A Sneak Preview of the Upcoming Book - Confessions to the FBI: True Crime Stories from Michael de la Peña and Jamie Banko
The memory of Tuesday, September 11, 2001, is something that still gives me
nightmares. It was a defining moment in modern American history, a crime against humanity which I had a role in investigating as an FBI Agent. At the time, I was assigned to Boston FBI’s C-2 squad, an anti-narcotics unit. My partner and I, Special Agent Jennifer Berry, were working a case code named Operation Lost Souls, targeting a Dominican drug trafficking organization (DTO) operating a heroin distribution business in the Lowell, Massachusetts area. Agent Berry had been assigned to my squad directly from the FBI Academy, having graduated about two years earlier. Her eagerness as an agent was only surpassed by her intelligence. She is the smartest agent I was ever partnered with. As I drove my FBI car into Boston that Tuesday morning, listening to the reports of two planes crashing into the Twin Towers, I had the suspicion that Lost Souls might be put on the backburner now. It was still early in the crisis, so I had yet to understand the full magnitude of the 9/11 terror attacks. How can a civilized person comprehend the idea of flying commercial planes into a building filled with ordinary citizens?
By the time I had parked in the garage and made my way up to the office, all the
televisions were tuned to the towers. I walked into the conference-room just in time to see the North tower collapse into a heap of dust and ash. By then it was confirmed: the two planes that crashed into the world trade center had departed from Boston. We were in the middle of it for sure, I thought. The most pressing question would be left to me and my colleagues in Boston to discern - who the hell were the terrorists on those planes?
Within an hour or so, Boston FBI had initiated its crisis protocols and a command post was established. It was an all-hands-on deck scenario - all other cases were to be put on hold. My C-2 squad had some of the most seasoned investigators, so we were front and center on the task force which was coming into being. Massachusetts State Police and Boston Police were on its way to join our briefings.
As we gathered ourselves around the large conference room table, my supervisor, Jay Fallon stood at the end of the room. He was a legendary agent in the FBI and commanded the respect of everyone in attendance. His word was the law. Fallon’s message was simple: we were all terrorism agents now. The key questions remained - Who were the terrorists? Perhaps more importantly, did they have confederates who provided support and were not on the planes. Were other attacks imminent? He finished his speech with the following admonition, “you must bring your A-game to this mission, because the terrorists certainly brought their A-game.”
The room was silent - message received.
Within twenty-four hours, using passenger manifests, interviews, and other methods, we had identified the ten Al-Qaeda terrorists that had flown out of Boston on two flights*.
One of them, Mohammed Atta, was discerned to be the ringleader of the operation. Atta had flown out of American Airlines flight #11, bound for Los Angeles. We surmised that the terrorists had selected that flight because it would be full of fuel for an intercontinental flight. The FBI had started circulating photos of the terrorists, encouraging citizens to call with any information. As calls were received at the FBI command center, they were input into the FBI’s Rapid Start lead generating system.
It was the best we had at the time, but the program was obsolete, and we often joked thatit should be called Rapid Stop. Today, the FBI utilizes much more sophisticated software. Nevertheless, as leads were received, Rapid Start would spit them out for action.
On the second day, my partner and I received a lead. The security guard at the
Milner Hotel in Boston had called to say that he recognized Mohammed Atta as having stayed at the hotel. People were in a panic, and calls were coming in by the thousands. Most of them were ghost leads, resulting in nothing. It was with little hope of success, therefore, when Jen Berry and I arrived at the Milner,
a small hotel located on the edge of Boston’s Chinatown. When we arrived, we asked the manager for Khaba Sonda**, the security guard who had phoned in the lead. We were informed that he had worked the night shift and was at home. Frustrated, we checked the visitor logs and to our amazement, two of the rooms were indeed rented to the hijackers we had identified. They had checked out the morning of the terror attacks.
**The guard’s name has been changed to protect his identity.
Cautiously, we were escorted to the rooms, which we were glad to hear had not been re-occupied or cleaned. The immediate concern was that the rooms might be booby-trapped in some way. Gingerly, we opened the doors to the rooms. Without touching anything, we noticed copious amounts of dark hair in the bathroom sink. They had shaved their beards, a ritual that Al-Qaeda terrorists were known to conduct before a mission. We knew we had the right rooms. We phoned the news to the command post and a forensic team was called to collect evidence.
Returning to the hotel lobby, we knew we needed to talk to Sonda, the guard,
immediately. The State Police had arrived, and we strategized with them. They
volunteered to send a cruiser to pick him up at his house and escort him back for an interview. In short order, Sonda was before us, eager to share his story of Mohammed Atta. Sonda was a large man with an intimidating presence. He was a hardworking African immigrant, appalled at what had happened, and he was upset with himself. On the weekend preceding the 9/11 attack, *Two other flights with nine terrorists had flown out of Newark and Washington D.C, one
destined for the Pentagon, the other famously crash landed in Shanksville, PA, when the passengers, having heard what happened in NY, stormed the terrorists.
Mohammed Atta had parked a rental car illegally on the street in front of the hotel. Sonda told Atta that he could not park his car illegally. Atta became aggressive and threatening, telling Sonda he was a hotel guest and to essentially, “fuck off.” Reluctantly, Sonda let it pass, but felt some remorse of what might have happened if he had called the police. We assured Sonda that there was no way for him to know what Atta had planned for our country. Looking at Sonda I could not help but think that Atta was fortunate Sonda kept his cool. He could have crushed Atta.
The theme of this story was repeated more than once as we conducted other interviews. Atta and his terrorist cohorts would get into arguments with citizens, seemingly unconcerned that their actions could jeopardize their mission.
Two weeks into the investigation, with no days off, we still had not managed a completetimeline of the terrorist’s activities in the Boston area prior to 9/11. Every ATM transaction, every traffic camera, shopping mall video, convenience store cameras and airport surveillance devices had to be scrutinized. This team effort was going to take weeks.
In the meanwhile, I was getting worried about operation Lost Souls. Jen Berry and I had spent hundreds of hours on the case. Our main informant had started to call, each call more desperate than the next. He had made over a dozen drug purchases on our behalf, all recorded on concealed video cameras, all of them implicating the suspects in our investigation. Our informant was getting calls from our targets, wondering, where are you? Drug dealers become
suspicious when their clients disappear because the clients are by nature addicts. So, they begin to suspect that either you got a new supplier, or you’ve been arrested.
We told our informant the truth - 9/11 had changed the equation and we needed time before we could re-focus on Lost Souls. Solution? We had the informant tell our targets that he had a family emergency in the Dominican Republic. He needed to travel but would be back in business soon. They seemed to accept his explanation.
Yet there was an additional problem. Our informant was getting disgruntled. Since he wasn’t meeting our targets, I couldn’t justify any payments for him. He had already been complaining that I wasn’t paying him enough. He was in it strictly for the money. This was another issue that weighed on my mind. At that point, I had to keep focused on the terrorism case. This was the priority.
As we continued our 9/11 assignment, the behavior of the terrorists prior to the attacks became baffling to me. They made no effort to stay under the radar, taking risks, such as the incident with Sonda the guard. In another incident, Rapid Start generated a lead when a citizen advised he had a fight over a parking spot with a “suspicious” Arab at Boston’s Logan Airport. The incident almost came to blows and occurred on the morning of 9/11. The citizen described the
car and where it was parked. A team was dispatched to check it out. A rental car was found, and a search of the car revealed a receipt for a hotel in Needham, MA.
My partner and I rushed to Needham and indeed we discovered a hotel used by the other terrorist team. This yielded more evidence and surveillance video. The more we learned, the more we concluded that the terrorist teams worked independently, without outside help. After the dust settled, I considered
how careless they were, given that an altercation before their flight could have jeopardized their entire mission. I considered it poor discipline.
Among those risks taken by the terrorists was the hiring of prostitutes, engaging with them at the Holiday Inn, on Boston’s Southeast expressway. To the credit of the prostitutes, several of them came forward voluntarily after they recognized the suspects, despite the potential criminal exposure to themselves. We had female agents interview them. The terrorists spent their final days having a grand time, paying for sex and drinking alcohol, both of which are prohibited by the Koran. Again, risky behavior which might have put their operation in danger.
I concluded that they were certain their mission was unstoppable. Sadly, they were correct. My colleagues and I worked for two months without a day off, usually 10 – 16-hour days. For the first time in FBI history, overtime pay was authorized. When Thanksgiving arrived, we were finally able to take some time off. The 9/11 matter was not closed, but those of us who did not
typically work terrorism matters were sent back to work our regular cases. In my case, Lost Souls.
Several weeks after Jen and I got back to our case, we had obtained half a dozen indictments of our targets. Our hand was partially forced by my informant quitting on us. We had no choice but to make arrests and close the case. The entire C-2 (drug) squad came together to conduct our “take down,” the fun part of the investigation. We arrest our suspects, confiscate their drug money, and seize their cars.
While it was a great ending to Lost Souls, I came to realize that
after 9/11 the FBI was moving away from these types of cases. The new focus was terrorism.
A year later, there was an opening in my office for a polygraph examiner. I leaped at the opportunity, and I began a new chapter in my career. The three month training program is conducted by the U.S. military at Fort Jackson, South Carolina. By December 2003, I was a fully trained and certified FBI polygraph examiner.
******
On April 15, 2013, less than twelve years after the horror of 9/11, Al-Qaeda again reared its hideous head in the great city of Boston. This time the venue was the finish line of the world-famous Boston Marathon, one of the nation’s most prestigious sporting events.
Almost one million spectators routinely line the 26.2-mile marathon route. I was at the Boston Sports Club Gym, across from my office in Government Center, when I heard a news report of an explosion on Boylston Street, near the finish line. At first, the news speculated that it might be a gas explosion. Soon thereafter, there were reports of a second explosion. My heart sank. Terrorists
had struck again.
FBI Boston immediately activated a command post, and everyone was called in. I knew the drill after 9/11. All other cases were on hold until we caught the people who planted the bombs.
The devices had killed three innocent spectators, one of them an 8-year-old boy. Tellingly, the bombs were detonated twelve seconds apart, which is a key Al-Qaeda signature - two or more bombings, either simultaneously or seconds apart. The FBI arranged to set up an evidence center at the Black Falcon Pier, in South Boston. To say it was a large facility is an understatement. It is cavernous, easily over a football field in length, with a one-hundred-foot ceiling. The downside was that there was no heat in the building, and it was still April in Boston.
Computer stations were installed for teams to review images taken by citizens along the finish line. Every citizen spectator near the marathon finish line was encouraged to turn in their phones and devices for review. Sadly, many of the victims had abandoned their devices at the bloody crime scene, to be recovered by the evidence teams.
By this time, I had been an FBI polygraph examiner for ten years, having conducted hundreds of exams. I was itching to get a suspect or two into my polygraph suite. Until there was such a person, however, I was assigned to the Black Falcon Pier evidence location, where my colleagues and I spent hours reviewing photos, looking for our suspects.
Eventually, one of my co-workers found a picture of a young male in his 20’s, dropping a backpack at one of the bomb sites, shortly before the device exploded. He was wearing a white hat, which became his moniker. Another security video from a bar on Boylston Street showed white hat following
another male, this one wearing a black hat. Thus, they became known as white hat and black hat, and the hunt was on.
Unfortunately, fate would ensure that neither would ever be subjected to my polygraph.
History has documented what happened next. Within two days of identifying the suspects as Chechen brothers Dzhokhar (pronounced Jahar) and Tamerlin Tsarnaev (white hat and black hat, respectively), one was dead and the other captured after a violent confrontation.
Once the dust had settled, and the city was no longer in fear of another imminent attack, the real work of dissecting the activities of the brothers and any possible accomplices began. In this regard, this followed the pattern of the 9/11 investigation. Unlike that case, however, over the next two weeks the FBI uncovered accomplices to the brother’s evil deed. One of them would be brought to me for an examination.
The surviving younger brother, Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, had been a student at University of Massachusetts (UMass) Dartmouth. The term student, however, should be applied loosely since he was constantly skipping class and getting high. He had three friends at school who became the focus of the investigation.
Two were foreign students from Kazakhstan, named Diaz and
Azamat. The other was an American named Robel Phillipos. He and Dzhokhar had gone to High School together and were close friends. The terrorism task force had determined that while Dzhokhar was being hunted, he had texted these friends and asked them to dispose of a laptop and a backpack in his dorm room.
Inside the backpack was evidence incriminating the younger Tsarnaev. When they confronted Diaz and Azamat, they cooperated, admitting that they had in
fact dropped the items in a dumpster behind their dorm. They also stated that Robel Phillipos was in the dorm room when they collected the evidence and disposed of it. Both had their student visas cancelled and they were locked up on immigration charges pending trial (each eventually receiving five year sentences).
Robel Phillipos, however, continued to deny that he was ever in Dzhokhar’s room after the terrorist attacks. During two separate interviews, he brazenly lied to the task force. The task force needed to corroborate what Diaz and Azamat had stated regarding the disposed evidence. They were hoping it would come from Robel. He was an American citizen, so he couldn’t be detained on immigration charges.
After two weeks, I started to transition from the Black Pier assignment back to my normal duties conducting polygraphs, when I got a call from FBI Special Agent Tim Quinn. He was on the task force and was at his wits end with Robel’s denials. I had known Quinn since the 9/11 investigation.
He was clear-headed and direct. Could I give Robel Phillipos a polygraph and get a confession?
I immediately said of course. But my inside voice said, are you kidding me, this is what I’ve been waiting for. My city had been attacked, and this kid had helped the perpetrators. I was going to get the confession.
Moments like these are why we train as interrogators. This is when
we earn our pay.
The next day, Quinn and the task force escorted Robel Phillipos to my polygraph suite at the FBI office. The room itself was void of anything on the walls. It consisted of a polygraph chair, a plain desk and an interview chair, to be used by the subject prior to having the components attached to him. The room could be described as spartan.*
*The nature and layout of the room became an issue brought up at his trial by his defense attorney.
Robel was 19 years old. I was immediately taken by how young he appeared. Despite his predicament, he displayed a certain nonchalance, no doubt rooted in inexperience. He didn’t seem to comprehend how much trouble he was in.
I stepped out momentarily to check with the agents in the observation room. I wanted to make sure the camera was functioning properly. Located down the hall, investigators could monitor (not record) my interview and subsequent
polygraph.
When I got to the observation room, I was floored by what I saw. The room is a small office, yet it was packed with at least a dozen agents and analysts, all eager to see the interview. The marathon bombing was still very fresh on everyone’s mind.
I did learn something new from Agent Quinn at this point. An FBI Evidence Recovery Team was dressed in HAZMAT suits and were in the process of searching the landfill where the UMass Dartmouth dumpster dropped its trash. They were looking for that incriminating evidence. I was advised that it would be helpful if I could secure a confession before they found the items.
The reason for this is that if the confession were obtained before the discovery of evidence, it would be harder for a defense attorney to claim that the confession was faked or coerced. If the evidence were discovered first, then a defense attorney could simply claim that I supplied Robel with the description of what was found and coerced the confession.
I went back to the polygraph suite and sat across from Robel. He agreed to the polygraph and signed the appropriate consent forms, which includes a Miranda waiver. After gathering some background information, I asked Robel about the allegations in question. I was preparing to establish my two central relevant questions. I would soon learn that Robel had a trick up his sleeve, something I hadn’t seen before in my career (or since).
In the meantime, I tried establishing rapport. He was young, so I asked if he followed superheroes, and if so if he had a favorite. He immediately said he did have a favorite, and it was the “flash.” We talked about this for a bit before moving to more serious matters.
One of the issues I needed to address was whether he had seen any fireworks in Dzhokhar’s backpack. From Diaz and Azamat, the task force had learned that there had been fireworks in the backpack they had disposed of. This was critical because fireworks were used to construct the two bombs in question. Robel was resolute in his denial. He stated that if he had seen fireworks, he would have remembered that.
Secondly, I asked Robel if he had been in Dzhokhar’s room after the marathon bombing. This was central to the case. He shifted strategies cleverly, by answering I don’t remember. He claimed that he was so high on
marijuana, that he had no recollection of entering the room or much of anything else.
Polygraph questions are formulated in a yes/no format. No other answer is acceptable and invalidates the exam. His answer of not remembering essentially made the exam useless, which I believe was his intent. I had never seen this tactic used before, but it was smart.
I leaned back for a moment, thinking how to proceed. I thought to myself, I’m not letting this 19-year-old kid outsmart me.
After a few seconds I replied, “OK Robel, you claim you can’t remember, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right. I don’t remember.”
“OK Robel, so on the test, I’m going to ask you if you remember going into Dzhokhar’s room on the night we discussed.”
I could see his jaw drop and his demeanor change. He had been beaten at his own game. I then introduced the following relevant questions during the polygraph exam:
Question #1: Do you remember going into Dzhokhar’s room, Thursday evening, the 18th of April? Answer: No
Question #2: Did you see fireworks in Dzhokhar’s backpack? Answer: No
I proceeded to attach my polygraph components to Robel and the test commenced. Each question is asked multiple times. The result was clear and stark - he was lying.
This was clear not only in the numerical evaluation of the polygraph data, but from his demeanor. Once I determined that he failed the polygraph, I needed to pivot to an interrogation.
This required the development of themes to influence him. My first approach was to ask about his family. Perhaps a sense of family shame might induce him to come clean. I learned that his father had died when he was young. He was raised by a single mother. I asked Robel what his father would say if he were here? He was completely disconnected from his father. He brushed the question off.
Later, the media would learn about this question and print a story about how it
was somehow off limits. I still don’t comprehend the objection to discussing his father. For his part, Robel was unfazed by this line of questioning.
I then shifted my approach.
“Robel, the only concern we have is whether or not you are still a threat to the country.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Robel, we were attacked with bombs, so everyone wants to know if you are a danger to the community. They want to know if you are on team America.”
“Yes, I’m on team America.” He jumped on this statement.
“Well, if you want to be on team America, you’ve got to come clean and tell me what you know.”
“I want to be on team America.” **
**The newspapers later mocked the idea of being on “team America”
This exchange led to another hour of discussion. This is important because it is part of the process of wearing out the subject. It kept the exchange going. After another hour or so, I could sense a change in Robel’s demeanor. He could tell he wasn’t going to be able to wiggle out of his dilemma. He looked at me with a serious face.
“I have a concern.” He said flatly.
“What’s that,” I inquired.
“I’m worried that if I tell you the truth, the agents outside will get really pissed at me. They’ll come in here and beat me up.”
“Robel, you are under my protection. This is my room. Nobody comes in here without my say so. You are perfectly safe.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, in fact Robel, let me show you,” I stood up, walked over to the door, and turned the deadbolt, locking the door.
He seemed relieved, but I immediately knew I may have made a crucial mistake. By locking the door, I knew his lawyers would argue that the interview had now become coercive, and that he wasn’t free to leave. This could invalidate any confession. It was too late, however, I had to continue.
“Mike, I did see the fireworks in Dzhokhar’s room.” He admitted.
An interrogator can have no greater satisfaction that when a suspect finally breaks. We spent the next half hour going over a written confession which detailed a description of red, tubular fireworks between 6 and 8 inches in length. This matched the fireworks found in Dzhokhar’s backpack at the landfill several hours later.
At my suggestion, he also apologized for his role in covering up what happened in Dzhokhar’s room. I routinely ask subjects to apologize in writing,
because I know these cases always end up going to trial. If you did nothing wrong, then how do you explain to the jury that you apologized?
As expected, Robel found two lawyers (a married couple) to represent him. I feel they did him an injustice by not seeking a plea bargain right away. Instead of reaching a deal with the government, they wanted a trial because it was a highly newsworthy case.
They had several arguments. Firstly, they said that he was young and naïve, whereas I was experienced, implying that Robel was manipulated. This fell flat. He is an adult.
Second, the room where the
interrogation took place was purposely intimidating. I argued that it was the same room where I conduct all my interviews and polygraphs. Hundreds of them.
Thirdly, the interrogation was so long (3 hours) that this was inherently coercive. Well, I explained that Robel controlled the length of the interview. He could have confessed in ten minutes. He chose to lengthen the interview with his stubbornness.
Finally, the issue of the locked door presented the thorniest problem. This was addressed at a hearing where his lawyers attempted to exclude the confession. This is how that was handled (based on my recollection, not a court transcript).
Prosecutor: Agent De La Peña, did there come a time during your interview with Robel when you locked the door?
Me: Yes.
Prosecutor: Can you tell us why you locked the door?
Me: Well, yes. Robel was concerned about the agents and cops outside of the room. That they would be angry with him and possibly threatening.
Prosecutor: So, you locked the door to keep people out, not lock him in, is that correct?
Me: Correct
Prosecutor: In fact, was there anything to stop the defendant (Robel) from reaching over to the door and unlocking it? Was it locked with a key?
Me: No, it wasn’t. He could have done that.
Judge: Motion to suppress the confession is hereby denied.
At the conclusion of the trial, the defense offered a character witness for Robel, former Massachusetts Governor Michael Dukakis. When Robel was 8 years old, Dukakis had taken young Robel and his mother as guests to the Democratic National Convention in Boston.
What a gut punch to the citizens of Massachusetts to have a former governor defend someone who had covered up a terrorist incident in his own State. I wondered if the defense would also seek to introduce Robel’s kindergarten teacher.
After hearing from Dukakis, the jurors were sent to deliberate. I was on temporary assignment to FBIHQ during the deliberations. By the second day of deliberations, I was growing concerned. They had a signed confession. What was the problem? By the fifth day, I was more despondent. Finally, on the sixth day, the jurors reached a verdict.
I was on the edge of my seat, watching the news reports from Boston. The jurors had reached a compromise on the multiple counts Robel was charged with. Some of the jurors found Robel sympathetic. He also had no prior criminal record. They tossed some of the criminal counts but found him guilty of lying on others.
Ultimately, they had no choice but to convict if they were going to faithfully discharge their duties. They had been presented with a signed confession that was uncontested. I breathed a deep sigh of relief.
Several months after the jury rendered its guilty verdict, the judge announced his sentence to a press filled courtroom: three years in federal prison****. He served his sentence in a federal facility in Pennsylvania and is now a free man.
Case closed.
****Robel’s Lawyers appealed the verdict on several grounds. The appellate court upheld the conviction, ruling against him on every issue they argued.
(Zhhokhar, far right, next to Robel, Diaz and Azamat)
(Robel leaving the courthouse)
(My courtroom sketch)
******
One day I was approached by an agent regarding a terrorist suspect the Joint Terrorism Task Force (JTTF) was investigating. An insurgent detained in Iraq by coalition forces had, under interrogation, identified an associate named Abdul (not true name), an Iraqi national living in Massachusetts who was associated with the Jihadi movement.
In essence, a possible terrorist was living amongst us. He had been interviewed by the JTTF, denied any involvement, and agreed to take a polygraph examination. Of course, I agreed to meet Mr. Abdul. As I was reviewing the background information on Mr. Abdul, the case agent entered my
polygraph suite.
“What do you think?” he asked me.
“I think we’ll find out if Mr. Abdul is a terrorist today,” I smiled.
“Great.”
“How is his English?”
“It’s good.”
“That makes things earlier,” I said, relieved.
“There is something interesting we found, it’s not in the reports,” he said, piquing my curiosity.
“What’s that?”
“We found a lot of pornography on his computer. We haven’t done a forensic analysis yet but there is a lot.”
“Is pornograph illegal now?”
“No, but he searches routinely for ‘young’ and or ‘girl’ online.”
“I see,” I said, filing this away in my mind, “will you be watching from the observation room?”
“Hell yes,” he grinned.
Just as we finished this exchange, the receptionist was calling my office line. My polygraph subject was waiting in reception. I escorted him into my suite and we began a conversation.
First we discussed personal matters, intended to establish rapport. He was single and worked as a mechanic at a small shop in Massachusetts. After further talk about his family in Iraq and collection of more biographical information, I asked him if he knew why he was at the FBI office.
“Yes, the other agent told me.”
“Good, then you understand we just want to know if you are involved in any terrorist activity, either here or back when you were in Iraq.”
“No never,” he answered.
“Okay, to be clear, I need to know if you understand the terms. When I ask about terrorist activity, what do I mean?”
“Using bombs?” he said after hesitating for a moment.
“Yes, but it can be more than that”. I then pulled out a sheet of paper which mapped out what terrorist activity can mean.
He looked over the chart with me, which included the following: using weapons on civilians, planting or constructing bombs, such as improvised explosive devices, transporting other terrorists, training terrorists to conduct missions, furnishing information to terrorist groups, conducting surveillance of possible targets, providing shelter to terrorist fugitives, serving as a messenger for terrorist groups, and financing a terrorist attack. He indicated that he had never engaged in any such activity.
“Okay, Mr. Abdul, then I will ask you two simple questions on the exam. We will review them now.”
“Okay,” he answered quietly.
“First, I will ask, ‘Have you ever been involved in any terrorist activity’?
“No,”
“To be clear, Mr. Abdul, the word ever means either here in the USA or in Iraq”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Great, then I will ask the following: Have you ever been involved with any terrorist organization?”
“Explain please,” he asked.
“This means have you worked with, or had knowledge of what any terrorists are doing, or been part of their group? For example, attending secret meetings or receiving any training from them.”
“No,” he said.
I then proceeded to conduct the examination. Asking these questions several times during the session, interspersed with other neutral questions, such as ‘are the lights on in this room?’
As the test continued, I could see that he was failing the examination with regard to both questions. I stopped the test, detached the components from the subject, and sat across from him.
“It’s clear Mr Abdul that there is something you are concealing with regard to terrorism.”
He shook his head and folded his arms. For the next two hours, I was getting nowhere. He had shut down. I decided to shift strategies.
“Mr. Abdul, there is another matter that we need to discuss.”
He looked over, curious to know where I was going now.
“You understand that the FBI is, as we speak, reviewing your use of the internet” I started.
A frightened look suddenly crossed his face.
“Yes, Mr. Abdul, every keystroke, every search is being analyzed.”
He said nothing, but I had his attention.
“We know about your pornograph searches. We know about your viewing of child pornography.”
I was fishing, but I had a hunch. I felt that his silence was not only good, but a sign that I was onto something. I had to come up with a face-saving way for him to confess.
“You know, what’s acceptable in other countries isn’t the same here. I understand that it isn’t unusual for younger girls to be with older men where you come from, right?”
“Yes, yes, very true.”
“So we can explain this as a cultural misunderstanding.”
“Yes, Mr. Michael.” He said, eagerly taking my lifeline.
“Okay, so we need to document how often you are doing this, and the ages of the girls more or less.”
“Document?” He asked nervously.
“To make sure you haven’t actually touched any underage girls.”
“No, just watching, no touching.”
“That’s what I thought. You aren’t a predator.”
“Yes, Mr. Michael.”
“Okay, let’s begin,” I said, looking up at the camera with a grin.
Over the course of the next hour, Mr. Abdul composed a written statement outlining the frequency of times he downloaded child pornography, which is a federal crime, depicting girls in age from 12 to 17 years. He signed the statement and I escorted him out, knowing he would be arrested in short order. The agent reemerged quickly after his subject was gone.
“Are you kidding me,” he laughed, “a child porn confession?”
“Hey, it puts him in prison, right? We just pulled an Al Capone,” I smiled, referencing how the government couldn’t imprison gangster Capone on murder, but arrested him for tax evasion.
“Whatever works!”
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