Richard Ratcliffe: 'This is the second Mother's Day my wife Nazanin won't spend at home with our daughter'

Richard Ratcliffe is sitting at his family dining table. “This will be the second Mother’s Day alone,” he says, looking down at the glittery child-proof tablecloth that still covers it. “Two years without my wife and baby is a long time.”

The 43-year-old accountant has not seen his wife, Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe, 38, or daughter Gabriella since March 2016, when they flew to Iran to visit Nazanin’s parent. At the airport on their way back to London, Nazanin - a dual  British and Iranian citizen, who worked as a project manager for the Thomson Reuters Foundation - was arrested, while Gabriella’s passport was detained.

The family thought it was an awful mistake that would quickly blow over, but within days, it became clear that Nazanin was not going to allowed home. She was accused of being a Western spy and  sentenced to five years’ imprisonment for charges of plotting to overthrow the clerical establishment - charges Richard has called “completely ridiculous.” 

Over the last two years, she has spent time in solitary isolation, gone on hunger strike and repeatedly had suicidal thoughts. In an appeal to the UN, Richard recently labelled her treatment as ‘torture’.

Gabriella, then aged one, went to live with her maternal grandparents in Tehran. While Richard was left alone in their north-London home, desperately waiting for his family to be reunited.

It has now been 707 days since he has seen them. In that time. Nazanin has celebrated two birthdays in jail, missed countless family events and is now spending her second mother’s day behind bars. 

Richard believes the only thing keeping his wife going is the presence of Gabriella. The little girl is strictly free to come back to the UK, but her father has promised Nazanin that he will not take her away from Iran, where she is allowed to visit her mum in prison twice a week.

They make crafts together - it is “very special for both of them,” says Richard - and are currently attempting origami birds. “Though they’re on their second try this week,” he laughs, “because according to Gabriella, ‘Mummy actually doesn’t know how to do origami’’.

As it has every time I have interviewed Richard over the past two years, his face falls when talk turns to the toll that this nightmare situation has taken on his wife.

“Nazanin’s greatest resentment is that these years of motherhood have been taken from her,” he says quietly. “She has missed her baby growing up.”

He pauses for a long time. “For me, there’s a kind of denial. I still circulate photos of Gabriella from when I last saw her, aged one and three quarters. There’s a way in which I haven’t had to engage with the fact that my baby’s gone.”

Gabriella no longer speaks English, just Farsi. Now three-years-old, she is now more aware of her unusual family situation.

“She understands more that she’s away from both her parents,” says Richard, who Skypes his daughter regularly but has to use Gabriella’s uncle as a translator.

“She’s more wilful and assertive now. She picks up on the mood of her Mum and Grandma, both of whom are very low, and it makes her vulnerable, and sometimes difficult. But this has gone on a long time now, and has left scars on all of us.”

Last Mother’s Day, Richard was convinced that he would be reunited with his family before summer. When that didn’t happen, he was devastated, but set himself a new goal: Christmas 2017. “I honestly thought she’d be out by New Year,” he said. “Those were the messages I was getting, from lawyers and guards.”

A further glimmer of hope came from the Foreign Secretary. In December, Boris Johnson made a gaffe that saw Nazanin’s story dominate the front pages, when he told a select committee that she had been “simply teaching people journalism” in Iran. This was in complete contradiction to to everything Nazanin had ever said – that she was on holiday to visit her parents.

After a huge media storm, and fears that his comments could be used by the authorities to double Nazanin’s prison sentence, Johnson flew to Iran in an attempt to secure her release. 

But this weekend marks three months since his visit - and Nazanin still seems no closer to freedom.

“Things have gone quiet recently,” says Richard. “But the Foreign Secretary’s office has been in touch and I have requested a meeting. I want to ask him - where are we? What’s going on? What are Nazanin’s human rights?”

The latter question comes after an Iranian judge, last month, seemed to suggest that Nazanin was being held over a ￡400 million unpaid debt that Britain owes the country, dating back to the 1970s. This has been strenuously denied by both Iranian and British authorities - who have been arranging the repayment for many years - but Richard is naturally worried about where all this leaves his wife. It is why he is desperate to ensure that Boris Johnson has not forgotten about her.

“He made an undertaking to do whatever he could to get Nazanin out,” he says firmly. “My job is to hold him to that. So until Nazanin is on the next plane home, I’m going to keep on campaigning. It’s that simple.”

Since that awful day in March 2016, this has been Richard’s coping mechanism. He has dedicated his time to lobbying the Government, presenting petitions to the Iranian embassy in London and organising protests. Letters are written on his daughter’s pig stool, which he uses as extra table space and would now be too small for her in any case.  

His flat, the young family’s first home, is full of memories and mementoes. Nazanin’s patterned scarves are draped over a chair, while Gabriella’s toy kitchen sits by the sofa. Richard proudly shows me a wooden carving displayed on a shelf - he, Nazanin and Gabriella are etched onto it, smiling and framed by a heart. It was a gift made by his wife last Father’s Day in her prison cell, and one he clearly treasures.

This Mother’s Day, he has organised a more creative campaign. On Saturday, he and his supporters will paint stones in front of the Foreign Office building in London - sending the message that no stone must be left unturned. On Mothering Sunday itself, Richard hopes to head to Hampshire to be with his own mum, Barbara.

Yet his thoughts are always in Iran with his wife and daughter - particularly Gabriella who has already made a Mother’s Day card in nursery and learnt to say: ‘My dear Mummy, I love you, and will always look after you’ in English, as a gift. 

Last year’s boundless optimism has gone, replaced by caution. Richard is now “guarded” about expecting his wife’s imminent release - but he does have reason to hope. March 21 will mark Nowruz, the Persian New Year celebrated in Iran, and is traditionally the time when prisoners are let go.

During their weekly phone calls, Nazanin has also told him that she has heard guards casually remarking that she won’t be there much longer. It might just be hearsay, but it gives this splintered and desperate family something to hold onto. 

“Nazanin is really up and down at the moment,” admits Richard. “She’s very down - particularly since Christmas. I had reassured her it would happen and it didn’t, so I can’t reliably promise anything at the moment. But we’re staying positive.”

He looks away and smiles. “It will be so nice next year to have a proper Mother’s Day. I don’t even mind what we do. We’ll do whatever Nazanin wants. 

“I just want to cherish the normal stuff - and then learn to be happy again.”