Nation Of Tipsters Answers
FBI's Call - Citizens Offer
Good Leads But Is America Now
A Society Of Snitches?

By Ann Davis, Maureen Tkacik and Andrea Petersen
The Wall Street Journal

Maybe it was something, maybe it was nothing, thought Himanshu "Bobby" Shah, manager of the Best Western Maryland Inn in College Park, Md. On the very day that terrorists staged attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, Shah noticed that a hotel guest had abandoned his folding suitcase and backpack outside Room 157 on the ground floor. The man, who had paid $77 cash for his room and shown an Egyptian passport as I.D., had checked out a few hours earlier.
Shah walked past the bags, sitting in a covered outdoor walkway, several times. "You don't just leave your luggage outside half a day," he thought to himself. After a maid and a groundskeeper also mentioned the bags, the 28-year-old native of Gujarat, India, began to worry: What if his employees doubted his patriotism? "I want them to understand that I care for their safety. They might be thinking, 'Bobby's a foreigner. Why isn't he taking the right step?' "
Taking the right step has become a lot more complicated in the weeks since Attorney General John Ashcroft asked Americans to report any suspicious activity that might involve terrorism. Law-enforcement authorities have fielded 435,000 tips as of Nov. 6, and detained more than 1,100 people. The Justice Department recently drew up a list of 5,000 Middle Eastern men it wants to question further.
Sometimes the tips net tantalizing leads, such as the case of the community-college English professor in California who noticed that a student had written the first names of two of the hijackers in his exam booklet. The FBI was called, helping connect some dots: The student's phone number also showed up on a scrap of paper in the glove compartment of a hijacker's abandoned car at Dulles International Airport. The student has since admitted meeting one of the hijackers and was indicted for lying to a grand jury about not knowing the other. An FBI spokesman calls the tip program "helpful," and says the agency "still appreciates any information that the public wishes to provide."
But often, the leads have resulted in the detention of men who aren't terrorists at all, but minor immigration violators. The rampant informing is a reminder that when people are looking for something suspicious, almost anything can start to look fishy.
Questions have emerged in some cases about the motives of the tipsters themselves. La-Tennia Abdelkhalek, an American-born cook at a Rafferty's restaurant in Evansville, Ind., called the FBI on Oct. 11 with a startling story: Her husband Fathy, an Egyptian waiter at the Olive Garden, seemed despondent and had told her he was "going to crash." The FBI moved swiftly, arresting not only Abdelkhalek, but eight of his friends, all of whom were former members of the Egyptian national rowing team who had relocated to Evansville.
All were arrested as material witnesses and locked up in a federal detention center in Chicago. Lawyers for the nine men say they were suspected of being members of an "Evansville cell" plotting to blow up the Sears Tower. But eight of the nine were released after eight days; one was still held on immigration charges.
Abdelkhalek's friends think his wife blew the story out of proportion because she was angry that Abdelkhalek hadn't been forthright about his immigration problems and another family he had in Egypt before he married her. "She screwed all of us, because she was mad Fathy had children and was sending them all his money," says Hashem Salem, a waiter at the Texas Roadhouse, an Evansville steakhouse, who was among the nine detained. La-Tennia Abdelkhalek calls Salem's assertion "ridiculous" and says she'll take her husband back if he wants. (His friends say he has since landed in detention again because INS officials deemed his marriage a sham.)
Ross Rice, a spokesman for the Chicago FBI, says that once La-Tennia Abdelkhalek passed a polygraph test, investigators didn't care about her motives for coming forward. "There are more men in jail right now because an ex-wife or an ex-girlfriend decided to rat them out," Rice said. "It doesn't mean they don't deserve to be there."
The FBI's call for help in cracking the anthrax case has led to a raft of unusual tips.
After the agency announced a $1 million reward for useful information in that case - since raised to $1.25 million - Stan Kiszka, a 58-year-old brick mason in North Trenton, N.J., got to thinking about the Middle Eastern-looking man who lived down the street. More than six weeks after the attacks, he called 911.
"Right before the bombings, he had four guys visit him in a white car, a compact thing like a Neon or a Previa or something, and it had Florida tags," Kiszka says he told the dispatcher. "Then, right around the bombings, this guy disappears for a couple of days."
He added: "Before that, the afternoon of Sept. 7, I saw this guy carrying a small plastic sandwich bag with an envelope inside of it out to his car, place it real gently on the passenger seat like it was a baby or something, then look around, lock the car and go upstairs."
By 8:30 that morning, two Trenton city detectives were at Kiszka's front stoop. Ten minutes after they left, they called to tell him not to go to work yet, that the FBI wanted to hear his story. Two FBI agents soon showed up.
Neighbors say the two agents staked out the predominantly Polish block for the next four days. On Nov. 3, about 10 police officers and five federal agents surrounded a small apartment building up the block and presented a search warrant at the second-floor unit of Allah Rakha, a 43-year-old gas-station attendant from Pakistan. They searched and questioned Rakha and his brother, Ilyas Chaudhry, who have shared the $750 unit with two cousins for nearly six years.
A hazardous-materials crew took swabs of the apartment and its mailbox for anthrax testing. They confiscated some prescription cold medicine from the bathroom. And Rakha, who was in the process of getting his expired work visa renewed, was handcuffed and taken into Immigration and Naturalization Service detention at Hudson County Jail in Kearny, N.J.
By Nov. 6, an FBI spokeswoman said, the FBI had cleared Rakha of any connection to anthrax or Sept. 11, although he remains in jail pending an immigration hearing. Rakha couldn't be reached for comment.
Kiszka doesn't feel bad about his handiwork. If Rakha is an "illegal alien," he says, he can't do anything about that.
Sometimes, jumpy neighbors end up telling on people with odd habits. People in the community of South Ozone Park, in Queens, N.Y., whispered for more than a year about the big group of men in the little house, the ones who kept the blinds drawn, who never said "hello" to the neighbors, who kept weird hours and didn't cut the grass. Last summer, a police officer who lived across the street ran a check on the license plate of one of the cars in the driveway just to see if it was stolen. It wasn't.
"They were very strange," says Nick Libramonte, a 63-year-old wedding-gown designer who lives across the street from the little house and, since he works from home, keeps an eye on the comings and goings on his street from his big bay window. "They hang their laundry - even their underwear - on the fence. Who does that?"
Then Sept. 11 happened. Some neighbors say suddenly more men showed up at the little house. People definitely got suspicious. A day or two later, Father James Mueller, the priest of one of the neighborhood Catholic churches, St. Anthony of Padua, called the FBI. "I told them, 'This is weird, and people are frightened and here's the address," ' Father Mueller said.
Father Mueller said he wasn't just acting on his own suspicions. A confluence of events prompted his call to the FBI. First, one of his parishioners - he won't say who - came to him with concerns about the men. Father Mueller shrugged it off. Then more parishioners came to him. Father Mueller did his own reconnaissance. "There was all this coming and going. The lights were turned off," he says. "The house just didn't look right." He didn't try to talk to any of the men. He didn't know their names or even how many people lived in the house.
Father Mueller was worried about the kids. St. Anthony's nursery school and its 80 children are just a few doors down from the house. People were shaken and mourning - St. Anthony lost two members in the disaster. "We have 6,000 people dead, and these people could be involved," said Father Mueller, adding that he prayed about what to do. "I don't want these guys running around and blowing up other things."
The FBI won't confirm that it acted on Father Mueller's tip. But one of the house's residents, Muhammad Rafiq Butt, a 55-year-old native of Jehlum, Pakistan, was taken into custody on Sept. 19 and interviewed by the FBI. After the FBI decided it wasn't interested in Butt, he was held on an immigration violation at the Hudson County Jail.
Butt had entered the U.S. on Sept. 24 of last year and had overstayed his six-month visa. On Sept. 20, the INS filed a notice requiring Butt to appear before an immigration judge. Butt initialed an INS document admitting that he was in the U.S. illegally and stating his desire to return home. But on Oct. 23, Butt died in prison of an apparent heart attack.
Father Mueller, a big barrel of a man, says he feels sorry for Butt and has prayed for him and his family. But even knowing the outcome, he says he would do it all over again. "This is very sad for the family, sad for him, but he could have dropped dead in the street," Father Mueller says. "I don't think these people meant any harm, but when you act suspicious constantly in times of crisis you bring it on yourselves. They could have been making anthrax by the ton in there."
At the Maryland Best Western, Shah, a trim, neat man with wire glasses and preppy olive pants, felt a tug of conflicting emotions over his Egyptian guest. He himself has suffered slights based on his slightly dark skin and Arabic-sounding name. Once or twice, he says, guests have dropped off comment cards complaining that the hotel "is being run by foreigners and isn't as good." Like most Indians, he is Hindu, not Muslim, and bristles when people assume he is an Arab. Since the bombings, he says, Indians "are getting pretty bad stares ourselves."
The day after he spotted the luggage, Sept. 12, Shah made his decision. Two FBI agents and a police detective came by the Best Western during a sweep of Washington-area hotels for the names of about 16 terrorists on recent guest registries. Shah found none of the names in his computer, but told the agents he had a tip for them.
The Egyptian man who stayed at the Best Western, Ahmed Abouelkheir, had flown into New York Sept. 7 on a tourist visa that allowed him to remain in the U.S. for six months at a time. In an interview, Abouelkheir says he wanted to find an employer willing to sponsor him for permanent residence. The same age as Shah, 28, he himself has a degree in hotel management from a Cairo institute, he says.
Upon arriving in the U.S., Abouelkheir says he went to Maryland to look for a former roommate from a prior visit, only to find that strangers were living there and had no space for him. After spending one night wandering the parking lot of a shopping center to save money, he says he took a room at the Best Western. When he left two days later, he was bound for Washington, D.C., to look for fellow Egyptians who might have a room to rent.
He says he left his luggage outside his room only temporarily to grab lunch at a Burger King across the street, assuming the maids would watch it. Before he set out for Washington, he says, the staff had already put his luggage behind the front desk. He says he was only vaguely aware of a problem in New York because he hadn't been watching TV, or he wouldn't have acted so "freely."
Shah, the hotel manager, says he knew none of this when he spotted the luggage. He was slightly comforted when the Egyptian returned and checked into the hotel again on Sept. 14. By then the police had the luggage. Alerted to Abouelkheir's return, the FBI found the hotel guest the next day buying pizza and hot chocolate at a convenience store across the street. They questioned him and let him go, both Shah and his former guest say. An FBI spokesman in Maryland declined comment on his case. Shah told his staff, "If he is a threat, the FBI wouldn't have let him go. You have to trust your government."
Still, employees didn't feel comfortable with the Egyptian back on the premises. Shah says the man continually walked around the grounds. On Sept. 16, a maid knocked on his door and told him it was checkout time, according to both Shah and Abouelkheir. What happens next is in dispute: Abouelkheir says the maid became agitated and "waved scissors in my face" and said, "You have to leave." Shah says that couldn't have happened because the hotel doesn't put scissors on the maid's cart.
"Of course they are going to say no," it didn't happen, Abouelkheir retorts. But he adds: "I was just washing my face, preparing to leave. I'm a customer. She shouldn't treat me like that."
The hotel called the police that day, and officers told Abouelkheir to leave. But over the next few days, says Shah, the Egyptian kept coming back on the property. "By that time my employees were freaked out," he says.
Abouelkheir's explanation: He was trying to locate the authorities who had his suitcase, which contained his passport, plane ticket and about $50. He had been given a number to page the FBI agent, but says he couldn't do it from the pay phone at the convenience store because it didn't appear to be accepting incoming calls. He couldn't afford another night at the hotel and so he asked a hotel bartender if he could borrow a phone, he adds.
Finally, on Sept. 18, a week after the hijackings, Shah called the FBI again. "He's here again," he told them.
The Prince George's County Police Department arrested Abouelkheir during another foray to the convenience store. They charged him with trespassing and held him in a detention center in Upper Marlboro, Md., for about six days. He was repeatedly questioned by the FBI about his multiple trips to the U.S. and about everyone he had ever known in the U.S.
Six days later, the county dropped the charges. But soon, he says, federal agents escorted him to a small commuter plane in handcuffs and shackles, and flew him to the Metropolitan Correctional Center in Manhattan, where he was held on a material-witness warrant in the terrorism case.
Abouelkheir says the FBI spent days showing him photographs and asking him about an acquaintance, Mohamed Moustafa, an Egyptian bank clerk who had helped him find a roommate the prior year in College Park. Abouelkheir says they told him Moustafa was actually Ziad Jarrah, one of the men who hijacked the plane that crashed in Pennsylvania Sept. 11. "I told them no, he is a very good man," says Abouelkheir.
Then, just as suddenly, the government dropped the warrant. Abouelkheir's attorney, Martin Stolar, says the FBI found Moustafa alive in the Midwest. Moustafa couldn't be reached for comment.
Still, Abouelkheir's ordeal wasn't over. The day the warrant was dropped, he was transferred to Bronx County Criminal Court in New York City because authorities discovered he hadn't paid a $250 fine for a disorderly conduct violation three years earlier. The judge issued a conditional discharge, but by that time, the INS had issued a detainer forbidding Abouelkheir's release. The INS filed documents alleging that Abouelkheir had worked "without authorization" from the INS on a prior visit to the U.S., and that "therefore he is deportable."
Abouelkheir acknowledges he worked briefly in a pizzeria and at an Indian restaurant as a dishwasher. While the INS processed his transfer to Passaic County Jail in Paterson, N.J., he spent the weekend on Rikers Island.
When Shah, the Best Western manager, heard about the Egyptian's ordeal, he was surprised. "They told me he was released," he says. But Shah says he has no regrets. "Actually, no, I don't feel bad about it. I was just told to report anything suspicious. So I did," he says.
As for Abouelkheir, he's now in a cell with about 40 other detainees. "I have to be quiet and patient," he says, "because if I'm going to think too much I'm going to be sad."
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