towards the young couple’s romance. Zakaria came from a decent family, he had studied at
university for several years, and he expected to get a good job. His girlfriend was also university-educated. They were both intending to carry on working after they got married. The girl had asked
her mother if she would help out with taking care of any possible grandchildren in the future, and her mother had agreed.
But as so often in the past, there was no happy ending to this particular fairy tale. Suddenly the girl’s father decided that he wanted his daughter to marry the son of a business
acquaintance instead. At the very least he insisted she should take a break from her relationship with Zakaria and give this new man a chance. The girl refused, which led to violent family
quarrels. According to Zakaria, the young couple eventually ran away and settled in a different part of the country, where they found it difficult to find work and to make ends meet.
At this point the girl discovered she was pregnant. Zakaria Khelifi had told the Immigration Board they were both happy about the child, but at the same time they were afraid that people would
find out they had started a family before they were married. Therefore, they got married very quickly. Unfortunately, somehow the rumour that the girl had got pregnant while she was still single
reached the ears of her parents. That was the beginning of a nightmare that ended when Zakaria’s wife died in a car accident halfway through her pregnancy.
Zakaria Khelifi claimed that his wife’s eldest brother called him and told him that the car accident had been arranged, and that they would deal with Zakaria too as soon as the opportunity
arose. So-called honour killings were not uncommon in many places around the world, including Algeria on occasion. Zakaria left the country a week or so later.
And now, just a few years down the line, he had ended up in the middle of Säpo’s latest terrorist investigation, and they wanted him deported – in spite of the fact that he had
a legally binding judgement granting him permanent residence in Sweden. He also had a steady job and a girlfriend. The state had far-reaching powers when it came to handling threats against
national security.
Fredrika tried not to feel uneasy. Deporting someone who had previously been deemed to have grounds for asylum was a serious measure, with radical consequences for the individual. Surely,
Säpo would exercise extreme caution when taking such a step? The statistics supported this view; cases like that of Zakaria Khelifi were exceptionally rare.
At the same time, it was impossible to ignore the context that had given rise to this particular case.
Over the past decade, the fear of international terrorism had become overwhelming. And that fear gave legitimacy to counter-measures which would otherwise have been less clear-cut. How could you
make sure that no innocent party got caught in the crossfire? You had to have the courage to ask such questions, even if they had been asked many times before. The authorities always faced the
dilemma of possibly punishing innocent people, irrespective of the type of criminal behaviour involved. But when it came to terrorism, the issue became even more important. The consequences of
making the wrong call could be catastrophic.
She had been fascinated by Säpo’s presentation. Very little of the content or delivery had surprised her; since she started working for the police, she had often thought that
Säpo’s reputation for drama was undeserved. Perhaps it was their own fault. In spite of the fact that there had been a stated policy of transparency for several years, at times, Fredrika
still couldn’t see why they didn’t do more to explain their actions.
One of her colleagues knocked on the door. ‘The phones are red hot.’
‘Because of the bomb threats?’
‘Yes. They want to know if they government is taking the threats seriously, and if there’s a