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WASHINGTON, Oct. 27 — It was just after sunrise last month when two men in dark glasses knocked on the door of a middle-class home in Northeast Washington. When a child answered, the men asked in Arabic for the family of Mohammed Rehaief. Rehaief, an Iraqi exile, promptly went to the door. But the callers had vanished.Rehaief was struck with fear. How had they found his family?
HE HAD reason to worry. Rehaief
wasn’t just any refugee; he was the lawyer who had crossed enemy lines during
the U.S. invasion of Iraq to provide information to Marines about Jessica Lynch,
the prisoner of war. Fearing for their lives, Rehaief and his family were later
whisked to the United States. But the visit by the mysterious strangers on Sept.
4 — the first of several unusual incidents-shattered the calm of the family’s
new life. U.S. law enforcement officers urged them to pack their belongings.
Hours later, the family fled into the night. “Before I used to think I was safe
here in the U.S.,” Rehaief said in an interview. But no more.
This was supposed to be the victory lap for Mohammed Odeh Rehaief. His book,
“Because Each Life is Precious,” (HarperCollins) was issued Oct. 17. A
made-for-TV movie based in part on his story will be broadcast on NBC on Nov. 9.
Since Rehaief was granted political asylum in April, Americans have clamored to
honor him. But if Rehaief has escaped Iraq, he is still trapped in his own
republic of fear. Worried about security, he is pursuing a low-key book tour. He
doesn’t allow journalists to photograph his wife and 6-year-old daughter. He
discloses no details about where he is living. When he gave a speech Friday at
the University of Charleston, he was protected by swarms of federal and local
law enforcement officers. A bullet-proof vest bulged under his black suit
jacket. “I am in danger, my family is in danger,” he said. Still, Rehaief,
after months of near-silence, is providing new details about his role in the
Lynch saga, and he is seeking to explain another seeming mystery: Why a
middle-class Iraqi would risk his life for a young enemy soldier. Speaking to a
rapt audience of more than 100 at the University of Charleston, Rehaief, a
short, black-haired man, described himself as a person who had suffered quietly
under Saddam Hussein’s government for years. But on March 27, his life was
transformed. Rehaief, 33, said he was visiting his wife, Iman, a nurse, at a
hospital in the southern city of Nasariyah during the fighting. Peering into the
room where he’d been told a prisoner of war was lying, he glimpsed Lynch, a
20-year-old Army private from West Virginia. “She is little girl,” he recalled
in broken English. Then, he told the audience, he saw an Iraqi interrogator slap
the young woman. Rehaief swung his arm, hard, re-enacting the blow. His
listeners gasped. “My heart is broken,” Rehaief recalled. He said he felt
obliged to act. So began a two-day saga in which Rehaief repeatedly crossed
enemy lines to provide information to the Marines about Lynch and her
surroundings. His book tells a tale of danger and ingenuity. Rehaief said he
endured gunfire, a bomb blast that partially blinded him and a brief detention
by Iraqi troops. He gave up his gold wedding ring as a bribe. He says he fended
off attackers with the kicks he had mastered as a kung fu champion.
Early stories of Lynch’s heroics and rescue buoyed a worried nation. Those stories have since been criticized as inaccurate and exaggerated. Initial reports, including those in The Washington Post, had described Lynch being wounded as she battled attackers. The U.S. military later said she was injured in a vehicle crash when her Army maintenance unit was ambushed. While the U.S. military first described her rescue as a daring nighttime raid, it later emerged that Iraqi soldiers had vacated the hospital hours earlier. Rehaief’s story also has been questioned. The head nurse at Saddam Hospital, where Lynch was treated, has told The Post that the hospital didn’t employ any nurse named Iman. And the Iraqi interrogator slapping the POW? “That’s some Hollywood crap you’d tell the Americans,” Harith Hassona, a physician who treated Lynch, said after the war. Still, the hospital staff said they believed Rehaief did tell the Marines about Lynch. And the lawyer has produced his wife’s work identification card to prove her employment at the hospital. The Marines have corroborated that Rehaief assisted them. Rehaief shrugs off the skeptics. “When I have the truth, I don’t care about what they say,” he said. Is Rehaief in danger in the United States? Or is he suffering the effects of decades of living under a brutal dictatorship?
Khalil Hassan, a psychologist who works with the Washington-based Iraq
Foundation, which has a program to assist exiles, said many Iraqis arrive
terrorized by their experiences with Hussein’s government. “You cannot imagine
the fear he created,” he said. Even though exiles have reached safety in the
United States, “the fear is still there; it exists in their conscience.”
Authorities are treating the Sept. 4 visit by the Arab duo as a possible threat.
Law enforcement sources, speaking on condition of anonymity, said the Washington
area’s Joint Terrorism Task Force is investigating and is concerned. FBI
spokeswoman Debbie Weierman declined to comment. The Post agreed to
withhold the family’s former address and other details because of their
concerns. Rehaief said he is grateful to the U.S. government for granting
him asylum. But he is haunted by the two unexplained callers, who asked for
family members by name. “If they were friends or good people who came to help
us, why didn’t they stay? Nobody knows about my address,” Rehaief said. And it
was just the first scare.
Later that morning, a champagne-colored BMW with no license plates stopped in
front of the house where Rehaief was staying, he said. A man hopped out and
headed toward the house with a small package but turned around as cars stuck
behind his vehicle started honking. He sped off without delivering the parcel.
The account was confirmed by two witnesses interviewed by The Post, as well as
law enforcement officials, who said investigators regarded the incident as less
serious than the earlier visit. They spoke on condition of anonymity. Then
about a month ago, a third incident occurred. Rehaief said his brother living in
Jordan was attacked by knife-wielding assailants who yelled that they wanted to
take revenge on the man who had helped the U.S. military in Iraq. The brother
has recovered and left his home, Rehaief said. Rehaief said he doesn’t worry
about himself but about his family. “It’s a danger to be with me,” he said with
an rueful smile. This is hardly the calm new life Rehaief expected. When he
arrived in the United States in the spring, he was showered with awards and
offers. He got a book contract that paid him $150,000, a TV movie deal and a job
with the Livingston Group, a Washington lobbying group headed by a former
Republican congressman, Bob Livingston. Rehaief helps vet Iraqi firms seeking
the lobbying group’s assistance landing U.S. contracts.
To be sure, he has had many happy moments in the United States. He has been
reunited with members of his extended family who also were flown from Iraq. And
he has reveled in new experiences, such as riding a Metro train, sampling
McDonald’s food and visiting the Lincoln Memorial. But he is struggling, he
said, to balance the competing demands of celebrity and security. Some
institutions have kept his appearances unpublicized, such as Mount St. Mary’s
College in Emmitsburg, which awarded him its presidential medal last May. “He
didn’t want word to get out he was going to be there. It kind of made my job a
little difficult,” said university public affairs director Duffy Ross. He said
Rehaief “received the loudest, most vocal standing ovation of anybody at the
commencement.” Perhaps nowhere is the hero worship greater than in West
Virginia. In recent days, Rehaief has been touring Lynch’s home state at the
invitation of a citizens group called Friends of Mohammed, which has planted a
garden, held a march and organized receptions to honor him. “We’re just showing
an expression of gratitude for a humanitarian act. It would be particularly
inappropriate for West Virginia not to do that,” said James Thibeault, the
founder of Friends of Mohammed, who runs an assisted-living facility in the
Charleston suburbs. Rehaief is scheduled to visit Lynch’s small mountain
hometown of Palestine today. It is not clear whether he will meet her. At the
forum Friday at the University of Charleston, citizens broke down as they
thanked Rehaief. One was Joe Sims, 61, a man with a gray beard wearing a
blue-checked flannel shirt who stood up during the question-and-answer period.
“I’m from Palestine,” the retired factory worker announced and informed Rehaief
that he had just visited the Lynch family. Then he choked up. “Thank you. Thank
you so much,” he sobbed. He walked over and wrapped Rehaief in a bear hug. Later
in the day, Rehaief visited the Islamic Center of Charleston, where he attended
prayers and was honored at a reception. The imam, Mohammad Jamal Daoudi,
told Rehaief he hoped to visit him in the Washington area. But he added with a
grin, he hoped for a laid-back visit-”not so much security.” Rehaief glanced at
the police officer standing in a nearby doorway. “I feel more comfortable with
security,” he said softly.
Staff writer Allan Lengel contributed to this report. © 2003 The
Washington Post Company