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Uighur's Chance to Leave Guantanamo Means Leaving Brother

Elizabeth Gilson, a lawyer who represents two Uighur brothers who have been held at Guantanmo Bay since 2002, talks about why Bahtiyar Mahnut is willing to stay at the prison, perhaps indefinitely, because he refuses to abandon his brother Arkin. Palau has agreed to take only Bahtiyar Mahnut.

In 2001, Bahtiyar and Arkin, both Muslims, were living with their parents and a younger brother in a small house in bustling Ghulja in Western China. Arkin is the father of two children, then 8 and 5. The brothers were not particularly devout but felt oppressed by the government of Beijing, which does not allow worship and ensures the best jobs go to ethnic Chinese. The brothers were forced to survive as menial tradesmen. Bahtiyar sold clothes; Arkin repaired shoes.

Bahtiyar wanted to strike out on his own. So, with $700 in his pocket, he headed for Pakistan. But he quickly ran out of money and couldn't find work. He was worried about being sent back to China until a friend told him about a group of Uighurs in Afghanistan that wanted "to fight against the Chinese government."

"If I went," he told military officials, "I didn't have to pay for food or anything. So I went to Afghanistan."

There, he lived with 35 other Uighurs in a camp of dusty roads and shacks in the southern mountains. The group built houses and a mosque. They trained with one automatic rifle and did some push-ups, pull-ups and other calisthenics, records show.

Within a few weeks of arriving at the camp, Bahtiyar managed to call home. His mother was very worried and told Arkin to find his brother. "He left because he was a dutiful son," Gilson said.

After the Sept. 11 attacks, the U.S. military began bombing Afghanistan and destroyed Bahtiyar's camp, sending the Uighurs into the mountains for shelter. Bahtiyar and others crossed into neighboring Pakistan, where they were arrested and turned over to U.S. authorities.

Meanwhile, Arkin made his way to Afghanistan, where he was captured by the Northern Alliance and turned over the United States. At a military prison in Kandahar, the brothers saw each other across the razor wire.

In 2002, the military brought the brothers and 20 other Uighurs to Guantanamo Bay. Authorities alleged at the time that the men trained at military-style camps affiliated with the Taliban or al-Qaeda. The accusations later dissolved upon close scrutiny by the courts.

Arkin and Bahtiyar were confined in separate cells and, for months, were not able to talk. A Uighur interpreter working for the military, Rushan Abbas, persuaded the military in 2003 to allow the brothers to meet in an interrogation room.

When they saw each other, they hugged and wept. "It was just so emotional," Abbas said. "These brothers from across the world coming together in an interrogation room for the first time."

In 2005, Arkin remained in solitary confinement. He had a record of disciplinary infractions and had been disrespectful to the guards, records show.

Not for the first time, Bahtiyar took steps to help his brother. Living in a more relaxed part of the prison, he was granted a request to be moved to Arkin's camp. "I missed my brother so much," he told military officials.

By the next year, the brothers had been cleared for release by the military. The government did not present any evidence to justify their detention in a federal lawsuit brought the Uighurs seeking their freedom. In October, a judge ordered them freed into the United States, but that decision was overturned on appeal. The Uighurs are awaiting word, expected this week, on whether the Supreme Court will hear the case.

Last year, the remaining Uighurs were moved to a fenced-in camp that includes an activities room, video games and books. Through it all, Arkin and Bahtiyar have struggled to cope with being prisoners, perhaps for years to come. "I know I'll die in here," Arkin told Gilson not long ago. "In China, at least I would have a trial and sentence."

Since taking their case in 2005, Gilson has met with Arkin dozens of times. But she had only spoken to Bahtiyar by phone. He had refused to meet with her, frustrated by lawyers always talking about what he considered fruitless legal victories.

Two weeks ago, he changed his mind. Bahtiyar felt that he owed her an explanation for refusing Palau's generous offer. "Every day here is an eternity," he told Gilson through an interpreter. "But I have to look out for my brother."

Staff researcher Julie Tate contributed to this report.

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