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http://www.washtimes.com/national/20040721-101403-1508r.htm
http://www.snopes.com/politics/crime/skyterror.asp
Quote: Terror in the Skies, Again?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
By Annie Jacobsen
A WWS Exclusive Article
Note from the E-ditors: You are about to read an account of what
happened during a domestic flight that one of our writers, Annie
Jacobsen, took from Detroit to Los Angeles. The WWS Editorial Team
debated long and hard about how to handle this information and
ultimately we decided it was something that should be shared. What does
it have to do with finances? Nothing, and everything. Here is Annie's
story.
On June 29, 2004, at 12:28 p.m., I flew on Northwest Airlines flight
#327 from Detroit to Los Angeles with my husband and our young son.
Also on our flight were 14 Middle Eastern men between the ages of
approximately 20 and 50 years old. What I experienced during that
flight has caused me to question whether the United States of America
can realistically uphold the civil liberties of every individual, even
non-citizens, and protect its citizens from terrorist threats.
On that Tuesday, our journey began uneventfully. Starting out that
morning in Providence, Rhode Island, we went through security screening,
flew to Detroit, and passed the time waiting for our connecting flight
to Los Angeles by shopping at the airport stores and eating lunch at an
airport diner. With no second security check required in Detroit we
headed to our gate and waited for the pre-boarding announcement.
Standing near us, also waiting to pre-board, was a group of six Middle
Eastern men. They were carrying blue passports with Arabic writing. Two
men wore tracksuits with Arabic writing across the back. Two carried
musical instrument cases - thin, flat, 18" long. One wore a yellow
T-shirt and held a McDonald's bag. And the sixth man had a bad leg -- he
wore an orthopedic shoe and limped. When the pre-boarding announcement
was made, we handed our tickets to the Northwest Airlines agent, and
walked down the jetway with the group of men directly behind us.
My four-year-old son was determined to wheel his carry-on bag himself,
so I turned to the men behind me and said, "You go ahead, this could be
awhile." "No, you go ahead," one of the men replied. He smiled
pleasantly and extended his arm for me to pass. He was young, maybe late
20's and had a goatee. I thanked him and we boarded the plane.
Once on the plane, we took our seats in coach (seats 17A, 17B and 17C).
The man with the yellow shirt and the McDonald's bag sat across the
aisle from us (in seat 17E). The pleasant man with the goatee sat a few
rows back and across the aisle from us (in seat 21E). The rest of the
men were seated throughout the plane, and several made their way to the
back.
As we sat waiting for the plane to finish boarding, we noticed another
large group of Middle Eastern men boarding. The first man wore a dark
suit and sunglasses. He sat in first class in seat 1A, the seat
second-closest to the cockpit door. The other seven men walked into the
coach cabin. As "aware" Americans, my husband and I exchanged glances,
and then continued to get comfortable. I noticed some of the other
passengers paying attention to the situation as well. As boarding
continued, we watched as, one by one, most of the Middle Eastern men
made eye contact with each other. They continued to look at each other
and nod, as if they were all in agreement about something. I could tell
that my husband was beginning to feel "anxious."
The take-off was uneventful. But once we were in the air and the
seatbelt sign was turned off, the unusual activity began. The man in the
yellow T-shirt got out of his seat and went to the lavatory at the front
of coach -- taking his full McDonald's bag with him. When he came out
of the lavatory he still had the McDonald's bag, but it was now almost
empty. He walked down the aisle to the back of the plane, still holding
the bag. When he passed two of the men sitting mid-cabin, he gave a
thumbs-up sign. When he returned to his seat, he no longer had the
McDonald's bag.
Then another man from the group stood up and took something from his
carry-on in the overhead bin. It was about a foot long and was rolled in
cloth. He headed toward the back of the cabin with the object. Five
minutes later, several more of the Middle Eastern men began using the
forward lavatory consecutively. In the back, several of the men stood up
and used the back lavatory consecutively as well.
For the next hour, the men congregated in groups of two and three at
the back of the plane for varying periods of time. Meanwhile, in the
first class cabin, just a foot or so from the cockpit door, the man with
the dark suit - still wearing sunglasses - was also standing. Not one
of the flight crew members suggested that any of these men take their
seats.
Watching all of this, my husband was now beyond "anxious." I decided
to try to reassure my husband (and maybe myself) by walking to the back
bathroom. I knew the goateed-man I had exchanged friendly words with as
we boarded the plane was seated only a few rows back, so I thought I
would say hello to the man to get some reassurance that everything was
fine. As I stood up and turned around, I glanced in his direction and we
made eye contact. I threw out my friendliest
"remember-me-we-had-a-nice-exchange-just-a-short-time-ago" smile. The
man did not smile back. His face did not move. In fact, the cold,
defiant look he gave me sent shivers down my spine.
When I returned to my seat I was unable to assure my husband that all
was well. My husband immediately walked to the first class section to
talk with the flight attendant. "I might be overreacting, but I've been
watching some really suspicious things..." Before he could finish his
statement, the flight attendant pulled him into the galley. In a quiet
voice she explained that they were all concerned about what was going
on. The captain was aware. The flight attendants were passing notes to
each other. She said that there were people on board "higher up than you
and me watching the men." My husband returned to his seat and relayed
this information to me. He was feeling slightly better. I was feeling
much worse. We were now two hours into a four-and-a-half hour flight.
Approximately 10 minutes later, that same flight attendant came by with
the drinks cart. She leaned over and quietly told my husband there were
federal air marshals sitting all around us. She asked him not to tell
anyone and explained that she could be in trouble for giving out that
information. She then continued serving drinks.
About 20 minutes later the same flight attendant returned. Leaning over
and whispering, she asked my husband to write a description of the
yellow-shirted man sitting across from us. She explained it would look
too suspicious if she wrote the information. She asked my husband to
slip the note to her when he was done.
After seeing 14 Middle Eastern men board separately (six together,
eight individually) and then act as a group, watching their unusual
glances, observing their bizarre bathroom activities, watching them
congregate in small groups, knowing that the flight attendants and the
pilots were seriously concerned, and now knowing that federal air
marshals were on board, I was officially terrified. Before I'm labeled a
racial profiler or -- worse yet -- a racist, let me add this. A month
ago I traveled to India to research a magazine article I was writing. My
husband and I flew on a jumbo jet carrying more than 300 Hindu and
Muslim men and women on board. We traveled throughout the country and
stayed in a Muslim village 10 miles outside Pakistan. I never once felt
fearful. I never once felt unsafe. I never once had the feeling that
anyone wanted to hurt me. This time was different.
Finally, the captain announced that the plane was cleared for landing.
It had been four hours since we left Detroit. The fasten seat belt light
came on and I could see downtown Los Angeles. The flight attendants made
one final sweep of the cabin and strapped themselves in for landing. I
began to relax. Home was in sight.
Suddenly, seven of the men stood up -- in unison -- and walked to the
front and back lavatories. One by one, they went into the two
lavatories, each spending about four minutes inside. Right in front of
us, two men stood up against the emergency exit door, waiting for the
lavatory to become available. The men spoke in Arabic among themselves
and to the man in the yellow shirt sitting nearby. One of the men took
his camera into the lavatory. Another took his cell phone. Again, no one
approached the men. Not one of the flight attendants asked them to sit
down. I watched as the man in the yellow shirt, still in his seat,
reached inside his shirt and pulled out a small red book. He read a few
pages, then put the book back inside his shirt. He pulled the book out
again, read a page or two more, and put it back. He continued to do
this several more times.
I looked around to see if any other passengers were watching. I
immediately spotted a distraught couple seated two rows back. The woman
was crying into the man's shoulder. He was holding her hand. I heard
him say to her, "You've got to calm down." Behind them sat the once
pleasant-smiling, goatee-wearing man.
I grabbed my son, I held my husband's hand and, despite the fact that I
am not a particularly religious person, I prayed. The last man came out
of the bathroom, and as he passed the man in the yellow shirt he ran his
forefinger across his neck and mouthed the word "No."
The plane landed. My husband and I gathered our bags and quickly, very
quickly, walked up the jetway. As we exited the jetway and entered the
airport, we saw many, many men in dark suits. A few yards further out
into the terminal, LAPD agents ran past us, heading for the gate. I
have since learned that the representatives of the Federal Bureau of
Investigation (FBI), the Los Angeles Police Department (LAPD), the
Federal Air Marshals (FAM), and the Transportation Security Association
(TSA) met our plane as it landed. Several men -- who I presume were the
federal air marshals on board -- hurried off the plane and directed the
14 men over to the side.
Knowing what we knew, and seeing what we'd seen, my husband and I
decided to talk to the authorities. For several hours my husband and I
were interrogated by the FBI. We gave sworn statement after sworn
statement. We wrote down every detail of our account. The interrogators
seemed especially interested in the McDonald's bag, so we repeated in
detail what we knew about the McDonald's bag. A law enforcement official
stood near us, holding 14 Syrian passports in his hand. We answered more
questions. And finally we went home.
http://www.snopes.com/politics/crime/skyterror.asp
Quote: Terror in the Skies, Again?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
By Annie Jacobsen
A WWS Exclusive Article
Note from the E-ditors: You are about to read an account of what
happened during a domestic flight that one of our writers, Annie
Jacobsen, took from Detroit to Los Angeles. The WWS Editorial Team
debated long and hard about how to handle this information and
ultimately we decided it was something that should be shared. What does
it have to do with finances? Nothing, and everything. Here is Annie's
story.
On June 29, 2004, at 12:28 p.m., I flew on Northwest Airlines flight
#327 from Detroit to Los Angeles with my husband and our young son.
Also on our flight were 14 Middle Eastern men between the ages of
approximately 20 and 50 years old. What I experienced during that
flight has caused me to question whether the United States of America
can realistically uphold the civil liberties of every individual, even
non-citizens, and protect its citizens from terrorist threats.
On that Tuesday, our journey began uneventfully. Starting out that
morning in Providence, Rhode Island, we went through security screening,
flew to Detroit, and passed the time waiting for our connecting flight
to Los Angeles by shopping at the airport stores and eating lunch at an
airport diner. With no second security check required in Detroit we
headed to our gate and waited for the pre-boarding announcement.
Standing near us, also waiting to pre-board, was a group of six Middle
Eastern men. They were carrying blue passports with Arabic writing. Two
men wore tracksuits with Arabic writing across the back. Two carried
musical instrument cases - thin, flat, 18" long. One wore a yellow
T-shirt and held a McDonald's bag. And the sixth man had a bad leg -- he
wore an orthopedic shoe and limped. When the pre-boarding announcement
was made, we handed our tickets to the Northwest Airlines agent, and
walked down the jetway with the group of men directly behind us.
My four-year-old son was determined to wheel his carry-on bag himself,
so I turned to the men behind me and said, "You go ahead, this could be
awhile." "No, you go ahead," one of the men replied. He smiled
pleasantly and extended his arm for me to pass. He was young, maybe late
20's and had a goatee. I thanked him and we boarded the plane.
Once on the plane, we took our seats in coach (seats 17A, 17B and 17C).
The man with the yellow shirt and the McDonald's bag sat across the
aisle from us (in seat 17E). The pleasant man with the goatee sat a few
rows back and across the aisle from us (in seat 21E). The rest of the
men were seated throughout the plane, and several made their way to the
back.
As we sat waiting for the plane to finish boarding, we noticed another
large group of Middle Eastern men boarding. The first man wore a dark
suit and sunglasses. He sat in first class in seat 1A, the seat
second-closest to the cockpit door. The other seven men walked into the
coach cabin. As "aware" Americans, my husband and I exchanged glances,
and then continued to get comfortable. I noticed some of the other
passengers paying attention to the situation as well. As boarding
continued, we watched as, one by one, most of the Middle Eastern men
made eye contact with each other. They continued to look at each other
and nod, as if they were all in agreement about something. I could tell
that my husband was beginning to feel "anxious."
The take-off was uneventful. But once we were in the air and the
seatbelt sign was turned off, the unusual activity began. The man in the
yellow T-shirt got out of his seat and went to the lavatory at the front
of coach -- taking his full McDonald's bag with him. When he came out
of the lavatory he still had the McDonald's bag, but it was now almost
empty. He walked down the aisle to the back of the plane, still holding
the bag. When he passed two of the men sitting mid-cabin, he gave a
thumbs-up sign. When he returned to his seat, he no longer had the
McDonald's bag.
Then another man from the group stood up and took something from his
carry-on in the overhead bin. It was about a foot long and was rolled in
cloth. He headed toward the back of the cabin with the object. Five
minutes later, several more of the Middle Eastern men began using the
forward lavatory consecutively. In the back, several of the men stood up
and used the back lavatory consecutively as well.
For the next hour, the men congregated in groups of two and three at
the back of the plane for varying periods of time. Meanwhile, in the
first class cabin, just a foot or so from the cockpit door, the man with
the dark suit - still wearing sunglasses - was also standing. Not one
of the flight crew members suggested that any of these men take their
seats.
Watching all of this, my husband was now beyond "anxious." I decided
to try to reassure my husband (and maybe myself) by walking to the back
bathroom. I knew the goateed-man I had exchanged friendly words with as
we boarded the plane was seated only a few rows back, so I thought I
would say hello to the man to get some reassurance that everything was
fine. As I stood up and turned around, I glanced in his direction and we
made eye contact. I threw out my friendliest
"remember-me-we-had-a-nice-exchange-just-a-short-time-ago" smile. The
man did not smile back. His face did not move. In fact, the cold,
defiant look he gave me sent shivers down my spine.
When I returned to my seat I was unable to assure my husband that all
was well. My husband immediately walked to the first class section to
talk with the flight attendant. "I might be overreacting, but I've been
watching some really suspicious things..." Before he could finish his
statement, the flight attendant pulled him into the galley. In a quiet
voice she explained that they were all concerned about what was going
on. The captain was aware. The flight attendants were passing notes to
each other. She said that there were people on board "higher up than you
and me watching the men." My husband returned to his seat and relayed
this information to me. He was feeling slightly better. I was feeling
much worse. We were now two hours into a four-and-a-half hour flight.
Approximately 10 minutes later, that same flight attendant came by with
the drinks cart. She leaned over and quietly told my husband there were
federal air marshals sitting all around us. She asked him not to tell
anyone and explained that she could be in trouble for giving out that
information. She then continued serving drinks.
About 20 minutes later the same flight attendant returned. Leaning over
and whispering, she asked my husband to write a description of the
yellow-shirted man sitting across from us. She explained it would look
too suspicious if she wrote the information. She asked my husband to
slip the note to her when he was done.
After seeing 14 Middle Eastern men board separately (six together,
eight individually) and then act as a group, watching their unusual
glances, observing their bizarre bathroom activities, watching them
congregate in small groups, knowing that the flight attendants and the
pilots were seriously concerned, and now knowing that federal air
marshals were on board, I was officially terrified. Before I'm labeled a
racial profiler or -- worse yet -- a racist, let me add this. A month
ago I traveled to India to research a magazine article I was writing. My
husband and I flew on a jumbo jet carrying more than 300 Hindu and
Muslim men and women on board. We traveled throughout the country and
stayed in a Muslim village 10 miles outside Pakistan. I never once felt
fearful. I never once felt unsafe. I never once had the feeling that
anyone wanted to hurt me. This time was different.
Finally, the captain announced that the plane was cleared for landing.
It had been four hours since we left Detroit. The fasten seat belt light
came on and I could see downtown Los Angeles. The flight attendants made
one final sweep of the cabin and strapped themselves in for landing. I
began to relax. Home was in sight.
Suddenly, seven of the men stood up -- in unison -- and walked to the
front and back lavatories. One by one, they went into the two
lavatories, each spending about four minutes inside. Right in front of
us, two men stood up against the emergency exit door, waiting for the
lavatory to become available. The men spoke in Arabic among themselves
and to the man in the yellow shirt sitting nearby. One of the men took
his camera into the lavatory. Another took his cell phone. Again, no one
approached the men. Not one of the flight attendants asked them to sit
down. I watched as the man in the yellow shirt, still in his seat,
reached inside his shirt and pulled out a small red book. He read a few
pages, then put the book back inside his shirt. He pulled the book out
again, read a page or two more, and put it back. He continued to do
this several more times.
I looked around to see if any other passengers were watching. I
immediately spotted a distraught couple seated two rows back. The woman
was crying into the man's shoulder. He was holding her hand. I heard
him say to her, "You've got to calm down." Behind them sat the once
pleasant-smiling, goatee-wearing man.
I grabbed my son, I held my husband's hand and, despite the fact that I
am not a particularly religious person, I prayed. The last man came out
of the bathroom, and as he passed the man in the yellow shirt he ran his
forefinger across his neck and mouthed the word "No."
The plane landed. My husband and I gathered our bags and quickly, very
quickly, walked up the jetway. As we exited the jetway and entered the
airport, we saw many, many men in dark suits. A few yards further out
into the terminal, LAPD agents ran past us, heading for the gate. I
have since learned that the representatives of the Federal Bureau of
Investigation (FBI), the Los Angeles Police Department (LAPD), the
Federal Air Marshals (FAM), and the Transportation Security Association
(TSA) met our plane as it landed. Several men -- who I presume were the
federal air marshals on board -- hurried off the plane and directed the
14 men over to the side.
Knowing what we knew, and seeing what we'd seen, my husband and I
decided to talk to the authorities. For several hours my husband and I
were interrogated by the FBI. We gave sworn statement after sworn
statement. We wrote down every detail of our account. The interrogators
seemed especially interested in the McDonald's bag, so we repeated in
detail what we knew about the McDonald's bag. A law enforcement official
stood near us, holding 14 Syrian passports in his hand. We answered more
questions. And finally we went home.
