Welcome to the assassination from the BBC World Service.

My name is Owen Bennett Jones, and I first got to know the victim at a party almost 20 years ago.

I was the BBC correspondent in Pakistan trying to work out what was going on in one of the most

complicated political systems on earth. Pakistan's party scene is probably not what you think. The women tend to wear tasteful dresses

and show off jewels. The men sober suits and rakish smiles. And despite laws banning alcohol, they devour booze-fueled

salacious gossip. Some journalists shy away from socializing with contacts believing it

compromises their independence. I never saw it like that. For me access is key,

which is why when I was throwing a party I thought, why not ask the former Prime Minister

Benazir Bhutto?

She won't come of course, but... She did.

Late in the evening her convoy swept up to my doorstep just as the other guests were leaving.

She stepped out and everyone turned around and came back in. Benazir stayed until 4 in the morning and yes she was one of those people who dominated the room.

Everyone hung on every word.

Power on a sofa.

This coffee's revolting, she said. You should do something about your cook.

Actually, I'd made it myself, unimaginable in her world, of course, and then on discovering I had three children much the same age as hers, she said.

Mine hate coming to Pakistan. They spent most of their time in Dubai.

Maybe if they made friends with yours it would be better.

Come down to Larkana. We went. It was her ancestral home and there she was like a queen.

Sitting on a raise day,

sitting on a raised dais, Benazir held court in front of a crowd of supplicants, in the

front row ranged around her throne, former cabinet ministers and her ambassadors to foreign powers.

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