Public gallery

OK the news coverage is pretty good. I'm going to try and bring you up to date on the view from the public gallery. I am there of course not only to record the proceedings, but to catch up with a few faces from Finsbury park and see if any of them are up for colluding on some sort of visual record for public consumption.

I'm not doing too well at the moment. The bigger the group the further they stand away from me in the gallery anteroom. Sometimes I feel like shouting "Come on guys, If you disobey the rules about standing in there cos you don't believe in man made law, what does it say up there? DO NOT DISCUSS CASES can't you break that rule as well?

I totally understand the pressure they must feel they are under.

Two guys came in, one I have argued about film with a Hajj's place before. He was saying that they wouldn't agree to anything where they didn't have final control over the edit. He is a very intelligent conspiracy theorist who has the talent to make a film himself. If I lent him a camera to make it would that get me on AhhhJihhaaaadiiiwatch?

“Have you seen any of my films?” I asked him.

“Yes.” he said “and I thought it was counterproductive.” he went on to vaguely criticize my portrayal of Abdullah.

“Oh yes? Which bit? The part where he says that George Bush sacrifices children to an Owl God? The bit where hes talking about Russian troops slitting open pregnant Chechen women? I made those over a year ago and have since had absolutely no feedback whatsoever from any of you.”

I don't like to harangue too much, but what are they comparing my stuff with? Paxman telling Mr. Hamza to go back to his own country? If I met people around Hamza who were violent angry or hateful towards unbelievers I would be dead by now. Its really annoying that I can't swear at people because they don't trust me.

His friend asked to see my notebook expecting me to pull it away defensively.

"What does that bit say?" he asked.

"It says that if you borrow something off of a kaffir you want to rob, you give it back to him and then rob him. That is what he said on the tape isn't it?"

"I don't know..." he answered worriedly.

"Samir's brother" as I have ashamedly been referring to him, or Adam as I have since found his name to be has been the most frequent visitor. He sits and fidgets and gets annoyed with the whole spectacle in front of him making me laugh. When he is around the distraction is balanced by the ability to spell the latest name of lost cities or tribes from the Koran Mr. Hamza is referring to in his defence. The brothers do some webwork for the supporters of shareeah website, available on all the best AhhhJihadiiiwatch sites. I have never sensed any threat from either of them. Anyone watching how they are on a screen for five minutes would say “and these are supposed to be terrorists?”. Makes me want to nut the back of the bench in front of me but I was philosophical. “Look if a film doesn't happen out of all this its been good to meet you.”

At the moment he is convinced that there is no Islamic objective in answering any of this on film. He feels that they would be "riding on the back" of Mr. Hamza and that I wouldn't be talking to them if they didn't know him. I understood this to a point, but I think I was always filming their whole community. I didn't concentrate on Mr. Hamza in my films. Because they have a leader and focus around an “emir” is just part of the story of who they are. Why no one around a man the US government says is a terrorist seems to be wanted by the authorities over here. Why the man himself wasn't wanted by those same authorities.

Hmmm... I was filming everyone in Finsbury park who would let me. Last time I spoke to Hamza he wished me luck on a film I thought I was making about Abu Abdullah. This is totally confusing but served to remind me of my original lofty intentions in picking up a camera in some sort of experiment of faith that the "truth will out".

Its my job to come up with an "Islamic objective" which was why I had suggested a meetup with Sparkle and the girls. To see if we can put right any misconceptions the two communities have of each other. An exercise in "confidence building" between two sides who feel they are enemies in a nice neutral country like Britain.

“Does he ever look up at you?” asked Adam.

“The old bastard never used to look at me in Finsbury park either in all that time, let alone here.” I answered laughing.

“Don't take it personally.”

“No worries, he must be under a lot of stress.”

There is already a "them" and "us" going on between gallery and press benches with nervous glances shot from either "side" and neither "side" quite sure which "side" I am on. It was nice to bridge this divide a bit with a girl who was working for ITN. She was hanging around the public gallery entrance with a camerawoman convinced she had seen one of Mr Hamza's sons in the public gallery the day before. She has a sort of scrap book she was showing one of 3 news camera people who do a ritual dance with prison vans as they arrive every morning. (On the shoulder van rolls up, follow round. Close up on driving compartment, drop camera to floor and follow van in as entrance closes.)

"Let me see that picture" I said to initiate a conversation.

"Thats Abu Haffs."

"Mustapha Camel." she corrected me.

"I don't think he will come. Hes probably at college or something."

"But he was sitting next to you yesterday in the public gallery."

I was unsure what I would have done at that moment had Mr. Hamza's friends turned up and took exception to being filmed as they are prone to do.

"Did you see me? Were you downstairs?" she was Asian and quite pretty."What do the juries faces look like when Mr. Hamza is talking? Do they look angry? Like they hate him?"

"No they look bored." she told me.

"There wasn't anyone next to me yesterday." I think she thought I was lying to her.

"Yes there were there were 3 guys sitting next to you. Mustapha Camel was in the middle."

"No there weren't. Hang on. Maybe the day before...Big guy? He's from Lebanon."

"How do you know?"

"I asked him. He brought his dad the day before."

"Excuse me. My dad is from Lebanon. He is asking why you have this bones in your ears and jewelery." the guy had said to me.

"Say to him- decoration." I answered.

"No good" said dad, worried.

"I'm sorry dad."

The guy was with a group of four who were quite positive about what I was trying. They are all infuriatingly convinced that only one side of the Hamza story is going to be allowed on "the media". To me its all simple. Talk. Film. Find out. Again, another four plausible, peaceful Muslims who talk to me like any other Londoner and won't go on camera.

I was trying to convince the “usually already pissed in the morning” cameraman who helped me film preachers of hate to come up, to get him out of the house and maybe do some more filming. All of the Muslims like him as he is very “British Asian” and could pass as a Muslim. He filmed with me twice in Finsbury park and no one minded that he was pissed. I like Jinn, but he is bit of a wildcard in any situation (see HIT HIM WITH A PIECE OF WOOD)

“You know if you come you will probably get followed home.” I warned him.

“Let them follow me. I'll say here is my girlfriend. Here is my bottle of Whisky.”

Wonder of all wonders he actually arrived on Friday.

“Blackie!”

“Monkeyboy!”

I answered in suprise as he appreared through a gaggle of trainee journalists, trainee barristers and trial tourists, all nervously eying an Asian face. (I'm not racist, his name, Jinn means monkey.)

“Did they ask you if you were a terrorist downstairs?” I asked.

“Yeah, that Asian babe, works for ITN. I'm going to take her for a coffee. I told her we got the footage man. She asked my reasons for being here. I said “political correctness”. Told her: MALUNG NEWS”

“You fucking idiot! What are you telling these people about my blog for? Everyone can see you are a pisshead, no one will take me seriously.”

Throughout the trial he was tapping me and giggling as I was trying to work out what of the stuff Mr. Hamza was saying to write down. He was also ducking sinisterly below the front of his heavy army jacket collar, making the big MI-5 guy who sits at the front uncomfortable seeing an unrecognized Asian face in the gallery.

“He just smiled at me!” Jinn had stood up right at the beginning and smiled at Mr. Hamza.

“Did he? You bastard. He never even looks at me.”

Lunchtime we went for a pint. A member of the jury was sitting at the table behind us.

“Look. Let me do the talking. I'll sell it to this ITN girl.” Jinn insisted.

“Jinn, after three years I can't sell my footage to someone else to edit, especially not ITN. What do you think these people would say to me? What would they think? It would defeat the whole object of what I am doing.”

Jinn is great, but an Indian buisness head mixed with alchohol is a bad concoction. I wouldn't want to pickle my film in it. Note Hamza smiles at someone who is saying "Yeah. Lets sell the footage" and someone who wants to faithfully present the story he's seen- no reaction.