Barbara K. Janik - Chasing bin Laden: My Hunt for the Worlds Most Notorious Terrorist

COPYRIGHT

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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Copyright 2021 Barbara Janik

For information about permission to reproduce sections from this book, write to .

This book is a work of nonfiction based on my actual experiences. However, some events have been compressed, and some dialogue has been recreated. All major interactions with the FBI and media are exactly as I remember them. Names and identifying details of individuals mentioned in the book, aside from my own, have been changed. Any similarities between these fictional names and details and those of real individuals are strictly coincidental. Nevertheless, all AboveTopSecret.com usernames and comments appear as they originally were so that you can readily find them online.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020907837

ISBN 9781734978902

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For all victims of terrorism, living and deceased, especially those who have suffered at the hands of Osama bin Laden. We have not forgotten.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

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To say writing this book was hard would be a gross understatement. It took an emotional toll that lasted throughout my entire six-year process. I would often spend weeks at a time avoiding the work because reliving the events from 2006 and beyond was so incredibly painful. And when Id finally make myself write, it would sometimes cause so much mental anguish that Id find myself figuratively crying on my editors shoulder during critique sessions. But over the years, with great effort, I managed to muddle through my anxiety and sorrow and complete this memoir.

I would like to add that because of the unusual nature of my story, many people have criticized it, calling it a work of fiction or an urban myth. But thanks to some clever planning and a little bit of luck, I have retained copies of all the phone and email records of my frequent communications with the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI). These documents establish a timeline of my exchanges with the Houston, New York, Texas City, Washington, DC, and other branches.

Anticipating my book launch, I have uploaded these files to my website for public scrutiny. Also on my site is the transcript of a thread from an online forum. for anyone who prefers to read it in its original format. You will find that my statements in the thread are consistent with my current narrative.

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Please visit to download or view copies of phone, email, and message board records. These chronicle my communications with the FBI and my early efforts to share my story. Links to most articles and resources cited in this book can also be found there.

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I was up most of the night again, with little to comfort me but a large chocolate milkshake from Whataburger. I was starting to see double as I strained to focus on my flickering, tube-type monitor. I had to keep going. Peoples lives were at stake. I was beyond exhausted, but I was the only one who could do the workthe only one who could follow my system for finding terrorists.

Finally, when my eyes were burning and the words began to jump around on the screen, I had no choice but to stop. I couldnt read any longer. I couldnt focus. The room was dark and cool, and bed sounded nice.

But could I sleep?

I took two sleeping pills and collapsed, fully clothed, on my side of the double bed. As I lay flat on my back, my body sank heavily into the mattress.

Curling a pillow behind my head and under my neck, I felt some sweet relief from my mounting headache. Then, as I pulled a light cover over my body, my heart began to pound quickly, and my breathing became rapid. Instead of decompressing, I began to worry. What if the sleeping pills wouldnt help? They had to help this time. I desperately needed rest.

Without rest, I couldnt complete my work. Without rest, I wouldnt be able to think straight or maintain my pace. More importantly, I was terrified that without sleep, I would lose my mind.

I had to sleep. I had to.

Slowly my thoughts changed direction, and for what felt like an eternity, my mind mulled over the latest case. I was still working, even as my body began to shut down.

Eventually, my breath began to slow, and my head was filled with splashes of colorful geometrical shapes.

Finally

Sleep was coming.

Thank goodness

About an hour into my slumber, at around 4:15 a.m., I spontaneously woke up and for the first time in my life, experienced what could only be described as a moment of clairvoyance.

Feeling ecstatic, I leaned over my partner, Nicki, who was sleeping on her back. I kissed her passionately on her soft, warm lips, then fervently uttered, You know we got Osama bin Laden, right? A split second later, I rolled back over, glanced at the clock, and immediately fell back asleep.

Several hours later, the kiss forgotten, my daily routine started over again. I woke up, bleary-eyed, and began working one of my cases by making a barrage of phone calls. I was too entranced to even bother with breakfast. Nearly two hours later, my thoughts returned to RewardsForJustice.net, the government website that listed all of the FBIs most wanted terrorists. I stared at the screen, scouring a short list, uncertain of whom to go after next. This time Id ask for an opinion.

I flung open my black Nokia flip phone and called the New York FBI. I got through on the third try.

As usual, I introduced myself to the screener as the person who was calling in the Brooklyn tips and asked to speak with the Terrorism Task Force. My call was transferred at 10:34 a.m., on August 16, 2006.

The agent who answered the phone had a mid-ranged, boisterous New York accent. After introducing myself, I confidently stated, I just want to ask you which terrorist I should go after next.

But instead of advising me, he greeted me with a playful tone.

My stomach sank as a flood of anxiety washed over me. My mind began to spin. Why did he sound playful? This was odd. FBI agents were usually so humorless.

Did something happen?

Did he know something?

I hesitated, stammering, unsure what to say next. But before I could shift into a full panic, a different agent with a deeper voice and thicker New York accent hollered exuberantly from the background.

Is that the Green Lady?

My mind started racing. What was that supposed to mean? Why did I have a nickname? It was clear by his tone that it was a term of endearment, but

Before I had a chance to really process my new nickname, the duty agent on the phone replied loudly and with gusto, Yeah! (Its the Green Lady.)

Then the noise in the background was suddenly amplified as I was placed on speakerphone. At that moment, I could hear what sounded like at least a half-dozen male agents cheering and applauding.

The second agent hollered gleefully, this time addressing me directly. Ya got the lotto picks?

Confused by the question, I answered in a humorless tone, No. Why would you think I?

For a few minutes, I struggled to continue my friendly banter with the energetic group of federal agents. I was clueless about how to react. I was utterly dumbfounded by the situation and couldnt quite wrap my brain around what was happening.