"..., Loudspeakers and electric generators and eulogizers and very high-power stereo systems and organized pickup trucks were all at their disposal. The family and its circle had practically no control and gave up on the program. From the day that Dr. Ali-Mohammadi was assassinated, the officers came and went and insisted that his body be buried during the Tehran Friday prayers. The only point that the family could get its way on was its insistance that the burial ceremonies be held on
Thursday.
Massoud’s home was surrounded by a crowd from the early morning. The police had closed all the points of entry. The area was packed with anti-riot forces in uniform and a crowd of plainclothesmen who had not so much as heard Ali-Mohammadi’s name until that day. His family wished to keep the burial services non-political and as dignified as possible. Friends and acquaintances gradually assembled. The home had no space for them. They all stood in the streets outside. A large crowd of people carrying cameras were milling around looking for a vantage point to film the scene. Most of them were from our own official media. Apparently, the foreign media which had representatives in Tehran was being cautious, fearing a repeat of past experiences. Of course, foreign media or its representatives could be seen here and there, but not many.
The brothers from the government who held a constant presence in Massoud’s house during this past day or two had prepared a martial music band, a bus to transport the burial squad, a eulogizer, a grave-digger, an ambulance, and, in short, whatever they thought they needed. Little Massoud was so dear to these gentlemen! He thought of every kind of death except this one. How could anyone imagine that a military officer, a minister, the president of a university, and dozens of other petty and major officials, from the moment he was assassinated, would line up at their home so that the programs for the martyr would be done all properly and nothing deviate from the plan!
It was about eight or nine in the morning when a middle-aged gentleman stood atop the minivan and took the microphone. At first, he spoke calmly and did not chant slogans. Apparently they had promised Massoud’s family not to take partisan political advantage of the services. But “razor and beard” and all the other resources one could imagine were in their hands from the very start. They did as they pleased. The first thing Mr. Microphone did was to extol the martyrs given by the university...."
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