Warning: Contains strong language and deals with a very sensitive issue.
Reminiscences
07:15 Tuesday, September 11th, 2001, Logan Intl Airport, Boston, Massachusetts
He sat there at Gate B32, oblivious to the bustling of life and animated conversations resounding throughout the airport. After nearly ten years of preparing and planning, today was the day it was going to be carried out. Despite the lively cacophony, all he could hear was his own breath and feel the weight of what was about to take place. Shifting his gaze around the area, he surveyed his fellow passengers waiting to board the Boeing 767 outside.
He noted an elderly couple having a quiet conversation. Another group was of a family with s small child playing excitedly, business travelers, elderly…all sorts of people who were about to embark on their last flight. Lastly, he met the eyes of his partners. Their leader, Muhammad Atta was lost in prayer, making himself right with Allah before carrying out His will. The others were sitting there just as lost as he was. How did it come to this, the man wondered. At one time, he had hopes of teaching math to high school students back home in Jeddah, and now, here he was in America carrying out an important mission planned out thoroughly by Osama bin Laden and Khalid Sheikh Muhammad themselves. It was a mission that would shake the foundations of the world forever.
Sighing, the man slumped back in his chair, remembering a time when everything was so much brighter. He remembered Jeddah, and the modest house in which he lived with his parents and brothers. He recalled the palm trees, the park where he would play soccer and fish with his oldest brother, Hassan. Being the youngest child in the family, he naturally formed a bond with the oldest one, whom he saw as a second father. Life in Saudi Arabia was better than anything that he could ask for. However, the situation in the neighboring Muslim countries grew worse and worse. In Iraq, the Americans were threatening the rule of Saddam Hussein, in Palestine, the Israeli occupiers were tightening their hold over the land, and worst of all the other Muslim countries did nothing to fight it.
It was when he was in the university in Riyadh, that he had become involved in protesting the injustices done by the West. In 1988, Sheikh bin Laden, had made the declaration in his
fatwa that to kill Americans and their allies, both civilian and military is the sacred duty of every Muslim who is able. That day changed him forever, and not too long afterwards, he left his comfortable life in Saudi Arabia and joined al-Qaeda in Afghanistan, a country left in ruins by those
kuffar Russians. Bin Laden made good on his word, beginning with small attacks here and there in the early nineties. It wasn't until the 1993 bombing of the World Trade Center that Khalid Sheikh Muhammad presented the idea of today's mission to bin Laden.
After many years of planning, preparations, and raising funds, the man was chosen to be one of nineteen hijackers and one additional reserve. He was so excited and proud to be a part of this mission from Allah that he had gone home to tell his family, though not giving any real details. Their reactions were not what he had expected.
"This is what you've been doing all these years?" his father thundered. "Associating with scum like Osama bin Laden? You're going to go kill yourself for this…this radical with a distorted dream of Islam?" His mother had actually burst into tears. It is written in the Quran to respect one's parents, but Islam always came first. He was so angry that he accused his parents of not being true Muslims and they would one day eat their words when America has fallen. He expected his father to hit him, but instead, he calmly walked over to him, gave him a stiff embrace and told him very calmly to leave the house. He caught a glimpse of Hassan, who was now married and had two boys. His expression was one of simple disappointment. After the argument, he never saw his family again.
"Good morning," a woman's voice on the intercom rang out. "We are about to begin our primary boarding of American Airlines Flight 11, non-stop to Los Angeles. Now boarding those sitting in first and business classes, families with small children and all passengers in need of a wheelchair."
He didn't know exactly how it happened, but one minute he was sitting in the terminal, and the next, he was catching a last glimpse of the airport: the crowds in the stores and at other gates, before making his way through the jetway bridge. "Good morning," a flight attendant chimed with a smile. "Welcome aboard."
He sat heavily in his seat across from Atta, who kept a blank look in his eyes.
Once the plane had filled up adequately enough, the pilot's voice rang out on the PA system. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. On behalf of our crew, we'd like to welcome you on board American Airlines Flight 11, non-stop to Los Angeles. We are looking at beautiful weather across the country, so we should expect a smooth flight. Once you have safely stored your baggage in the overhead compartment or under the seat in front of you, please be seated with your seat belts securely fastened. Estimated time to Los Angeles is five hours and thirty-five minutes. We will begin push-back shortly. As we proceed with our departure, please give your attention to the flight attendants for an important safety demonstration. Whether you are a frequent flier or a first time traveler, you should give them your undivided attention and put aside all reading materials. At this time, all electronics, cell phones, and CD players should be off. We thank you for choosing American Airlines, and on behalf of the crew, we hope you enjoy your flight."
The hijacker laughed quietly at the irony of a safety demonstration. Whatever the flight attendant was saying wasn't really registering in his mind as the plane pushed back from the gate. All too soon, the plane was set to take off. The aircraft set off on the runway, and the man held on tightly to his armrests. He gazed out the window as they took off from the ground for the final time, the city of Boston shrinking as they proceeded with their ascent. It was then that the man realized he would never walk on a city street again, feel the wind, or hear a bird chirping. Gathering whatever strength he had, he closed his eyes and began to whisper a prayer:
"
Bismillahi rahmani rahim. Alhamdulillah rabbi l'alamin. Ar-rahmani rahim. Maliki Yawm i Din. Iyyaka na'budu wa Iyyaka nasta'in. Sirat al-ladina an-amta alayhimgayril magdubi alayhim dallin…"
After the plane was airborne for a while, one of the other hijackers made his way to the lavatory to set up the bomb and the man caught the eye of Atta. Their leader simply made a sign with his hand to wait for his signal. They needed to finish the entire operation before eleven that morning, their brothers had to as well, and it was already past eight. Eventually, the bomber reemerged into the main cabin and made his way back to his seat. Atta firmly nodded, the man did the same, and the others followed suit.
A flight attendant was making her way down the aisle asking passengers what they wanted to drink. When she stopped by Atta, in a swift movement, he sprang to his feet, grabbed her by the throat, and drew his knife. "
Allah hu Akbar!"
"
Allah hu akbar!" came the response of all the hijackers rising from their seats. Cries of fear and confusion resounded throughout the cabin as the hijackers stabbed a passenger trying to stand up.
"Nobody move!" roared Atta and one of the other hijackers held up a switch for the passengers to see. "We have a bomb! Everybody remain in your seats and do nothing stupid! You'll only endanger yourselves and the plane!" He pressed the knife lightly against the frightened attendant's neck. "
Make sure they remain seated," Atta ordered three of the hijackers, including the man in Arabic. He then turned to the man who'd act as his fellow pilot. "Yalla!" With that, they backed up towards the cockpit, the flight attendant still in Atta's grip. The man could not see what was going on, as he had his back turned, but he could hear. Atta was telling the flight attendant to open the cockpit door, but she refused. There was a woman's gasping and the sound of a body dropping on the floor. The flight attendant was dead.
The man didn't know how it happened, but the doors to the cockpit were forced open. There was shouting, and the plane rocked violently for what was only a few seconds, but felt like an eternity to the hijacker. However, once it was over, the plane was flying smoothly once again.
"Nobody move," Atta said over the PA. "Everything will be okay. If you try to make any moves, you will endanger the plane and yourselves." The terrified passengers all sat frozen in their seats, some praying, some crying, others trying to calm their fellow passengers. Several minutes stretched by slowly and the plane began its descent. The man took a quick glance out the windows. They were flying low over New York City. Other passengers took notice of this too because the man heard one mutter, "Oh, God, what are we doing in New York? We're…we're flying way too low…"
At that moment, the whole world seemed to stop and time froze in its pace. All the man could do was look out the window at the looming tower drawing closer and closer. Closing his eyes and bracing the collision, the man muttered, "
La ilaha il-Allah, Muhammadur rasulullah." In a burst of flames, smoke, and debris, American Airlines Flight 11 struck its target; the North Tower of the World Trade Center, less than twenty floors under the roof. With them, the hijackers took the lives of all the passengers and crew on board and countless others in the site of the collision.
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05:15 Tuesday, September 11th, 2001, Franklin Township, NJ
James Russo pressed the
off button on the alarm clock on his bedside table, sitting on his bed stretching his arms and legs with a yawn. What a night, he thought with a grin, glancing at his still sleeping wife, Gina. Leaning closer, he placed a soft kiss on her cheek, earning a soft contented groan from her. Things were going great for him and his family, he mused as he made his way to the bathroom to start preparing for the day.
He and his wife had just celebrated their thirtieth anniversary together by taking the kids, two of whom were grown up and the third a teenager and his daughter, Sophia's boyfriend to New York City, where James worked. It started with them going to see
Les Misérables on Broadway for a matinee showing. Then they took carriage tours in Central Park. The last thing they did that day was have dinner at Windows on the World in the North Tower of the World Trade Center. James worked in South Tower, having a great job as an attorney on the eighty-second floor. It was a romantic dinner, yet they still managed to include the others into the celebration. After dessert, they all made their way to the South Tower to the observation deck for pictures and whatnot. Sean Ryan, his daughter's boyfriend saw this as a perfect opportunity. He got down on one knee and asked Sophia for her hand in marriage. She excitedly accepted and the family had more to celebrate. It was a perfect day to end the night.
To think that four years ago James would not have approved of their union, he mused as he put on his gray business suit. Sean was a culinary professor over at NYU, but James supposed that back then, he would not trust any man with his baby girl no matter what his profession. Then one day, he invited her boyfriend out to lunch, as they both worked in the City. It was at the food court of the South Tower that Sean proved how deeply he loved Sophia and that he was the only one worthy of her heart. Since that day, James would not hear a word against him from anyone. Sean and Sophia were now living together with their cats in a nice apartment in Manhattan. His second child, Jim Jr. lived in Queens with his wife and adopted twin girls, and worked in JFK at Air Traffic Control.
Now that he was fully dressed, James quietly shut the door to the bedroom and made his way downstairs. The kitchen light was on, so that meant his third child, Marco, was there eating breakfast and already dressed for school. Sure enough, he found the seventeen-year-old image of himself munching away absentmindedly on a hearty breakfast. "'Morning, Marco," said James.
"'awnin', 'ad," his son replied and resumed his eating. Knowing that his son's focus would be entirely on the food, James made himself some strong black coffee and a piece of bread with jam. "Hey, dad, good luck with the presentation. I know you'll get that promotion."
"Thanks," James laughed. Later in the afternoon, he would have to make a speech in front of the board of directors. If it would go well, and his proposal would be accepted, then he would be given a spot on the board and a significant raise. It would be the icing on the cake for the wonderful week he was having.
"Hey, you want me to drop you off at school today?" James offered out of nowhere. It had been years since he dropped any of his kids off anywhere.
"Naw," Marco replied with a wave of his hand. "Tom's car broke down; I need to give him a ride." Now done with his meal, the younger Russo took his plates to the sink and began to wash them.
"Alright, I'm off," the father announced. "See you tonight."
"Yeah, you too. And I have an announcement for you and mom when you guys get back."
"Oh?" James said curiously, his eyebrows arching.
"You'll have to wait until tonight." Knowing that his son wouldn't budge, James bid him farewell again and proceeded outside to the driveway to enter his car. The nights were getting longer and the temperature was dropping, but he was still greeted with a pleasant breeze. There was not a cloud in the sky; it was as if nature was celebrating with him.
The drive went very smoothly and now James spotted New York skyline in the distance, the towers of the World Trade Center lording over all the other tall buildings. After crossing the Holland Tunnel and making his way through the maze of streets in Manhattan, he parked his car in a designated worker's area in the World Trade Center compound. He quickly grabbed is briefcase and entered the elevator.
As the elevator began its ascent, a weird feeling came over James. There was no way to describe it other than weird, and it had nothing to do with the upcoming board meeting. However, it was a feeling that something was going to happen today, he just did not know what, and that inexplicably bothered him. When he had feelings like this, they usually had a habit of coming true. The prime example was in Vietnam in 1968, when it was thought that the enemy would agree to ceasefire, but James had the feeling that something wasn't right and it turned out that the enemy launched what became known as the Tet Offensive. He had lost three fellow Marines in his squad in the first phase of the campaign.
What the hell was going to happen today, when things were going so well lately? Maybe it would be a major traffic jam or he'd run into some car trouble? Whatever it was, James thought to himself as he opened his office door, he would just feel a lot better once he'd be back home relaxing in the living room.
"'Morning," one of James' co-workers greeted him. He wished her one too as he made his way to his cubicle, which provided a view of the North Tower. He didn't even begin to set up his laptop when he was greeted by his boss.
"Mornin', Bill."
"Well, how'd it go?" Always straight to business, James thought with a barely suppressed grin.
"Went good. Sophia's getting married."
A wide grin spread across his boss's face. "Congrats, man! When's the wedding?"
"Don't know yet," James replied. "But we're hoping for the summer of next year."
"Well as long as I get an invitation."
"And me," interjected one of his co-workers.
"Me too!"
"Ditto."
"Alright, alright," James laughed. "I'll invite the whole office." He got responses of approval from several of the others and soon, everyone resumed their work. Despite the distraction, he could not shake off that weird feeling. On the contrary, it was prodding him even more. What was going on today? By 8:25, James decided to call his family just to be sure that they were all right.
"Veterans Benefits Administration," his wife's voice recited on the other end of the phone.
"Hi, honey," said James.
"Hi." She sounded more cheerful once she realized who was speaking. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" she deadpanned.
"Just checking how you're doing."
"I'm fine, James, is there something wrong?"
"No, no," he responded hastily. "Just seeing how you are."
"I'm doing well. What about you?"
"I'm alright. Well, see you this evening."
"Bye, love you."
"Love you," James said and then hung up the phone. No, Gina was doing fine. He could hear it in her voice; it was just another workday for her. He tried calling Sophia at the high school where she coached track and taught Italian, but she confirmed that everything was going okay and that she had another class arriving soon. When James called Sean at his work and Marco at school, again, he got responses that they were doing just fine. His son in particular all but told him to shove off because he had a quiz next period. All that was left was Jim. James dialed his older son's cell phone number and when the younger man picked up, James was greeted by quite a bit of commotion on the other side. It was as if every operator in the control tower was worried about something.
"Dad, this is
not a good time right now!" His tone caught his father off guard. It was not just annoyed, it was angry, as if James had interrupted him from something very important.
"Wait, what's go-"
"I'll call you later!" With that, he hung up, leaving James lost in thought. That was weird… Jim usually called his parents during break. Even on days with heavy airline traffic, he always found time to make a call. James considered calling his daughter in law, but decided against it. He needed to work, weird feelings or not.
Despite the workday passing by normally, James could not dismiss that weird feeling he had. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. Jim's attitude confirmed that and it was frustrating not knowing what was going on. At around eight-forty-three the sound of jet engines outside caught his attention. The sound was steadily increasing in volume…it was just a plane, but the engines were still louder than normal.
Whatever feelings James had felt during that morning, no amount of intuition in the world could have prepared him for what happened next. A deafening explosion, the likes of which he had not heard for decades, rocked the South Tower as several of the upper floors of the North Tower were consumed in a burst of flames, smoke and debris.
Panic and confusion took the office. People were screaming, one of the worker cried, "Oh, my God! Oh, my God!" pointing the rising pillar of smoke from the tower.
"Everyone, calm down!" roared Bill, trying to maintain order. "Somebody call ****ing fire department. Everyone just stay calm!"
Stay calm? James thought incredulously. A ****ing plane just crashed into the North Tower, and he expected them to… No… No… It couldn't be. How the hell could a plane crash into a huge building when there wasn't a cloud in the sky? Before he could stop to ponder it, the commotion of many people speaking outside the office could be heard. They were trying to evacuate the building.
"We gotta get out of here," the man who worked in a neighboring cubicle insisted. James and the others agreed, because soon, everyone was on their feet making their way into the corridor, where other people were heading to the elevators and staircases. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. It was at this moment that he knew that everyone needed to get the hell out of this tower.
The fear that James felt had triggered his warrior instincts, and his eyes widened. In Vietnam, after the first few ambushes, he and he guessed any infantryman who'd been there for more than a month was sometimes able to sense danger before any round was shot. That carried on after James' service, when someone tried to mug him in a parking garage Newark and ended up with a broken arm. There was no doubt now: They were under attack.
Without warning, there was a deafening explosion. Fire, debris, and shards of broken glass flew throughout the floor and James was blasted off his feet. It seemed to take him ages to fall. All he could see was the destroyed floor, the fire, and the workers falling along with him. Some were writhing in flames. He landed hard against a wall, the impact causing the drywall to fall on top of him.
It felt so heavy on him and he couldn't even move his arms to try to get it off. His muffled cries joined in the cries of fear from the others trying to find a way to escape. How much time passed, James didn't know, all he knew was that it was over. He was going to die… nobody would reach him now. The old folks always said that life flashed before one's eyes before their death, but James just felt numb. In the pitched black of the drywall and God knew what else, he knew that he would not make it.
"Check under there," a strong voice ordered. "There might be some people trapped!"
There was a God. There was definitely a God. With renewed vigor, James found the strength to at least lift up the thick drywall slightly. "Help!" The wall was destroyed by two resounding chops of an axe. The first sight falling into his vision was the masked and helmeted head of a firefighter.
"It's alright, sir, we got you." There was something reassuring in the young firefighter's voice. He slung James' arm over his shoulders and helped him walk. "What's your name?"
"James Russo," he croaked.
"How old are you?"
"Fifty-eight."
"What day is it?"
"Ugh…Tuesday…"
"Don't worry, Mr. Russo. I'll get you out of here." The world around him began to spin until everything went black.
22:43 Tuesday, September 11th, 2001, Manhattan, New York, Mount Sinai Hospital
Darkness gave way to a dimly lit room. James was lying down on a very uncomfortable bed and did not even have look in order to feel all the wires attached to him. He felt too exhausted to even notice the pain. He turned his head to the side to try to get into a more comfortable position and then took notice of Sean and Sophia sitting together on chairs next to the bed. His raven-haired daughter was sleeping with her head resting on her fiancé's shoulder and he was awake with his arm wrapped tightly around her. It looked as though she had been crying. Despite the fatigue and the pain, just seeing his daughter lightened his heart.
Sean shifted his gaze from his fiancée to his future father-in-law. "Hey, how are you feeling?"
"Just wonderful," James whispered sarcastically. He brought the bed up to a sitting position.
"Hey, I don't think you should-"
"I'm fine...ugh," the older man insisted and cringed from the throbbing pain in his upper body. "Tell me what…what…happened."
Sean's head bent, making James' heart sink. He was about to hear some bad news, but nothing could have prepared him for what Sean said next. "The World Trade Center…oh, Jesus, it sounds so unreal just saying it…" James nodded at the younger man, urging him to continue. "The World Trade Center...it's gone."
James was gripping the sides of his bed in shock. It took a few seconds for him to find his breath again. "What…" He shook his head. Fifty-thousand people worked in those towers and on a daily basis, the towers could have had more than a hundred thousand people inside them as tourists on a regular basis. What about all of them? What about the firefighters and police?
"It was a terrorist attack," Sean explained with barely suppressed rage. "Obviously very well planned. First they hit the towers and then the Pentagon with hijacked planes. Another hijacked plane went down like eighty miles from Pittsburgh in a field. They don't believe that was the intended target. They don't know what the hell happened there, but they said all of Manhattan's been locked down.
"They're suspecting bin Laden, that sick *******!"
"Wait, wait," interrupted James holding up his hand. "You're going too fast. Tell me: What happened to the towers?"
"I have never seen anything like it before…" said Sean in a shaky voice. "Scariest thing I ever… people jumping out of the towers…and the towers collapsing. From the top, down they were crumbling. First the South and then the North not an hour later...people covered in dust...."
James slumped backwards in his bed, setting off the beeping of the monitors. Soon nurses flooded into the room and Sophia woke up. However, her father was only subconsciously holding her hand. James became oblivious to all the sound around him. All he could picture in his mind were the Twin Towers collapsing and the workers trapped inside.
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03:24 Tuesday, September 18th, 2001, Mecca, Saudi Arabia
The world was in a state of shock, Hassan observed as he stood quietly at the window of his bedroom, gazing out at the Kaaba in al-Masjid al-Haram below. In a matter of less than two hours, the World Trade Center in New York had been utterly destroyed. In addition, the Pentagon lost an entire section of the building due to another hijacked plane crash, and the White House or Capitol Building in Washington had just barely been saved from destruction thanks to the passengers who fought the terrorists back. Unfortunately, despite their valiant efforts to take back control of the plane, United 93 crashed into a field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania taking the lives of everyone on board.
It had been a week since the attacks and Hassan was still in a state of disbelief. His little brother whom had been so close to him as a child was now dead and seen by the entire world as a terrorist who didn't give a **** about human life. Hassan's parents said nothing on the matter, but he could tell that they were both grieving. On the evening after the attacks, after
Isha'a prayer, a Sheikh condemned the perpetrators and terrorism in general. He read verses in the Quran condemning the murder of innocent people and asked that everyone say a prayer for the victims and their families. He also reminded the congregants that this was a terrible loss for Muslims worldwide, as Muslims had been killed at the World Trade Center along with the other victims. Everyone went home with heavy hearts that night.
By September 12th, Hassan knew that the clouds of war were gathering. President Bush made it clear that these atrocities would not go unpunished, and he had the support of many nations around the world, including Saudi Arabia. The Crown Prince told the nation and the world that he would do everything in his power to combat terror in the kingdom. Those American and European fools were all asking how it came to this, but Hassan and anyone in the Middle-East could have seen this coming eventually. America's involvement in the region would eventually bring the terrorists' "jihad" to them. He also knew that many innocent bystanders in the Muslim World would suffer because of this attack, either deliberately or as a result of the combat that would definitely ensue. There was no way that those Taliban maniacs would give up bin Laden so easily.
Despite all this, he still had thoughts of his lost brother. The whole world knew his brother now and the world hated him, but Hassan still remembered the innocent little boy he had once been. Their father was away at work for much of the time, so Hassan almost became his youngest brother's surrogate father, thus ended up being his mentor as well as the man figure in his life. He would teach him in his academics as well as how to bargain at the market, how to stand up for himself, and just have fun with him.
It wasn't until his brother reached high school age that he started becoming more religious than the rest of the family. They were practicing Muslims in the sense that they believed in Allah as the one true god, that Muhammad (peace be upon him) was the last and greatest of all the prophets, they observed the five daily prayers, paid
zakat when possible, fasted on Ramadan, and the parents have already made their Hajj. Hassan had plans to go within two to three years. They loved their religion, but it was more practical than spiritual for most of them. So when Hassan's brother became more observant, the family was proud at first. However, he soon became political and everything began to change.
A new Sheikh appeared in his school with extreme views on the West and the interpretation of the Quran. After a few private lessons with the Sheik, his brother became angrier and felt that he needed to fight for his Muslim brothers and sisters suffering in the rest of the world. Hassan tried convincing him that the best way to fight was to open his heart to Allah, work, and survive with pride and dignity, but he did not listen. Once he disappeared during his university years, Hassan and his family would constantly look in newspapers for any news of the youngest son. He sadly missed out on Hassan's wedding and the birth of Khalid and Mustafa, yet the oldest brother told his sons nothing but good stories of their uncle. Then, out of nowhere, on the
Eid ul-Fitr of 2000, he appeared at the house of his and Hassan's parents.
His brother had fallen in with Osama bin Laden, the founder of the al-Qaeda terrorist network. These were the very people responsible for the 1998 embassy bombings in Kenya and Tanzania and for the bombing of the USS Cole in Yemen earlier that year. He was bragging about an important mission that he had been selected for along with nineteen other men. He did not give details, but he said this mission would bring America to its knees. Hassan couldn't believe his ears.
Their father was furious. After a long argument with his youngest son, the younger man accused the entire family of not being true Muslims and traitors to the faith for not taking up arms against the greatest enemies of Islam. After that, their father simply embraced him and asked him to leave the house. Their mother tried stopping him, but he stormed through the door without looking back. Not even a year later, he died, killing himself for a madman under the guise of Islam. With him, he took thousands of innocent lives.
With a terrible revelation, tears filled his eyes and he began to quietly sob. This was all
his fault! He could have stopped his brother; it would probably have jeopardized their whole mission, but now, so many innocent people were dead. Wives lost their husbands, husbands lost their wives, children lost their father or mother, and parents lost their children. Hassan could have informed the police about this plan, and maybe his brother could have been interrogated. He probably could have given them a lot of information, but no; Hassan just stood silently in that living room with feelings of shame.
Hassan felt his wife's warm arms wrap around his torso and her head resting against his back. Hot tears burned in his eyes. "It's all my fault, Farrah," he whispered, taking her hand. "I could have stopped him. Allah, forgive me… forgive my brother." For the first time in his life, Hassan felt true fear for his soul. By not reporting his brother as a terrorist to the police, he was in danger of the Eternal Fire. His wife said nothing, she only held her husband closer as he grieved the loss of all the lives lost on that September day, including his brother who was now facing the judgment of Allah for taking his own life and the lives of so many innocent people.
A/N: Dedicated to the victims of Attacks of September 11th, 2001. I was trying to show the effect that one of the hijackers might have had on his family, hence the character of Hassan. He's obviously going through a terrible grief, thus is not thinking about the fact that no matter what he'd do, the attacks would go through anyway. I know pilots always give their names, but because the crew of Flight 11 were real victims, I did not name them or the passengers out of respect. The firefighter was also a victim. To this day, whenever I see the recap of the attacks, I am in shock, especially when the towers crumble. As you know, I am not Muslim, so please correct any mistakes. I originally had planned to have Hassan go to the Mosque, pray, and have an Imam speak to him, but I don't have enough knowledge of Islam to have done that.