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In pale autumn sunshine, two small children on scooters rattle along uneven paving stones past the house where Bijan Ebrahimi once lived. The planters full of blooms and the hanging baskets that he tended lovingly are long gone. The front window that he had peered out of in terror as locals stood baying for his blood is now covered by a screen of corrugated steel. This bleak courtyard in inner ci...
We know that David Clapson was actively searching for work when he died because a pile of CVs he had just printed out was found a few metres from his body. The last time he spoke to his sister, a few...