“Someone Called Rıfat” was a major box-office hit in the 1960s. Rıfat is framed for murders he never committed by Istanbul’s underground mafia bosses and thrown into prison. He escapes to prove his innocence, and the film follows his hunt for the real culprits and his struggle to clear his name.
29 YEARS OLD, ARRESTED THREE TIMES
Furkan Karabay, 29, is a journalist and has been detained three times in the past two years. On the 201st day of his latest imprisonment, he was sentenced but released. He refused to present a defense, tearing up the indictment in the courtroom. “I know I’m innocent—those accusing me know it too. So pretending the verdict could change and repeating a truth everyone sees felt pointless,” he says. Furkan is searching for justice, but above all, he is fighting for his innocence to be acknowledged.
OUR NAMES AND OUR FAMILIES
Furkan is a name mentioned in the Quran—indeed, one of the Quran’s own names—meaning “that which separates truth from falsehood.” In Turkey, names carry weight. One can often place families in the social and political landscape through the names they give their children. Without making sweeping generalizations, the names parents choose offer subtle clues about the cultural and political climate they inhabit.
For example, in conservative families, Muhammad is the number-one name; Fatih is also widely used. Among MHP circles, names like Alparslan and Alperen are especially popular. On the left, particularly around the CHP, Barış, Deniz, and Özgür stand out, while in more socialist circles, names like Mahir and Ulaş are preferred. But even while acknowledging that such generalizations can only go so far, one thing is clear: Furkan doesn’t care whether his name is common in the pro-government neighborhood or rare in the leftist one. Because the name is not the issue. The issue is demanding justice, defending the public’s right to knowledge, and proving one’s innocence. Everything else is just noise.
THE MEDIA LANDSCAPE: FURKAN'S MISFORTUNE
When Furkan first joined the media world in the early 2020s, it was far from promising, and it would only get worse. Authoritarian pressure left no breathing room for the press, and the sector itself was already barren. Into this space stepped Furkan—without backing, without an institution, utterly on his own. And he emerges from this struggle with his head high. There is a touch of Don Quixote in him; but unlike Don Quixote, who at least had Sancho Panza, Furkan seems determined to continue his march for truth alone. And he is not someone who sees solitude as a burden.
