Russian envoy's killer remembered as lonely boy, not angry jihadist

Those in the small Turkish town of Soke who knew Mevlut Altintas, the smartly dressed, clean-shaven young man who shot dead Russia’s ambassador this week, recall a lonely taciturn boy twice rejected by university before leaving home and joining the police.
 
Altintas was 22 when he shot Andrei Karlov in the back at an Ankara art gallery before being himself gunned down by police. Few in Soke would have recognised the figure in black suit and tie who stood over the diplomat’s body screaming jihadi slogans.
 
For his family, as for Karlov’s, it was a tragedy.
 
“I have always admired their son,” said a next-door neighbour, who spoke to Reuters from behind her closed door and from time to time broke down in tears. “He was respectful and calm, a very nice young man.
 
“When the police arrived at the door, we assumed he had been killed on duty and they were here to tell the family of his martyrdom. The mother was devastated when she heard,” the neighbour said.
 
The killing, for many, illustrated the turmoil in a country that has been transformed under Tayyip Erdogan. Turkey has to contend with conflicts across the border in Syria and Iraq, and Kurdish insurrection and attacks by Islamic State at home.
 
The police force Altintas served, as a member of the riot squad, is also in some tumult, its command and rank-and-file purged of what Erdogan calls traitors and terrorists after a failed coup against him in July. The Turkish police has long had secret networks and allegiances in its ranks, both Islamist and nationalist.
 
Although constitutionally secular, the Turkish state has long relied on the “twin pillars” of Sunni Islam and nationalism, said Halil Karaveli, managing editor of The Turkey Analyst, a policy journal.
 
“The religious element was always very important in the recruitment and the formation of the cadres of the Turkish state, especially in the security services - not in the army - but in the police.”
 
Erdogan said the assassin was a follower of exiled Islamic cleric Fethullah Gulen, a former ally, who had built a wide network in the police. Gulen denies this.
 
Soke is in one of the most secular regions of Turkey, in the south-west. But Celtikci, the Soke neighbourhood where the Altintas family live, is filled with run-down buildings, where the paint is peeling and the walls are scarred by graffiti, often nationalist or religious.
 
“Islam is the only way,” reads one, “God should be bestowed upon Turks,” says another.
 
Altintas’ family lives on the fourth floor and laundry could still be seen hanging out on the balcony, two days after police detained them for questioning. Media said they were later released.
 
His father, Israfil Altintas, said he had spoken to his son by phone on the day of the attack. The young man’s behaviour started changing after he became friends at police academy with a man identified as Sercan B.
 
“As far as I know, he was not a member of any terrorist organisation, religious network or group,” Israfil Altintas told police, according to Turkish broadcaster Haberturk.
 
“However, he started becoming focused on his prayers, more introverted and silent after he became a policeman.” Israfil said his son had ignored his suggestion that he should remain in Izmir and had gone with Sercan to Ankara, where they lived in the same house.
 
His mother, Hamidiye Altintas, said she had also called her son on the day of the attack. “He asked, ‘What are you doing, Mom?’, and I told him I was on a visit and would call him when I was available. He then hung up, saying ‘Alright Mom, be in God’s care, give me your blessing’.
 
“My son was an introverted and silent boy,” she said.

Reuters