Sentenced to Death for Writing a Computer Program

Saeed Malekpour was passionate about computers. He always had been. At 33 years old, he had spent most of his adult life messing with algorithms and code. He was good at it, so people were willing to buy his programs.

He passed his Materials Engineering degree with a dissertation which included, in part, simulation software, which he had written himself. It was easy to fall into a job after that.

Iran Khodro, the largest car manufacturers in the country, had employed him part-time throughout his course, at the Sharif University of Technology in Tehran. Once Saeed had graduated, they snapped him up for a permanent, full-time job. He was soon head-hunted by RMRC, a metallurgical research company. The code that he produced for them is still amongst their best-selling digital products.

But an education wasn't all that he'd gained from those years at University. While part of a chess competition, he had also met a Physics student named Fatemah Eftekhari. She had her own career path ahead of her and that meant emigrating to Canada to study for her PhD.

Saeed wanted to be part of that. He married her and quit his job. The couple moved to Richmond Hill, Ontario, where they legally became permanent residents. While Fatemah lost herself in her research, Saeed supported them both with freelance programming and software development.

As his skills grew, so did his confidence and pride. Each algorithm, each piece of code out there, bore both his name and e-mail address. That way anyone admiring it might trace him and perhaps hire him too.

The couple had a plan. As soon as Fatemah achieved her doctorate, then their roles would reverse. It would be her turn to support them and the time was close. Saeed had just enrolled in a Master's Degree course, with an option to continue into his PhD, when the call came.

Back home in Iran, his father was dangerously ill. Saeed had to fly to his side immediately or risk being too late. The couple hurriedly packed and left, totally unaware that an even bigger nightmare awaited their arrival in Tehran.

Fatemah believes that her husband still doesn't understand why he was arrested. No-one charged him with anything nor read him his rights.

Practically as soon as they landed in Tehran, the police surrounded and took Saeed. His father died, while his son languished unknowing in solitary confinement.

No lawyer was allowed access into Evin Prison to see him. Saeed was kept incommunicado for two years. At least half of that was alone in a cell for twenty-four hours a day.

Then suddenly there was a letter and a live confession, broadcast across Iran's state-run television channels. Saeed admitted to being the director and manager of a pornographic website. He looked terrible. Politicians and clerics clambered to hold him up as an example of why certain websites should be blocked in the country. Saeed and his on-line creations were a disgrace to Islam.

None of Saeed's supporters could reach him to tell him what they all knew. An image uploading program, which he had sold to a client in Canada, had been used to facilitate the display of pornographic images. The code behind it contained Saeed's name and e-mail address. It had meant to be just another of those hidden advertisements, which might have led to more work.

Fatemah told human rights investigators, "The disadvantage of a freelance work lies in the fact that once you sell the code, you don't know where and for what type of site the codes are used." 

She swore that he would never have sold his program, if he had known it would be used for obscenity. It was against his Muslim sensibilities.

In a country where bloggers and other social network users are routinely arrested and killed, Fatemah accused the Iranian authorities of using her husband as a public example. His confession justified the millions spent on forming a 'cyber-army' to block internet sites in the country.

In a letter sneaked out of Evin Prison, Saeed let his family know what had happened to him. Beyond even the solitary confinement, he had been physically tortured.

As soon as he had been arrested, in October 2008, he had been blindfolded and handcuffed. Officers armed with cables and batons had beaten him. Those without weapons had simply used their fists.

He had been flogged too, with his assailants focusing on his neck and head.

There had been sexual threats too. He had been repeatedly told that he would be anally raped with bottles. He reported being told that his family was in danger, unless he confessed.

All he knew was that he was being accused of running an obscene website. He agreed to whatever they told him he did. It stopped the pain.

It was also used as evidence against him. In December 2010, two years after his incarceration, Saeed Malekpour's case was set before the Revolutionary Court. They sentenced him to death.

The Canadian government found this unacceptable. After all, his citizenship status was as a permanent resident in their country. At their diplomatic intervention, coupled with the global protest raised by organizations like Amnesty International, the Iranian Supreme Court returned the verdict for review.

The reprieve lasted less than a year. The Revolutionary Court reimposed the death penalty on Saeed in November 2011. The Supreme Court confirmed it two months later.