PTI, a Pakistani broadcaster, has released photos of two men suspected of having assassinated Benazir Bhutto.

Benazir Bhutto with suspected assassins (bottom)

A young man in glasses is shown with a handgun at Bhutto’s back. The gunman was photographed standing next to a man whom authorities believe to have been the suicide bomber.

On Friday, Interior ministry spokesman Brig Javed Iqbal Cheema, said that Bhutto had been killed by a blow to the head and had not been killed by gunfire. However, new footage broadcast by Britain’s Channel 4 shows what one firearms expert said had been the exact moment of Bhutto’s assassination.

Bhutto’s husband and co-chairman of her Pakistan People’s Party, Asif Ali Bhutto Zardari, refused to have the slain political leader’s body autopsied. He has asked the United Nations and the British government to conduct an independent investigation into the assassination.

“I’ve lived here long enough to know how and where an autopsy would have been conducted,” Bhutto Zardari said.

Benazir Bhutto’s Pakistan People’s Party announced today that her son, 19-year-old Oxford University student, Bilawal Zardari, has become the titular head of the party. Zardari’s father, Asif Zardari and Bhutto confidant Makhdoom Amin Fahim have been named co-chairmen.

The decision to make the 19-year-old co-ed the leader of Pakistan’s largest political party had been made at a “crucial meeting” on January 29, in which both Zardari’s father, 51-year-old former agriculture minister and convicted felon who spent 8 years in a Pakistani prison for corruption and Fahim were present.

Bilawal Zardari will serve in an undefined “ceremonial” role until he has finished college. Sources in Pakistan expect Zardari’s father to run the country in his place.

”My mother always said democracy is the best revenge,” said the younger Zardari in a news conference.

As the Pakistan People’s Party was reconstituted around Bilawal Zardari, the Pakistani government has been in negotiations with all political parties to postpone the election. The Hindu reported that Pervez Musarraf’s government will postpone elections “in principle.”

Zardari, a self-described “fitness freak” whose hobbies include Tae Kwon Do and target shooting, has spent his childhood in exile between Dubai and London. Previous to his election, he served as student council vice-president at the Rashid School for Boys in Dubai.

The Hindu asked Bilawal Zardari whether or not he would pursue a political career in an interview 4 years ago. Zardari said, “We will see, I don’t know. I would like to help the people of Pakistan, so I will decide when I finish my studies.”

Zardari supporters thronged the streets after the announcement, chanting ”Benazir, princess of heaven” and ”Bilawal, move ahead. We are with you.”

Earlier today, Asif Zardari announced that his family have taken the surname “Bhutto.”

Zardari and the Pakistan People’s Party have tried to convince their supporters that they have found a viable democratic leader in Bilawal, but many believe that this political move will force Pakistan further away from democracy.

“There is no democracy outside of the party,” wrote a blogger on Chapati Mystery. “No reason for it to exist within.”

Highland Avenue reeked of red curries, sugar-crusted gulab jamun desserts and frosted Asian fruit drinks called lassis served in shallow white styrofoam cups but by three in the afternoon, the smell of 99 proof whiskey had sunk into the street in front of the Highland Irish Inn.

A pair of pockmarked doors marred by years of fights, angry outbursts and layers of brown paint separated a population of turban-clad, sari-wearing, Bengali-speaking immigrants from the four elderly African-Americans who have created a time capsule of 1970’s New York in blackface.

“We ain’t Irish, baby” laughed Anna Marie Scott, the Highland Irish Inn’s bartender. “The owner and his kids are, but that’s it.”

Two elderly couples sipped bourbon under a washed-out photo of owner Marty Brown as the sun began to set. Brown, an Irish immigrant, has owned the bar for decades. He has become almost invisible there except for his photograph.

“He comes in from 6am to 8am and then he’s gone,” Scott said.
“He’s a really nice guy and you don’t find too many nice Irishmen, you know what I mean?”

An older African-American man everyone called Eddie, cocked his hat and stared at a glass of Jim Beam through the web of his fingers. He had just played the lottery and lost

“I would have had five thousand dollars if it’d come up straight,” he complained to no one in particular. “Five thousand’s not a lot but it sure would’ve made me feel good.”

The heavily made-up woman who sat next to him sipped a vodka tonic careful not to waste a drop. She avoided eye contact with Eddie and chose to stare at the flat screen television across the bar where Steve Martin’s “The Jerk” played in silence.

“Hey Eddie,” croaked a man seated near the leaky sink in the back of the bar. “You ever heard of the bird of paradise?”

The woman watching television stopped to look back at the man. Ice melted and clinked in her glass.

The man got up from his barstool and took a swig of brown liquid before he placed his hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“It means that all good things will come to you in life,” he said. “I
I hope you get all the best in life, man.”

He and Eddie shared a silent smile before the door swung open and rattled the photos, white balloons and tinsel that passed for Christmas decorations. An African-American man in paint-covered jeans too short for his long legs pulled a hand through his massive gray afro.

As he walked to the back of the bar, Anna-Marie began yelling.

“No, man! No!”

Everyone seated at the bar froze with shock.

“You need to get out, now!” she wailed.

The afro-man stopped in his tracks looking confused.

“Can’t I just use the bathroom?” he asked.

The man who spoke about the “bird of paradise” raised a gold-ringed hand and gestured to the door.

“The lady said that you have to leave,” he said. “Now go.”

The man with the afro lingered for a moment before he turned to leave. The little crowd laughed as the door slammed shut.

“He’s strung out on that crack,” Anna-Marie said pouring Eddie a drink. “The last time I let him use the bathroom he just messed it up so bad that now I only let my friends and people I know use it,” she said winking to the foursome at the bar.

Just then, the song “Tell It Like It Is” came on the jukebox.
The man with the ringed fingers reached out to the woman next to them. He held her close as they danced slow.