Ayatollah Khalkhali (standing, wearing glasses) in Mahabad, 1979.

Excerpt from Under the Staircase: A Martyr's Journey by Farsheed Ferdowsi 

Ayatollah Khalkhali was a hard-liner Shia cleric who was fairly unknown before the Islamic Revolution of Iran. In appearance, he was “a small, rotund man with a pointed beard, kindly smile, and a high-pitched giggle.”

On February 24, 1979, Ayatollah Khomeini chose Khalkhali to be the head of the newly established Revolutionary Courts and charged him to mete out Islamic justice based on Sharia law. Presiding over the regime’s Islamic courts set up to deal with the leadership of the former shah’s government, Khalkhali brought a certain relish to the job that soon earned him the accolades of the “Hanging Judge” or “Judge Blood.” After dispatching thousands of the supporters and officials of the former shah to the gallows, he turned his attention to other segments of the population. Soon the Iranian people began to realize what Ayatollah Khomeini’s version of Islamic justice really meant.

In the city of Mahabad, located in the northwest of Iran, Khalkhali was in town, dealing with the Kurdish tribal rebellion. Fearing the outcome, the Kurdish leaders had taken refuge in the hills, while taking some four hundred supporters of the Islamic Revolution with them as hostages. To avoid losing face and retreating from Mahabad empty-handed, Judge Blood decided to try a few common law cases. Marc Kravetz, a French journalist, described what happened in one instance.

The defendant, terrified of appearing before the Khalkhali’s tribunal, had asked a neighbor, another merchant, to testify as a witness to the accused’s integrity. Khalkhali was visibly bored with the case when suddenly, while examining the character witness, he discovered an intriguing detail.

“So, you are a Baha’i!”

“Yes,” replied the witness.

“Then, you must convert immediately to the true faith of Islam; otherwise, you will have to pay the court the sum of 500,000 tomans [~$62,500.]”

“No,” replied the witness.

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I cannot pay this sum. Even if I sold my shop and my home, I could not possibly realize 500,000 tomans.”

“In that case, you will simply deny your ungodly beliefs, and you will be discharged.”

“No,” replied the witness.

“You will not say ‘no’ this time,” Khalkhali said. “Your life depends on it. Think the matter over carefully.”

“I do not have the money you want from me and if I recanted, I would be a liar before God. You, as a judge and theologian, surely cannot force me to do this.”

“There is no God but God and Muhammad is his Prophet,” Khalkhali said adamantly. “Make up your mind—quickly!”

“No,” the Baha’i witness obstinately replied. “I cannot deny my faith.”

“May God forgive you,” Khalkhali said. “I sentence you to death.”

The Baha’i witness—not the accused or the defendant—was taken out and shot.

Nothing of great consequence ever comes to fruition without sacrifice. This is even truer in matters of conscience, ideology, and above all, religion. The Baha’i Faith has not been spared this truism. From its inception in 1844, the religion has been the target of wave upon wave of persecution. The believers have valiantly endured this onslaught while sacrificing their freedom, blood, and treasure to advance the lofty aims of the religion they hold dear.

In no country has the persecution of the Baha’is been more intense, more vicious, more systematic, and more widespread than in the land of the religion’s birth: Persia, present-day Iran. Throughout the years, the motives, as well as the justifications for persecuting the Baha’is, have changed. Similarly, the nature and intensity of the oppression have gone through ebbs and flows. But the persecution and enmity have never stopped. Never.