Today is the day that we receive the unredacted torture memos, which reveal more truth of the horrors done in our names. Today is the day
. It is a day that is an anniversary. It was four years ago today - and that anniversary will be forever the day after income tax deadline day.
She dedicated her life to Iraq and Afghanistan. She dedicated her life to helping women and children. She dedicated and lost her life to getting to and revealing the truth. The truth will out. Her name was Marla Ruzicka.
It is a huge and significant blight on the American story if the people who abused their authority to commit these atrocities are never held accountable. Truth will out is not the same as justice will be done.
Excerpted from Sweet Relief: The Marla Ruzicka Story by Jennifer Abrahamson, 2006, Simon and Shuster:
Just a quick note, to say that Faiz (who runs CIVIC in Iraq) and I are safe. Today, there were some car bombs that exploded close to where I stay but we are very much protected in this compound where I live.
I will leave early next week. It will be hard because we are doing tremendous work and solving many problems.- MARLA IN AN E-MAIL TO FAMILY AND FRIENDS, APRIL 14, 2005
...
Despite this groundbreaking triumph, Marla's emotional strength began to wither again. The bipolar medication had thrown her off-kilter, and she was having trouble sleeping. She was also facing some financial problems, which led to an argument with her mom, who often annoyed by Marla's struggles with paying rent and filing taxes. Further agitating Marla's mental state, things were rocky with Phillip, to whom she was still married. The April 15 income tax deadline was fast approaching , and Marla hadn't submitted the necessary forms before she left for Iraq. They argued...
...
A few days later she went to see a military psychologist and made up with her mom, and she seemed to be feeling better. Some good news had come in: OSI had granted CIVIC another sixty thousand dollars, once again throwing her a financial life raft just when she neeeded it.
Marla had already stayed longer than the planned two weeks in Iraq. There were too many cases to follow up on, and she couldn't tear herself away quite yet. One of them was the medical evacuation of young Rakan. He had been languishing for nearly two months since he'd been shot in Tal Afar on January 18. By April 12, Marla had made some real progress. She found a doctor in San Francisco who would treat him and the finances to cover the cost of his travel. She wrote a desperate e-mail to a State Department official, betting for a fast-track humanitarian visa so the boy could receive treatment before it was too late.
...
The next day, April 15, Marla visited with the family that was perhaps closest to her heart. She hadn't forgotten Zahra, the three-year-old girl whom she and the Army evacuated out of a Baghdad burn hospital in April 2003. She hadn't forgotten Zahra's family, either. When Zahra died, Marla had promised the girl's agonized grandmother that she would somehow find a way to help them, that they would not be forgotten. Marla kept her promise, eventually helping them win a five-thousand-dollar sympathy payment from the military.
April 16 would be another busy day for Marla. She had several meetings and visits planned and, and, like old times, a party to host at the Hamra that night. She sent Colin a couple of emails early that morning from the Convention Center in the Green Zone.
...
"I'll be back at the Hamra soon, but I've got one more thing I need to do," she told him. He was under the impression that she and Faiz were off to visit a family seeking a sympathy payment.
...
At six p.m., Colin tried to call Marla. He couldn't get a hold of her. It didn't strike him as odd.
...
Colin was still in his office, scrambling to file a story on deadline, when a colleague burst into the room.
"When's the party getting started?" Colin asked.
"Colin, Marla's not there. Nobody knows where she is."
He looked at his watch. It was eight o'clock. There was no way he wouldn't have heard from her by then.
His greatest fear seemed to be coming true: She'd been kidnapped. He abandoned his story and called the Tribune's security attache, pulling him out of the shower. He called the kidnapping unit at the U.S. Embassy. Everyone joined in, frantically shouting into the phones, sending out an alert through Baghdad.
At about eleven p.m., Colin's security man called.
"I think I have some good news. There was a car accident, and a woman matching Marla's description was brought into the casualty hospital in the Green Zone and apparently she's stable."
Elated, Colin let everyone know the good news and headed back to his house. As he walked in, his cell phone rang. It was his security man again. Colin answered, looking out at the relieved faces of his friends who had gathered in the yard.
"It's bad, mate" was all he heard. With those three words, Colin knew.
He listed to his security man list the facts. A suicide bomber had blown up his vehicle next to Marla and Faiz's car on Airport Road at about three p.m. Shortly after the blast, Marla died. Later he would learn of her last word, spoken to an Army medic on the pavement: "I'm alive." Unable to hear anymore, Colin hung up the phone. He looked up.
A friend caught his eye.
Seeing Colin's face, she knew too.
Cliff and Nancy were up early that Saturday morning. They had some business to take care of and were puttering around the office. A Lakeport police officer appeared in the reception area, and Cliff greeted him.
"Hi, Cliff. You better go get Nancy. I need to talk to you both." Cliff bought Nancy from the back of the office, and they stood before the police officer.
Something's happened to Mark, was the first thing Nancy thought.
"Please, I need you both to sit down," he said gently.
"this is the hardest part of my job. I'm so sorry. I don't know how to tell you this. Marla's been killed by a suicide bomber in Baghdad."
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