Below is a lengthy but highly valuable account of the wrongful use of the material witness statute. It's long but worth reading. jks > >Daily Journal >California Lawyer Article >www.dailyjournal.com >© The Daily Journal Corporation. All rights reserved. >------------------------------------------- > >April 01, 2002 >Diary of a Terrorist's Lawyer > >By Randall B. Hamud > > > "Hamud. You have proven to America that you >are not with us, but with the terrorists. We're sick >of seeing your face on television. Watch yourself, >Hamud. Watch yourself." ¶ It's December 16, 2001, and >a man who called once before has just called again >with a short hate-filled message for my answering >machine. There have been others-maybe a dozen. And >compared to some of those, this one shouldn't be so >upsetting. Not when anonymous callers are promising to >bomb my home. Still, I have a funny feeling about this >latest caller: something in the man's voice-a ring of >credibility, if you will-that leaves me on edge. The >next morning, I drive downtown and play the tape for >Antoine El-Assis-one of two police officers in San >Diego of Arabic descent. > > Roughly 100,000 Arabs now live in this city, >and, like me, most are Muslim-although I have to say >I'm hardly the best example of a religiously devoted >person. I don't pray five times a day, as you're >supposed to. Nor do I speak Arabic or fast during >Ramadan. And after having gone to college and law >school in the 1960s, my view of the world is decidedly >secular. Still, I am the grandson of Middle Eastern >immigrants and retain a strong sense of pride in my >heritage. > > My own father built houses for a living. He >was an olive-skinned, dark-haired man who migrated >from Detroit to Los Angeles in 1935 and died at age 48 >of cancer. His was a short yet, as I understand it, >fairly happy life. But at one point in that life, I >know, he wanted to be a lawyer. He even went to night >school for a while until financial pressure forced him >to quit. So, I guess you could say that when I became >a lawyer, I picked up where he left off. > > Like a lot of legal careers, though, mine up >till now hasn't been terribly eventful. I graduated >from UCLA Law School in 1970, spent a total of seven >years as a deputy city attorney in Compton and Los >Angeles, then spent seven more at the Atlantic >Richfield Oil Company as an in-house counsel. This >brought me to 1985, when I moved to San Diego and set >up shop as a sole practitioner. The cases I handled >were fairly typical-wrongful termination, race and sex >discrimination, personal injury, and the like. I also >became active in the Arab-American community. I served >two years as chair of the city's American Arab >Anti-Discrimination Committee, for example. Currently, >I chair the police department's advisory board, which >deals with such issues as hate crimes and racial >profiling. I'd like to think we were making progress. >But the world changed dramatically on September 11, >and, like so many, I'm still trying to feel my way >through th! e fallout. > > Officer El-Assis knew exactly what I was going >through. In fact, after I received the first three >death threats, he came to my house and tried to calm >both my 83-year-old mother and my companion, Ida. >"Don't worry. The sort of people who make these calls >usually never mean business," El-Assis said. But now, >with yet another menacing message to listen to, he >wants me to agree to a phone trap-one that would give >the police the ability to trace all of my incoming >calls, including those of my clients. "I'll think it >over," I tell him. > > Being type-cast as a terrorist's lawyer, I've >found, often leaves you with few good options. What's >at stake is nothing less precious than the integrity >of the United States Constitution. However, in making >the choices I've made, I'm painfully aware of the toll >they've taken on my family. I've asked myself: How do >I justify this to my mother, who's been worried sick >over my personal safety? And what do I say to Ida? >This is the Arab-American woman I met in 1983, married >in 1985, divorced in 1996, and then started living >with again in 1998. I won't even try to explain all >that-except to say that after a very rocky period, we >seemed to have found our way back to each other. Then, >one day, she saw me on the news defending young men >who, in the eyes of the world, deserved to suffer for >unspecified crimes. It was enough to make her ill. > > "How can you do this to us?" she asked. > > "These guys need our help," I said. "They >didn't do anything wrong." > > "It's not worth getting shot over." > > "You're exaggerating." > > "If you want to endanger yourself, that's >fine," she said. "But to endanger me and the rest of >your family-that's not right." > > "Look," I said, "we just need to be a little >more careful." > > I was feeling pretty bad by then, but I felt >even worse when she glared at me and then softly, but >ever so sarcastically, thanked me for putting her in >harm's way. > > On September 11, at around 6:00 a.m., I was >jolted out of a pleasant slumber. It was my >29-year-old stepdaughter, Kristi, on the phone, >calling with the news that the World Trade Center had >been hit. A few minutes later, Ida and I were sitting >in front of the television, watching in horror as the >second hijacked airliner crashed into the center's >north tower. Then we saw the Pentagon in flames. "My >God," I remember thinking, "I hope no Arabs did this." >I also remember thinking about the last big terrorist >attack this country went through, when, in 1995, a >bomb went off at the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building >in Oklahoma City. That one killed 168 people. It also >triggered a wave of violent incidents against Arabs >that continued right up until the arrest of Timothy >McVeigh. I must say, I was never so happy to see a >blond-haired, blue-eyed man in the news as I was when >I saw that guy. But now, of course, things would be >different! . > > As the country mobilized, federal officials >quickly focused their attention on San Diego, since it >was here that two of the identified hijackers-Nawaf >Alhazmi and Khalid Almihdar-spent the better part of >the previous year. These men were from Saudi Arabia >and had initially landed in Los Angeles on tourist >visas before coming to San Diego. Passing themselves >off as students, they blended quite well into our >Arab-American community. They prayed at our mosques, >took a couple of flying lessons at a nearby airfield, >and casually interacted with a lot of >people-especially Muslims. > > Before September 11, San Diego's Muslims had >enjoyed good relations with law enforcement. But the >country was now at war, and in war there's a natural >tendency to shoot first and ask questions later, which >made us feel particularly vulnerable to hate crimes. >Meanwhile, back in the nation's capital, we started to >hear some very ominous comments-especially from >Attorney General John Ashcroft, who, for all his later >denials, seemed to believe that due process was no >longer an affordable option. As he observed at one >point: "Our single objective is to prevent terrorist >attacks by taking suspected terrorists off the >streets." > > My own involvement in all this began on >September 16. That's when a friend from one of the >local mosques asked me to speak to a man who needed >some legal advice. The next day, at a local >restaurant, I met with a soft-spoken, thirtysomething >gentleman I'll call Omar. At first we made small talk. >Then he turned quite grave. "I met [the two identified >terrorists] Alhazmi and Almihdar at the mosque," he >explained. "They said they were students, and they had >very limited English skills. So, I offered to help >them in various ways." This included translating a >number of documents for them. It also included helping >Alhazmi with a money transfer from the Middle East. >"What should I do?" he asked me. I advised him to go >straight to the FBI, explaining that if the feds >traced the cash transfer back to him, he'd have a >difficult time convincing anyone that he had been >duped. I also offered to accompany him. > > We ended up making two visits to the FBI's San >Diego headquarters-the first on September 17, the >second on the 21st. On both occasions we sat with two >agents in a small room that had a video camera hanging >from the ceiling. I thought the interviews went pretty >well. Omar identified photographs and told the agents >everything he knew about the alleged terrorists. He >even provided them with documentation for the cash >transaction. The agents thanked us profusely and, to >my relief, never showed any inclination to take Omar >into custody. I suppose that my involvement with the >feds would have ended on a high note if it had ended >there. But near the end of our second visit, I got a >call on my cell phone. > > I took the call out in the hallway. It was >from another Muslim friend of mine who wanted me to >meet with a man named Jamal Awadallah, who in turn had >a brother named Osama who needed help. The story I >subsequently heard from Jamal was rather confusing to >me, but the gist of it was that Osama-a 21-year-old >resident alien studying computer science at Grossmont >College-had been arrested without any charges filed >and was about to be shipped off to New York for at >least a year. "How do you know that?" I asked Jamal. >"Because," he answered, "that's what the FBI told >him." > > To make sense of the Constitution, the great >Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. was guided by what he called >"the felt necessities of the times"-a notion that >liberals in particular warm up to since it makes the >Constitution a living document to advance the cause of >social justice. This made all the difference in the >world during the civil rights battles of the 1960s. >But there have also been times when the necessities >that were felt gave rein to some of the government's >darkest impulses. The anticommunist witch-hunts of the >1950s come immediately to mind. So does the internment >of more than 110,000 Japanese-Americans during World >War II and the mass arrest and imprisonment of more >than 4,000 so-called anarchists in 1920 without charge >or recourse to counsel. In 1861, Abraham Lincoln >suspended the writ of habeas corpus and convened >military tribunals to try Southern sympathizers. And >just seven years after ratification of the Bill of Ri! >ghts, President John Adams signed into law the >Sedition Act, which effectively made it a crime to >criticize the government. > > I don't doubt that men of good will were >behind much of this sad history-men who in defense of >their country felt the need to cut constitutional >corners. But if, with the benefit of hindsight, their >actions are judged to be reprehensible, it's only >because they betrayed a lack of confidence in the very >principles they were sworn to uphold. And this, I >think, is how John Ashcroft will ultimately be judged >for the rounding up of hundreds of Arab Muslim men >without any apparent regard for their rights under our >system of justice. > > How did Ashcroft get away with it? In the most >egregious cases the answer, interestingly enough, has >to do with a radical reinterpretation of section 3144 >of title 18 of the United States Code, otherwise known >as the material witness statute. The idea behind this >procedural statute was simple enough. It was to give >prosecutors the ability to hold witnesses for a >reasonable period-just long enough to get them in >front of a grand jury or deposition reporter-if deemed >to be a flight risk. Under Ashcroft's new paradigm, >though, reasonable was redefined as indefinite, and >flight risk was any male with ties to the Middle East. >And this apparently was how Osama Awadallah fell into >Ashcroft's dragnet. > > At about 6:30, on the evening of September 21, >I arrived at San Diego's Metropolitan Correctional >Center (MCC)-a high-rise just behind the city's >superior court. I had never been inside a prison >before. But even if I had, I doubt I could ever have >imagined what was in store for me. At the front desk, >I identified myself as Osama Awadallah's lawyer and >asked to see him. The guard told me that no one by >that name was in custody. "That can't be," I said. In >fact, before leaving FBI headquarters with Omar, I had >confirmed Osama's location with one of the agents. >That didn't seem to impress the guard, though. He just >gave me a blank stare. > > With cell phone in hand I walked outside the >facility and punched in the number that one of the FBI >agents had given me. "What the hell's going on here?" >I said when I got him on the line. "I brought you guys >some good information. I expect some reciprocity." The >agent apologized and said he'd make a few calls. I >stood there waiting for more than an hour. Then a >guard came to the prison door and motioned me back in. >He provided no explanation, nor did I ask for one. I >just went where he told me to go, which brought me to >a third-floor glass-enclosed conference room, where a >slight young man in a white jumpsuit sat slumped over >a round table. "Who are you?" he asked in English as I >sat in the chair facing him. "I'm Randy Hamud. I >understand you need a lawyer." This seemed to have a >calming effect on him, and he began to tell me his >life story. I sat back and listened for a while, >figuring that there'd be plenty of time for quest! >ions later. But about 45 minutes into his discourse I >happened to call him Osama, and it was enough to stop >him cold. > > "Osama," he said. "Who's Osama?" > > "What do you mean, 'Who's Osama?' You're >Osama. Aren't you?" > > "No, I'm Mohdar. Mohdar Abdullah." > > Mohdar was a 23-year-old ethnic Yemeni from >Somalia who came to San Diego in 1998 as a Somali >asylee. Like Osama, he too attended Grossmont College. >He also held a full-time job as an assistant manager >at the same Texaco station where one of the identified >terrorists had worked. The FBI first questioned Mohdar >on September 17. Four days later a young traditionally >dressed Muslim woman was sitting in the passenger's >seat of Mohdar's car. She was a friend of Mohdar's and >had asked him for a ride to work. Ten minutes later, >Mohdar pulled up to the front entrance of a Fry's >electronics store. Then, from out of nowhere, a half >dozen agents surrounded the car with their guns drawn. >Mohdar's passenger fainted, and by the time she >regained consciousness, Mohdar was gone. > > Now, talking to this man who I thought was >Osama, I felt a rush of paranoia coming on. Was I >being set up? I wondered. After all, it's against the >law to talk to prisoners with whom you don't have any >official business. So I asked Mohdar if he needed a >lawyer. Mohdar said that he did. In fact, he had >repeatedly asked for one. I took out a pen and wrote >out a retainer agreement for him to sign. Then I went >back downstairs and once again asked for Osama. > > "You were just speaking to him," the guard >said. > > "No, that was Mohdar Abdullah. You brought me >the wrong guy." > > This got the guard very agitated: "How did you >get in there with him in the first place?" > > "Look," I said, "I just went where you told me >to go. Now can I see Awadallah? > > "You're not seeing anyone else tonight," he >growled. And with that he showed me the door. > > When I returned to the prison the next day and >finally met up with the real Osama, I found that his >English was not nearly as good as Mohdar's. I also >found Osama to be a very religious person. When he >spoke, it was always "Allah this" and "Allah that." >And, as far as I could tell, the most incriminating >thing the government had on him had to do with a piece >of paper that was found in a car at Dulles >International Airport-the same car that Alhazmi and >Almihdar used before boarding the plane that crashed >into the Pentagon. The piece of paper had Osama's name >and phone number on it. What the government seemed to >ignore, though, was that at the time of the terrorist >attacks the phone number on that piece of paper was an >old one that Osama had not used for more than a year >and a half. > > Before the week was out, yet another >incarcerated material witness became my client. That >was Yazeed al-Salmi, a 23-year-old Saudi Arabian >national who came here on a valid student visa and had >the misfortune of briefly renting a room in the same >boarding house that the terrorists were living in. > > I knew by then that I needed help. So, on the >evening of September 24 I sent an email over a chat >line that reaches about 150 local lawyers. I described >my situation and asked for assistance. I said I needed >criminal and immigration expertise and hoped to >organize a defense fund to pay their fees. I expected >to get at least a dozen offers of assistance. Not a >single offer came in. I realized then just how alone I >was. > > Meanwhile, the fear remained that at any >moment my clients would be whisked off to New York by >the feds-a concern that was only exacerbated on my >third visit to the prison, when, in a rerun of what >had happened on the 21st, the guards once again played >dumb. "We don't know where your clients are," they >said. This time, though, before my clients were >miraculously "found," I let the FBI know how angry I >was by peppering my language with a few choice >expletives. > > The next morning, I placed a call to the U.S. >Attorney's office to see when and where my clients >would be arraigned. An assistant U.S. Attorney told me >that the arraignment would happen at 10:30. Then he >called back and said it had been pushed back to 2:00 >p.m. Then 4:00. As he explained it, his office was >still awaiting material witness arrest warrants from >the district court of the Southern District of New >York, where a grand jury had been empaneled to >investigate the terrorist attacks. He also strongly >advised me to keep my mouth shut. The New York court >had issued a seal order on all related proceedings, he >claimed. > > "That may be so," I responded. "But I have yet >to be served with such an order. And until I am, I'm >keeping my options open." > > With the benefit of hindsight, I realize now >what a great-albeit unintended-favor that prosecutor >did for me when he effectively put me on notice that a >window of opportunity was about to be slammed shut and >that if I had anything to gain by going public I had >to act fast. And so by 3:30 that very afternoon, I was >standing in front of the federal courthouse, >surrounded by about 50 reporters and cameramen, >drawing attention to the due process abuses. Of >course, I was drawing attention to myself as >well-which was driven home to me a few hours later >when I received my first death threat. > > Crisis, they say, makes for strange >bedfellows. But crisis can also drive a wedge between >even the closest of allies, and, to be blunt about it, >I was disappointed with Ida. She kept telling me: >"People don't care about the Constitution. They're >angry, and as far as everyone is concerned, you're >representing terrorists." > > "I don't have any respect for cowardice under >fire," I snapped back at her at one point. > > The crisis also strained my relations with >some of the more devout Muslim men in San Diego. It's >not that I didn't respect their devotion. But neither >Ida nor I ever accepted the way they segregate >women-an aspect of today's resurgent fundamentalism >that we hadn't grown up with. > > I've also found that the devout can be >incredibly impractical at times. For example, at a >meeting, we would be discussing one thing or another, >when five minutes before the designated prayer time >they'd all get up and leave. "Hey," I'd say, "can't we >finish this?" "Oh no," they'd answer. "Our prayers are >more effective when they're said at exactly the right >moment." It's ironic: > So much of the world views Muslims as >dangerous radicals. But the most observant Muslims I >know tend to be rather passive in nature, even >ineffectual. And so when Alhazmi and Almihdar showed >up in San Diego, they were like the proverbial wolves >among sheep. > > Of the 13 mosques in and around San Diego, the >largest by far is Abu Bakr, also known as the Islamic >Center of San Diego, a beautiful white-domed building >north of downtown that draws about 1,400 worshipers >each week. The mosque also runs a school for about 130 >children. On the day of the terrorist attacks, it >became an obvious focal point for people's rage. Some >made threatening phone calls, some drove by shouting >obscenities, a few threw paint balls, and a small >explosive device was detonated nearby. > > The mosque responded to these threats by >hiring an armed guard service to patrol the grounds 24 >hours a day. They also shut the school down for >awhile. Then Ashcroft began his mass arrests-first >200, then 400, then, before we knew it, we heard 1,200 >were secretly being held. > > There's something rather curious about this >material witness statute, though: To fall into its >grip, you need to be cooperative enough to give the >authorities some reason to believe that you have >inside information, and cooperation was certainly >something that my clients were guilty of. They tried >to answer every question the FBI asked, and even >allowed agents to search their homes and cars without >the benefit of an attorney. Then they were arrested. >If ever there was a way to deter cooperation from >others, the FBI had found it. > > When my clients' hearing finally got under way >on September 25 (I had gotten a continuance because of >the absence of interpreters), the government, as >promised, presented the seal order from New York and >moved to extend the seal to San Diego. I objected. So >did an attorney for the San Diego Union Tribune. But >the federal magistrate promptly granted the >prosecutor's request, citing national security >concerns. I was now officially gagged. But the gag did >not apply to the four character witnesses whom I had >called to testify. And they later gave the press >plenty of details about how the proceeding dragged on >for more than four-and-a-half hours and how my >clients, charged with no crime, and showing no >inclination to run, were still denied bail. > > September 25 was the last day I saw my clients >in San Diego. I had gotten to know each of them fairly >well by then. Yazeed was the cool, calm one. Mohdar >was more anxious and kept asking me the same questions >over and over, never wanting me to leave. But it was >Osama who seemed to have the most trouble adjusting to >incarceration, and he was especially upset when the >guards didn't respect the dietary restrictions that >went with his faith. > > I did what I could to help keep their spirits >up. I told them that they had to look at this >experience as a challenge that would make them better >Muslims. I also impressed upon them the need to keep >their bodies, as well as their minds, in shape. "I >want you to be doing push-ups and sit-ups," I told >them. Then, sometime between the 26th and the 27th, >they vanished from MCC. > > "If anyone has seen my clients, please tell me >where they are," I told a group of reporters in front >of the prison on the 27th. That was a Thursday. >Finally, on Monday, I got a call from a prosecutor at >the U.S. Attorney's office in Manhattan. "Your clients >are scheduled to be arraigned in two hours," he told >me. "Ah, excuse me," I said; I don't think I'll be >able to make that. Any chance we could move it back a >day?" He agreed to a 24-hour extension. > > "Gee, these bastards really don't want me >going to New York." That was my first thought when two >FBI agents flashed their IDs at me at the San Diego >Airport, just as I was about to board a red-eye. >"What's up?" I asked as they motioned me over. > > It turned out to be no big deal-just another >instance of racial profiling, which by now had become >the norm rather than the exception. In fact, one of >the agents apologized for the inconvenience when he >recognized me. But as we stood there chatting, I >noticed that I was drawing some icy stares from the >crowd. "Hey, can you guys do me a favor?" I said to >the agents. "Can you just stick around and make sure I >get on this flight?" I figured I might as well put >them to work on my behalf. > > I got into JFK at about 7:00 a.m. the next >morning. There, I flagged a cab and met up with Abdeen >Jabara-a local criminal lawyer who had been >recommended to me through a mutual friend at the Arab >American Institute in Washington, D.C. Together, we >walked down strangely empty city streets to the >federal courthouse on Pearl Street, about four blocks >east of Ground Zero. > > The October 2 hearing was originally sealed, >but I'm now at liberty to talk about it as a result of >a recent court order. I can describe, for example, how >in the first few moments of that proceeding the judge >made a tortured argument about how Jabara had a >conflict of interest and then abruptly removed him >from the courtroom, denying me the benefit of >co-counsel. I can also describe how, a short time >later, Osama tugged at my trousers and whispered to me >that he had been beaten up by the guards. "Your >honor," I said, "I would like to ask for a medical >examination of my client." The judge stared down from >his bench. "He looks okay to me," he said, adding, >"Bring a lawsuit later if you want to." > > After the day's proceedings, I checked into >the nearby Soho Grand Hotel, where, from my room, I >could see the smoke rising from Ground Zero. It was an >eerie sight, especially at night when, with the klieg >lights turned on, you could almost see the souls >hovering above the rubble. As I said, I'm not a very >religious person, but during the three weeks I spent >in New York I often said a prayer for the victims of >9/11 before going to sleep. > > As for Osama, Mohdar, and Yazeed, they slept >at the Metropolitan Correctional Center in South >Manhattan, a high-security facility that makes San >Diego's MCC look like a Hilton. Most striking to me >was how cold it was in there, like a meat locker. And >while the guards bundled up in warm jackets, the >prisoners were given only thin orange jumpsuits to >wear with no undershirts. Often, when my clients were >brought to me, they shivered so hard that their chains >rattled. > > When I visited the facility, the guards put me >in a small steel room beneath a cold air vent, which >gave me a feel for what it was like to be their >prisoner. On one occasion, in fact, they made me wait >four hours in there without access to a restroom. > > My clients were kept on the ninth floor in a >maximum-security unit reserved for the most hardened >criminals. There even the most basic of privileges >were denied them. They got no family visits, no mail, >no television, no writing material, and no reading >material other than the Quran. My clients were also >subjected to videotaped strip searches at least three >times a week. And they met with constant verbal abuse >from the guards. "Fucking terrorists," is how the >guards often addressed them. > > I first visited the facility on October 3. But >it wasn't until the 4th, when Osama was wearing a >short-sleeved pullover top instead of the usual >long-sleeved jumpsuit, that I actually saw the bruises >on his body. We were in a conference room in the U.S. >Attorney's office on the fifth floor of the federal >courthouse. Several FBI agents and assistant U.S. >Attorneys were present, along with my new local >counsel, Jesse Berman, a noted criminal defense >attorney. As I could see then, Osama had a bruise that >ran across the back of his neck, where he claimed a >guard had hit him. Other bruises circumscribed his >upper arms. On his ankles and wrists I observed welts >and healing cuts, which he said he suffered when the >guards had pulled or stepped on his shackles. > > I went ballistic-especially after one of the >prosecutors looked me straight in the eye and actually >had the audacity to accuse Osama of inflicting wounds >on himself. "I don't think so," I said. I then >suggested to the prosecutor that he ought to check >himself into MCC for awhile and see how long he'd last >in that dungeon. "I'll even go with you," I added. >"I'd like nothing better than to put you in there," he >smiled. > > I gave the U.S. Attorney's office 24 hours to >get my clients out of that god-awful place. And when >nothing happened, I called every news organization I >could think of and told them how my clients were being >brutalized. The story ran nationally, and soon after >that the guards backed off on the physical abuse. They >even brought in a doctor to examine Osama. Meanwhile, >my own visibility was ratcheted up a few more notches. > > Unnamed government sources would later say >that I was a shameless media hound. But given how >often the government was leaking half-truths, >distortions, and lies about my clients, I felt that I >was simply fighting fire with fire. I also felt that I >was standing up for the Constitution. I appeared on >ABC, CBS, and CNN. And on Court TV I debated Alan >Dershowitz. > > Dershowitz, I thought, was on an especially >odd wicket. For here was one of the country's leading >progressives saying on national television that to >save lives judges should be willing to issue torture >orders to extract information from suspects. I wasn't >very impressed with his logic. And on the program, I >reminded him of a recent Washington Post article in >which former FBI counterintelligence chief Robert >Blitzer forcefully argued against the torture of >prisoners-purely on pragmatic grounds. It simply >wasn't a very effective way to elicit truthful >information, Blitzer said. I also asked Dershowitz to >think about the international implications of what he >was suggesting: "What do we say to China if we start >torturing people here under any rationale?" > > On October 15, the Wall Street Journal ran a >feature about me headlined: "Muslim Lawyer Terms FBI >Probe Discriminatory." Also, that same day, I got a >call from Mike Wallace. Wallace, who is 83 but still >walks with the brisk gait of a 25-year-old, greeted me >at his Manhattan office along with two 60 Minutes >producers. They were planning a segment on the >so-called Patriot Act that had just passed through >Congress, and he wanted to put me on with Russ >Feingold (D-Wis.)-the only U.S. senator who had voted >against it. My conversation with Wallace lasted about >an hour. Then, for the next evening, he invited me to >dinner. > > He took me to an elegant Italian restaurant on >Park Avenue, where we were joined by Jim Greenfield of >the New York Times, who had edited the Pentagon >Papers, and a prominent physician, Carmel Cohen, and >his wife, Babbette. Through two hours of animated >discussion, it seemed that we solved just about all of >the world's problems, although at one point I suppose >I did engender a certain amount of discomfort when I >suggested that if Ashcroft's persecution of Arabs was >allowed to continue, the Jews would undoubtedly be >next. "No," Dr. Cohen responded, "I don't think so. >Jews have become too successful in this country for >that to happen." I knew I was on thin ice. After all, >I was the only non-Jewish person at the table. But I >couldn't help thinking how similar Dr. Cohen's views >were to the sentiments of so many Jews who lived in >Weimar Germany-say around 1928. > > The 60 Minutes segment taping was scheduled >for the morning of October 19. But before that >happened, I went through one of the most nightmarish >experiences of my life. I was at MCC again, on the >ninth-floor landing just outside the unit where my >clients were housed. As on my previous visits, I >walked over to the phone next to the sealed security >door. I never had to say anything. All I had to do was >pick up the phone and put it down, which signaled >someone inside to let me in. But on this particular >day, when I put the phone down, it started ringing. >This hadn't happened before. From the top of the >landing, I looked down at the guard's desk one floor >below and asked what I should do. "Pick it up," one of >the guards said. But as soon as I did, a stream of >invective came through. "Who the fuck is ringing my >bell?" the man on the other end said. I hung up. The >guards below asked what happened. I told them. The >phone rang ag! ain. I looked back down at the guards. >They motioned me to answer it. I did. The same voice >again screamed into my ear, "Who the fuck is ringing >my bell? Quit ringing my bell!" I hung up. Then a >female guard walked up the stairs and stood next to me >on the landing. The phone rang a third time. "Pick it >up," she said. I picked it up. Then all of sudden, the >steel door flew open, and I found myself face to face >with a very large, angry man. > > "Why the fuck are you ringing my bell?" he >wanted to know. > > "I'm here to see my clients," I stammered. > > "Listen," he said, "you don't understand. This >is my house! And when you're in my house you do what >the fuck I say." > > "I have to see my clients." > > He studied me for a moment. "You know," he >said, "you look intoxicated." > > "I'm not intoxicated. I just came from the >federal court." > > "Well, you look intoxicated to me. Get the >fuck off my floor." Then three other large men >suddenly materialized, and together they escorted me >back to the elevator. I feared the worst: that they >were going to beat me up or drug me or something. >Instead, they left me in a locker area near the ground >floor front entrance and told me to wait for >questioning. Terrified, I slipped my business card to >another lawyer who happened to be entering the prison. >I told him to call Jesse Berman if anything happened >to me. Then I retrieved my cell phone from one of the >lockers and called Jesse myself. "Jesse," I said, "I'm >here at MCC, and the guards are messing with me. I >think I may be in danger." > > "Just get the hell out of there," he advised. > > A few minutes later another guard approached >me. "Look," I said, "if I'm not the fuck out of here >in five minutes the cavalry is coming. Do you >understand? Just give me my ID and let me the fuck out >of here!" They decided to oblige. > > When I walked back to the hotel I had the >doorman confirm that I was stone-cold sober, just in >case I needed a witness. Then I tried to get some >sleep but wasn't very successful. Nor was I much >calmer the next morning at the CBS studios when I >tried to describe to the 60 Minutes producers what had >happened to me. Finally, Wallace himself came down. >"Randy," he said, with that famous clipped delivery of >his, "you're absolutely right. What happened to you >last night shouldn't have happened in America. No >doubt about it. But Randy, listen, we're going to be >taping in a few minutes, and you've got to calm down. >You must calm down. Because the last thing we want to >do right now is put a fired-up Arab on television." I >had to laugh. > > By late October, Yazeed had been set free >after testifying before a grand jury. In a terse >statement, the Justice Department simply said that >Yazeed had been fully cooperative and was no longer >under suspicion. That was the closest they came to an >apology. But Osama and Mohdar weren't so lucky. On >October 19, Osama was charged with two counts of lying >to the grand jury on incidental matters unrelated > to the terrorist attacks. Then, on October 24, >Mohdar was charged with making false statements on a >visa application. Osama remained in New York. Mohdar >was flown back to San Diego where his indictment was >issued. > > By then I had recruited Kerry Steigerwalt, a >highly respected criminal defense lawyer, to represent >Mohdar in San Diego. I also redoubled my efforts to >enlist the support of the Muslim community. The >mosques had committed to pay my New York expenses. But >their fund-raising efforts had fallen short because of >thousands of dollars in checks I had to write to New >York counsel. When I returned from New York I was in >the hole by about $5,000. It wasn't just about money, >though. > > On the evening of November 19, the second day >of Ramadan, I went to the mosque that my clients >usually prayed at-the Al-Rabat mosque in La Mesa-to >try and get people to come down to the court and >testify on Mohdar's behalf for a second bail hearing. >Unlike the first hearing, this one would be held in >open court, which was enough to convince my original >four character witnesses not to testify. And this >meant I had to start from scratch. I prayed all eight >Ramadan prayers with the congregation. Then I asked >for permission to speak. "We have a very worldly >problem," I said. "One of our Muslim brothers, Mohdar >Abdullah, is in jail downtown. He has nothing to do >with terrorism. A hearing is scheduled for tomorrow >morning. I know this has been a very trying time for >all of us, but a good Muslim is only afraid of Allah, >not anyone else. We have to unite and help that boy. >I'm asking you to look deep into your consciences, and >for thos! e of you who know Mohdar please come to the >court tomorrow and tell the judge what a good man he >is. And if you don't know him, come anyway to show >solidarity." > > There were about 300 worshippers in the room >that night, but the next morning only about 15 came to >the court, and only 4 of those knew Mohdar well enough >to testify. I suppose it could have been worse, and >with those few arrows in our quiver we managed to get >the feds to agree to a reduction of the proposed bail >from $2 million to $500,000 in both cash and security. >Of course, that was still a ridiculously large amount. > > Meanwhile, back in New York, Osama's bail was >also set at half a million, although the judge now >presiding in the case did have the decency to declare >in open court that Osama was not a suspected >terrorist. She also stipulated that he only had to pay >10 percent of the bail in cash, which amounted to >$50,000-something I thought we could easily raise. I >was wrong. People were just too afraid in the current >environment to be identified as contributors. > > But one day Ida and I were having lunch at a >local grille, and the most amazing thing happened. She >had calmed down quite a bit by then, if only because, >after three months, none of us had been shot at. "I >still think what you're doing is not worth the >effort," she said to me again. "And when people look >back on this, they won't say Randy Hamud saved the >Constitution; they'll say he represented terrorists. >But we can't," she added, "let Osama stay in that >horrible place any longer." > > I studied her for a moment. > > "How much up-front cash will it take to free >him?" she asked. > > "Well," I said, "the total is $50,000. Osama's >brother told me he's raised $2,500. That leaves >$47,500." > > "I'll just write a check on my equity line." > > I sat there stunned. > > "Why do you want to do this?" I asked. > > "I'm just so sick of seeing Ashcroft in the >news every day, throwing out all this bullshit about >how rights aren't being violated. And I can't stand >how wimpy all these Muslim men are. They'll segregate >me and tell me how to dress, but they don't even have >the guts to write a check." > > A week later Osama called Ida from his >brother's house in San Diego. "I will say a special >prayer for you every day," he told her. When Ida got >off the phone, I noticed that she was more than a >little misty-eyed. > > "You see," I said. "I told you he was a good >boy." > > Randall B. Hamud is a sole practitioner living >in San Diego. > > >__________________________________________________ >Do You Yahoo!? >LAUNCH - Your Yahoo! Music Experience >http://launch.yahoo.com > >------------------------ Yahoo! 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