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<a href="http://www.spiegel.de/international/0,1518,472495,00.html">
http://www.spiegel.de/international/0,1518,472495,00.html</a><br><br>
<b>Der Spiegel<br><br>
</font><h5><b>March 19, 2007<br><br>
<br>
</b></h5><h4><b>RENDITIONS VICTIM SPEAKS OUT<br><br>
<br>
</b></h4><h3><b>CIA Kidnapping Leaves Ex-Terror Suspect a Broken
Man</b></h3><font size=3>By
<a href="mailto:matthias_gebauer@spiegel.de">Matthias Gebauer</a> in
Alexandria, Egypt<br><br>
Radical imam Abu Omar was kidnapped by the CIA in Milan four years ago
and taken to a prison in Egypt. There, he was tormented with electric
shocks and suspended from the ceiling for days on end. Now Omar describes
his ordeal and the role Germany played in the scandal.<br><br>
Osama Hussein Nasr comes downstairs to show the way to his house in
Alexandria, which is difficult to find amidst the chaos of narrow alleys
with their open sewers. Suddenly he's standing there, in front of a small
café -- a diminutive man with a long, scruffy beard and a round white cap
on his head. After a brief handshake, the man better known as Abu Omar
urges us to follow him back upstairs. It's better to talk there, he says:
"They're everywhere down here on the street, the security
people."<br><br>
Abu Omar isn't allowed to receive visits from Western journalists. He
says his "friends" -- the Egyptian authorities -- have
"strongly advised" him to observe this prohibition. Abu Omar is
nervous. The 46-year-old was released from jail on Feb. 11 and has been
free, at least officially, ever since. The authorities have dropped all
charges against him. Nevertheless, he is violating his orders by meeting
with us. "I have two options," he says. "Either I can keep
quiet, do what I'm told and live a quiet life -- or I can tell my story
to the world and risk running into a lot of problems." <br><br>
He keeps looking over his shoulder throughout the few meters it takes to
get to his decrepit apartment house in a side alley. He has to watch his
back: The men lurking behind hookahs, the street vendors, the men
loitering around -- any one of them could be a policeman. "I'm under
surveillance around the clock," Abu Omar says. "To them, I'm a
walking risk factor." But his decision, preceded by lengthy
negotiations with his lawyer in Cairo, now stands. Abu Omar wants to talk
-- "no matter what the consequences for me will be." As his
lawyer puts it: The world must be told "the truth."<br><br>
Abu Omar's story is at the center of one of the most dubious CIA
operations to be conducted since the Sept. 11, 2001 terrorist attacks. On
Feb. 17, 2003, agents employed by the US foreign intelligence agency
kidnapped the radical imam right off the street in the center of the
Italian city of Milan. The imam was certainly no docile pacifist: For
years he had preached messages of hate against the United States to
fundamentalist Muslims in Milan. He fought in Afghanistan himself, and
he's said to have encouraged young recruits of jihad to do the same. To
the Italians, Abu Omar was one of the big fish, and his arrest was
imminent. But for the CIA he was a target, and the US terrorist hunters
didn't want to wait for the rule of law to complete its course. They
wanted men like Omar to be taken out of circulation as quickly and
quietly as possible.<br><br>
Omar's kidnappers flew him to Cairo, back to his home country, using one
of the CIA's Learjets -- planes that have since become notorious for
their role in clandestinely shuttling suspected terrorists through Europe
on their way to third countries that often permitted torture to extract
confessions and information. The plan was for the Egyptian intelligence
agency's unscrupulous interrogators to extract as much information out of
Omar as possible. <br><br>
<b>The trail of a government kidnapping</b> <br><br>
Egypt complied with its ally's request. If what Abu Omar says is true,
what began for him on the other side of the Mediterranean was an
experience of martyrdom reminiscent of the darkest days of Latin American
dictatorships: Omar's torturers, whom he describes as "vassals of
the United States," connected electrodes to his genitalia to make
him talk. They almost drove him insane by playing loud music. He says he
still can't control his bladder today. As evidence, he reveals small
black spots on his skin, burns from the electric shocks.<br><br>
The investigators didn't extract any useful information from Abu Omar --
and instead the operation became a disaster for the CIA. There is not a
single case of the agency's kidnappings -- known as
"renditions" in the jargon of its employees -- that is better
documented than that of Abu Omar. After finding the passports of the
agents involved as well as their enormous restaurant expense claims, and
tracing their phones calls, the Milan prosecutor ultimately moved to file
charges against the kidnappers. The main trial proceedings are set to
start in June. And even if the 26 CIA agents charged in the case don't
appear in the dock, the trial is still expected to be a highly
uncomfortable affair for many parties. That includes the Italian
government, which is seeking to put the brakes on the trial using the
country's highest court. <br><br>
Abu Omar breathes heavily at the top of the four flights of stairs to his
three-room apartment, like an old man. As soon as he's inside, he
immediately bolts the door and pulls the curtains shut. Groaning, he
drops onto one of the simple, gold-dyed armchairs in the tiny living
room, illuminated by the cold light from a neon tube on the ceiling.
"I feel like an old man," the 46-year-old says. "Every
movement hurts my back, and my joints are still sore from being
constantly restrained in prison." His release from jail may have
been a "gift from God," but his life has been left in ruins and
it is unlikely he will ever be able to put it back together, he says.
<br><br>
Indeed, there's not much left of the man Italian intelligence dossiers
describe as a fundamentalist Muslim agitator and a fiery advocate of
jihad. Abu Omar sits in the cramped, corridor-like apartment with his
veiled wife Nabila and his son Mohammed. His brother pays the rent. Egypt
has banned Abu Omar from preaching in the country, but it's the only
profession he knows. "My only diversion is the walk to a little
mosque. Apart from that, I just sit here all day," he says.<br><br>
<b>"I knew right away that something was wrong"</b> <br><br>
Images from Italy are flashing on the small TV set -- another report on
the trial against the CIA's terrorist hunters. Abu Omar begins telling
his story. He can remember the late morning of Feb. 17, 2003 well. It
seemed like it would be a day just like any other. He was on the way to
his mosque, located just a few minutes from his apartment. Suddenly a man
in a red Fiat spoke to him. The man said he was from the police and asked
for his papers. "I knew right away that something was wrong, but it
all happened very, very quickly," Abu Omar says. The operation had
began.<br><br>
A moment after he had been asked to present his papers, Abu Omar felt the
hands of two brawny men on his body. "They grabbed me from behind
and dragged me into a white delivery van, then beat me," he recalls.
"I thought they were going to kill me." He says he only got a
quick glimpse of the "hulks," as he calls them. He says they
quickly pulled a hat over his head and tied his hands with plastic cuffs.
Abu Omar lay gasping in the van's cargo bay as it sped off, tires
squeaking, in the direction of the US air base at Aviano, about two hours
from Milan by car.<br><br>
<br>
"It was a sunny midday on Feb. 17, 2003. I was on the way from my
apartment to the mosque, which was only about a kilometer (0.6 miles)
away. There was nothing unusual to be seen. I walked through Via Guerzoni
as usual, past small stores. The only thing that attracted my attention
was a white delivery van by the side of the road, which I had never seen
there before. My wife and I had already suspected for some time that we
were under surveillance. Cars kept following us, or at least we thought
so. Also, the phone often rang at home and in the mosque, and no one
could be heard on the other line when we replied. We assumed the Italian
intelligence agency was observing us because I often ranted against the
Americans and the imminent war against Iraq."
<a href="http://www.spiegel.de/international/0,1518,472565,00.html">
mehr...</a> <br>
Robert Seldon Lady is the former bureau chief of the CIA in Milan. He
wanted to retire to Penango, after 24 years with the agency. But now he's
roaming about instead. He was in Florida last, but he's said to already
have moved on. His wife has left him. The only place where the former
agent can feel truly safe is the United States, now that an Italian court
has issued an arrest warrant for him - as it has done for 25 of his
colleagues.
<a href="http://www.spiegel.de/international/0,1518,472537,00.html">
mehr...</a> <br><br>
When Abu Omar speaks, his voice fails. "I was completely at their
mercy," he stutters. He only saw his kidnappers once, at the airport
in Aviano. "They stood me on my feet, cut my clothes off and put a
diaper on me," he remembers. "I saw eight men in beige military
uniforms and face masks." Within the space of a second, a camera
flashed, and then his head was wrapped in duct tape. He wouldn't be able
to identify any of the men he saw. "They knew exactly what they were
doing," he insists.<br><br>
He had no inkling of where the men were taking him. He was dropped
roughly onto the floor of an airplane that took off soon after. His
hearing was impaired by a headset placed over his ears, but he could
still sense in his stomach that he was in a plane. The kidnappers treated
him like an animal, he alleges. "Their only concern was that I did
not die," he says. Earlier, in the white mini-van, the men suddenly
broke into a panic, afraid Abu Omar might die. "They shouted wildly,
one even inspected my pupils," he says excitedly. Later, in the
airplane, they kicked him when he spat out the water they funneled into
his mouth.<br><br>
<b>"I would have told them anything"</b> <br><br>
When the airplane doors opened about eight hours later, Abu Omar felt the
muggy heat and heard a muezzin announce the morning prayer somewhere in
the distance. His feet restraints were loosened and he was led down the
gangway, still blindfolded. "Someone called out to me in Arabic to
come down," the imam remembers. "That was when I knew I must be
back in Egypt." Still blindfolded, he was taken by car to the
headquarters of the Egyptian intelligence agency in the center of
Cairo.<br><br>
Even today, Abu Omar still doesn't understood what the agents actually
wanted from him. First they asked him whether he wanted to spy on
fundamentalist Muslims in Milan for them. He refused repeatedly and was
placed in solitary confinement. He was suspended from the wall with his
hands restrained for several days. "I was interrogated, blindfolded,
again and again. They kept asking who I knew and whether I knew anything
about plans for terrorist operations," he said. But according to his
own account, he didn't have any information to give, nor did he tell them
anything. <br><br>
Then came the electric shocks. Abu Omar is embarrassed to talk about
them. He doesn't like having to recollect that he "begged for mercy
because of the pain" when electrodes were attached to his genitals
and other body parts. "I would have told them anything, but I didn't
know what they wanted to hear," he says. Still the interrogators
continued to torture him every few days until he lost consciousness.
Once, he says, someone whispered to him that Egypt had nothing against
him and that he was being held purely because of the United States. It
would be better for him to cooperate, the person said, otherwise the
torture would continue.<br><br>
<>But Abu Omar was, in fact, a problem for Egypt. The authorities
released him one year after the kidnapping -- on the condition that he
speak neither about the kidnapping nor about his time in prison. But the
imam immediately made phone calls to Italy, speaking to his wife and
friends. The police, who had long wanted to find out more about Abu
Omar's disappearance, had wiretapped the phone lines. Ultimately his
brief release from jail turned out to be counterproductive for his
captors, since the phone calls provided Italian legal authorities with
proof that Abu Omar had in fact been kidnapped.<br><br>
<b>"Germany certainly shares responsibility"<br><br>
</b>It didn't take more than a few days before Egyptian police had hauled
the imam back to jail. And though it may have been a normal jail this
time, they still put him in solitary confinement. "The first thing
they did was punish me because I had talked," Abu Omar says. Once
again, he was tortured with electric shocks and loud music was played,
preventing him from sleeping for days. But one thing changed: He was no
longer interrogated. He says he was suddenly presented with offers such
as being given $2 million and a US passport. Still, it's impossible to
verify whether the claim is true -- a fact he is himself aware
of.<br><br>
The reasons for Abu Omar's release in February remain a mystery -- even
to his attorney. Abu Omar's lawyer is devoting much of his time to
pressing legal charges, despite the danger of Abu Omar being incarcerated
again. A lawsuit against the CIA, which kidnapped his client, is certain.
But the lawyer also found plenty of incriminating information against
Italy in the case files. Italy's intelligence agency, the SISMI, seems to
have known about the CIA's plans, at least on the operative level, and
some of its employees seem to have been involved in the kidnapping. And
so the lawyer is requesting no less than $20 million from Rome and
Washington.<br><br>
Abu Omar has found another guilty party. Abu Omar experienced his drama
with blindfolded eyes, but the news he can explore on the Internet each
day has helped shed light for him on a number of facts in the case. While
surfing the Internet, he became aware of the US military base in
Ramstein, Germany, where the plane that took him to Cairo made a brief
stopover. "Germany certainly shares responsibility for what happened
to me. After all, the German government allowed the CIA jet to land in
Ramstein and then fly on," he says in a resolute voice. "All
those who did nothing to prevent the CIA's activities abetted
them."<br><br>
<b>Preparing for the next arrest</b> <br><br>
Abu Omar's lawyer is still in the process of making concrete plans about
which steps to take next. For now, he wants to fly to Milan and inspect
more of the trial records. Back home in Alexandria, Abu Omar is well
aware that any statements he makes about his kidnapping could quickly
land him back in jail. Egyptian authorities have little interest in
further light being shed on the case -- nor does the Arab country, with
its deep dependence on the United States, want to see any legal action
against the CIA. "From their point of view, it would probably be
best if I just disappeared somewhere," he says.<br><br>
Of course, the imam knows that meeting with Western journalists and his
critical statements on the Egyptian government could have serious
consequences. <br><br>
"Look here, next to the door," he says as his visitors are
about to leave. "There's a little bag with a few clothes." His
wife Nabila packed the dufflebag for the next trip to prison, he says.
"Let me know before you publish the story," he calls after us
as we walk down the staircase. "That way I can prepare for the visit
from the police."<br><br>
<br><br>
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