Episode 1: The Green Grass
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Two years ago, I went to Iraq to talk to a man about what sounded like a murder. It had happened almost 17 years earlier. The killing of the man's sister, his nephew, so many others. 24 people in all. It was a killing that had gone unpunished, where not a single person had ever gone to prison. A killing committed by U.S. Marines. The man whose family was killed is named Khaled Salman Rasif.

He met me in the lobby of a hotel in the city of Erbil, Iraq. We headed up to a room with our producer Samara Freemark and our interpreter, a woman named Aya Muthana. We all sat down. Mr. Pollard, why don't you sit here? Okay. Can I get you a water or a coffee or anything like that? Some water. Some water? Okay.

I'd wanted to meet Khaled in his hometown. It's called Haditha. But traveling to Haditha is dangerous for Western journalists. Remnants of ISIS are still active in the region. So Khaled agreed to meet us in a safer place, in Erbil, in the north. He's thanking you for coming here. He says that you had the longest wait. He's welcoming you guys to Iraq.

Khaled's in his 50s. He's a lawyer, and he looks like one. He has short hair and a neat mustache, and despite the fact that he traveled eight hours to meet us, his dark suit and tie were immaculate. He pulled out his phone and started showing us pictures of his first grandchild. I am grandfather. She'd been born just six months earlier. What's her name? Neba. Neba. Yes. We're happy.

Khalid used to speak English all the time, back when he needed to speak it, so he could talk to the American Marines who were occupying his town.

But those days are long past. It's been a while, but no, it's good. It's good? Yeah. Perfect? Almost perfect. Well, it's nice to meet you in person after just talking on the phone.

He's also so happy to see you in person. They kind of gave up on anyone talking about this case again. They didn't forget. They've been heartbroken every day since that day. But they gave up.

on someone talk about the case or someone pre-investigate the case. So he said that he was so thrilled and happy that media is interested in coming all the way for the truth. He says that this is his duty for the truth to be

to be told. The story Khalid wanted to tell me happened in Khalid's hometown, Haditha. Haditha is a pretty small city. It's in western Iraq, in the desert. But it's right on the banks of the Euphrates River. And so depending on where in Haditha you are, the place is either dry and dusty or lush with palm trees. Before the U.S. invaded, life there was quiet, sleepy even. Some people had small farms. They would grow cucumbers and melons. Other people worked in the oil industry. On the weekends, they'd go drink tea and coffee in cafes along the river.

It's the kind of place where it seemed like everyone knew everyone. But by the time Khaled's story begins, in 2005, all that had changed. The Iraq War had started two years earlier. The United States military had invaded, overthrown Saddam Hussein and captured Baghdad. But now the U.S. military was trying to establish control over the rest of the country. And that was proving more difficult. In western Iraq, where Haditha is, an insurgency movement was growing.

foreign fighters from groups like al-Qaeda were starting to arrive. So terrorists started to make their appearance in Haditha city. Now when Khaled went to the marketplace, he'd see people he didn't recognize. People who weren't from Haditha. People who spoke with foreign accents. From Yemen, Saudi Arabia, Syria. He'd see people with their faces covered so that no one could see who they were.

and he tried to just keep his head down and stay out of their way. In 2005, a new battalion of U.S. Marines arrived in Haditha to try to drive the insurgents out. And so there were two groups of outsiders in Haditha, both of them terrifying to the people in town. The insurgents would plant IEDs under Haditha's streets and occasionally pop up to fire rounds at the Marines.

The Marines spent their time patrolling, carrying their big guns, driving their big Humvees, looking for insurgents and caches of weapons and explosives, detaining people they deemed suspicious. They spent a lot of time searching houses.

They could burst into your home without warning. It could be late at night or early in the morning. They'd bust down your door with assault rifles drawn, and there was always the worry that if you made one wrong move, if you misunderstood a command barked out in English, they might just shoot you or zip-tie your hands and fly you off to Bucca Prison.

Khaled told me that the people of Haditha developed a kind of protocol for when the Marines showed up at their houses. They take all the old people and the women and children and put them in a back room. And then the men would go out and talk to the Marines, in English if possible, carefully, appeasingly. Welcome. You can enter and you can do anything. Please don't break anything. There is my mother here, my father here. Please, please.

My wife is very sick. My children are very sick. When I told them, sometimes they good. But sometimes they said, shut up and sit down. Don't talking with me anything. The Marines demanded total cooperation from the people of Haditha. They expected the people of Haditha to give them intel about the insurgents, to tell the Marines where IEDs had been placed, where the weapons caches were hidden, to help them out in this fight against the bad guys.

Oh.

If they saw any person from the local community talk to any American Marine, they would take them to Haditha's bridge and they would cut their head and put it on their back.

Put it on the back? Yes. And then just leave the body on the bridge? Leave the body on the bridge. That sounds terrifying.

He's saying that it was horrifying. And this is not only his experience. He's saying that this was a public situation for all of the people of Haditha. They wouldn't trust the Al-Qaeda and they wouldn't trust the American military.

So they lived in this hard situation, terrifying moments, scared from both al-Qaeda and the U.S. military. And he said that it was basically like hell. Yes, yes, like the hell. It's like the hell. It's very hard.

Khaled said they had a saying back then. When two elephants fight, the only loser is the green grass. And that green grass, in this story, it was Khaled's family. So maybe we could now talk a bit about the day of the incident. What do you remember about how that day started?

It was the morning of November 19, 2005. Khaled was 31 at the time. He lived in Haditha with his wife, his two daughters, and his parents. They lived in a middle-class or maybe even upper-middle-class neighborhood filled with two-story stone houses set close together.

Khaled's sister Asma lived with her family nearby. His cousins were also close by, as were his aunts and uncles. Khaled was basically surrounded by his family. That morning, Khaled was asleep in his house. At 7.15 a.m., the day of the incident, he heard the sound of really strong bombing.

The sound of an explosion woke Khaled up, and he jolted out of bed. He heard shrapnel raining down outside. Some of it even hit a tree in his garden. An IED had exploded on the road near his house. Khaled didn't know it then, but he would later learn that the IED had hit a convoy of Marines traveling down the road. It had destroyed one of the Marines' Humvees. One of the Marines was now lying dead in the road, his body torn apart.

And the remaining Marines in the convoy were mounting a response. I heard M16. The distinctive sound of American M16 assault rifles coming from the road nearby. And the sound of Marines shouting. He heard the military just shouting hysterically, like they were shouting in a really strange behavior.

And then, all of a sudden, Khaled heard what sounded like a grenade going off inside a house, right there in his neighborhood. And that was followed by the sound of more gunfire. Khaled looked out. There were Marines everywhere. They were on the streets, on the rooftops. Hours passed.

Khalid and his family decided to flee to a safer part of town. They set off on foot, carrying white flags so the Marines wouldn't shoot them. They got to a relative's house and hunkered down. As the day wore on, more family arrived, and word began to trickle in that something horrible had happened at Khalid's sister Asma's house, and another house close by. The next morning, Khalid woke up early. He headed to Asma's house to see what had happened. When Khalid got to the house, it was quiet. No one seemed to be home.

As he walked inside, the first thing he saw was blood. There was so much blood, even the air smelled of it. There was blood on the walls, on the floors, in the furniture, even on the ceilings. And there were bloody drag marks leading out the door.

But where was Khaled's family? Where are they? What has happened? Where did they go? And then someone came by, told Khaled that the Marines had taken all the bodies to the hospital. The bodies? Khaled took off running for the hospital. At some point, one of his cousins drove up. He said, jump in. And together, they drove the rest of the way.

When Khaled got to the hospital, he found a crowd had gathered. People were walking in and out of a small air-conditioned room that the hospital was using as a morgue. Like a freezer for bodies. A freezer for bodies? Yes.

There was a nurse there, holding a list of names. And they said, your relatives are all inside. You can go and identify them. Yes. The floor of the room was covered in bodies and body parts. Some of the bodies were in body bags. Others were in trash bags.

They started opening one bag, then another, and another. This is my aunt Kamisa. This is my uncle Hamid. This is Jaheed. This is Rashid. This is Huda. They kept opening bags.

This is Yunus. And his wife Aida. And their children. Nur. Muhammad. Saba. Aisha. Zainab. And then. This is my sister Asma. And this is Asma's husband Waleed. And Asma and Waleed's four-year-old son Abdullah.

There were other bodies there too, people who weren't from Khaled's family, but who he knew. Four brothers, Marwan, Kattan, Jaseb, and Jamal. And five other men, Ahmed, Akram, Khaled, Wajdi, and Mohammed. 24 bodies in all, 14 men, 4 women, and 6 children. The oldest was a 76-year-old grandfather, and the youngest was a 3-year-old girl. The killings were gruesome.

Whole families had been nearly wiped out, and how they were killed also stood out. What he noticed was gunshots. He said that most of them are gunshots in the head or in the chest. Shots, yes. They died this way. Adults shot in the head. Children shot in the head. Khaled stood in the cold room, surrounded by the bodies of his family. He would go on to spend years wondering why.

Why did this happen? He's actually devoted his life to answering that question. And now, I was wondering too. I've spent the past four years, along with the rest of the In the Dark team, investigating the killings of Khalid's family and the others that day. A mass killing, carried out by U.S. Marines over just a few hours in Haditha.

This story would take us to 21 states and three continents. We would talk to hundreds of people: Iraqi civilians, Marines, eyewitnesses, experts. We would obtain thousands of pages of government documents. We would look at photos, videos, drone footage, reports, intelligence assessments, handwritten notes, records from the peculiar and secretive parallel justice system that handles crimes committed by American service members.

We would even sue the U.S. military, all to find out what really happened that day in Haditha and why was no one punished for the killings. From The New Yorker, this is Season 3 of In the Dark. Episode 1, The Green Grass. In the days after the killings, Khalid walked around Haditha in a daze. He'd just lost his sister, his sister's husband, his nephew, so many other family members. Khalid told me what those days were like.

The word he used the most was shocked. Seeing his family dying, like his whole family, he was shocked. Shocked when he saw the bodies of his family in the hospital. Shocked in the days that followed.

But after a week of this, Khaled said, I woke up. He said that God gives some people like a hidden power to just act when something happens in these kind of situations. Khaled wanted to know why the Marines had killed his family. He wanted to know what had happened inside those houses, how the killings had happened.

And he wanted the people responsible to be punished. An investigation, a prosecution, a punishment. The kinds of things that a person expects when their family is killed. What he wanted was justice. But Khalid said the Marines hadn't even come to his family to apologize. They actually hadn't said anything to him at all about the killings. It was like it hadn't happened. And so Khalid and some other town leaders in Haditha gathered at the town's central library.

Local leaders were there and the city council. Khalid was actually a member. They came up with a list of demands. They wrote them down in the form of a letter. Someone in the group translated the letter into English. Now they needed to get that letter to the Marines. But going to the American base was extremely dangerous. Insurgents monitored the road to the base to see who was coming and going.

And if they spotted an Iraqi civilian traveling there, sometimes that person would later end up decapitated on the bridge. Anybody who goes to the American base, it was basically like a suicide. But Khaled was desperate. And so, eight days after the killings, he and the other men headed down that suicidal road to the American base to meet with the Marines. That's after the break.

Hi, it's Madeline. I'm going to be honest with you. This season almost didn't happen. But we were able to report season three to its conclusion and bring it to you because we joined The New Yorker. At In the Dark, we believe that investigative reporting can lead to real change. That's why I'm asking you to become a New Yorker subscriber.

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From the producers of Anything for Selena and the Pulitzer Prize-winning podcast Suave comes My Devo, a podcast about roots. Dive into the legendary life, music, and lasting influence of Latin America's most prolific songwriter and showman, Juan Gabriel, El Devo de Juarez, hosted by Maria Garcia. This is My Devo, an Apple original podcast produced by Futuro Studios. Follow and listen on Apple Podcasts.

How are you? Hello. I want to introduce you to an American who was at the base when Khalid and the other Iraqi men arrived. His name is Dana Hyatt. Our producer, Natalie Jablonski, went to his house in Connecticut to talk to him. Nice to meet you. I'm Natalie. Dana Hyatt. Hyatt's now retired from the military. He'd served 28 years. I see some Marines, uh...

Hayat had kept a scrapbook of photos of his time in Iraq, and he showed it to Natalie. Flipping through its pages, it's like a highlight reel of all the stereotypes the American military applied to Iraq during the war.

You have the smiling Iraqi kids. Give out bubble gum, candy. The palm trees. This woman coming from the river area, palm fronds. The Marines hobnobbing with tribal leaders. Shakes, shakes, sheiks over there. The livestock in the streets. This guy's herding his sheep out here. Like biblical times. The houses, the way they look. And then there are the photos of ziptied detainees lying in the desert. Yep. So, stuff happened. In Haditha, Hyatt was what's called a civil affairs officer.

His job was to build relationships with the civilians in town, win them over to the Marines' side, what the military calls hearts and minds. The hearts and minds, helping to make Kaditha better, helping to, I don't know, improve their lives. When the Marines did something that harmed civilians, Hyatt's job was basically to paper it over, like he'd hand out money to repair homes the Marines had damaged. Here you go. Here's 20 bucks. Here's $50. Here's $10. Whatever.

Hyatt wasn't involved in the killings of Khalid's family, but he had seen some of their bodies. Hyatt had gone with other Marines to the hospital that night, when the bodies were unloaded from Humvees and put in the makeshift morgue, where Khalid would later find them. What were you thinking at that point, or what did you make of that? It just, I don't know. I mean, I was purposely not trying to think too much about it. I didn't want some of those visuals constantly being there later.

Instead, Hyatt's focus was on managing the fallout. That's why he was at the hospital that night. I talked with the hospital personnel. I gave them my information, you know, because we figured there were going to be questions. There were going to be complaints. There were going to be all kinds of, you know, like what the hell happened type things.

Hyatt was right. There were questions. And now Hyatt found himself in a meeting with a group of Iraqis, including Khalid, talking about precisely these, as he put it, what-the-hell-happened type things. So then this is the city council meeting. This was because of the incident. Hyatt's scrapbook has some photos of the meeting. Yeah, there's quite a few people in the room. I think you're probably looking at 20, 25 people in there. Oh, wow.

In the photos, you can see a group of Iraqi men crammed into a pretty small room, sitting scrunched up next to each other on couches. This is the mayor. This was another interpreter. You can see Khalid sitting on one of those couches, wearing a dark suit. Hyatt calls him the lawyer. There's the lawyer. On a little red stool were paper cups of tea that the Marines had set out. We were trying to be hospitable. Sitting in the corner and looking stern was the top Marine in the room, the head of the Marines in Haditha.

His name was Jeffrey Chassani. Chassani was a lieutenant colonel. He was 41 years old. He was ambitious. He'd spent nearly half his life climbing the ranks of the Marine Corps and thought he might soon be promoted to colonel. Khaled remembers Chassani being fairly quiet in this meeting. He remembers Dana Hyatt doing most of the talking. But another Iraqi man we spoke with, the director of the hospital in Haditha, Dr. Walid El-Obeidi, recalls Chassani kicking the whole thing off. The leader, Colonel Chassani,

Chassani clearly knew that people had died that day, a lot of people. And according to Dr. El-Obeidi, he started with standard official speak, the kinds of things you say to try to smooth things over. We're here to help. This shouldn't affect the good relationship between us. And then Dr. El-Obeidi said, Chassani offered an explanation for what happened that day, how all those people ended up dead.

And this explanation, as soon as Khalid and Dr. El-Abaidi heard it, they knew it wasn't true. Dr. El-Abaidi said Chassani told them that the civilians had died because of an IED explosion and an ensuing firefight. In other words, it was the insurgents' fault. He made it sound like Khalid's family just got caught in the middle of something. But Chassani had known since that very first night that civilians had been killed by his own Marines.

Chesani would later admit that he'd heard from one of his captains that Marines had gone into people's houses and killed women and children inside. But rather than immediately report all these details up the chain of command or call for an investigation of a possible war crime, Chesani, according to two officers, had approved a report for his higher-ups that said that, yes, civilians had died, but that they had died in an IED explosion and in crossfire with enemy fighters.

The report said that Marines had returned fire and that eight insurgents had been killed. The way this report described it, it didn't seem like the Marines had done anything wrong. Of course, Khalid had no way of knowing any of this. But sitting there in that meeting, one thing he did know for sure was that the story Chesani was telling him and the other town leaders was definitely not true. He knew that firsthand. He'd seen the bodies of his family members with his own eyes. He'd seen the bullet wounds in their heads.

He'd gone into his sister Asma's house. He'd seen the blood on the walls. He tried explaining all this to the Marines, to Chesani, and to Dana Hyatt, the man whose job it was to build relationships with the locals. Some of his family members were killed that day. And he's, like, crying to me about it. And I'm like, all right, but we lost a Marine that day, too. I'm sorry that, you know, Major, it was my, you know, and, like, I know. And I'm sorry, you know, I'm sorry.

Sorry that that happened, but we also lost a Marine that day. There was something else that Hyatt told Khalid at this meeting and in the weeks that followed, that Khalid's family, the people who died, weren't wholly innocent. And I said, your family lived in a neighborhood that allowed this to happen. Like, it's not just us. You guys allowed somebody to do this.

Hyatt assumed, without any evidence, that Khaled's family probably saw the IED being planted in the road and didn't tell the Marines about it. And therefore, he felt like, yeah, I'm sorry you're upset they were all killed, but whatever happened inside those houses, it's kind of their fault. I felt bad that it was his family that got killed, you know. But I also strongly felt that somehow they bore some responsibility for it. And I told them that.

Khalid had come to this meeting looking for answers and some kind of justice. Instead, he was having to sit there and listen as his family members were being partly blamed for their own deaths. It would have been understandable if Khalid had just walked out of the meeting at that point. But he stayed. He still wanted to try to reason with the Americans. Khalid and the other people from town presented the Marines with the letter of demands they'd prepared. Dr. El-Obaidi read it to me.

In the morning of 19th November 2005, a painful distress has happened when an American soldier had executed three families with a number of universities. The letter called the events of November 19th a, quote, painful disaster and... A crime of war. A war crime. Which could be never forgotten. The letter demanded that the military investigate what happened and punish the people responsible.

The Marine Corps has clear rules for what to do if you're a commander and you receive an allegation of a war crime. Once you get it, you can't ignore it. You have to report it up to your superiors and to military police and try to secure evidence.

This isn't optional. It's required. The meeting ended. Chassani never launched an investigation. Chassani was later charged for failing to accurately report and thoroughly investigate the incident as a possible war crime. But the case against him was dismissed. We tried to talk to Chassani. A reporter, Parker Yesko, went to his house in California. Can I help you? Oh, hey there, Mr. Chassani. My name's Parker. I'm a radio reporter working on... Parker what? Parker Yesko. I'm a radio reporter. I'm working on a project about the Iraq War.

Jasani is no longer in the Marines. He works at a Christian college and lives down the street from it. Any comment on the Haditha incident? Any regrets about how you handled it? No, I don't have any comment. Think it. I just said I don't have a comment. Yeah, sure. I understand. You have a nice evening, all right? You too. Thanks. Thanks. Yeah. Have a good night. Jasani's lawyer later sent us an email. He wrote,

As for what happened that day, Chassani's lawyer wrote, Except perhaps on the part of the terrorists who initiated the attack.

It's false to suggest otherwise. This whole thing, he said, was a, quote, non-story. In Editha, the weeks passed. The military paid the families of the victims some money, $2,500 for each person who died. The military calls these kinds of payments condolence payments. The way Dana Hyatt saw it, giving the families this money was a big deal. He'd even put some photos of himself giving money to Khalid in his scrapbook.

It's a strange scene. Hyatt in his uniform, Khaled in his suit, a stack of crisp $50 bills for Khaled to distribute to his family on a small table in front of them. Hyatt told us it was a lot of money for an Iraqi. Khaled didn't see it that way. And besides, money wasn't what he really wanted. He wanted an investigation, accountability, answers. But none of the Marines in Haditha would give him those things. And that might have been where this story ended. Were it not for one more thing that Khaled did.

That's after the break. He killed at least 19 people during the 1980s in South Africa. Very dark times. People were desperate. We were looking for him. We couldn't find him. And nobody knew where he was. Every single one of his victims was black. He reached such a stage where he was now hunting.

World of Secrets from the BBC World Service. Season 3, The Apartheid Killer. Search for World of Secrets wherever you get your BBC podcasts. In the weeks after the killings, Khaled Salman Rasif asked a man he knew to make a video. The video was of the inside of his sister's house and the house of his other relatives nearby. The purpose of making it was to document the evidence that remained.

to film everything that was inside the houses, the bloodstains and pieces of the bodies. So he wanted that to be on tape to show the truth of what happened. Making this video is risky. The Marines could easily consider a video like this to be insurgent propaganda.

And that wasn't the sort of thing that the military dealt with nicely. It was the sort of thing that could lead to a person being arrested and shipped off to prison. Khaled gave the video to a neighbor who said he'd help get the story out. And the video ended up getting cut together with some other videos that people had filmed. The final video is about 22 minutes long. It opens with a half-second shot of some palm trees. And then it cuts abruptly to a scene in the hospital where the bodies of Khaled's family were taken. There's a close-up of a bloodied head on the floor.

The camera zooms out, and you can see more bodies and men crowding around them. It's chaotic. The men are here to retrieve the bodies of their family members, to load the bodies into cars and trucks, to take them to be prepared for burial. One man is crying and has blood on his face. He helps carry a body wrapped in a black bag out to a white truck. The camera goes in closer to the back of the truck. It shows several bodies, partly covered by black tarps or body bags.

An older man moves one of the tarps to reveal a very young girl, maybe three years old, lying face up, dead. She has dark hair. She's wearing a shirt with blue sleeves. Her eyes are closed. Her face is covered in blood. And her arm is draped across another body. At one point, a man says in Arabic, Are those kids the terrorists? Come on!

Back inside the hospital room, a man stands over two of the bodies, holding his head in his hands, weeping. Another man walks over to one of the bodies and appears to pick up an arm and hold it, very briefly, to his cheek. Then the video moves to the houses. A friend of Khaled's addresses the camera, pointing out the evidence. He says, come with me, come look at this.

The camera pans, and you can see blood on the walls and the ceilings. Inside a bedroom of one of the houses, you can see blood on the bed and the bed frame and shell casings on the ground. People in Haditha smuggled the video out to a human rights activist in Baghdad. That activist gave the video to an American journalist at Time magazine named Tim McGurk, who wrote a story about it, alleging that 24 civilians had been killed by U.S. Marines.

And the story blew up. Some are comparing the Haditha killings to the Vietnam massacre at My Lai. They actually went into the houses and killed women and children. Members of Congress vowed to look into what had happened. We will hold hearings and hold reviews, and there will be thorough oversight. Even President George W. Bush weighed in. The Haditha incident is under investigation.

Obviously the allegations are very troubling for me and equally troubling for our military, especially the Marine Corps. The U.S. military ordered its own investigation into what happened in Haditha. And that first investigation would lead to more investigations, three of them in all. It would become one of the largest war crimes investigations in U.S. history. Seemingly every day the case file would grow.

There would be statements taken, forensic evidence gathered, cases built against the Marines responsible. Eventually, four Marines were charged with murder. They faced the possibility of life in prison. And Khaled Salman Rasif thought he might finally get the justice he fought so long and so hard for. But that's not at all what happened. I first got interested in the Haditha case a few years ago when I was doing some research on war crimes committed by the U.S. military.

As a reporter, I spend a lot of time in civilian courtrooms. I've watched hearings, read files, talked to lawyers and defendants. But war crimes are prosecuted in a different kind of system in the United States, the military justice system, this bizarre, opaque, acronym-laden world that exists mostly outside of public view. In other words, exactly the kind of world that interests me as an investigative reporter. And the Haditha case in particular stood out to me because of a mystery at the center of it.

Despite the fact that four Marines had been charged with murder, and in such a high-profile case, truly one of the biggest stories out of the entire Iraq War, not a single one of those Marines ended up serving a day in prison. Over the years, every single one of the cases against the Marines collapsed. There was not a single criminal conviction for the killings. How did that happen? As I kept reading about Haditha, I got even more interested.

Because I realized that what actually happened that day was also a mystery. The most basic facts of the day, who killed who and why and how, were unclear. Depending on whose story you believed, the killings were a war crime, a murder. Or they were legitimate combat action and the victims were collateral damage. Or the killings were a tragic mistake, unintentional, sad, but not criminal. Basically the only thing that everyone could agree on was that 24 people had died and it was Marines who'd killed them.

The Iraq War has been over for almost 13 years. Some people might say that what happened over there is old news. It's time to move on. But how can you move on from something that you never understood to begin with? Khaled Salman Rassif in particular was asking me not to move on, pleading with me, really. And so on this season of In the Dark, we are not moving on. We're going back to 2005 to figure out what really happened to Khaled's family that day, to investigate the Marines and what they did.

and to find out why the military justice system never punished a single one of them for the killings. Coming up on this season of In the Dark. I remember I opened a Humvee and I just see bodies stacked up, you know, and I open another one, same thing. I'm like...

Okay, guys.

I have never had bigger news for you. I am freaking out. This morning at 9.19 a.m. Central Time. So I said, holy shit, this is amazing. Could you zoom in? Yeah, yeah. Especially to the position of them. No trespassing violators will be shot. Survivors will be shot again. You feel comfortable going in? Yes.

The sleeping cells, the militias and the ISIS, the IEDs, the mortars or rockets. So can you keep us safe of all this? Of course. What did I think? I assumed it meant that he had fucking shot someone. So he saw the Americans and then he just disappeared. We don't know what happened to him. You know, I don't know what's to be gained by this investigative journalism.

Episode two of In the Dark is out now. Listen wherever you get your podcasts. Or you can listen ad-free at newyorker.com. In the Dark is reported and produced by me, Madeline Barron, managing producer Samara Freemark, producers Natalie Jablonski and Raymond Tungakar, and reporter Parker Yesko. In the Dark is edited by Catherine Winter and Willing Davidson. Interpreting in Iraq by Aya Muthena. Additional interpreting and translation by Aya Alshakarchi.

This episode was fact-checked by Lucy Kroening and Linnea Feldman Emerson. Original music by Allison Leighton Brown. Sound design and mix by John DeLore. Our theme is by Gary Meister. Our art is by Emiliano Ponzi. Art direction by Nicholas Conrad and Aviva Mikhailov. FOIA legal representation from the FOIA team at Loewe & Loewe. Legal review by Fabio Bertone. In the Dark was created by American Public Media and is produced by The New Yorker. Our managing editor is Julia Rothschild.

The head of global audio for Condé Nast is Chris Bannon. The editor of The New Yorker is David Remnick. If you have comments or story tips, you can send them to us at inthedarkatnewyorker.com. And make sure to follow In the Dark wherever you get your podcasts.

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