Making of a martyr

‘Miracles can happen," declared Benazir Bhutto at Dubai airport in October, just before she said farewell to her husband and two daughters and swept onto the plane that was to take her out of exile and back to Pakistan. "I believe in miracles." She looked radiant as she spoke and far younger than her 54 years. Her eyes shone as, with the apparent backing of both General Pervez Musharraf and Washington, she once more glimpsed the prize of prime minister within her grasp.

This was no longer the woman who struggled with her weight as she tried to forget her sorrows in Ben & Jerry's caramel fudge ice-cream, yoga classes and self-help books. Dressed in an emerald green and white salwar kameez, Pakistan's national colours, she was again the iconic first woman leader of a modern Muslim nation that she had been 20 years before, going off to save her country.

Such was Bhutto's passion about her return that it was easy to forget the realities of today's Pakistan: suicide bombs have become a daily occurrence, militant groups this year laid siege to a mosque a mile from the presidency and the Taliban have taken over much of the country's favourite tourist resort of Swat, just 60 miles from the capital. Moreover, the all-powerful military and intelligence largely opposed her, Al-Qaeda and Taliban militants had issued death threats and Musharraf himself had previously vowed that he would never allow her back in power.

When the plane landed at Karachi, crowds of photographers gathered at the foot of the steps to capture the triumphant moment when Bhutto stepped back on Pakistani soil after more than eight years away. In the Pakistani tradition of blessing a journey's beginning, a copy of the Koran was held above her head; as her foot touched the tarmac she raised her hands, palm upwards, in prayer. Only then did she falter and tears poured from her eyes.

Some interpreted this as a rare sign of weakness as the risk that she was taking hit home. But later she insisted to me: "I was just so happy to be back on Pakistani soil. It was as if a great weight had been removed from me."

She added: "As we landed I was getting reports of all the millions of people who had come to greet me. I really thought we can do this. We can save Pakistan."

But there was to be no miracle, no saving of Pakistan. Last month, exactly 10 weeks after her return, Bhutto's journey came to an abrupt end with an assassin's bullet in her neck. Even that heroic end was to be taken from her. As her body was laid to rest beside that of her beloved father, whose own judicial murder led her to enter politics, the government was claiming that she had died after hitting her head on the sunroof of her car.

Bhutto's last day had started early as usual with prayers, telephone calls and e-mails on the BlackBerry she carried everywhere. As usual, some of them were about her fears that the Musharraf government was not doing enough to ensure her security. After discussing the latest soundings on the elections due on January 8, in which her party was expected to emerge as the largest, the morning had been spent at the Serena hotel meeting Hamid Karzai, the visiting Afghan president, a sign that she was being regarded as future leader.

Back at her Islamabad home for a light lunch of half a piece of roti bread with lentil stew, she quickly ran over her speech with Naheed Khan, her secretary and constant companion. About 2.30pm the two women got into her armoured white Toyota Land Cruiser.

Bhutto was dressed in striking royal blue with the trade-mark floaty white dupatta, which she always struggled to keep over her hair.

Taught from an early age by her glamorous Iranian mother about the importance of appearance, she was carefully made up and applied some last-minute raspberry lip gloss in the car mirror. As usual since her return, her right arm was bound with religious amulets.

As they left manicured Islamabad with its neat white houses set out on a grid of numbered streets for the dusty hurly-burly and crowded bazaars of Rawalpindi, passers-by waved at the speeding motorcade. In front was a blue police van and a black Mercedes safety car; behind came another police pickup, five pickups of her bodyguards and jeeps bearing leading members of her Pakistan People's party (PPP).

It was about 3pm when she arrived at Liaquat Bagh, the park where the rally was being held, and entered through a back gate reserved for her. Only her car and the black Mercedes were allowed in. The other vehicles were stopped outside the back entrance on the main Liaquat road. Even her own bodyguards were not allowed to enter the park.

The crowd roared to see her. "Jiye Bhutto!" - "long live Bhutto" they yelled and "wazir-i-azam Benazir" - "prime minister Benazir".

Bhutto responded with one of her most fiery speeches. "This government cannot control the situation," she shouted. "This is your country and this is my country. And we have to save it!"

She continued: "All my family have sacrificed for this cause. And we must work together."

The last rays of the sun were disappearing as she left the dais about 5pm. Exhausted, she sat in the back seat of her armoured car, flanked by Khan and Makhdoom Amin Fahim, a PPP stalwart who had led the party while she was in exile.

Although police had been frisking everyone entering the park with metal detectors, crowds had been allowed to gather unchecked around the back gate. As her car emerged they swarmed around it. Unusually, it was not surrounded by her young security guards, the Martyrs for Benazir.

Despite Bhutto's tiredness, she could not resist the chants of the crowd. As the car drove towards the main road, she popped out of the sunroof and started waving amid great cheers. At that instant three shots were heard and she fell inside. A few seconds later a powerful explosion hit the back left of her vehicle.

John Moore, a photographer, was close by taking pictures of Bhutto. He said: "I heard several shots ring out - I think three - and she went down. The timing was right with the shots; that's when she was killed, right there. I raised my camera and started shooting photographs and that's when the blast happened."

As Bhutto collapsed inside the car, Khan first thought that she had fainted. "I thought she might have become unconscious because of exhaustion," Khan said. "She was in my lap and then suddenly I saw blood on my hands."

She screamed at the driver who sped to Rawalpindi general hospital, about two miles away. Distraught supporters followed, smashing windows and doors as they tried to storm into the operating theatre where surgeons struggled to save Bhutto's life.

At 6.16pm she was officially pronounced dead. As darkness fell and the news emerged, party activists wailed and collapsed on the ground outside.

They shouted "Musharraf is a murderer" and "long live Bhutto" late into the night.

In the land of conspiracy theories, exactly how Bhutto died is as confused as who might have killed her. Witnesses at the spot say they saw a thin young man with a wispy beard like that of a teenager approach Bhutto's vehicle from the back, climb onto the rear bumper, then whip out a pistol and fire three shots.

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