The initial feedback was discouraging. The first person I consulted was an experienced journalist who has covered Libya since the revolution in 2011. No stranger to conflict zones, she was in Tripoli when she wrote to me — but she cautioned me against coming.

“To be honest with you, this is not a great time to come to Libya if you have not been here before. Things are in a real state of flux… [and] may be coming to a head politically so tensions are rising,” she wrote me.

On-again, off-again peace talks between rival governments in the East and the West of the country were veering towards collapse. As they floundered, I spoke with a Libyan journalist to get his perspective. He told me there were rumors that the internationally-recognized government in the eastern city of Tolbruk might launch an assault to try to capture the capital, Tripoli. He also advised me against coming.

Even after representatives from the warring sides signed an accord in mid-December agreeing to establish a unity government, the security situation on the ground remained tenuous. The agreement has plenty of detractors. Many of the local militias who control the physical territory of the country are still jockeying for influence, and the implementation of the deal is far from guaranteed.

People on the ground told me that even if I went to Libya, the best I could hope for would be to meet people for pre-arranged interviews in hotel lobbies or upscale cafes. My freedom of movement would be severely limited by security concerns. In short, I wouldn’t be able do the type of reporting that had pushed the investigation forward in Tunisia and Italy.

Our next option was to find a local journalist to work with. But the initial response I received from the people I reached out to was lukewarm. Those who were available saw the story of 243 missing refugees as a sideshow, given the military and political developments that were shaping the future of their country.

The security concerns were not just a problem for foreigners, either: One Libyan reporter sent me a single line email when I asked whether he was available: “I am sorry I can’t work at the moment. The situation is not safe.”

After weeks of searching, I finally received an encouraging response from a young Libyan reporter named Mohamed Lagha.

“I believe that the problem with refugees is kind of bigger than migrants. People from Somalia and Eritrea cannot go back home, and they are suffering from the bad situation in Libya because lots of people here do not know about the difference between refugees and migrants,” he wrote to me. “I am so interested in this subject, and I would like to know more about the reporting you are looking for.”

It was a good first move, but tackling the reporting was still daunting. The situation was so murky and the country so dysfunctional… where could we even start?

We drew up a plan to start asking questions in the most obvious and accessible places first. Even if we didn’t turn up answers to the big questions right away, we could deepen our understanding of migration in Libya and start eliminating possibilities. That by itself would be a kind of progress.

So far Mohamed has spoken to a range of sources to find out more about the situation in Libya, and specific incidents that could be related to the Ghost Boat. As expected, his reporting has yet to turn up a definitive answer about what happened to the passengers. But it has given us leads to follow.

As Mohamed gathers information on the ground, we will be sharing interview transcripts, emails, and other material of relevance. What we learn may help us trace the movements of the boat, or uncover new avenues of investigation. And we’ll also be asking you to help us follow up on our attempt to locate the boat itself.

This Just In

So here’s our first interview to share: A senior official with the Libyan Red Crescent in Tripoli who talks about what happens to bodies that wash up on shore, and specifically points to one case whose time frame is similar to that of the Ghost Boat.