“Lebanon Debate”
The file of the “fake prince” did not begin in a courtroom or with an official interrogation report, but rather with a video recording in which Mustafa Al-Hussyan, known as “Abu Omar,” appeared, directing accusations directly against Sheikh Khaldoun Araymat. From that moment on, an essential part of the prosecution was built on statements that had not yet been made under the circumstances.
According to “Lebanon Debate” information, Al-Hassyan accuses Ahmed Haddara of luring him, detaining him, and violently assaulting him, causing him to suffer a broken jaw, before photographing him and forcing him to accuse Araymit. If these facts are proven, we will not be faced with a marginal detail, but rather crimes of kidnapping, abuse, and coercion that touch on the origin of the story through which Arimat’s name was included in the file.
How can a recording made by a man who says he was kidnapped, beaten, and had his jaw broken be approved without determining whether his statements were made freely? How did this recording turn into prosecution material, while the questions related to who lured Al-Hussyan, detained him, and assaulted him remain without a declared judicial answer?
Haddara was heard before the Intelligence Directorate and then before the judiciary, and the procedures against Al-Hasyan and Arimit continued, leading to arrest and referral. But nothing has yet emerged that will decide the fate of the accusations directed against Haddara himself. Was he interrogated as a defendant? Was the original recording captured? Has the place of detention been determined? Were Al-Husayan’s injuries matched with the medical report and the timing of the imaging?
The scandalous irony is that the person whose name was linked, according to Al-Hasyan’s account, to the kidnapping and beating incident, remained without public accountability, while the statements that were said to have been extracted after the attack were used to intensify the prosecution against Arimit.
The matter did not stop with the creation of the first novel. After the indictment was issued, the criminal description against Arimit was raised from a category that might not exceed a misdemeanor to a felony, which opened the door to extending his detention and keeping him behind bars for a longer period, without his trial beginning or the evidence being discussed publicly.
When the file arrived at the Beirut Criminal Court, headed by Judge Bilal Dennawi, the role of Sheikh Khaled al-Sabasbi in obstructing the start of the trial became clear. He was absent from the preliminary interrogation, then filed a cassation appeal against the indictment before the first session. The judicial process was frozen and Arimit remained detained awaiting a decision on the appeal.
Appeal is a right, but turning procedural rights into a series of obstacles that keep a person detained in prison without a trial is not a natural defense, but rather a cruel use of judicial time as a weapon. Not only did Al-Sabasbi not attend, but he moved to appeal, the practical result of which was exactly the same as the result of his absence: disrupting the trial and prolonging Arimit’s detention.
Here the question becomes legitimate and urgent: Do Hadara and Al-Sabasbi, each in its location, serve the same path?
It is not possible to confirm the existence of a single wave without direct evidence, but the facts impose themselves. Haddara was linked to the recording that established the story against Araymit, and Al-Sabasbi used procedures that prevented this story from being publicly discussed before the Criminal Court. The first pushed the file towards accusation, and the second kept him away from trial, while the result was the same: Arimit was detained for an indefinite period.
The most dangerous thing is that Arimat spent many months in pretrial detention, at a time when detention is supposed to remain an exceptional measure and not a prior punishment. If the detention exceeds its basic period, where is the reasoned decision that justifies its extension? Has raising the description to a felony, then delaying the trial, become a ready-made recipe for keeping a man in prison without a sentence?
The judiciary must not be turned into an arena in which opponents hold the keys to freedom. The absence of an accused and a last-minute appeal should not become stronger than the right of a detainee to appear before the court and hear the evidence against him.
Haddara is not an impartial witness, but rather a complainant and a direct party to the conflict, and he is being pursued by serious accusations regarding the circumstances of Al-Hussyan’s filming. Al-Sabasbi is not an observer outside the file, but rather an accused who used procedural steps that disrupted the trial. Therefore, treating the two men as if they are beyond accountability, while Arimat alone bears the cost of the arrest, reveals a grave imbalance in the balance of justice.
If Arimit is guilty, let his trial begin immediately and the evidence against him be presented. As for keeping him in detention by tightening the criminal description and then freezing the trial, while the charges of kidnapping, beating, and breaking the jaw remain unresolved, it is closer to judicial repression than justice.
The picture has become very clear: Haddara is at the foundation of the novel, Sabsbi is at the forefront of obstruction, and Arimit alone is paying the price.
It remains for the judiciary to answer: Who protects Ahmed Haddara from accountability? Why do Khaled al-Sabasbi’s maneuvers allow Khaldoun Araymat to remain detained without trial? Have judicial procedures become a tool to tighten prosecution and prolong imprisonment instead of revealing the truth?
