If you think about the last two years, the news cycle has been nuts. COVID-19 has dominated headlines, world wars have hung in the balance and getting food on the table in an unstable economy has been top of mind for everyday Canadians. In the midst of the craziness, so many big stories have flown past us, without even a second look.
One visual that has been imprinted In my mind is a . I remember seeing the first videos emerge on Twitter from our national newsroom in Ottawa.
At the time, I was a national reporter, covering federal politics. I remember watching the huge plume of smoke and the colossal force of the blast devastate the capital city of Lebanon.
I thought to myself, this had to be a nuclear bomb. I was wrong. Almost three tonnes of ammonium nitrate was somehow left in a warehouse near peoples鈥� homes, a ticking time bomb right in the heart of the city. In the days that followed, the human toll emerged.
More than 218 people died, 7,000 were injured and 300,000 were left homeless. For my national story, I came across Michele Awad, the grieving grandfather of a three-year-old Lebanese-Canadian girl who lost her life in that blast.
Alexandra Naggear was her grandfather鈥檚 best friend. Michele teared up during our Zoom interview. Even across borders and through a shoddy connection, the grief and agony were palpable. He explained how his daughter, Tracy, tried to completely cover Alexandra, to shield her from the impact. But it wasn鈥檛 enough. The interview was so moving, I knew I couldn鈥檛 do it justice in a two-minute story.
Michele and I have been messaging for more than two years now. Early on, he introduced me to his daughter Tracy and her husband Paul, the parents of Alexandra. The couple describes the last few years as excruciating, barely able to get up some days. But they have rallied on, becoming some of the most vocal advocates for justice in the country, raising their voices at every march, protest and anniversary.
Tracy, like so many who survived the blast, is still processing the pain. We chat on her couch with her psychologist Ray Aoun, a Lebanese-Canadian like Tracy, who has become a dear friend to Tracy after this disaster. Aoun explains how the whole country is learning new ways of grieving in a more healthy way because of the Naggear family.
鈥淭hey did not silence their grief. And they shared part about what they were going through,鈥� says Aoun.
Aoun says talking publicly about ones鈥� grief is rare in Lebanon. She explains that after the civil war, political assassinations, political insecurities and the economic crisis, Lebanese people have learned to stuff their emotions down and not talk about anything.
鈥淚t鈥檚 part of the defence mechanism that Lebanese people have developed throughout the years,鈥� explains Aoun.
Tracy is also preparing herself to one day tell her baby boy what happened to his older sister.
鈥淚 always thought about what I would tell him,鈥� Tracy says. 鈥淗is sister is in the sky, she鈥檚 next to Jesus, she travelled and then Ray told me you don鈥檛 have to lie鈥� because if you tell him she travelled, he鈥檒l be scared to travel. If you travel, he鈥檒l be afraid you鈥檙e not coming back.鈥�
But psychological help is just one part of their healing journey. The family needs answers. Tracy and Paul are also leading the push for accountability in Lebanon and abroad, publicly calling out politicians who knew about the ammonium nitrate, unsafely stored in a warehouse within blocks of residential homes.
But even with a public outcry, critics say justice has been ignored in Lebanon.
That鈥檚 because two national investigations have gone nowhere. A military judge, Fadi Sawan, was first appointed to investigate the blast. He charged several high profile politicians with criminal negligence, but many filed legal challenges against him, claiming he was biased because his house was damaged in the explosion. He was dismissed.
Another national judge, Tarek Bitar, stepped in. He came out with even more serious charges, including homicide with probable intent, but many of the same politicians lodged legal complaints questioning his authority and credibility.
Another roadblock Bitar faced: the government had refused to appoint new judges to adjudicate the complaints against him, so his investigation was stalled. After 13 months, in early 2023, Judge Bitar unexpectedly reopened the file citing new legal grounds to do so, but Lebanon鈥檚 top prosecutor immediately discredited his investigation saying it was 鈥渘on-existent.鈥�
In a shocking twist, that same prosecutor, who himself has been charged in Bitar鈥檚 latest findings, has accused the judge of mishandling the case.
Years on, there are few answers for grieving families. Tracy and Paul would like the UN to commission an international fact finding mission into the Beirut blast.
鈥淭he truth will certainly not bring back my daughter鈥ut the truth will give us an opportunity to mourn, the truth will give us the opportunity to close the page on the 4th of August,鈥� says Tracy.
