Mohammed Yousry never imagined that he would
see the inside of a jail cell. An adjunct lecturer at the City
University of New York, Yousry was completing his doctoral dissertation
in Middle Eastern Studies when a series of events upended his quiet
academic life.
By: Murtaza Hussain
NEW YORK (TheIntercept)
- In 1993, Yousry received a job offer to work as an Arabic translator
for the defense team of Omar Abdel Rahman, also known as the “Blind
Sheikh.” Abdel Rahman, the spiritual leader of the Egyptian militant
group Gamaa Islamiya, had been arrested earlier that year on accusations
of plotting terrorist attacks against public landmarks in New York
City.
In 1997, the Federal Bureau of Prisons placed Abdel Rahman
under “special administrative measures,” or SAMs, a legal regimen that
restricts certain prisoners from communicating with the outside world.
First
established 20 years ago, in May 1996, SAMs were designed to prevent
alleged gang leaders and terrorists from maintaining contact with their
followers outside prison. In the years since 9/11, the controversial
measures have been used extensively in terrorism cases. A 2014 report by
Human Rights Watch found that the number of prison inmates subjected to
SAMs more than tripled between 2001 and 2013. As of 2013, a total of 55
prisoners were held under SAMs; roughly 30 were “terrorism-related
inmates,” while the remainder were mostly inmates jailed on organized
crime and espionage charges.
“The premise behind SAMs is that
there is a certain class of prisoner so dangerous that even solitary
isn’t enough. They need to be kept so under wraps that a special regime
is necessary where their communication with the outside world is
completely shut down,” says Wadie Said, a law professor at the
University of South Carolina and expert on terrorism prosecutions. “The
problem with these types of extraordinary measures, however, is that
when you start putting them in the hands of government bureaucrats, the
rationale starts to break down and they are enforced more liberally.”
That
is precisely what happened to Yousry. Lynne Stewart, the defense team’s
lead attorney in the Abdel Rahman case, was charged with violating the
SAMs by disseminating her client’s political statements to the media and
surrogates of a terrorist group. But in an unprecedented move, the
government also decided to prosecute the legal team’s translator, who
had never signed the SAMs order.
Yousry suddenly found himself
accused of supporting a terrorist. He and several others involved in
Abdel Rahman’s defense are the only people ever to have been prosecuted
by the federal government for violating the SAMs.
Mohammed Yousry
was born in 1955 in Cairo, Egypt. At a young age, Yousry developed what
would be a lifelong infatuation with studying, spending hours immersed
in books by Arab, American, and European writers. After graduating from
Cairo University and completing his compulsory military service, at 24,
he immigrated to the United States, eventually settling in New York
City.
Yousry spent many years working a variety of odd jobs and
taking college courses at night, while nursing dreams of a future in
academia. During this time, he also met his future wife, a fellow
student and naturalized immigrant from the Dominican Republic. She was a
devout Christian, something that Yousry, as a non-practicing Muslim,
didn’t see as an obstacle. The couple fell in love, got married, and
soon after had a daughter.
In 1990, Yousry was admitted to New
York University for a graduate program in Middle Eastern Studies. Around
that time, New York City was facing an acute shortage of court
translators, including those with knowledge of Arabic, and Yousry found
part-time work translating for lawyers and news agencies.
Two
years after Yousry started his graduate research, a truck bomb detonated
in the parking garage of the World Trade Center’s north tower, killing
six people and injuring more than a thousand others. The bombing
triggered chaos throughout lower Manhattan and alerted law enforcement
to the threat of terrorism posed by extremist groups. Searching for
possible links to the attackers, investigators cast a wide net on the
city’s Arab and Muslim communities, seeking out connections to radical
movements.
Omar Abdel Rahman, the blind leader of Gamaa Islamiya,
was among those who attracted the FBI’s attention. Though he lived in
the United States, he remained an influential figure in Egypt, where his
group was fighting an insurgency against the government. Copies of his
sermons inveighing against the oppression of the Mubarak government were
widely disseminated in Cairo and Alexandria. A few months after the
1993 bombing, Abdel Rahman was arrested and accused of conspiring in a
separate plot to attack city landmarks.
After the arrest, Yousry
was hired by Abdel Rahman’s legal team, headed by Lynne Stewart, a
radical lawyer with a reputation for taking controversial cases, and
asked to work as an Arabic translator. As a scholar of contemporary
Middle Eastern history, the potential controversy of working with such a
client gave him pause. But after speaking with academic advisers and
deciding it could provide useful experience for his future dissertation,
he decided to accept.
For the next year and a half, Yousry
translated reports, news articles, and phone conversations for Abdel
Rahman and Stewart’s legal team.
The first time he actually met
with Abdel Rahman, Yousry was surprised to find that the image he had of
the cleric, whose Gamaa Islamiya movement had killed thousands of
people in Egypt, did not comport with the prisoner’s ironic personal
demeanor. “He had a certain charisma that stemmed from his blindness and
his very profound sense of humor,” Yousry said, even comparing him to
the legendary Egyptian comedian Adel Imam. The two disagreed
vociferously on politics, but over time developed a reasonable working
relationship.
In 1995, Abdel Rahman was convicted on terrorism
charges and sentenced to life imprisonment. While Stewart continued to
represent him during the appeals process, bringing Yousry back on as a
translator in May 1997, the restrictions placed on Abdel Rahman were
about to make the case much more perilous.
With the Egyptian
government’s war against Gamaa Islamiya still raging, the SAMs were
intended to prevent Abdel Rahman from issuing orders to the group’s
members from inside prison. According to the measures, any statements
made by an inmate can be kept under seal if a judge agrees that “there
is a substantial risk that a prisoner’s communications or contacts with
persons could result in death or serious bodily injury to persons, or
substantial damage to property that would entail the risk of death or
serious bodily injury to persons.”
Stewart signed the SAMs
agreement, legally precluding her from publicly disseminating her
client’s statements. Stewart chafed under these restrictions and over
time began to openly rebel against them. As a translator, Yousry was
never asked to sign the order. “The lawyers worked out a system in which
they’d review communications and determine what is consistent with the
terms of the SAMs,” Yousry said, adding that it was his understanding
that regardless of what tactics Abdel Rahman’s legal team employed, as a
translator he would not be targeted under the SAMs regulations.
Over
time, Stewart became so sympathetic to her client that she came to
support the Gamaa Islamiya’s goal of overthrowing the Egyptian regime.
Yousry, who grew up in Egypt, never shared this opinion, viewing the
Gamaa as simply another evil within Egypt’s political milieu.
“Gamaa
Islamiya and Omar Abdel Rahman advocated violence against the
totalitarian Egyptian regime, which, to be clear, also employed heinous
violence against Egyptian citizens,” Yousry said. “I would have chosen
the regime as a lesser evil, however. Mubarak was a dictator but the
Gamaa were religious extremists and I thought they would set Egyptian
society backwards if they came to power.”
Not long after the SAMs
went into effect, the leaders of Gamaa Islamiya reached a truce with
the Egyptian government. Declaring that violent confrontation with
Egypt’s rulers had served no constructive purpose, the Gamaa pledged to
cease its struggle and integrate into Egyptian political life.
In
return for an end to violence, the government promised to release key
Gamaa leaders from prison and ease pressure on their families. The truce
caused divisions within the group. When it seemed as though the
government was not holding up its end of the bargain, Gamaa supporters
sent a letter to Abdel Rahman, through his legal team, asking for his
opinion on maintaining the cease-fire.
Any public comment on the
cease-fire from Abdel Rahman could constitute a breach of the SAMs.
However, Stewart decided to take a risk and disseminate a public
statement on the issue by Abdel Rahman.
In his statement, Abdel
Rahman told Yousry in Arabic that the cease-fire should be maintained,
but that public rhetoric against the Egyptian government should be
escalated over the its failure to uphold agreements with the Gamaa.
“Abdel Rahman had supported the initial cease-fire and had never changed
his view on that,” Yousry said.
On June 13, 2000, Stewart spoke
to a Reuters reporter based in Cairo, Esmat Salaheddin, and communicated
something different: that the sheikh had effectively nullified the
cease-fire. The next day, newspapers in the region were reporting that
the leader of Gamaa Islamiya had called for a resumption of hostilities
in Egypt, triggering a major controversy.
Initially, the
government did not file charges for violation of the SAMs order. Behind
the scenes, however, a criminal investigation was initiated into the
entire legal team.
Then, on September 11, 2001, two hijacked
planes flew in the World Trade Center towers in New York. The highly
aggressive law enforcement posture that followed the attacks immediately
heightened the sensitivity of the Abdel Rahman case.
“Two
days after September 11, two FBI agents came to my house,” Yousry says.
For over an hour, the agents probed him with questions about Omar Abdel
Rahman, Stewart, and his own political views, and asked him to become
an informant inside the legal team — an offer he refused. Before leaving
the house, Yousry recalls one of the agents telling him that she was
giving him “one final opportunity to jump on board the train.”
“I’m
already on the train,” Yousry replied. “I don’t have anything to do
with violence or radicalism. I’m just doing the job as a translator that
I was hired for by the government.”
On April 9, 2002, roughly
seven months after the FBI’s initial visit, agents came back to Yousry’s
house to arrest him. Lynne Stewart and two other co-defendants were
placed under arrest that same day. The four were charged with multiple
terrorism offenses, including conspiracy to provide material support for
terrorism, soliciting acts of violence, and conspiracy to defraud the
United States. Yousry’s bail was set at $750,000, significantly higher
than Stewart’s bail, set at $500,000.
The case was soon caught up
in the broader fight against global terrorism. In an appearance on The
Late Show with David Letterman, then-Attorney General John Ashcroft
said, “We simply aren’t going to allow people who are convicted of
terrorism to continue to achieve terrorist objectives by sending
messages and directing the activity from their prison.”
In the
trial of Yousry and his co-defendants that began in the summer of 2004
and lasted nearly eight months, the prosecution focused on the
terrifying specter of Omar Abdel Rahman and the Gamaa Islamiya,
suggesting that his legal team had helped support a terrorist who was
planning to “kill Americans everywhere.”
During Yousry’s
cross-examination by the prosecution, the government questioned him at
length about his ideological beliefs, as well as his knowledge of the
communications restrictions. Yousry maintained his position: He had
never signed the SAMs and was simply translating for the lawyers.
Asked by the prosecutor about his knowledge of the restrictions, Yousry replied:
I believed in general that the SAMs were imposed on the client to
restrict his communication with the outside world. However, I also
believed that the lawyers were in charge of implementing these
administrative measures. They are the one who understand the legality of
it. They are the one that signed the affidavit. They are the ones who
were responsible for telling me what to do. So I took guidance from
them.
While prosecutors portrayed Yousry’s co-defendants as
active supporters of terrorism, they were forced to concede that the
translator was different. Yousry, the bookish, wine-drinking academic,
was a hard person to portray as a supporter of Islamic extremism.
“Mohammed Yousry is not a lawyer. He is not a practicing Muslim. He is
not a fundamentalist,” said prosecutor Anthony Barkow. “He is not a
supporter of Abdel Rahman or of the Islamic Group.”
Yet, the
government argued that by translating the communications between Abdel
Rahman and Stewart, Yousry had supported a conspiracy. “[Yousry] doesn’t
need to know that he violated any particular law,” the prosecutor said.
“He needs only to be aware of the generally unlawful nature of what he
did.”
When the convictions came down on February 10, 2005, Yousry
was stunned. “During the sentencing, while the judge was reading his
verdict, I was sure at the end that he was going to vacate my sentence
or give me probation,” he recalled. “I honestly couldn’t believe I was
being sent to jail by the government for translating a court case, the
job they’d hired me to do.”
Released in 2011 after spending 16
months in prison, today Yousry is free, but his criminal record has
prevented him from finding employment. “Never in a million years did I
imagine that anything like this could happen,” Yousry reflects years
later. “Not only was I sent to prison, but my academic career, my
translation career, and my research career were all destroyed by the
government.”
Of the dozens of prisoners believed to be detained
under SAMs today, some of them are people with deep links to
international terrorism, like World Trade Center bomber Ramzi Yousef and
9/11 conspirator Zacarias Moussaoui. But others are younger men like
Fahad Hashmi and Mahdi Hashi, whose cases are far murkier, but who
nonetheless are held under the same draconian regime. A number of
individuals whose cases are still in pretrial, such as 30-year-old
Muhannad al-Farekh, are also being held under SAMs today.
Lawyers
and human rights advocates claim that the restrictions and surveillance
the SAMs impose make defending clients in such cases nearly impossible.
“SAMs completely undermine the concept of attorney-client privilege and
the relationship of trust necessary for a lawyer to do their job,” says
Khurrum Wahid, a lawyer who has defended clients subjected to the
measures. “It creates a conflict of interest between an attorney and
their client. Instead of focusing on zealously defending them, many
lawyers end up being concerned that they might say something inartfully
that could get themselves into trouble.”
While Stewart’s
prosecution raised some alarm within the legal community, it was the
prosecution of her translator that stands out as a particularly gross
example of government overreach. “The prosecution of Yousry was really
ugly,” says Said.
“It sent a message to translators that even if
they didn’t sign any agreement, they can still be held legally
responsible for SAMs violations,” he continued. “Although the government
has not prosecuted any lawyers or translators for SAMs violations since
this case, the fact that they did it even once set a precedent that is
really chilling.”
In the years since Yousry’s arrest and trial,
the U.S. government has struggled to find competent Arabic-language
translators. In sensitive legal cases, like the ongoing military-court
hearings at Guantánamo Bay, the inability to find such translators has
often proven disastrous. “In practice, Arabic interpreters [at
Guantánamo] often not only flunk the accuracy test, but sometimes even
fail to competently understand or communicate in the detainees’ native
language,” says Omar Shakir, a lawyer at the Center for Constitutional
Rights representing clients at Guantánamo Bay, who describes the
shortage of capable Arabic translators as a systemic issue.
Yousry
was in many ways the ideal prototype for a U.S. government translator.
Fluent in both Arabic and English, a scholar of Middle Eastern history,
and deeply committed to his adopted country, he could navigate both
Western and Arab cultures with ease. But because of his criminal record,
his services are no longer available to the United States.
In
the collective mania prompted by 9/11, Yousry, a soft-spoken
Egyptian-American professor with a visceral opposition to political
Islam, was branded in the media and the courts as a supporter of
terrorism. And in its zeal to find enemies, the American government
targeted someone whose services it could have used most.
Speaking
to him today, Yousry expresses a quiet resignation about his case, as
well as the demise of his academic career. “I’m 61 years old now and my
health is not what it was before all this started. I’m not trying to
build a future, nor is that really possible anymore.”
Yousry
believes that little has changed in the 12 years years since his trial.
The government, he maintains, is still pursuing people “undeserving of
prosecution” in its efforts to demonstrate that it is fighting
terrorism.
“To try and project strength to the public during a
period of uncertainty,” he says, “sometimes the government decides that
people have to suffer.”
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