I Refused to Become an FBI Informant, and the Government Put Me on the No Fly List
My first interaction with the FBI was based on a lie.
In August 2018, I got a call asking me to go to City Hall to
clear up a city permit violation, and gladly complied to resolve any issues. It
turned out to be a ruse.
When I arrived, I was led into a conference room, where two
FBI agents were waiting. I was immediately caught off guard, not having any
idea why the FBI would want to talk to me. I’m a husband and father of two
young kids, and I have always focused on building a good life with my family,
both as a business owner and as an engineer in Michigan’s automotive industry.
Although the FBI agents told me I could leave whenever I
wanted, when the door closed and they started questioning me, it certainly
didn’t feel that way. They told me they wanted my help in looking for people in
my community who might want to harm this country. They thought I’d be useful to
the FBI because of my language skills (in addition to English, I speak Arabic),
my Lebanese heritage, and my engineering expertise. I felt unsettled because
becoming an informant in my community would violate my personal ethics. Still,
I maintained my calm, told the agents my primary obligation was to my family,
and that I didn’t want to work for the FBI. But the pressure continued.
The FBI agents asked me about my political and religious
beliefs, associations, and the years I spent living in Lebanon as a student. I
answered all their questions truthfully. I was born in Chicago, and completed
high school and three years of college in Lebanon before returning home to
Michigan to finish my education.
I repeatedly insisted I did not want to work for the FBI,
but they kept increasing the pressure. I was shocked when the FBI agents
accused me of affiliation with a terrorist group. I vehemently denied their
false accusations, but it didn’t seem to matter. My anxiety level rose even
more when the agents threatened my family and me. They said that if I didn’t
agree to become an informant, my family would be investigated, my wife and I
could be arrested, my children could be taken away, and my wife’s immigration
status could be at risk.
Eventually, the FBI agents told me I faced a choice: I could
stay in America and become an informant — and their suspicions about me would
“go away” — or I could leave the country. If I stayed and did not become an
informant, my family and I would be subjected to more surveillance and
investigation, specifically threatening to reach out to my family, friends, and
employer.
It’s hard to fully describe my inner turmoil after that
meeting. As a Muslim in America, I know from firsthand experience that our
government too often views us with discriminatory suspicion. But it’s different
when FBI agents sit across a table from you, with all the power of the
government behind them, accusing you of things you have never done and would
never do. I was scared, and I was especially scared for my family’s safety.
The FBI kept asking to meet with me, and under their
pressure, I did not think I could refuse. Meanwhile, the anxiety and stress
meant I couldn’t sleep or eat properly. For two months, the meetings, threats,
and harassment continued until I felt I had no choice but to send my family
away to protect them. I booked my wife and children on a flight to Lebanon,
where we have family. I joined them a few weeks later, after my employer agreed
that I could temporarily work part-time from abroad. I hoped this break would
make the FBI leave me alone. About a month later, I attempted to return home.
That’s when the consequences of my refusal to work for the
FBI as an informant hit. When I got to the airport, the airline agent said I
couldn’t board my flight and needed to contact the U.S. government. I knew the
government had a No Fly List, which bans people from flying, and feared I was
on it. I immediately sought answers and a month later, I got official
confirmation: I was on the No Fly List.
In the two years since then, I’ve tried to get off the No
Fly List using the redress procedure the government provides. But the
government won’t even give me its reason for putting me on the No Fly List, any
evidence it thinks might justify an indefinite flying ban, or a hearing to
clear my name. This is wrong, and it violates my rights as an American to basic
due process. I’ve learned that this purgatory is not unusual. I was shocked to
learn U.S. citizens and residents on the No Fly List can spend years seeking
answers and information, without even learning why the government put them on
the list in the first place.
For my family and me, this entire ordeal has been
devastating. I exercised my right not to work as an FBI informant in my
community and the government punished me. Because I’m on the No Fly List, I
cannot visit family and friends abroad, or travel for work or to fulfill my
religious pilgrimage obligation as a Muslim. My wife and I worry that her
naturalization application is at risk. I worry that government officials who
claim to protect all Americans equally can violate our constitutional rights
with impunity.
Now with the help of the ACLU, I’m bringing a lawsuit to
challenge the government’s actions and placement of me on the No Fly List. I
want a fair process to clear my name. And I want to make sure no one suffers
what my family and I have suffered.
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