Anger welled up. I said: 'Your son killed my wife'

On 7 July 2005 I lost my partner, Neetu Jain. I loved her dearly. She died on the No 30 bus, blown up by Hasib Hussain, who claimed he was acting in the name of Islam. As a Muslim I am not prepared to accept this. Islam is not about the murder of innocent people. So why would four people from Leeds travel down to London to create this nightmare? For answers to a question which burns inside me every day, I went to the Leeds suburb which was home to Hasib Hussain.

I'd written asking to meet Hasib Hussain's father, Mahmood, but received no reply. So I decided to walk up to his door. As I got nearer I saw a man standing outside; a Muslim man. "Are you Hasib's father?" I asked. "Yes," he said. Anger welled up inside me. I looked at him and said: "Your son killed my wife."

I found him in a state of profound denial. "No one has shown me any evidence that he did it. I've seen nothing. No DNA. No evidence," he said. But in the same breath, he told me that if he knew his son could do such a thing, he would "break his legs". He told me he would have "put him in prison" or done "something horrible to him to stop him". I could see now, in his eyes, that he was torn apart over how the boy he had raised for the past 18 years had planned and executed an atrocity while living under his roof.

He told me there should be a public inquiry into the bombings and that the three other bombers were the children of "very, very decent people". He told me that he had "not seen them properly" but knew that they attended mosque. "They seemed just ordinary person, like me and you," he said. There had been no outward change in his son. Hasib was "just the same as he had always been". No one came to his house any more and no one asked how his family was "ripped apart", he said.

As I left, he continued talking; asking where I had come from and if I would be coming back, saying maybe we could talk again. But there was no point staying. Hasib's father was too angry and I felt like I wasn't going to get the answers I needed.

But I think I might [take up his offer] to meet again. I feel I have a role in this man's life, to help him understand. Above all I feel pity for this family. I've lost someone quite amazing in my life but I've got something beautiful to hold on to. They have only a nightmare.

Gous Ali tells the story of his visit to Beeston on BBC1's Real Story at 7.30pm tomorrow