Bus on Jaffa Road

by Mike Kelly

  As he had done with other witnesses, Fay concluded by asking what Arline would like to see happen with her lawsuit as “the end result.”

  “This is not something I came to right away,” Arline said. “It took months and months to really decide to do this.”

  But she said she harbored a fundamental hope: “that the killing of innocent people” could stop.

  “If some people’s lives are saved,” Arline said, “if some of the terrorism can stop, if somebody has to pay such a high price for this that it’s just not worth it, then that’s fine. That’s good enough.”

  Three weeks later, the families gathered again in Judge Lamberth’s courtroom. Tom Fay stepped forward. For days after the testimony of Arline, Vicki, and Len and their children, along with the other testimony—including Hassan Salameh’s own words in his confession—Fay struggled to summarize what had been said during the trial and how best to convey the pain of the families he represented and the obstacles they faced in merely coming to Lamberth’s courtroom.

  He began by mentioning the Declaration of Independence and how Thomas Jefferson “spoke of unalienable rights, among which he listed first, the right to life itself.”

  “Two hundred and twenty years after Jefferson wrote those words,” said Fay, “the Congress enacted the anti-terrorism” law that was the basis of the Duker-Eisenfeld lawsuit.

  Fay mentioned that the new law was “an attempt by Congress to discharge its duty to secure those rights against international terrorism” and “a response to the failure” of the White House “to exercise its vast powers against a growing tide of international terrorism.”

  Then he turned his attention to Matt and Sara and how their personal stories—and dreams of a life together—were at the heart of the lawsuit before Judge Lamberth.

  Matt and Sara, said Fay, “are the classical victims of terrorism. Terrorism is distinguished by the selection of innocent victims, instead of opponents in arms.”

  But he pointed out that “a common thread runs through” the lawsuits that he and Steve Perles had filed on behalf of Matt, Sara, and Alisa Flatow.

  “All were distinguished by their sympathy for the very people that the national instigator of terrorism, Iran, was supposedly assisting,” Fay said. “None was, in any way, a threat to the terrorist leaders, the Palestinian people, or Iran.”

  “While Sara Duker waded through bogs trying to unlock the mysteries of microorganisms to protect the environment, Hassan Salameh was being trained by the agents of the defendants and learning how to extract explosives from land mines,” Fay said. “While Matt Eisenfeld reached out to a child lest the child feel left out, Hassan Salameh reached out to a child to spread the malignancy of hate without concern for the life of the young boy he enticed into suicide and murder.”

  A few days earlier, Palestinian authorities announced that they had arrested Mohammed Deif, the Hamas commander who ordered Hassan Salameh to carry out the Jaffa Road bombing—and who had also been linked to the plot that resulted in Alisa Flatow’s death. But merely being arrested by Palestinians, said Fay, was no guarantee that Deif would be prosecuted. As Fay noted, US Justice Department officials had still not tried to extradite any suspected Palestinian terrorists for trial in America. He felt Deif’s extradition was highly unlikely.

  “There is no reason to think that he will be prosecuted by the Clinton administration,” Fay told Judge Lamberth, adding that lawsuits like those by Flatow, Duker, and Eisenfeld “are the only remedy available to the victims of Iranian terrorism.”

  Fay then addressed the politics that had increasingly whirled around Stephen Flatow’s lawsuit and his attempt to collect on the damages that Lamberth had ordered Iran to pay. If Lamberth had any thought about holding back on ruling in favor of the Duker and Eisenfeld families, Fay wanted to dissuade him.

  “Our clients, counsel, and, of course, this court are fully aware that President Clinton has mounted an unprecedented effort intended to protect the assets of the defendant, the Islamic Republic of Iran, and essentially nullify any judgment of this court,” Fay said. “I note for the record that on our last visit to this courtroom in the Flatow case, I counted fourteen lawyers, headed up by the deputy assistant attorney general of the United States, sent by the Clinton administration in defense of Iranian assets.”

  “We recognize that this court does not have unlimited power,” Fay added, “but I say to the court for these families: Give us the tools in the form of a judgment, which, if enforced over the opposition of President Clinton, will deter Iran, and we will go up the hill or up through the courts or do whatever else is necessary, to the full extent of our resources and ability to get the job done and stop the killing.”

  Seven weeks later, Judge Lamberth ordered Iran to pay $327 million to the Duker and Eisenfeld families.

  Reporting on Lamberth’s ruling, the New York Times noted that it “may be largely symbolic” because of the Clinton administration’s continued efforts to block any attempt by victims’ families to place legal claims on Iran’s financial and real estate assets in the US.

  In the final lines of his 4,400-word ruling, Lamberth decided to send a message to the White House. He began by mentioning Steve Flatow and his fight with the Clinton administration to collect on his $247 million judgment.

  “The court views with considerable dismay the fact that the rule of law is being frustrated in that case,” Lamberth declared. “Nevertheless, the court can not shrink from its duty to declare the applicable law in this case and must express its conviction that ultimately this judgment will not be a mere Pyrrhic victory for the Eisenfeld and Duker families. Their courage and steadfastness in pursuing this litigation, and their efforts to do something to deter more tragic deaths and suffering of innocent Americans at the hands of these terrorists, are to be commended and admired.”

  Speaking to reporters afterwards, Arline Duker described Lamberth’s ruling as “a $327 million weapon against Iran’s use of terrorism to conduct foreign policy.” She said “the issue is for Iran not to have the money, for Iran to be punished.”

  But would the Dukers and Eisenfelds ever collect that money?

  Steve Perles said the Clinton administration had recently hinted that it wanted to find a way to compromise on the issue. But he was dubious just the same.

  “Frankly, all they’ve done so far is stiff us,” Perles said.

  He did not expect the White House to change.

  Chapter 14

  Even before the Duker-Eisenfeld trial ended and Judge Royce Lamberth delivered his less-than-subtle verbal slap at the Clinton administration, a compromise was being shaped for victims’ families to claim Iran’s assets.

  There was no formal announcement by the White House or by anyone on Capitol Hill, no press releases, no ceremonial handshake between lawyers. The process began with a phone conversation. A prominent advocate of Jewish causes, Dr. Mandell Ganchrow, called and invited Stephen Flatow to a lunch in Manhattan with a group of Jewish leaders. The guest of honor would be Hillary Clinton.

  By the summer of 1999, less than six months after her husband managed to avoid impeachment over his sexual dalliances with a White House intern and a year before the Duker-Eisenfeld trial, Hillary Clinton began her own political journey. In carefully parsed phrasing that withheld a firm commitment, she signaled that she wanted to enter the race for a US Senate seat in New York that would become vacant with the retirement of Daniel Patrick Moynihan.

  No presidential wife had ever attempted what Hillary was setting out to do, and almost every step of her path seemed to be packed with social and political potholes. For starters, she did not live in New York and was not intimately familiar with the state’s complex political map. Also, with her husband still in the White House for almost two more years, she had to find a comfortable way of staking out her own political positions without diverging too much from his—or from t
he overall agenda of the Clinton administration.

  Mandell Ganchrow—known as “Mendy” to his friends—was in no mood to celebrate Hillary Clinton’s new venture even though she had reached out to him to assist her in meeting Jewish leaders in New York. Ganchrow, a prominent surgeon in the New York City region and a well-known Jewish activist, had risen to the presidency of the Orthodox Union, which had become one of the nation’s most powerful advocates for Jewish causes. He had become deeply distrustful of Hillary Clinton and made no secret of the fact that he hoped New York City Mayor Rudolph Giuliani, a Republican, would run for Moynihan’s Senate seat.

  Ganchrow’s wife was even helping to raise money for Giuliani’s possible campaign. As Hillary’s campaign grew, Ganchrow felt it was time to put her on the spot with some pointed questions about hot-button issues that were important to Jewish voters. He scheduled a luncheon with her and Jewish leaders at the Orthodox Union’s offices in New York City. Then he telephoned Flatow.

  Ganchrow wanted to know if Flatow would be willing to raise a potentially explosive question during the luncheon’s question-and-answer session: What did Hillary Clinton think about the efforts by her husband’s administration to block Flatow and other victims’ families from collecting on their lawsuits against Iran?

  The question underscored a dilemma for Bill and Hillary Clinton. As a candidate, Hillary could not be expected to agree with every policy that her husband advocated. Yet, with Bill Clinton making no secret of his efforts to improve diplomatic relations with Iran before his presidency ended, how would it look if America’s first lady publicly declared that she supported the efforts of Flatow and other victims’ families to claim Iranian assets in the US? That kind of husband-wife disagreement on policy might be easily accepted within the wide-open realm of modern American politics, but not in the more hidebound world of Iran. There it would be potentially confusing, even insulting.

  On the other hand, if Hillary agreed with efforts by the administration to block the families from gaining access to those assets, she risked losing support from New York’s Jewish voters and severe criticism from leaders such as Ganchrow in her Senate campaign. No matter what Hillary said, she would make news.

  “Of course, I wanted to be there,” Flatow said.

  It was now December 1999. Hillary and Bill Clinton had already purchased a home in New York City suburb. The formal announcement that she was running for the Senate was two months away but she was already in trouble with Jewish voters.

  A month earlier, in her dual roles as first lady and prospective Senate candidate, Clinton toured Israel and portions of the Palestinian West Bank. It was the kind of ticket-punching visit that US politicians routinely make, especially if they wanted to woo Jewish voters back home and demonstrate some familiarity with one of the world’s most contentious regions. For the most part, Clinton’s trip went smoothly—until she visited with Yasser Arafat’s wife, Suha, in the Palestinian city of Ramallah, about ten miles north of Jerusalem.

  During a joint appearance, Suha Arafat delivered a rambling discourse on Palestinian concerns in which she accused the Israelis of spreading cancer by using poison gas. “It is important to point out the severe damage caused by the intensive daily use of poison gas by Israeli forces in the past years that led to an increase in cancer cases among Palestinian women and children,” Arafat said in Arabic.

  There was no factual basis in what Arafat said, nor did she offer any. It didn’t matter. What mattered was Hillary Clinton’s reaction. As Arafat spoke, Clinton appeared to be listening in silence, wearing headphones that supposedly carried an English translation of Arafat’s remarks. When Arafat finished, Clinton rose and the two embraced, with Clinton kissing Arafat on the cheek and saying nothing to challenge what Arafat had just said.

  Clinton’s entourage had barely left Ramallah before Israeli political figures and others, including Jewish leaders in the US, unleashed a torrent of criticism. When questioned by reporters traveling with her, Clinton seemed uneasy and verbally flat-footed; she said she had not been able to clearly hear the translation of Arafat’s remarks. It wasn’t until the following day after receiving what her staff described as an accurate translation that Clinton denounced Arafat’s statement. The delay, however, infuriated Clinton’s critics, including Mendy Ganchrow.

  As Ganchrow strategized about the upcoming lunch with Hillary Clinton, Flatow’s lawyer, Steve Perles, received a phone call from a prominent Democrat who also happened to be a major supporter of the first lady’s senate campaign. The caller was worried about the negative fallout over Hillary’s trip to Israel, not to mention the continuing friction between the Clinton administration and Stephen Flatow. The conversation was brief, but the message was clear. Could Perles help make peace between Flatow and the Clinton administration? Flatow had not toned down his criticism of the president and in late November 1999, he joined a group of Jewish activists and others, including families of the Brothers to the Rescue pilots, for a rally and press conference outside the new headquarters of Hillary Clinton’s exploratory senate campaign committee.

  Perles listened intently to the Democratic leader on the phone. For more than a year Perles had tried without success to gain access to Iran’s assets through the courts and by lobbying for special legislation from Congress. Now, maybe, here was an opportunity for progress. The Democrat on the phone had an intriguing offer. He wanted to know if Flatow would attend Hillary’s upcoming lunch at the Orthodox Union. It was the same invitation that Mendy Ganchrow had offered. But instead of coming from a critic of Hillary, this offer came from a supporter. Perles viewed this as a good sign.

  Two weeks later, Flatow took a seat inside a large room at the Orthodox Union headquarters in Manhattan. Around him were more than one hundred of the area’s most prominent rabbis and Jewish community leaders. Hillary Clinton walked from table to table, escorted by US Senator Joseph Lieberman, the Connecticut Democrat and an Orthodox Jew who would end up running for vice president in 2000, the same year Hillary planned to run for the Senate. After greeting everyone, Clinton offered some general remarks, then opened the floor to questions. When it was his turn, Flatow was as blunt as possible.

  “Do you support the Clinton administration’s continued blocking of terror victims from receiving compensation?” he asked.

  Flatow sensed that Hillary was not surprised by his question. But he expected a politically nuanced answer that offered sympathy for the killing of his daughter with no firm commitment on resolving the legal issues with Iran. Instead, Hillary offered a blunt response of her own that was unmistakably clear and devoid of nuance.

  “No, I do not,” she said.

  Flatow was stunned. After hearing what Clinton had said, Perles was thrilled, too. Was this the opening he needed to pry loose some of Iran’s assets?

  A month later, in January 2000, Perles and Flatow received a new message from a highly placed staffer in the Clinton administration. An ad-hoc committee was being formed to try to work out a settlement to the legal dispute over Iran’s assets. Stuart Eizenstat would play a key role. As Eizenstat noted years later: “We wanted to get it done before the president left office.”

  Actually, the process had already begun.

  Roughly a year before Hillary Clinton spoke to the Orthodox Union and Eizenstat’s ad-hoc committee stepped up efforts to find a compromise, Stephen Flatow met privately with Bill Clinton.

  By early 1999, Bill Clinton was desperately trying to save his presidency. The House of Representatives, with its majority of Republicans had already voted to impeach him on charges that he committed perjury and obstructed justice during the federal investigation of several matters, including his sexual affair with a White House intern. In January, the US Senate, with its Democratic majority, opened the impeachment trial itself.

  Flatow wanted another chance to speak to the president. Senator Frank Lautenberg contacted the White House and
Bill Clinton agreed. The meeting would not take place at the White House, however. Flatow was instructed to come to the Washington Hilton Hotel for the National Prayer Breakfast.

  On the first Thursday in February, as prosecutors and defense lawyers prepared to offer final arguments in Bill Clinton’s impeachment trial in the Senate chambers at the US Capitol, more than 2,600 religious leaders, politicians, lobbyists and others assembled across town in the cavernous Hilton ballroom.

  With its collection of clerics from all major religions, mixing with politicians of all stripes, the National Prayer Breakfast was long considered one of the few events in Washington where the lines between church and state were blurred. For politicians, it was a chance to send a message that they value religion in public life and even their personal lives, too. For religious leaders and their advocates, it was an opportunity to push for the inclusion of religious values in government policy decisions. Evangelicals rubbed shoulders with Catholics, Jews with Muslims, Buddhists with Hindus, Mormons with Jehovah’s Witnesses. Besides Clinton, two other guests attracted the most attention, though—Leah Rabin, the wife of the assassinated Israeli prime minister, and Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat.

  Clinton’s staff sent word to Flatow that the two could meet before the breakfast.

  Flatow passed through a security checkpoint and waited in a hotel hallway that was filled with guards. Arafat passed by, flanked by his retinue of aides. For a moment, Flatow was tempted to tap Arafat on the shoulder and mention Alisa’s death. But he kept silent.

  Flatow glanced down the hall. Clinton walked toward him with his national seurity advisor, Sandy Berger.

  “He looked terrible,” Flatow said, figuring that the impeachment ordeal had taken toll on the president.

  Clinton stopped.