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INSPIRED BY TRUE EVENTS

Come on! Get out!

Move it.

Come on, faster. Faster!

Hurry!

Get out of here. Get lost.

Keep moving.

Hey.

Beat it.

Let it go. Come on.

He's dead, anyway.

REGION OF SEDNAYA, SYRIA
MARCH 2014

GHOST TRAIL

STRASBOURG
TWO YEARS LATER

This is the guy I mentioned.

He's been on a lot of sites.
Show him your picture.

Hey, Syrian!

Here, for the day.

THE JASMINE SCENT OF DAMASCUS
NIZAR QABBANI

He's my cousin.

He might've called himself Sami Hanna.

There are only families here.

Hey, salaam . You OK?

OK, yeah.

What's that on your face?

It's nothing. I bumped my head.

Take care of yourself.

How are you?

Alright.

Nothing changes here in the camp.

It's always chaos.

- We haven't had water in two days.
- Again?

I'll find out how to help.

What can you do?

It's like that in all of Beirut.

It won't stop me
from seeing and talking to you.

How was your week?

Great.

They take care of us.

Germany is welcoming to Syrians.

Here in Berlin, anyway.

This week,
we have German lessons every day.

Are you going out at all?

A bit.

Liar.

You know Lina would say the same,
my son.

You need to meet people.

I hear there are lots of Syrians
in Germany.

Are there any Syrians here?

At the end of the yard.

Salaam alaikum.

Alaikum salaam.

I'm looking for a childhood friend,
a Syrian.

I think he's in Strasbourg.

We haven't heard any news.

- His family is worried.
- We don't want any trouble.

Why are you here?

I go to all the welcome centers.

You never know.

His name is Sami Hanna.

He's also known as
Nedim or Mohammed.

This is him.

Don't know him.

You coming, Yara?

Where I'm from,

we're wary of people
who ask questions.

And of men with several first names.

I know. I'm from the same place.

I've never seen you here.
Where are you from?

Aleppo.

What's your name?

Amir.

You don't look like an Amir.

Why are you going to such trouble
to find him?

Can you tell me
if you've seen him?

What did you do in Aleppo?

Why do you ask?

You got something to hide?

I was a professor.

Professor of Literature
at the University of Aleppo.

I just don't trust
anyone anymore.

Even here, there are men
who work for the regime.

Informants.

Professor?

Are you really
a literature professor?

Yeah.

We have a country
where we left our friends

tangled up in sorrow

Or picturing snow in hopes of whitening
the hilltops of their solitude

What can we do
under a foreign sky

But listen to forgetfulness
as it embroiders our lives like lace

But regret adequately
in the open air

There was a Sami Hanna
in the center.

Months ago.

You sure?

He shared a room
with a friend of mine.

He didn't stay long.

But I don't want to give you false hope,
it's a common name.

- Do you know where he went?
- No.

Could you ask your friend?

He's not here.
I'll ask him tonight.

Can I come back tomorrow?

I'm working tomorrow.

Where?

In the Turkish quarter, Hautepierre.
You know it?

I live around there.

Hamid Kayat.

A Syrian born in Aleppo.

You were granted refugee status
in Germany

but did not sign for
and collect your papers.

No.

Then you'll have to start over.

First, you need
to be legalized in Germany,

which will take a few months,
then you can come back here.

But I want to be in France.

I understand,
but there's nothing we can do.

It's for the Germans
to regularize your status.

I need to be in France now.

Do you have family in Strasbourg?
Work?

Help me.
I have to stay here.

Why?

It's important or I wouldn't ask.

He didn't understand.

- Are you really from Aleppo?
- Yes.

Which part?

Salheen.

You have to claim
you need a psychologist.

What happened to you in Syria?

Sednaya Prison.

Everyone says that to get papers.

He can have
a vulnerability screening

with one of our psychologists,
but I make no promises.

You're a professor.

We have entry schemes
with the local universities.

We can try that.

It's not my dream job,

but I'm also doing an internship.

As a home carer.

Have you found work?

I'm looking.

How long have you been here?

A month.

I was harsh yesterday.

Even here,
we have to be suspicious.

I've heard so many stories.

You never know
who's on which side.

Thanks.

My friend says he knew
a Syrian named Sami Hanna.

They didn't stay in touch,

but he knows he wanted
to study Chemistry here.

Thanks.

Come by any time.
I finish early during the week.

Why?

- So that... Why I finish early?
- No, I meant...

Why I said you can come by?

Thanks for the tea.

Daysam Jalal.

Houri.

Muhamadi Abad.

Abou Ali.

Abou Ali.

Could you give me
some ghraybe and tea?

I heard of a man
who might fit the description.

He rented an apartment here
under the name of Sami Hanna.

- Have you seen him?
- Not yet, but I have the address.

It's a working-class part of Hamburg.

And you, Munich?

I've exhausted all avenues here.
I've spoken to the entire Syrian community.

I've visited every refugee camp
and mosque.

No trace of him
under the names we know.

Can I speak?

We're listening.

There's a Syrian studying
at the university here.

I've got a feeling about him.

I don't understand
why you're still in France.

We need you in Germany.

In France, there are fewer Syrians.

It's easier to go unnoticed.

He doesn't know we're after him.

He doesn't even know we exist.
He has no reason to hide.

There's something about his voice.

You recognized his voice
back in Stuttgart.

- This is different.
- You told us you were 100% sure.

It's not just his voice.

We can't just follow your hunches.

You've never seen him, either.

You're slowing us down
by being in Strasbourg.

The German girl needs too long
to get to your park.

Does he at least
look like the picture?

The picture is blurry, you know that.

So what have you got?

I can sense it.

It's his voice, I'm telling you.

No way.

That isn't how you hunt
a war criminal.

This conference is over.

We await news from Hamburg.

Mohamed.

Ahmed.

Nedim.

Sami Hanna.

STUDENT CARD
CHEMISTRY FACULTY

AL RAMMAH
HASSAN

Dear Godmother, I couldn't make
our appointment today in the park.

I'm with my new friend.

He told me his name is
Hassan Al Rammah.

Hassan Al Rammah.

R-A-M-M-A-H.

Call me back.

It's urgent.

And, ah...

were you able to see them?

No. I never saw their bodies.

Do you want to talk about it?

I've told you everything.

They died in the bombing.

Were other people present?

No, only my wife and daughter.

- That's Maya and...
- ... Lina.

Maya is my daughter.

Lina is my wife.

Did you have someone to talk to?

No. Only my mother.

You know it's hard to grieve
without a body.

And you were in prison
when you found out about it.

We could consider a symbolic burial

with some material
or object with a connection.

To help you accept it.

- If you like, we can...
- I just need time.

You can't do Friday?

When can you make it?

When can you make it?

I just want to see you.

I think about you all the time:
your face, your lips...

When can you make it?

I just want to see you.

I think about you all the time:
your face, your lips...

My dear Godson,

Hassan Al Rammah is in the files
as an enemy of the regime.

He's a chemical engineer
who was arrested

and managed to leave Syria
two years ago.

I'm sorry to say
this isn't our friend.

When can you make it?

I just want to see you.

I think about you all the time:
your face, your lips...

Is there a problem?

I want the witness statements.

What for?

I need to hear them.

You know best.
I'll be in Strasbourg tomorrow.

You're the one in another country
with things to tell me.

So what's the news?

I'm mostly just waiting.

It takes time.

- What did you do this morning?
- Nothing in particular.

Hamid,

I have nothing but you.

I went to the university
this morning.

There's a huge one in Berlin.

I can do my master's there.

Then I can give classes.

Really?

Yeah, they have programs
to help exiles.

Afterwards,
I ate in a Lebanese restaurant.

The boss is starting
to recognize me.

He makes ghraybe .

You won't believe it:

I started running again.

There's a park downtown.

I'm glad to hear it.

And do you see people?

A bit.

Tell me about it.

There's a Syrian girl

I often talk to.

- What's her name?
- Yara.

- What does she do there?
- She practiced medicine back home.

She's going back to work.

- Do you see her often?
- Occasionally.

Well,

send me a picture of her.

No.

Why not?

I can't just take her picture.

She's Syrian, right?
She'll understand.

There are over 50 statements.

It'll be difficult.

What?

I couldn't listen to them.

But you believe me?

First, they put a bag over my head.

I was there for seven months,

but never got to see him.

I understood much later
that it was Harfaz.

They took me to him

once a week.

I was tied to a chair,

my hands bound behind my back,

and I waited.

It took him hours to arrive.

Sometimes I screamed

for him to come
and get it over with.

Then the door opened behind me.

He walked slowly.

Twelve measured steps

to get to me.

One,

two,

three,

four...

He reeked of sweat,

but was the only one
wearing cologne.

He started by hitting me on the head,
and then...

kicked the chair
so I fell to the floor.

He poured a bottle of water on me,

or...

pissed on me.

Then he went to get
the electric cable.

He took eight steps to the closet,

then came back to me.

I...

heard the cable
dragging across the floor.

And I knew

it was beginning.

Sometimes he placed the cable
next to the water,

pushing it bit by bit.

Other times,

he hit me directly with the cable.

It sent shocks
through my whole body.

It was unbearable with the water.

It burned everywhere at once.

And...

I was screaming,

and he was talking to me...

talking to me while he...

- Hello.
- Hello.

I wanted to thank you
for the references.

- They saved me a lot of time.
- Are you making good progress?

Absolutely. I'll be finished
as planned by late April.

Ah, bravo.
And you can work well here?

Well, it's my home
away from home.

I did the same before you,
but sat in a different spot...

It's been a long time
since we've heard from you.

Is all well?

It's alright.

Talk to me.

About what?

What you listened to.

I thought we shouldn't speak
over the phone.

You think someone's listening?
For real?

Then tell me
why you joined the group.

I lost someone, too.

In Syria?

I was working for an NGO there.

They're moving ahead in Germany.

He's not in Hamburg.
He's here.

Blisters.

Blisters everywhere.
Look at my skin.

The acid burns.

Help me.

It's burning me!

It's still burning me!

At night, when all is silent,

I hear his breath.

I hear his steps.

One,

two,

three,

four,

five, six,

seven steps. He's there.

Do you remember details
to help us identify Harfaz?

He wasn't at Sednaya for long
after my arrival.

Two months, maybe three.

He must've been my height.

About 5 feet 11 inches
or 6 feet tall.

I could smell his breath

as he stood in front of me.

I heard back from the entry program
I told you about.

You've been penciled in
as visiting professor

for an Arabic Literature
masters program.

The University of Nancy made the offer.
They're looking for your profile.

If you're accepted,
you'll have to move...

Excuse me. Yes, hello?

Isn't this what you wanted?

I just want to be left alone.

Everybody would want a job there.

Look at me.

Do you really think
I can teach poetic form?

He's the devil.

I don't know
what he could look like.

I see him everywhere.

He's the guy who wanted all detainees
to wear bags over their heads.

He didn't want
to see their faces.

He never saw a single face.

He claimed he regretted
having to hit me.

That he didn't like it.

That he was only there
for the chemical experiments.

Harfaz.

He struck and he struck.

The blows always came
from the same side.

He broke my jaw.

My brother told me what he saw:

burned bodies

with holes,

melted skin

on chests, legs,

faces...

That's what Harfaz did.

He tested every possible acid
and deadly gas.

I've watched him for two months.
He calls himself Sami Hanna.

What do you think?

He talks to no one and never leaves
his working-class neighborhood.

He acts strangely.

I think it's him.

Take the time to observe him.

We've had false leads before.

But I'm optimistic, too.

We need to talk
about the situation.

Too much has changed
since we left the country.

Putin forced the world
not to intervene in Syria.

Just a question:

Can we still trust
international justice?

We've searched for two years
and you want to give up now?

What if he gets arrested
and there's no trial?

Or if he's extradited to Russia?

We set up the group so that he
and the others who fled Syria

are arrested and tried.

- If you want to give up...
- I don't want to give up.

But the situation has changed.

What do you suggest?

You know what I'm thinking.

It's up to us to act.

- It's him, here in Strasbourg.
- Here we go again...

I know it's him.

You want it to be him.
It's wishful thinking.

You hear his voice everywhere.

I smelled him.

It's his scent.

You know we can't go on that.

- We shouldn't have left you alone.
- It's him.

For a year, in Sednaya,

they took me to him every week.

- We know that.
- I heard his breath.

I know his steps, his scent.

I was blindfolded,
but know him like no other.

That's why we asked you
to join the group, my friend.

But he's in Germany.

We're methodical.
There are seven of us in seven cities.

We follow the evidence
and don't act at random.

He's an exception. I know him.
He doesn't act like the others.

- Listen...
- It's Harfaz!

Stop, no names!

Don't get all wrapped up
like you did in Stuttgart.

You'll be exposed by such actions.

We never know who's with who,
who knows who...

You're endangering us all.

I've been discreet
and followed the rules.

We're afraid you'll crack.
It could happen to any of us.

Take a break.

You like it?

Hamid?

Has something happened?

Oh, Mama.

I'm sorry.

It's our day.

Darling, what happened?
I was worried.

Nothing's wrong.
Everything's fine.

Did you have a problem?
How could you forget?

There's no problem.

- It's just...
- There's background noise.

What are you up to?

I'm with a friend.

Yara?

Yeah.

What are you doing?

Taking a walk.

At the Christmas market.

Then I was worried for nothing.

Let me know next time.

- OK, Mama.
- Alright, calls are expensive.

- I'll call you tomorrow.
- Goodbye, son.

Good night.

What's wrong?

I can't carry on.

What did you do?

When I close my eyes,

I see myself
pushing him under the tram.

Is it him?

I don't know anymore.

I can't stay here.

You can't stop now.

It's not time.

Let's talk tomorrow.

Tell me your name.

- Your real name.
- We don't give our names.

It's the rule.

Please. I need something real.

- Go home.
- Please.

I can't...

Nina.

Who did you lose there, Nina?

Go to bed.

Tomorrow, I'll come to see you.

My daughter's birthday
is tomorrow.

Pain shoots up
as soon as I walk.

It's my hip.

I can't go out anymore.

Mama,

what if I came to live in Beirut?

What are you talking about?

I could take care of you.

- I feel far away from everything here.
- Don't say that.

Even if my legs were cut off,

I'd forbid you from coming back.

What matters to me

is knowing you're in the right place.

My son,

there's nothing for you here.

You're in Germany to build a future.

To build a new life.

For yourself.

And for me.

For Maya.

For Lina.

It's not him in Hamburg.

The Sami Hanna in Hamburg

has been there for three years.

We were mistaken.

You should carry on.

Please.

Maybe I'm mistaken,
maybe it's not him.

I had a little boy:

Nael.

I'll have to call you back.

We don't usually do that.
I'll have to check the order dates.

Yes, I have your number.

I'll call you back.

You disappear for weeks
and come back as if nothing happened.

I just wanted to ask you a question.

I only have you to talk to.

I haven't been to the Christmas market.
Come with me.

What was your question?

Do you know any Syrians
who were at Bekaa Camp?

I want to send my mother medicine.

Is she sick?

Her hip.

She needs painkillers.

I know a Syrian musician.

He spent years in Beirut.

I think he was in Bekaa.

He's going to the center
on Revolution Day.

Come along
if you want to meet him.

- Evening.
- You well?

- Yeah, and you?
- Yeah.

- Have you tried honey from Alsace?
- No.

I have four kinds.
The specialty is Christmas honey.

It's a mixed flower honey
with cinnamon, aniseed and ginger.

You can try it.
We have teaspoons there.

Try, it's delicious.

- No, thanks.
- It's lemon honey.

- Come on.
- No.

Come on, taste it. It's delicious.

Very good.

I would've preferred
we met in another life.

In another life?

If the world had spun differently.

What would you do
in another life?

I'd keep on seeing

underground concerts
in Damascus basements.

You did that?

What did you do?

I played guitar.

See?

What?

You can be a normal guy.

A normal guy?

Thanks.

I screamed so much.

He choked me
so I'd scream less.

I can still feel
his thumb on my neck.

I feel like I still have a mark.

You know,

they released my brother
just before me.

He struck and he struck.

The blows came
from the same side.

The blows came
from the same side.

When he squeezed my throat,

he squeezed so hard,

his hand suddenly fell,

as if he couldn't do it anymore.

Why are you here?

I was afraid you'd stop.

You can leave. I'm here.

If it's him, he won't suspect me.

Thanks, bye.

He's coming, go away.

You're too fragile.

Go home.

Hi, got any tables left?

No, we're full.

Here's a seat.

Go on over.

Hello.

Hello.

- Here you go.
- Thank you.

There.

The special?

- Is that it?
- Yes.

- No, humus.
- Humus.

Thanks.

I've seen you before.

At the university.

But I try to avoid Syrians.

Or you only see your own.

We should integrate, right?

You just arrived, huh?

You just arrived?

Some months ago.

And you?

Want to speak French?

Will that work?

As you wish.

I don't speak it well.

You speak it well.

I'm sure of it.

What do you study?

Literature.

Literature is good.

I don't read enough.

I should, but I...

don't take the time.

Here you are.

- Bon appétit.
- Thanks.

You like Strasbourg?

It's OK, yeah.

Right. "It's OK."

Ugly, huh?

France isn't bad, but lacks color.

Everything's gray.

Not like back home.

Where are you from?

Aleppo.

But I left Syria long ago.

I lived in Beirut.

I was a professor.

In Beirut?

Yeah.

Which university?

Haigazian.

You must know Mr. Tayah.

No. Doesn't ring a bell.

- No?
- No.

Must be too far back.

I guess he's no longer there.

I'm from Homs.

My name is Hassan.

Saleh.

So,

what do you think, Saleh?

What?

"What?"

About the situation.

What's happening back home.

I don't know.

You don't know?

I'm sorry for the people.

Whose fault is it?

Bashar's, right?

Maybe.

I'm disappointed.

I admired him
when I was younger.

But...

he can't adapt.

I mean,

what'll he do now?

There are no solutions left.

I thought he'd straighten out
the country, that he'd modernize,

but he never turned the corner.

The Arab Spring

sent him on a nose-dive.

He forgot about the economy and...

You OK?

Yeah.

You're not eating.

No, I am.

I'm not that hungry.

You're saying
your mom cooks better?

My mom cooks better, too.

Did you go to demos?

Lots of teachers
took to the streets.

Even in Lebanon.

What bullshit.

What a waste of everyone's energy.

That's when the country
lost everything.

Is that why you left?

What's left for us there?

Here,

things are simple.

If you sign up for courses
and have what it takes,

you get a degree.

Without having to...

you know what.

That's why you're here.

Things are simpler in France.

In Germany,
there are too many Syrians.

800,000, they say.

Just imagine.

I came via Germany,

but...

it's just not possible.

Everyone talks about our country:
the deaths, the problems...

You can't start a new life
if you spend all your time

dwelling, dwelling,
and dwelling on the past.

You gotta move on.

What happened to your hand?

Life was hard back home.

That's why we left, right?

What was it you did?

I wanted to do important things.

I felt there were opportunities.

I started studying in Switzerland.

And got called back for a job.

I had opportunities, but...

one day I lost faith.

So I left.

Take care, Saleh.

"Saleh," right?

Take advantage of this new life.

Syria,

that's over for us.

It's the past.

My treat.

- No, it's OK.
- Come on.

See you around.

His right hand is injured.

His fingers freeze when he uses force,
just like in the recordings.

Wait, where are you going?

I want to see him again.

No, please stop. Stop, Nina.

- Stop.
- You can go home.

There's no need, it's fine.

No.

- Stop.
- I need to.

You've had your chance.

Do this and you'll endanger us all, Nina.

You'll be exposed.
We need to inform the group.

Stop, Nina.

You've seen him now, come on.

You know we could do it.

What?

It'd be so easy.

The two of us could do it.

No one would know a thing.

No one would hear a thing.

Just you and me.

It'd all be over.

The whole nightmare.

Done.

And the group?

They'd all be relieved,
and you know it.

If we took care of him,

we could move on

to the other names on the list.

My husband was Syrian.

He was in Sednaya.

Like you.

To make him talk,

Harfaz sent for Nael.

What I most fear

is that there won't be a trial.

It'll all have been for nothing.

Take a day to consider it.

We'll meet in the park tomorrow.

Cry as well.

Look.

They all have people
to grieve for.

I was in Bekaa for a year.

My mom's there.

It's hard in that camp.

But I understand
those who want to stay:

It's like Syria.

But you can't send anything.

- Nothing?
- Nothing.

It's only medicine.

Impossible.

And if you trust someone
going to Beirut?

No one goes back to Beirut.

Good luck.

Dear Godson,

Don't expect me today.

It's my decision.
Mine alone.

I shouldn't have involved you.

I hope you'll understand.

You know I have no choice.

I hope you find peace one day.

Not this way.

What happened to you?

I haven't lost the knack.

My brother had grenade shrapnel.

I changed his bandages
every day for months.

Hold this, please.

Where's your brother?

Dead.

May he rest in peace.

It is how it is.

He wanted to go back to fight.

We recovered the body
and buried him.

Life goes on.

We all have our dead, don't we?

Turn a little.

You know, I've seen a lot of scars.

Don't worry.

In that other life,
you'd tell me your real name now.

There.

Thanks.

Hello, Cousin.

I wanted to tell you
our godmother has gone on a trip.

We decided the climate here
was too harsh for her.

She told us
about your friend's injury.

He's of interest to us.

We did some research.

The real Hassan Al Rammah
lives in Sweden.

You need to get a picture
of your friend's face.

We've contacted
some of his old acquaintances.

If it's him, they're ready
to discuss his adventures.

Now that he knows you,

you'll need to be even more cautious.

If he grows even slightly suspicious,
he might vanish again.

Saleh!

- Hi, how are you?
- Fine, you?

I saw you walk by.
You look lost.

No, I'm fine.

Working too hard?

- I'm tired, yeah.
- That must be it.

You need to take breaks.

Wanna take a break?

A quick one?

It's important.

I know.

I have something to show you.

Come on.

Down here.

Come on.

Not bad, huh?

One of the professors
showed me this place.

Look here.

Real ghraybe. Hand-made.

I went to Germany to buy them.

Good, huh?

Want some tea?

Yeah, thanks.

So it's you.

You're not how I imagined.

- So you wanna go to Beirut?
- Yeah.

The others think
you have the right to choose.

I'll be frank.

I was against it.

You've exposed yourself
too much already.

I have to go.

We'll get you a Turkish passport.

But Beirut is dangerous.

Bashar's men are everywhere.

I know.

We've found a regime deserter

who worked in Sednaya prison.

He'll be able to identify Harfaz.

He's ready to testify.

But he wants it done in person.

And no trail.

Show him the picture and leave.

BEIRUT

(Turkish)
Where are you from?

Istanbul.

That's Harfaz.

You don't recognize me?

Look, I was just trying to...

Don't bother.

- Syrian?
- Yeah.

BEKAA CAMP
EAST LEBANON

Out you come.

Come on.

Go to the neighbors.

Neither fire,

nor tears

will ease my grieving.

But I'll live with your memory
forever.

And you'll live through me.

We'll each vote in turn.

Say "Sun"
if you're in favor of a trial,

and "Moon" if you want us
to take justice into our own hands.

Moon.

Sun.

Sun.

Moon.

Sun.

Strasbourg, your vote?

- Sun.
- There you go.

Trial it is.

Now we have to get all the documents
to the journalist.

We trust him entirely.

He's the one who will forward the file
to the French authorities.

As for us, we'll head to Spain.

We have a new target
from our list there.

A colonel in intelligence
who's close to Bashar's cousins.

He was spotted last month
leaving Istanbul.

I'll let you know
how we're allocating the cities.

You've never been part of a group.

You've never heard of Harfaz.

You neither went to Beirut this year,
nor to Germany.

You arrived in France in September
to find work.

HEADQUARTERS OF NEWSPAPER
LE MONDE

You must keep to yourself
what happened in Syria.

There was no prison,

and no torture.

You went to
the University of Strasbourg library

to prepare your classes
and learn French.

- Is this him?
- It's the source photo, yeah.

You're an exile
like all the others.

No particular background.

And there you have proof
of his time in Germany.

The various names he used.

That's good work!

You also have the statement

of the deserter who identified him.

You'll no longer see those

who knew you under another identity.

You've never called yourself Amir,

Nizar,

Mr. Fouad,

Bassem Kasir,

Nordine,

Rahim,

Saleh...

Your name is simply Hamid.

You've chosen to leave the group,

and we wish you good luck.

You'll never contact us again.

Farewell.

Thomas Cooper, Matthew Way

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