Headlines that read ‘bike rider shot’ evoke a very peculiar, disturbing feeling.
In May 2017, I posted about the US police shooting of Nick Provenza.
This month, another unsettling story of a youth on a bike being killed emerged– but this one was years ago and even more complex.
The story comes from Reuters journalist Andrew Gray.
In 2003, Andrew was embedded with a US tank battalion during the Iraq invasion.
Of all that Andrew experienced during his tour, it was a photo of the shooting of a boy riding his bike that had the most enduring and profound impact.
Andrew wanted to know why the young bike rider was shot.
In a recent ABC radio interview, Andrew explained why this particular incident haunted him and why he decided to follow it up.
How ‘the boy on a bike’ reveals so much more.
The image above was the impetus that lead Andrew to interview locals and military personnel, dig into archives, track down eyewitnesses, and keep pushing for explanations long after others had moved on.
His journey is now a documentary, called ‘The boy on a bike’.
In the documentary, Andrew tries to unpack the issues, people and events involved that ended with the shooting of a boy riding his bike. Andrew said “I’ve spent 16 years trying to find out the truth about the war crime allegation. None of it has been easy.
It is an incredible story.
While I was reading, I couldn’t help but think of how many other people have been affected by this. Immediately, there is the boy’s family, his community, those who saw what happended, other military personnel, and the news professionals involved in distributing the story – but also those who are hearing the story for the first time.
I then read the full article Andrew wrote.
In his story, Andrew recounts eyewitness statement, raises critical moral questions, delves into the complexity of wartime experiences – and yes, he finally does find out who the bike rider was.
It is an interesting and humbling read.
Below is the first part of Andrew’s account.
Chapter 1: ‘Why am I doing this?’
I’ve never quite been able to let go of the story of the boy on the bike.
It set me on an international quest that has lasted 16 years, to find out if a war crime was committed that day.
I have sat opposite a soldier accused by his comrades of murder. I have asked people to revisit deeply painful memories. I have tried to find the answer to a grieving mother’s question: “Why did they kill my son?”
None of it has been easy.
I’ve had to ask difficult questions of myself too.
Why am I doing this? Is one small incident in a big war worth it? Is it even possible to reach back through the confusion of war and the fading of memories to find an answer?
And do I have the right — or the stomach — to publicly judge soldiers under great pressure in wartime?