I thought the case was closed too. In November 1988, the hijacker had pleaded guilty to killing Scarlett Rogencamp and Nitzan Mendelson, and attempting to kill Patrick Scott Baker, Tamar Artzi, and myself. A Maltese judge had sentenced him to twenty-five years in prison.
The U.S. Justice Department, along with the governments of the other countries whose citizens were killed, urged Malta to keep the hijacker in custody. At the same time, Washington also began proceedings to extradite the hijacker to face additional charges in the United States. On February 12, 1993, the U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia issued a warrant for Rezaq’s arrest, but Malta released him before an arrest could be made. On learning of Rezaq’s release, U.S. Rep. Tom Lantos introduced a resolution strongly condemning Malta for the action and requesting international cooperation in prosecuting him in the United States.
On July 16, 1993, FBI Special Agent Cindy Carter, now assigned to national security, called to let me know that the FBI had captured Rezaq in Nigeria and, at that very moment, were flying him to Washington, D.C.
Details of the arrest were sketchy. After Malta granted Rezaq amnesty, he was permitted to fly under an assumed name to Accra, Ghana on February 25, 1993. Again, Malta reportedly did not inform the United States of Rezaq’s departure or travel plans. After the FBI agents found Rezaq, they bundled him aboard a jet to Washington, D.C. where he appeared before U.S. District Court Judge Royce Lamberth. Since he’d already been convicted of murder and attempted murder, he would now be indicted on a single charge of air piracy. At the arraignment, prosecuters agreed not to ask for the death penalty. News reports speculated that this was done in exchange for the cooperation of several nations who assisted the United States in Rezaq’s capture. If convicted of air piracy, he faces a possible sentence of twenty years to life.
Sandra Sonenberg, Rezaq’s court-appointed lawyer, refused to enter a plea. The defendant is “not acceding to the court’s jurisdiction” because Rezaq was seized abroad, she told the New York Times. Judge Lamberth entered a not-guilty plea in his behalf.
Rezaq, wearing orange prison overalls, listened closely at the defense table as an interpreter whispered a translation of the bail proceedings into his right ear.
Prosecutors said a fingerprint lifted from the inside of the cockpit window matches Rezaq’s.
The arrest of Rezaq marked only the second time in history that the U.S. government acted under the provisions of a law passed by Congress in April 1986. There was a definite need to change the law as it was written. Terrorists knew that most countries, even those friendly to the United States, did not regard attacks on U.S. citizens abroad as a major problem.
After several presidential and congressional proposals, Congress passed a series of measures to try to deal with the problem. Two of the measures in particular, the Act for the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Hostage Taking (“Hostage Taking Act”) and the Act for Prosecution of Terrorist Acts Abroad against United States Nationals (“Terrorist Prosecution Act”), extended federal criminal jurisdiction to foreigners abroad who took hostage or killed a U.S. national.
Before the new laws were passed, the FBI had authority to seize individuals involved in terrorist acts against U.S. citizens only if the victims were high-ranking government officials. The new legislation expanded that power to protect all U. S. citizens living or traveling abroad.
On August 2, 1993, Rezaq appeared in Judge Lamberth’s courtroom for another pretrial hearing. Sandra Sonenberg, Rezaq’s lawyer, told the court that she planned to file a motion to have the government’s case dismissed. She argued that U.S. courts had no jurisdiction to hear the case and that Rezaq was essentially being tried twice for the same crime. She asked for more time to do “legal research and documentary investigation” to support her motion for dismissal of all criminal charges against her client. The judge granted her five weeks to prepare her case.
U.S. Justice Department prosecutors described Rezaq in court papers as “a terrorist and a cold-blooded killer who attempted to systematically execute five persons simply because” they were Americans and Israelis, noting that he “hummed and sang” as he pulled the trigger. “He had previously demonstrated his hatred for Americans and attempted to murder every American he came into contact with on EgyptAir Flight 648.” During the siege, court papers continued, Rezaq “made various demands, and, to emphasize them, attempted systematically to murder all of the Israeli and American passengers on board the airplane by shooting them in the head at pointblank range.”
Assistant U.S. Attorney Joseph Valder said Rezaq should be denied bail because he has confessed to committing a violent crime and is likely to flee the country if freed. Lamberth granted the motion.
In October 1993, Rezaq appeared in court again to enter a plea of not guilty to a charge of air piracy. The proceeding was held in a special courtroom equipped with bulletproof glass in front of the spectators’ section, and people entering had to pass through metal detectors. Pending a criminal trial, Rezaq is being held under heavy guard at an undisclosed location by the U.S. Marshals Service in Washington, D.C.
I had mixed feelings on hearing the news of the hijacker’s release and capture. I was shocked that he could be released so soon. He personally murdered two women in cold blood, and his actions indirectly led to the deaths of fifty-eight additional men, women, and children. The hijacking really shook my basic trust in life. It forced me to confront the darkest side of human nature. For many years, I feared being attacked again.
Yet I also felt a strange detachment from his fate. Strange as it may sound, I don’t hate him anymore. Though I feel he should be held legally responsible for his actions, I don’t even wish him harm.
After years of bouncing back and forth between holding on to my pain and anger and letting it go, I’ve managed to truly forgive the hijackers. It took a lot of work for me to grieve the many losses I suffered from the hijacking. But I’ve let go of my bitterness and pain and moved on with my life. I’ve chosen to focus on the good things that came from the hijacking. God gave me many wonderful gifts as I became willing to walk through the pain of rebuilding my life.
I don’t see myself as a victim anymore.
Reaching out to help others by sharing my story helped me a lot. At the beginning of all my speeches, I show a videotape that includes footage from the hijacking. I’ve seen it so many times over the past ten years, that I sometimes forget the terror of those grim hours on the tarmac.
Rezaq’s trial in the United States was originally scheduled for January 1994. The month before, I remember feeling especially fearful. It was during a period when local television and newspaper reporters were devoting a lot of coverage to a string of rapes, muggings, and murders in the Minneapolis area. I had a gnawing fear of being raped or hurt.
The trial and crime wave reopened many of my feelings and wounds all over again. One day, in the process of writing this book, I went back and looked at some of the newspaper stories published right after the hijacking in The Times, a newspaper published in Valletta, Malta.
The stark black and white photos: a Greek man with bandages over both eyes; the grieving young man whose mother and sister—the Mexican actresses Guadelupe Palla de Ortiz De Pinedo, junior and senior—both died in the storming of the plane; a thin, gaunt Patrick Baker, shaken, but glad to be alive; and a truck loaded with coffins bound for St. Luke’s Hospital. The photos were grim reminders of the tragedy.
The trial was delayed. In November 1994, I got another call from the prosecutors on the case. They wanted to fly Patrick Baker, Tony Lyons (an Australian businessman who survived the storming of the plane), and myself to Washington to identify the hijacker in a lineup. Prosecutors also wanted to talk to me more about the statements I had given when I was in Malta and since then.
I was nervous and a little scared. Over the years, I had identified the hijacker two or three times with pictures. But it had been about five years since I had last seen his picture. In the p
ast, I had identified him from the FBI pictures by his eyes. So I thought, maybe I could still identify him by his eyes.
Days before leaving for Washington, I was really nervous. Would I be able to pick Rezaq out? If I didn’t pick him out, how would that damage the case? The FBI kept saying that it doesn’t matter if I picked him out. They reassured me that it was all going to be okay, but I knew that they wanted me to identify him.
The Sunday morning before flying to Washington, I met with my women’s group. I told them about my upcoming trip and how nervous I was. They all agreed to pray for me during the time period when I was to be identifying the hijacker.
I flew to Washington the following Tuesday. An FBI agent picked me up at Washington National Airport and drove me to my hotel for an exciting reunion with Patrick Baker. I was most looking forward to this part of my trip. Though Patrick and I had talked on the phone several times over the years, I hadn’t seen him since the hijacking—since sitting next to him on the plane, waiting to be shot.
That evening, I had dinner with Patrick. We shared what had taken place in our lives since the hijacking. Patrick said he came back from the hijacking and was able to get on with his life. I don’t think it affected him like it affected me. However, he did say that he couldn’t talk right and was shaking a lot for three months.
The next day, the FBI agents picked us up at the hotel and drove us to the federal building. For several hours, we went over a lot of things that I had already stated in Malta nine years earlier. They wanted to update me and refresh my memory.
Thursday was the lineup. In the morning we went to the federal building and met with Tony Lyons. We were just like little kids, we were so excited about our reunion. We barely knew each other, but there was a special bond between us because we had gone through such a terrible ordeal together. We shared an experience that is difficult or impossible to communicate to anyone who has not gone through something similar.
At the federal building, we went through a three-hour preparation period. We were told what to expect, and we went into the room where the lineup was scheduled. We would see the lineup through a one-way mirror.
Once the lineup started, we were placed in a hallway near the room. Patrick was called first. It didn’t take Patrick long. He just went in, picked Rezaq out, and left. A minute later I was called to view the lineup.
FBI agents and police officers were standing in the back of the room, along with the hijacker’s attorney and the prosecutors. Through the glass, I looked out on ten men standing in a long row, staring straight ahead. Each of the men had a number pinned to his chest. It was just like in the movies.
The men were similar looking. They were about the same height and had the same tone of olive skin and Arabic features. They were trying to fool us. I quickly scanned them, one by one, looking at their faces, their hair. Then I went back for another pass—and stopped.
I knew who he was right off the bat. I knew by those eyes. When we were hijacked, he went into the cockpit immediately. When he came out, he had a mask over his face—but I could still see his eyes through the holes.
In the lineup he was wearing a baggy, khaki outfit with a yellowish tint. His hair was shaven much shorter than when we were hijacked. There was just a little on top.
At one point when I was looking at him in the lineup, he looked right at me. He didn’t know he was looking at me—right at me, in my eyes. I was taken aback.
It was strange staring at the man who had caused so much pain, knowing that I could see him, but he couldn’t see me. I realized that this was a wonderful opportunity—in such a safe environment. My Inner Voice said, Just stay here. Stay here. And I looked at him and as I kept staring at him and staring at his eyes, all the memories from the hijacking came. When he stood up and went into the cockpit, and when he came out. When he kept looking at Scarlett and me. All the events quickly flashed in front of me.
I stood there, listening to my body and paying attention. And I realized, I had forgiven this man. It felt so good. There were no angry feelings as I looked at him. There was sadness because of what had happened—so many people had lost their lives. But I didn’t have any anger toward him anymore. He was just a man. That was the value in doing the lineup: I needed to realize the hijacker was only a human.
After about five minutes of looking at the hijacker, one of the police officers said, “Do you know who he is?”
“Yes,” I said. “And I knew who he was right when I walked in. But I may never see this man who shot me in the head ever again. And I wanted to take this time. He’s number 10.”
When I left the room, I started to cry again. I ended up crying and crying on one of the FBI agent’s shoulders. A police officer said, “Come on into this room.” I don’t think he wanted me to sit out in the hallway and cry.
I said, “No. I just need to let this out real quick.”
The FBI agent just kept holding on to me. I know that about myself. If something comes up, I just have to let it out real quick and then it’ll be over with. So then we went to this room and it was okay.
Some of the FBI agents took Patrick, Tony, and me to lunch. When it was time to go home, Patrick and I shared a cab to the airport. We were talking about the lineup and I told him that I had picked out the man wearing the number 10.
“Number 10!” Patrick said. “No, it was number 2!”
I said, “No, he was number 10.”
Again Patrick insisted, “No, he was number 2!”
Had I picked the wrong person?
Then I remembered what the FBI agents told us: After each of us made our pick, the agents randomly shuffled the numbers the men were wearing. This was done to make sure that our selections were not biased by a particular number or position in which the man was standing. Patrick and I laughed on realizing that we were both right!
When I got home, the emotions hit me. For a few days afterwards, I found myself suddenly crying for no apparent reason. I thought, If I’ve forgiven, why am I still sad? I wondered, Am I lying to myself and others that I have forgiven?
Then I realized you can forgive and still feel sad. Especially when you’re pulled back into the pain.
After returning home I made a point not to schedule anything for days. I stayed home. I was moving at the time, so I packed boxes and processed the events in Washington, D.C.
A few days after returning home, I got a Christmas card from Patrick Baker. In the card, he said that after the lineup, he felt greatly affected also.
A few years ago, I was in Houston for my twentieth high school reunion. While I was at Hobby Airport waiting for my flight, I went to the rest room to wash my hands. I just happened to look up and saw something behind me in the mirror that didn’t belong in a women’s rest room, namely, a urinal!
What is that thing doing in a women’s rest room? I wondered.
When I got outside, I realized what had just happened. I’d gone into the wrong rest room by mistake. With my vision loss, the signs “Men’s” and “Women’s” look like “n’s” and “en’s.” If I don’t stop and really look at the signs, I can easily mix them up.
It’s a lot easier for me when I see “ies” (Ladies) or if there are silhouettes of a man in pants and a woman in a dress. If there’s a skirt on the right, I can safely assume there’s a skirt on the left.
I still play a lot of memory games—even today—to keep my memory sharp. During my busy months, I’m in about three or four states a week. I’m going through one airport and I’m always going back through that same airport. So when I get off the plane, I pay attention to who picks me up at the airport—what color hair they have, what dress they’re wearing, what color tie they have on. I pay attention when I’m walking through the airport—everything on the left has to be on the right when I come back. I’m always paying attention wherever I go. This has strengthened my memory—so my memory is strong today.
As far as reading, if the letters are small or short, I do pretty good. I do pretty good w
ith the newspaper, for example. I go left to right with my eyes without even using my fingers. But if the letters are a little bit bigger, I see more gaps—and I need to use my fingers to trace the shape of the letters.
If I’m ordering food at a restaurant, and the menu has pretty big letters, I have to use my fingers to read. Using my fingers helps me stay grounded on the page.
It’s still hard for me to decipher the meaning of big or difficult words. When I’m on an airplane and they have signs that say “vacant” and “occupied” on the rest room doors, it takes me time to figure out what these words mean. For people like me, I wish they would just say “empty” and “full.”
When I see vacant, I have to think, What does vacant mean? What is vacant? It’s a big, abstract word and the thought process is hard for me. I have to go into a different part of my memory to retrieve the meaning of the word, whereas I understand empty right away.
After four or five seconds, the meaning of vacant comes to me. But it’s not automatic. Though I can read at about the eighth-grade level, my comprehension is still only about fifth grade.
There are other problems. When I speak, I still have to ask people not to take my picture. I allow them to take photos during the question and answer period, because then I don’t have to rely on my memory or focus on what I’m saying. If someone suddenly comes up and takes a picture during my speech, I can get off track very easily. I used to be afraid to tell people this. Usually, I’m always looking around for cameras before I speak. If I see one, I’ll go up and very politely, say, “Are you planning to take a picture of the speaker?” If they say yes, I’ll say, “Well, I’m the speaker and I would like it if you could take it during my questions and answers.” Usually, people are very understanding about this when they know it’s a problem.
Miles To Go Before I Sleep Page 24