An important witness in the Munir murder case is being closely guarded by police. His background story is confusing.

IT is a simple dwelling: two 36-square-feet houses with cream-colored walls. There is a sign advertising a laundry service hung on the fence. Two cars and a motorcycle are parked in the yard. When Tempo visited the home, on Wednesday night last week, the steel gate was padlocked, even though it was only 9pm.

This house, located in a crowded residential area on the outskirts of Depok, West Java, is the home of an important man. This is where Raden Muhammad Patma Anwar alias Ucok lives. Thanks to his testimony, the police and the public prosecutor are now convinced that there is a connection between the State Intelligence Agency (BIN) and the death of activist Munir, which took place three years ago. They are also convinced that Patma's testimony will prove the guilt of Pollycarpus Budihari Priyanto, the Garuda pilot who was previously acquitted by the Supreme Court.

The police actually had Patma's testimony for two years, but his name and testimony was kept secret until early last August. His name leaked to the public during a hearing to determine the Attorney General's Office (AGO) request for a case review, which was held at the Central Jakarta District Court last Thursday.

After waiting for 10 minutes, a short man followed by a young woman with a bright complexion opened the door to Tempo. They confirmed that Patma lived there. "But he is not at home now," said the man, who claimed to be a distant relative. Both shrugged their shoulders when asked when the owner would return.

The presence of reporters at Patma's home seemed to make the police uneasy. Five minutes after Tempo left the residence, a member of the National Police intelligence unit contacted Tempo editors to check on the identity of the journalists who had arrived that night. It seemed the police did not want any harm to come to Patma, since his testimony would be valuable in the attempt to solve the Munir murder case.

Patma claims to be a junior BIN agent with III/C classification. He also testified that he was once assigned to kill Munir before the 2004 presidential election. Without the testimony of this 35-year-old Jakarta resident, the police will find it difficult to prove BIN's involvement in this case. Just who is this Patma?

Patma identified himself to the police as a 1994 literature graduate of the University of Indonesia. After school, he was active at the Democratic People's Party (PRD), a political organization which had been hunted down by the New Order government. There he was responsible for propaganda and fundraising in the PRD regional coordination district of Tanah Tinggi. He was also active in the party's election campaign committee for the 1999 General Elections.

In addition to being a secret agent, Patma says he spent most of his time working as a freelance photographer for a number of media outlets and well-known news services in Jakarta. In addition to going by the name of Ucok, he was also known as Empi or A'a.

As a junior BIN agent, Patma's assignment was to help his superiors monitor protests planned by right- and left-wing groups all over Indonesia. In order to prove the legitimacy of his claim to be an intelligence officer, Patma claimed to have a BIN identification card, a letter of assignment and two firearms. "My salary is Rp1.5 million per month," he told the police. A Tempo source in BIN confirmed that Patma once worked as an informant at the agency.

Aside from the involvement of BIN, Patma's confession invites other questions. For instance, not a single activist from the PRD claim to know him. Wilson, former head of the propaganda department at the Indonesian Workers Struggle Center, says he does not know of any activist in the party by the name of Patma Anwar. He also shook his head when Patma's pseudonyms were mentioned one by one.

If it is true that Patma was active in the PRD, there is a big chance that Wilson would know him. Wilson, after all, who was once imprisoned together with 13 other PRD activists after the July 27, 1996 incident, was the party's founder. However, another Tempo source in the PRD confirmed that it was possible the PRD membership in Tanah Tinggi at the time was infiltrated by the security forces. "Nearing the 1999 elections, there were many new members who later disappeared," he said.

Tempo's search to a number of media outlets which supposedly hired Patma also turned up empty. The editor in chief of Aneka magazine, Vivid Argarini, said she never employed anyone named Patma alias Ucok. "Many people claim to have worked here," she said. A number of freelance photographers who often gather at a coffee shop near the Hotel Indonesia roundabout in Central Jakarta, gave similar answers.

At the literature department of the University of Indonesia – now the Faculty of Cultural Studies – Patma is also not known. To Tempo, Rahayu Hidayat, Assistant Dean of the faculty, showed a list of 128 students from the Class of 1994, seeking bachelors and three-year diploma English Literature programs. Patma was not listed there.

Patma's admission regarding his first meeting with Munir is also strange. "I knew the late Munir since July 27, 1996, when I often took part in discussions at the Kontras office, talking about the dual function of the Indonesian Armed Forces and the New Order regime," he told the police.

It is not clear whether he forgot or misspoke, but the Commission for Missing Persons & Victims of Violence (Kontras) was founded in 1998. In its early stage, the Kontras office was still sharing space at the office of the Indonesian Legal Aid Foundation.

Kontras Coordinator Usman Hamid shook his head as well. "Many activists are suspected of being intelligence agents. Not just one or two," he said. There are so many of them that Usman could not remember them individually. However, he did admit that Munir once exposed an intelligence agent who worked undercover as a pro-democracy activist a few years ago. "But that person may not have been Patma," he added.

Around his home, not many knew much about Patma. Strangely, this father of three has lived in the area for more than five years. "They seldom associate with the neighbors," said one man who lives across from Patma's house. Also, "No one knows where he works."

His mother and younger brother-in-law, who Tempo met on Thursday last week, also shook their heads when asked where Patma worked. "As a mother, I can only pray that he is safe and not in trouble," she said.

Patma's brother-in-law, who did not want to be identified, had a long story to tell about this mysterious man. "He is a reserved fellow, even with his own family." He often leaves for weeks at a time without contacting the family. "Sometimes he comes home a month later, then leaves again."

On Thursday last week, Patma appeared for the first time in public. He was scheduled to testify in the hearing for a case review of the Supreme Court's decision in the Pollycarpus case. He had a frail body and a calm face. That day he wore a dark, short-sleeved suit, and his straight hair was neatly combed. Wherever he went, seven plainclothes police officers followed him with M-16s.

When Tempo greeted him and asked about the truth of his testimony to the police, he just gave a slight smile. He refused to speak. A moment later he walked on, trailed by his bodyguards.