rape and murder. Green was spared the death penalty as the jury of nine men and three women could not come to a

unanimous decision. As a result, Green was sentenced to life without parole. Green appealed his convictions, stating he should have faced a military trial, not a civilian trial. He lost his appeal in August, 2011. As anticipated, violence in Iraq picked up once the truth of the Janabi killers was publicly revealed. However, some Iraqis understood that criminals exist regardless of culture, and didn't hold the United States accountable for the actions of the few who were responsible. Iraq's government argued that each of the soldiers' trials should have been held in an Iraqi court. Some believed Green especially should have been put to death in the place where

he committed his crime. A relative of the Janabi family stated, quote, Imagine the situation reversed. If a non-American had done this crime, the world would be up in arms, and surely he would have been executed. Stephen Green issued a public apology for his crimes that he personally read during his trial. He stated, quote, Before I was in the army, I never thought I would kill anyone. And even after I was in the army, but before I went to Iraq, I never thought I would intentionally kill a civilian. When I was in Iraq, something happened to me that I can only explain by saying that I lost my mind. At some point while I was in Iraq, I stopped seeing Iraqis as good and bad as men,

women, and children. I started seeing them all as one, and evil, and less than human. When that happened, any natural, learned, or religious morality that normally would have stopped this was gone. Life in prison wasn't easy for Stephen Green. Due to the nature of his crime and the fact it involved children, he was often targeted for attacks by other inmates and was often placed in protective segregation. He described prison as a lonely existence. On February 13, 2014, an unresponsive Stephen Green was found hanging in his prison cell. Two days later, he was confirmed dead. Stephen Green's lawyer said that Green's death, quote, adds another tragedy to a long list of tragedies that already existed in this case.

That's another indication of how horrific this case had been for everyone involved. Justin Watt eventually sought a medical discharge from the military in 2007, due to his diagnosed post-traumatic stress disorder, a traumatic brain injury, and an IED-related stomach injury. He credited his ability to come forward and expose his fellow troops by the fact that he, unlike the perpetrators of the Janabi killings, never demonised his enemy. Justin Watt understood that in war, nobody thinks they are the bad guy, and both sides perceived themselves as the righteous one. Watt was their nightmare, just as much they were his. Evil in each other's eyes.

Since returning back to the United States, he's been labelled both a hero and a traitor. Letters and emails from the public have varied. Some praised his bravery and integrity, whilst others mocked his disloyalty and allegiance to his home country. His father, Rick Watt, whose encouragement propelled Justin to come forward, is proud of his son. I'm proud of him for coming forward. It took moral courage. I'm amazed at the content of his character. By 2009, discussions were had amongst US political circles, leading to an agreement that all US combat brigades would be removed from Iraq by the end of August 2010. On August 18, 2010, the final US military combat troops were reported to have crossed

Iraq's southeastern border into the country of Kuwait. The official closure to Operation Iraqi Freedom was announced on August 31, 2010. On the night of March 17, 2003, the President of the United States, George W. Bush, stood alone before a single camera in the crosswalk at the White House in Washington, D.C. Standing before the American flag in a crisp suit and tie, the President was stoic as he began a 13-minute speech broadcast around the world. Looking deep into the camera, President Bush gave a powerful ultimatum. He demanded President Saddam Hussein leave Iraq. If Hussein refused the order, the full might of the United States military and its allies would enter Iraq and remove him by force. He then added,

their power. We will deliver the food and medicine you need. We will tear down the apparatus of terror and we will help you to build a new Iraq that is prosperous and free. In a free Iraq, there will be no more wars of aggression against your neighbors, no more poison factories, no more executions of dissidents, no more torture chambers and rape rooms. The tyrant will soon be gone. The day of your liberation is near.