Tass Saada - The Mind of Terror: A Former Muslim Sniper Explores What Motivates ISIS and Other Extremist Groups

T HE MOMENT THE FIRST PLANE HIT the World Trade Center, I knew.

Stunned eyewitnesses and newscasters wondered if there had been a terrible breakdown in air traffic control. But I knew without a doubt that radical Islam had come to the United States.

For the previous nine months, God had been impressing upon me that I should travel, share my testimony, and warn people that Islamic extremism was at our doorstep. I had spoken to large congregations and to small groups in living rooms. I have to admit that not many listeners took me seriously. Most thought it could never happen here.

Then came September 11. All the false security disappeared. Within hours, it became known that the hijackers were Middle Eastern Muslims. And here I was, an Arab living in the United States. If you think you were shocked and distraught that day, you should have been in my shoes.

What will happen to us? I worried. How will this affect my wife, our two children? What do our friends think about us now? They all know that I come from a Muslim background. In fact, the FBI probably has that figured out too.

For the next few days, I didnt want to talk to a lot of people. I was too angry and upset over how this would disrupt my life and the safety of my family. I secluded myself, just watching the nonstop news on TV. I couldnt figure out how to react, what to say.

Near the end of that week, I had to go on a speaking trip, leaving my family at home in northeast Missouri, where we served with Heartland Ministries, a Christian farm and school for troubled teens and adults with addiction issues. While I was away, sure enough the FBI came knocking. Not finding me, the agent from nearby Kirksville interrogated Karen, my wife, and Farah, our twenty-four-year-old daughter. He spent a half hour asking who I was, what I did, what my connections were. Then came the bombshell:

Mrs. Abu Saada, weve had a report that your husband is friends with Osama bin Laden...

Karen gasped, then laughed nervously. Really?

Yes, the agent said soberly. Is that true?

Karen shook her head and began to explain: More than thirty-five years ago, when Tass was a boy, his father did business with Muhammad bin Laden, Osamas father, back in Saudi Arabia. Tasss father had an auto body repair shop, and he used to fix the bin Laden cars. So yes, the boy came along to the shop one day, and they met. But that was all.

The agent kept taking notes, then replied, Okay. Im sorry, maam, but we have to follow up on every lead we receive. Heres my card; have your husband call me, please.

We didnt know exactly which neighbor in the area had given the FBI this tip. But of course, I had told my life story to public audiences more than a few times. So I called the agent as requested. I said, Hello, this is Tass Abu Saada; my wife said you wanted to hear from me.

Thank you for following up, he said in a polite manner.

I figured I might as well confirm what he probably already knew. Yes, its true that I was born and raised in a Muslim family in the Middle East, I admitted. Yes, Im a former terrorist I fought with al-Fatah, Yasser Arafats militia, as a teenager. Yes, even before that, I met Osama bin Laden once in my fathers garage when I was about nine years old. Odd little kid, I thought he hardly said a word. But can I claim today that I know him? Thats hes my friend? No way. It was a one-time encounter, and thats all.

I took a breath and then continued. I came to this country in 1974, settled down, got a green card, got a job, got married, became a father. Im as upset about what happened last week as any other American.

Thats okay, the agent said. Ive been checking you out, and everything matches up. Dont worry; when you get back in the area, give me a call, and maybe well get together for a cup of coffee.

Whew. That was nice to hear. But it didnt mean I could totally relax. I knew I was still being scrutinized by people on every side.

Three or four months later, I got an e-mail from an address I didnt recognize. The subject line in the header caught my attention immediately. It read, The Time Has Come. It Is Ripe and then there was a little icon of a bomb!

Who sent this? And why did they send it to me?

I didnt dare open the actual e-mail. I picked up the phone and called my FBI contact. I read the subject line to him and then said, Should I just delete this, or what?