Sangla Hill, Pakistan - The enraged mob had already started to scale the walls of the Catholic compound here as Father Samson Dilawar hurriedly ushered the small group to safety.
Nuns, teachers and 23 terrified girl students crammed into a small upstairs room of the besieged convent in eastern Punjab province. On the roof, Dilawar watched as more than 1,500 men swarmed across the mission, destroying everything in their path.
Incensed by allegations that a Christian had desecrated copies of the Quran, the crowd tore open the doors of Holy Spirit Church, smashed its marble altar and shattered the stained glass windows. They torched Dilawar's residence and the neighboring St. Anthony's Girls School. Within moments flames were licking the walls and black smoke filled the sky.
When the mob finally crashed through the convent door, Dilawar said he retreated into the locked room where the nuns were praying.
"They tried to break the door down but did not succeed. Otherwise we could have all been killed," he said last week, sitting on a grassy patch outside the vandalized convent.
The violence that swept across Sangla Hill, a market town 140 miles south of the capital, Islamabad, on Nov. 12 has rocked Pakistan's small Christian community and highlighted the fragile position of religious minorities in this overwhelmingly Muslim country. Two other churches -- one Presbyterian, the other belonging to the evangelistic Salvation Army movement -- and at least six houses here owned by Christians were burned down in the same spate of violence.
President Pervez Musharraf condemned the attack last week in the strongest terms. The military ruler, who preaches "enlightened moderation," said Wednesday, "Muslims need to show more tolerance toward a smaller, minority community."
But human rights campaigners say the incident is partly a product of Musharraf's failure to reform regressive laws and the reluctance of his Muslim-dominated police to protect minorities.
Under Pakistan's strict blasphemy laws, desecration of the Quran is punishable by life imprisonment, while any proven insult to the name of the Prophet Muhammad carries a mandatory death sentence. The law, which can be invoked on the word of one witness, is frequently misused to settle scores, avoid debts or rouse violence against religious minorities, human rights workers contend.
"It is used and misused to spread fear and terror," said Hina Jilani, a lawyer with the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan. "It's a tool to be used against anyone you are in conflict with."
The trouble in Sangla Hill started with a blasphemy allegation made after a heated gambling session. Both communities agree that Yusuf Masih, a Christian cattle trader, and a Muslim named Kalu Sunaira were playing cards on a patch of open grass near the city sports stadium last Friday morning.
What happened next is in dispute.
Muslims allege that Masih became angry after the card game and set fire to a copy of the Quran stored nearby in a small office belonging to an Islamic organization. Christians contend that Sunaira invented the story to distract attention from the heavy gambling debt he owed to Masih.
Whatever the truth, word of the alleged Quran desecration spread rapidly across the town. Hours later, after the weekly Friday prayers, Muslim clerics denounced the alleged incident over the loudspeakers. "They said, 'Come out from your houses for the protection of the Quran and your religion,' " Dilawar said.
A small crowd threw stones at the Catholic compound that evening, he said, but quickly dispersed. An angry mob that returned the next morning included men from outlying villages, brandishing sticks and hammers, he added. Witnesses told human rights investigators that some wore green turbans of the type favored by militant Islamists.
After breaking through the walls, they torched the buildings using a flammable orange substance, the traces of which were still apparent on the few unburned walls of the school.
"I can't think what was behind it," said Sister Anthony Edward, the 68-year-old headmistress, as she stood before the charred classrooms of her school. "We've never had anything like this before. I feel broken inside."
Of the 450 girls attending the school, 90 percent were Muslims. "People want to bring their children here. They appreciate our education," she said.
While sectarian violence between Muslims Sunni and Shiite extremists is common, attacks on Christians and other minorities -- 3 percent of Pakistan's 150 million people -- are rare. Catholic missionaries have educated some of Pakistan's most influential figures, including Musharraf and the exiled opposition leader Benazir Bhutto.
Musharraf faces regular criticism for presenting himself as a reformer yet failing to act forcefully against the forces of religious extremism. According to the Pakistan Human Rights Commission, more than 100 people were detained under the draconian blasphemy laws in 2004.
Tensions are running high in Sangla Hill. The Rev. Tajjamal Pervez stood in the blackened ruins of the gutted Presbyterian Church, built 103 years ago. "This was all preplanned," he said bitterly. "The burning of the Quran was just an excuse to attack."
Police detained 88 Muslims on the day of the attack but have not arrested the town mayor and a councilman who, according to several reports, incited the crowd to violence.
Christians say they feel vulnerable. "If the police cannot protect us in broad daylight, then what can we expect of them?" asked Javed Masih, a nephew of Yusuf Masih, at his ransacked house.
Yusuf Masih, the man at the center of the furor, remains in jail, but no charges have been lodged against him, said Arshad Ali, acting police chief at Sangla Hill police station, who gave few details about the case. "He is being held outside of the city because of security concerns," he said.
Christians and Muslims in Sangla Hill said they previously enjoyed good relations. "We even used to attend each other's weddings," said Botta Masih Shindhu, a local Christian leader. "This is the first time we have seen anything like this."
Mufti Muhammad Zulfiqar Rizvi, leader of the town's main mosque, echoed the sentiment. "There was so much harmony between our communities. We had love and affection in our hearts," he said.
Rizvi denied allegations by Catholic leaders that he had incited the crowd to violence over the mosque loudspeakers. "The attackers came from outside this town," he said. "I tried to stop them. I told them there should be no violence against any religious house. But they would not listen."