THE grand mufti of Fallujah, Sheik Hamza Abbas al-Issawi, knew he was risking his life by urging worshippers to vote in this week's elections in Iraq and by preaching against terrorist violence.
Refusing to be intimidated, he intensified his rhetoric after receiving death threats from radical Islamists for criticising Abu Musab al-Zarqawi, al-Qa'ida in Iraq's leader.
He challenged his shadowy enemies by declaring at prayers: "I know I am targeted."
Death came to the 70-year-old grand mufti 13 days ago, when he was gunned down in front of his teenage son by three masked men in a silver BMW.
Many inhabitants of Iraq's "city of mosques" intend to honour his memory by voting on Thursday.
Issawi was an influential scholar who castigated militants loyal to Zarqawi for "un-Islamic behaviour" and blamed them for provoking last year's US military offensive against the city.
He also encouraged local Sunnis to enrol in the police and military, fearing they could be needed to defend Fallujah in a sectarian war.
Despite advice from friends and family not to attend prayers, Issawi insisted he was a man of God who would not be cowed.
"He believed that Allah protected people and not bodyguards," a close friend said.
Following his assassination, the city held three days of official mourning.
Shops, schools and government institutions shut down to protest against his killing.
Thousands attended his funeral, with many chanting anti-US slogans.
But others vowed to avenge his death by hunting down Zarqawi loyalists.
"It is all Bush's fault," said Ahmad, who did not want his last name used.
"Under Saddam, al-Qa'ida would not have dared to raise their heads and now people are slaughtered and assassinated every day."
At the Mother of All Battles mosque, in the western part of the city, a cleric denounced the "murderers" and said believers had a responsibility to vote on Thursday.
Most of Fallujah's residents boycotted elections for an interim government in January, but they turned out in large numbers in October to vote against the proposed constitution. By going to the polls this week, they hope to increase Sunni influence over the new government, which could remain dominated by Shi'ites.
"We will not allow an Iranian-style country to be built over our backs. Our voices and votes were lost when we boycotted the elections," said a 30-year-old man who gave his name only as Mustafa.
"We are going to take our rightful number of seats in the assembly and the government. We refuse to remain shadows in our own country."
Families in Fallujah still recount how their homes were destroyed and their loved ones died when US forces cleared the city last year. Most people insist their votes should not be taken to mean that they accept the status quo, but rather that they intend to fight from within.
Iraqis have been inundated with election ads depicting in rose-tinted hues what the elections could mean -- a choice between violence and a democratic, if uncertain, future.
"If we enter the political process, we can push away the dangers we have faced in the last year -- the revenge, the torture," said the leader of one Sunni group.
He accused the Shia-led Government of attempting to "slip the noose tighter" around Sunni necks. "We can't let them destroy Sunni patriots."
In a startling move, an insurgent leader asked me last week whether his group should join the political process while continuing armed resistance against the occupation. He feared being left behind by events.
"The facts on the ground are moving very quickly and we have to read them and be prepared," he said, musing that elections would happen with or without Sunni participation.
"Boycotting them would be a form of war. It would be as if we were waging a war against our own people and depriving the Sunni community of making necessary political gains, no matter how small these gains are.
"If Sunni candidates lose, then we have lost nothing because our resistance will continue anyway. If they win, insurgents like me will gain by having people on the inside." 
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