Alleged mass murderers who believed they were safe in Britain

New human remains are unearthed almost every week in the rolling green hills above Songa village, a ramshackle collection of clay huts and dirt tracks in southwest Rwanda. Twelve years on, each discovery brings a fresh funeral at which villagers gather to pray while the bones, skulls and torsos of neighbors, friends and beloved family members are finally turned into consecrated ground to lay at rest. The need for forgiveness is repeated on each occasion by the village leaders. But for those who survived the massacre in the nearby Isar agricultural college, where Tutsi families fled by the thousands in search of refuge from the marauding packs of government soldiers and Interahamwe militias, forgiveness cannot come without justice. Until now, Charles Munyaneza, a local mayor in neighboring Gikongoro province, has been able to escape the scrutiny that the process of justice brings for his alleged role in orchestrating the massacre within the Isar college in the province of Butare and several other slaughters during the Rwandan genocide of 1994. Using an assumed name, Munyaneza, 48, was given indefinite permission to remain in Britain by the Home Office in 2002 and has been living in a semi-detached house in Putnoe, Bedford. Safe in his suburban exile he was able to ignore the growing outcry against him in testimony collected from survivors of the genocide. But on Dec. 29 the distant voices were heard when Munyaneza appeared at Westminster magistrates court. He was arrested on Dec. 28 on an extraordinary extradition warrant signed by the home secretary, John Reid, for genocide, conspiracy to commit genocide and murder. Alongside him stood three other suspects: Celestin Ugirashebuja, 53, Emmanuel Nteziryayo, 44, and Dr. Vincent Bajinya, 45, all of whom took refuge in the UK and stand accused of genocide, conspiracy to commit genocide and murder. The men believed they were safe in Britain, where there is no extradition treaty with Rwanda. But after intensive pressure in the last year from the Rwandan authorities, in October Reid signed certificates for all four men under section 194 of the Extradition Act 2003, which allows extradition in certain circumstances. Testimony Foreign Office sources told the Guardian the home secretary dismissed any idea of putting the men on trial in Britain under international law as too expensive. Testimony against the men has been gathered in a painstaking process by a Rwandan-based charity, African Rights, Rwandan prosecutors and two British police officers who arrived in the country last month and spent weeks interviewing witnesses. On Dec. 29, in a court thousands of miles from where the alleged atrocities took place, the voices of people like Janviere Mukamusoni, from Songa village were, in effect, heard for the first time. One of the only survivors of the massacre at Isar college, Mukamusoni, described how the thousands of Tutsis hiding inside managed at first to fend off sporadic attacks by Hutu militias using stones and the benefit of surprise. But on Apr. 29, machetes and guns finally overcame their meager defenses when the shooting began, and then the militias broke in wielding machetes unsparingly. "They started shooting from the hill overlooking the complex," she told the Guardian. "The militia burst in, and the shooting intensified. But suddenly they came with machetes, and people scattered everywhere, fleeing for their lives. "I remember screaming, and people being cut and running around bleeding and shrieking. If you were lucky you got shot and died at once. We hid and we prayed that we would be lucky." It was last January that Munyaneza was discovered living in the UK after a genocide survivor from the north of England contacted African Aid, a Rwandan-based charity. Munyaneza, who lives with his wife, Florida, and sends his children to state schools in Bedford, has denied any involvement in the genocide. But among the claims in the testimony against him is one from a man called Jean Nicosi, who states on the indictment that Munyaneza was "notorious ... the most feared killer in the commune." One hour south-west of Songa, where banana plants grow on steeply terraced hills, rumors emerged at village meetings in Nmygena more than a year ago that Emmanuel Nteziryayo, the mayor of the Mudasomwa district of Gikongoro province, had also fled to the UK. Villagers will not talk openly of Nteziryayo, because they are afraid of repercussions from relatives of a man who stands accused on the indictment of initiating the killing of 85,000 people and supplying arms to the Interahamwe militia. But inside her two-roomed mud hut, perched on the hillside, Gerorina Nyirandutiye, a single mother, agrees to repeat the testimony she gave to the prosecutors, though her voice never rises above a whisper. "Yes I know him," she said. "I saw Nteziryayo on the day we were attacked. I remember I left my house here and walked into town, but as I got near the center I could tell something serious was happening. "I held back a bit and watched. I saw him arrive in a car, and get out. There were militias all around him, they were armed and they had wrapped dried banana leaves around their necks, like scarves. He was in the middle of them, giving out instructions. The militias spread out and began running through the village. "I remember that someone asked Nteziryayo: 'Should we also kill Hutu women who are married to Tutsis?' "He replied: 'No. These are your sisters.' "Then the killing started, in the streets. I just fled, I ran back to my house. The next time I saw Nteziryayo was at a meeting he called. He told the people there to hunt for those who were in hiding, to hunt in the houses in the school, everywhere." Slaughter The young mother is one of more than 30 witnesses who have provided evidence against Nteziryayo. In addition to the killings in Mudasomwa, Nteziryayo is accused of guiding and inspiring one of the worst slaughters of the genocide, on Apr. 21, 1994, at Murambi school. Of the 50,000 people who took refuge in the classrooms there, only a handful survived when Interahamwe militias attacked with machetes and guns. Today thousands of the bodies have been preserved and lie in the classrooms as a terrible memorial to the massacre. Images of these bodies will form part of the evidence against Nteziryayo, who has been living in virtual anonymity with his wife and family in a council flat in Wythenshawe, Manchester, for three years. He claimed asylum in the UK under a false identity and lives with his wife and five children on unemployment benefits. Two hundred miles south, Vincent Bajinya, a medical doctor, lives in similar anonymity in a Peabody Trust flat in Camden, north London, with his wife Rosalie. Until recently Bajinya, who changed his name to Brown when he arrived in the UK seeking asylum, worked for Praxis, a respected charity for refugees, which is based in the East End of London. Vaughan Jones, director of Praxis, said it was not the charity's role to investigate the background of those they employed. Dr. Brown, as they know him, is currently suspended, after allegations about his role in the genocide were made public. Bajinya's flat in London is modest compared with his previous home, a large detached bungalow in Rugenge, an inner city area of Kigali, where he was a respected doctor. The bungalow now stands empty, protected by a two-meter fence and a padlocked gate. But the memory of the man the locals knew as Bajinya is strong. In testimony given to prosecutors, many locals recount how he held weekly meetings in his bungalow in the weeks leading up to the killings, gatherings that witnesses claim were held to organize the slaughter in Rugenge. In his indictment, Bajinya is accused of organizing the roadblocks in Rugenge which were used to stop Tutsis fleeing, and of supervising the local Interahamwe. Dieudone Murasandonyi, a car mechanic, is one of the witnesses whose testimony appears on the indictment against Bajinya. He told the Guardian that the doctor ordered the militia to cut off the head of Leandre Nyiraryinyo, a taxi driver, who was pulled from his home and cut to pieces just off the main street in Rugenge on Apr. 8. "He didn't die immediately," said Murasandonyi. "He was desperately trying to drag himself up, and as the militias walked away Bajinya asked if they had killed him. "They replied: 'He will die any minute.' But Bajinya said: 'No, that is not how to kill cockroaches. Go and kill him completely.' And the militias did as he said." Churchgoers The fourth man accused, Celestin Ugarishebuja, 55, was arrested on Dec. 28 at his home in Walton-on-the-Naze, on the Essex coast, where he has been for six years. Ugarishebuja lives with his wife, Josefa, and the couple are well liked members of the congregation at St. Mary Magdalene church in neighbouring Frinton-on-Sea. A former mayor of Kigoma, near the Rwandan capital, Kigali, he is accused of having a direct hand in five massacres. Witnesses in the indictment state that his Interahamwe patrolled the commune looting, destroying and raping women in the second week of April. He allegedly held meetings to organize the killings and urged those gathered to kill Tutsis, who "have no value in this country." One witness, Antoine Kanyarubira, said that during one meeting at Progress House, in Kigoma, he preached the gospel of hate and urged people to kill Tutsis. Shortly after the meeting broke up, roadblocks were set up around the province to trap the fleeing Tutsis and kill them. Ugarishebuja, who works part time, has made friends among his neighbors in Walton, where he mentions almost nothing about his life in Rwanda. "I know Celestin and Josefa well," said one neighbor. "They never talk about what happened except to say that after the genocide they had to flee for their lives and came here for safety."