No one should have to watch the story of their sister's murder on screen
There is a scene in Honour, the ITV drama about my sister Banaz’s tragic so-called honour killing, which stopped me in my tracks when I saw it. It shows Banaz in hospital in 2005. She said she had escaped an attempt on her life, smashed a window and escaped. A police officer interviewed her in hospital, but dismissed her account as fantasy. She even wanted to charge her with criminal damage for breaking the window.
Every second of the drama was painful to watch - I put off doing so for months, only bringing myself to watch it two weeks ago - and there are undoubtedly more traumatic incidents from those weeks and months before my sister’s death. But that scene made my blood boil. It's possibly because I was there. At 17, I sat and watched as a police officer listened to what my sister had to say. Banaz told her that her life was in grave danger, and the police officer chose not to believe her. She didn’t understand what was happening, didn’t know about honour abuse and the very real danger some women find themselves in, and she didn’t try to help Banaz. It was just one of so many moments when if someone could have stepped up and believed my beautiful sister, it all could have been so different.
I was a child when I last watched that scene play out in front of me, though I have replayed it in my head countless times in the 14 years since her death. I’m an adult now, and I still can’t comprehend how, if a woman told you her life was at risk, you wouldn’t deem that worthy of investigation.
That officer still gets to have a normal life, a family, a job. My sister hasn’t been permitted any of that.
It is a very strange thing to watch something so personal and painful to you play out on television. It’s at once vindicating, because the truth of what happened to Banaz deserves to be told, and because the retelling of her story might help someone else. But it’s also hard. In 14 years it has never stopped being hard.
I watch a lot of crime dramas. But you never think your life could one day be the subject of one. Watching Honour, I think what strikes me most is the relentlessness of those months, when Banaz knew she was being followed, tried to get help and was left unprotected. This was never a straightforward “girl goes missing and is found murdered” story. These cases are never straightforward, of course, but with Banaz it really wasn’t.
My sister first started reporting harassment in 2005. She had left her abusive husband and fallen in love with another man who the wider family and community did not approve of. She told police she feared for her life that December. Banaz wrote a note by hand, a list of names she feared and told police to keep this in case anything happened to her.
A month after the incident when Banaz ended up in hospital, she was murdered. In 2007, following a three-month trial at the Old Bailey, 3 men including my father, uncle and a Kurdish man were tried and sentenced to life imprisonment. Three years later, 2 other Kurdish men from the wider community, Omar Hussain and Mohamad Saleh Ali, were extradited from Iraq and also given life sentences.
I’d like to say that in the 14 years since Banaz’s death, things might have changed, but not enough has. I’d like to say some police forces know more about honour abuse and forced marriages now. But I know from my own experience that there isn't enough change.
Last year, I was preparing to give a Ted Talk about Banaz, and went to the police station (the same one she went to all those years ago) to ask for help myself. I knew I would be talking about things publicly and I was worried that it might send waves through the community. I was worried it might encourage threats.
But he officer didn’t understand. In fact, she asked me to explain what honour based abuse was. I was so shocked. She could have just gone away and Googled it, but she asked me to explain it to her.
I told her that I live in a community where my sister was murdered because someone saw her kissing her boyfriend in public. That’s how quickly that situation escalated, and I still live in the heart of that community.
She went away and when she came back she said “look, it’s probably not what you want to hear, but I can’t do anything for you until something has happened. But if you are in any danger just call 999.”
She didn’t even say my concerns sounded legitimate. She didn’t offer me any reassurances. In that moment, for the few minutes I was in the police station, I felt something of what Banaz must have in those weeks leading up to her death. She must have felt so hopeless, like no one could hear her. And she had evidence. She’d seen cars following her, people on the streets, she had names. But it wasn’t enough for them. It still isn’t enough now.
Luckily a lead contact of mine in the police helped to escalate my request and arrange some safety measures. But it makes me think, how many girls like me have access to that? Not many, I’d imagine.
If police officers don’t have any awareness of these issues, then they won’t be able to spot any of the alarm bells. All I know is that no one else should have to watch the story of their sister’s brutal murder on primetime television.
The second episode of Honour airs on ITV tonight at 9pm
Payzee works with the Iranian and Kurdish Women's Rights Organisation
