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London Bombings: The Missing Link – Or Another Curveball?

Author bio: 
Richard Cottrell

In London right now four young men, three Pakistanis and another Jamaican-born, are on trial for mass murder. Their right to silence is being duly respected, since they are conveniently dead. This interesting demonstration of British justice is in fact a blatantly rigged 'inquest' into the deaths of 52 passengers on London Transport services, supposedly blown up by these young men on the 7th July 2007. Of course this is simply a staged event for the benefit of the mainstream media, who gullibly regurgitate the official state pronouncements of maddened Jihadists striking at the heart of a society they allegedly despised.

Of all the millions of words uttered since this grotesque show trial started last November, not a single witness has come forward to explain how these individuals, who reputedly bombed three tube trains and a bus, vanished into thin air leaving not a trace of flesh or bone or a scrap of DNA, although, curiously, items of evidence they had about them that usefully pointed to their identity miraculously survived.

In short by some fantastic and hitherto unknown force of nature or science, they simply dematerialized or if you prefer, evaporated. If I appear disrespectful to the 52 innocents who perished, the 784 who were injured by the blasts that warm July morning four years ago, some of them terribly, others still gripped by psychological trauma, that is not my intention. Rather, what could be more disrespectful than the authorities who coldly commissioned this outrage perpetuating a gross deception of what really happened?

I could wax on at length on a Moscow type of inquiry in which the verdict is delivered before the trial begins, and further that any evidence that conflicts with the official account may not be heard. So, this conveniently prevents a line of questioning that would lead, irrevocably, to a posthumous verdict of not guilty.

One scrap of evidence will serve. The remnants of the inquiry continually refer to the terrorists using home-made bombs packed with nails. Not a single death or injury could be traced to nails or related sharp or pointed objects. The explosions, exerting a huge force, came from beneath the underground trains. It seems clear from my researches that an artificially contrived short-out of the electrical track circuits worked to detonate high explosive of clearly military origins, as one competent French expert in such matters has testified.

Now, from across the pond comes the news that one Mohammed Junaid Babar, a media-styled American Jihadist who supposedly set up the training camp where one of the 7/7 bombers was taught bomb-making techniques, is strolling around free as fresh air after a slight tap on the wrist from a kindly New York judge.

Now here, bless my soul, is actually a living flesh-and-bone, throbbing with DNA, living testimony to the events of 7/7. Yet he might as well be guilty of some traffic offence or perhaps a minor criminal infraction, like passing a dud check, so far as the American judicial system is concerned. In a British court he could be usefully charged with aiding and abetting mass murder. But even though his identity and whereabouts are clearly known, he has never been given his day in court.

Given that he has been sitting around, allegedly in some part of the correctional system for the past four years, or even strolling around would you believe, on bail, it is odd, is it not, that his collar was never felt in all this time by Scotland Yard? At least, as far as we know, so far. It certainly gives a whole new meaning to the 'special relationship' which is supposed to rule Anglo-American relations, while exposing the so-called war on terror to long overdue mockery.

Babar got the kid-glove treatment thanks to what the benevolent judge called his 'exceptional co-operation' with US intelligence agencies. This convenient supergrass not only spilled the beans on the terror training camp that ramped up the London bombers, but claims he was on best buddy terms with some of the top dogs in Al-Qaida. That he knew about plots to bump off the former Pakistani dictator General Pervez Musharraf is cited as another example of has platinum-plated revelations. It seems a tad unkind to such an important figure to explain that Musharraf went about in a car fitted with more armor plating than a tank precisely because about three quarters of the population of Pakistan spent their waking hours nurturing ill-will towards him.

The Guardian, by exposing the strange case of Mohammed Babar, has on the surface at any rate unquestionably performed a signal service to the cause of 7/7 truth, but only in the sense of raising many more questions than answers. For example, how comes it that such a high-grade source went whither he pleased with a bail note stuffed in his pocket for at least two years, which is a rare bounty granted to a man boasting such impressive terrorist credentials. No taxpayer-funded holiday in sunny Cuba for our Mohammed. Nor those special daily mind-cleansing showers devised by the CIA and approved by Dick Cheney. No solitary confinement of the sort dished out to the dupe Bradley Manning. With, we are encouraged to suspect, the street and block number of the hermit Osama's desert residence in his pocket, he steps out with all the brash confidence of a man who fears no evil.

We are to believe, apparently, that as long as he kept the kettle whistling, he could look forward to a light rap. So it was that seventy years shrank to four and a bit, which he may never have served at all in any real sense, and anyway were discounted by the New York court, plus the shocking imposition of a five hundred buck court admin fee in the city scarred forever by the atrocity of 9/11. Dear readers, I am not making this up. No-one could and yet expect to be believed.

Unfortunately the newspaper rather muffs its promising detective work by tripping over the really gigantic elephant in this story, which is that Babar was a long-time informant and apparently on the CIA's books even before his arrest, and then wondering only airily if he was in this state of grace at about the time of the London bombings. The narrative is allowed to stress that Babar is living and conclusive proof of the guilt of the so-called bombers because he admitted to boasting at least one of them as a graduate at his exclusive little finishing school for amateur bombers.

Now the flip side. The revelation of the CIA in cahoots with a technician supposedly behind the bombings raises to say the very least, a host of awkward questions, given the catalogue of infamies for which the CIA has been directly responsible over the last 60 years.

Thus Babar becomes an enormously elephantine component of the 7/7 conspiracy stretching far beyond his introduction, if not actually in a physical sense, as a 'witness' to the absurd and contrived inquest proceedings. This allows the suspicion to creep into a sneaky mind like mine that here we may have a long-time sleeper kitted out with an identity wrap and a cover story. I spent a considerable part of my life as a television and newspaper reporter, and if I had sent such a bald piece so full of gaping holes as the Guardian's in front of my news editor, I would have expected and received a lively bawling out, while my stout efforts flew to the little round filing cabinet reserved for that purpose. But that of course was in the days when the profession of grumpy old men known as news editors yet existed. And of course long before the days when it became politically incorrect to question the establishment line, which took hold of the mainstream media with the death/murder of Princess Diana and the Harrods heir in a Parisian underpass.

I do not question the paper's integrity, nor necessarily its motives in seemingly playing down what is clearly a highly important angle, but I do question why the story has surfaced at this time, with the inquest proceedings flagging. It is common practice of course, and has been for the past hundred years at least, for MI5 and MI6 between them to feed Fleet Street with dainty morsels that shape and guide the public agenda. So this is an all too plausible explanation as to why Mohammed walks at last upon the public stage. But not, you will notice, the one located in London.

HMG simply looks the other way and whistles, while if you look at London cop with the wrong kind of attitude displayed on your face these days, you are liable to find yourself thrown in the jug as a potential terrorist.

The inquests have not actually satisfied the relatives of the dead or the injured parties because of the tight restrictions on testimony and the secrecy provisions, the latter imposed by the intelligence agencies and Scotland Yard. They have been clearly overshadowed, too, by the unraveling of the so-called suicide of Dr David Kelly, the boffin at the heart of the Iraq weapons of mass destruction fantasy. Thanks to the efforts of some very nosey medicos, this is now exposed as the blatant murder of a man who lost from a tiny incision to his wrist about as much blood as a shaving nick and left no fingerprints on the knife 'found' at his side in an Oxfordshire glade.

For now, Mohammed has had his moment of fame. We need for sure to understand much more about the London bombings. But from another Curveball? Somehow, I doubt it.

Richard Cottrell is a former European MP and the author of several books. His next is Gladio: NATO's Dagger At The Heart of Europe, coming shortly from Progressive Press, which includes a demolition of the official account of the London Bombings.