Letters from Lebanon
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Cherbel called right at 6pm. He spoke to our daughter She was sitting in her high chair He said, “Look at Daddy, I’m in the fire truck. We’re going to put out a fire.”
I felt this intense heat across my face.
I was scared. They looked like they were sleeping. Or were they dead?
My daughter is only three now. If she asks me, “Who killed him?” What will I tell her Should I tell her I don’t know? That I don’t know who killed him? That we in Lebanon couldn’t find out [the truth]? No.
Dear Human Rights Council, We’re counting on you, since we can’t count on our own government.
Dear Human Rights Council, The country can’t go on without the truth.
Lebanon is waiting.
