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  The first time my mother caught me talking to Hae on the phone was the morning after our Junior Prom. We were talking about how much fun we had the night before and all of a sudden I heard my mother’s voice cut in, “Hey, I just want you to know that Adnan has many other girlfriends, and you’re not the only one.” I was stunned and speechless to hear her voice interrupt our conversation with no warning.

  Hae and I were both well experienced in the need to have secret conversations on the phone, as she had a similar home life. We both knew that if you heard a “click” someone had picked up a phone. We would usually just hang up at that point, as we would have no way of knowing whose home it was in. We would then page each other when the coast was clear. But in this case, there was no “click.” My mother’s voice had just broken into our conversation. I would find out later that she had unplugged the phone jack from the wall outlet. Next she removed the handset from the cradle, and then plugged the jack back in. That way there was no “click” from the handset disconnecting from the cradle.

  As far as what she actually said, well, I couldn’t help but laugh at her creativity. Even now, all these years later, I still laugh about it. My mother told me she had thought of it on the fly, and she just wanted to say something that would make the girl not want to talk to me anymore. It was actually very funny.

  Later that day my mother had a long talk with me about it. I denied everything, of course, and told her Hae and I were just friends. I don’t think my mother believed me, but she left it alone. Throughout the rest of our relationship Hae and I both experienced those same types of situations. Her mom had issues with us dating as well. There were never any huge blowups, however, or ultimatums or threats. Both our mothers eventually became upset, and I think that’s what weighed on us the most.

  Once it became clear that we were continuing to see each other, it caused friction between us and our mothers. And it was not something we could hide from them. Eventually, Hae decided that it wasn’t really worth the stress it seemed to be causing them, and us. So that was when she first decided to call off our relationship. And each subsequent breakup was for essentially the same reason.

  To be honest, I really don’t have any regrets from those days. Dating Hae was an amazing experience, and I wouldn’t change it for anything. She became someone I cared for deeply, and I cherish the times we spent together, both as girlfriend/boyfriend and as friends. I treasure the memories I have of her.

  I’m grateful for all the friends I had, and I can’t help but smile as I think of all the crazy and silly things we did. As a Muslim, I know I did things that were not compatible with Islamic rules. But I feel that all of those experiences combined to give me a broader perspective on life, and I believe that perspective allows me to have a deeper appreciation for my faith. I’m fairly certain that most of us who had similar adolescent experiences probably would say the same thing.

  CHAPTER 5

  MURDER IN THE FIRST

  The burden of proof is on the proponent

  and the oath is incumbent on the one who denies

  Ahmed ibn al-Husayn al-Bayhaqi, Book of the Great Sunnah

  After the police picked up Adnan, he was put in the back of a Baltimore City Police cruiser, driven to the police station, and his car was impounded and towed away. He recalls one of the officers in the car teasing him, telling him he was so pretty he was going to get fucked frequently where he was headed. He was talking smack and Adnan knew it, but he didn’t understand why the officer was being so mean to him. The female officer driving the car was polite though, telling him that he was being taken for questioning, a small kindness he still remembers.

  He was taken into an interrogation room and cuffed to the wall, then read his rights. He agreed to answer the detectives’ questions without an attorney, thinking this would soon be over.

  Prosecution report of charges of first degree murder against Adnan Syed

  Detectives Ritz and MacGillivary tried a variety of tactics to get Adnan to talk, from showing empathy (“Hey, I know how you feel, my ex-wife makes me mad too”), to getting tough (“We know what you did and we’re going to prove it by finding your boots, process your car, finding your red gloves”). Then they told him that they knew he and Jay did it.

  Adnan responded that he had no idea what they were talking about. Red gloves? He and Jay did it? He was completely baffled. As he sat there cuffed inside the homicide unit he was thinking about his school work. It was Sunday morning, and he had an annotated bibliography due the next day. How long was this all going to take, he wondered.

  The detectives left the room after questioning him for a bit, then returned with the Metro Crime Stoppers flyer, sliding it across the table toward him. Adnan leaned forward, looking at it, then looked at them. He still didn’t understand what they were implying. They told him to look at the flyer, look at Hae, take some time, and then tell them what happened. They then left him to be alone with Hae’s picture.

  After a bit they returned and placed a document on top of the flyer. It was the charging document, stating that Adnan Syed was arrested for the first-degree, premeditated murder of Hae Min Lee.

  This was the point at which Adnan, thinking back to the years of Matlock he had watched, asked for a lawyer. What he didn’t know was that even before his interrogation was over, a lawyer was already at the police station, trying to stop the questioning and see his juvenile client.

  Attorney Doug Colbert, a professor at the University of Maryland School of Law, had been retained within an hour of Adnan’s arrest. He was contacted by Bilal Ahmed, who had been called by Tanveer as soon as Adnan was taken away. For many years Colbert was the senior trial attorney in the Criminal Defense Division of the NYC Legal Aid Society and had spent much of his career writing and speaking on defendant rights. Before joining the Legal Aid Society, Colbert taught the criminal justice clinic at Hofstra Law, where one of his students was an eager and sharp young man by the name of Chris Flohr. Upon graduating, Flohr also joined the Legal Aid Society, where he litigated trials for every kind of felony. But Flohr eventually left New York and moved to Baltimore in 1998, and when Adnan was arrested he was the legal director of a program focusing on bail reform in Baltimore City. Colbert tapped him to help assist with Adnan’s case.

  Adnan had waived his rights to an attorney at 7:55 a.m., but by 7:10 a.m. the police had already known Adnan was represented and had been advised to stop the interrogation. And yet they didn’t. They continued their questioning of a minor, preventing his attorney from being present, refusing to let Adnan’s parents see him, and also refusing, despite the attorney’s request, to record the interrogation.

  Finally, after attempting all morning to gain access to his client, attorney Doug Colbert faxed a frustrated letter to Detective Marvin Sydnor at 1:34 p.m.

  Dear Detective Sydnor,

  I represent 17 year-old Mr. Adnan Syed, whom I understand you have had in police custody concerning a pending homicide investigation since approximately 6 a.m. this morning. I write to reiterate my numerous requests that I have made this morning to permit me to speak to my client immediately and that you cease any questioning in my absence. […]

  Despite my repeated requests, Detective Sydnor refused to tell Mr. Syed that his attorneys were present and declined to cease questioning. I also asked Detective Sydnor to videotape the interview and questioning of Mr. Syed, but the Detective refused by saying that I ‘wouldn’t want to tell you how to defend someone in court.’ Finally I asked Detective Sydnor to permit Mr. Syed’s mother and father to see their son immediately. Detective Sydnor again declined my request. […]

  We repeat our request to see our client, Mr. Syed, immediately upon receipt of this letter.

  The letter and their repeated attempts failed. Having held Adnan for six hours of interrogation, the police did not record or videotape any of it and did not inform Adnan about his attorneys until it was over. Only a few lines of notes were produced, notes pertaining to the read
ing of Miranda rights and Adnan’s waiver of his right to having an attorney present during questioning.

  According to Adnan, after he had asked for an attorney, he didn’t speak to the police again and the interview wrapped up. But one of the last things he remembers Ritz saying to him, after he asked when he could go home because he had school work to do, was, “Adnan, you’re not going home.”

  * * *

  After a long booking process Adnan was given one five-minute phone call. He spoke to Tanveer, telling him he had been charged with Hae’s murder, and then he asked for his mom.

  Adnan:

  Subsequent to my interrogation at the police station, I was transported to the Central Booking Intake Facility. I was fingerprinted, photographed, and also given a basic health screening. I was next brought before a court commissioner, who informed me that because I was charged with First-Degree murder, I would be placed on a “No-bail” status. He further explained that because of this status, I would immediately be remanded into the custody of the Baltimore City Detention Center until trial. I actually remember the exact words he spoke; he was reading them off a piece of paper. He ended up with, “until trial, or such time as the Court orders your release.”

  This entire process lasted several hours, as between each step there was a period of time which I spent waiting in various holding cells. Once the booking process was complete, I was permitted to make one phone call. I was directed to a chair that was adjacent to a desk with a phone on it, and informed that I had five minutes. I dialed the number for my home, and after a few rings, my older brother answered. Initially, I couldn’t respond to his “Hello? Hello?” because I had no idea what to say. Eventually, I said to him, “Tanveer, hey, it’s me.” I told him that I had been taken to the police station, and that they had charged me with Hae’s murder. I didn’t know at the time, but by then I believe there was news coverage, and my family was already aware. I explained to him that I was in the Booking Facility, and that I was being transferred to the City Detention Center. He asked how I was doing, and if I was alright? Hearing the worry and fear in his voice, I did my best to assure him that I was fine, and surely this whole thing must be a huge mistake, and that it would probably be straightened out soon.

  By then, the officer informed me I had only one minute left. I asked my brother, “Is Mom there?” and he passed the phone to her. I heard her say, very softly, “Adnan…” and immediately I could tell that she had been crying. It was the first time throughout the whole ordeal that I felt my resolve begin to crack. I struggled to keep my voice steady, as I conveyed to her that I was alright, and that this would all end soon. I asked her how Yusuf was doing, and she told me that he had been very upset, but that he had gone to sleep. I only had a few seconds left, and I reassured her once again that I was well, and that she shouldn’t worry. I promised I would call home again as soon as I could. I was relieved to hear a measure of calmness in her voice as we said our good-byes.

  I was next taken to a shower area, and strip-searched. There was a faucet which dispensed anti-bacterial soap, and I was instructed to wash my entire body with it. An officer stood there and watched to make sure I complied with that order. I was handed a green jumpsuit, and given a brown bag which contained breakfast. In it was an 8 oz. carton of milk, two boiled-eggs, four slices of bread, and an apple. After I was finished eating, I was handcuffed and escorted to the Detention Center, which was linked to the Booking Facility by a series of long corridors.

  I was taken to the juvenile wing, and from that point on, it was just a matter of waiting. I would spend the next several months reading a lot of novels, playing basketball, and exercising. I learned a lot of table-top games, such as chess, Scrabble, various card games, etc. We’d have an opportunity to make phone calls once a day or so, during our recreation time. There was a television in the rec. hall area, and we could also take showers during that time. Sporadically, there were disturbances, fights, etc., and we would be placed on lock-down. We would be confined to our cells, and this could last a day, several days, or even weeks, depending on the nature of the disturbance. We were also allowed to submit requests to the law library. I would order legal materials, trying to understand the trial process. It was very difficult; I had no idea what to request as I had no clear understanding of what I was going through, legally.

  * * *

  Adnan tried to maintain a calm demeanor with his family. But when he called Bilal he wasn’t able to control his emotions.

  At a grand jury proceeding on March 22, 1999, Bilal testified about the call saying Adnan was “hysterical,” and “he was crying a lot so—and it was hard for me to understand from his conversation was that he was—I mean, he was devastated. He’s like denying it. I didn’t do it.”

  It’s not surprising that Adnan called Bilal and let his emotions loose. Bilal was his mentor.

  Adnan now describes Bilal as a real-life Fagin from Oliver Twist: encouraging kids’ corruption while protecting his own reputation, feigning self-righteousness to cover misdeeds. Adnan and the other kids knew things about Bilal that the rest of us didn’t. But upon his arrest, Adnan knew Bilal was the guy who could help his family cope.

  And he did. It was Bilal who recommended Colbert to the family the morning Adnan was arrested, and now he was organizing meetings at the mosque to raise money and get ready for the bail hearing, which was what the attorneys told him to do.

  The first bail hearing was set for March 1, 1999, when Adnan appeared via video conference in the Baltimore City District Court. His attorneys requested that bail be set at $25,000, but it was denied thanks to an error on Adnan’s charging documents: his birth date.

  Adnan’s birthday is May 21, 1981. But his arrest warrant, the document before the judge, incorrectly noted his date of birth as 1980. In fact, this mistake remains on his criminal record to this day.

  In 1999 the death penalty still existed in the State of Maryland, but not for minor defendants. However, this judge, seeing the arrest warrant, incorrectly assumed Adnan was an adult and twice referred to the case as a capital case, thus not eligible for bail.

  On March 16, Colbert and Flohr filed a Writ of Habeas Corpus with the circuit court, a legal mechanism by which to challenge the imprisonment of a defendant. A hearing on the writ was held shortly thereafter, on March 31.

  In the week before the bail hearing, the community scrambled to both raise funds and collect character letters of support for Adnan from people with whom he had grown up, worshipped, and gone to school. About one hundred such letters were submitted to the court, and buses were arranged from the mosque to the court early on the day of the hearing. Nearly a hundred people filed into the courtroom and hallways outside the courthouse.

  “I’d never seen anything like it,” says Doug Colbert. A number of community members, all doctors, offered their homes as bail collateral.

  They expected Adnan, a kid with no record, well-loved and supported by a community spanning professionals, religious leaders, and peers, would be viewed by the judge favorably. And he might have, if prosecutor Vicki Wash hadn’t made an argument that left us all stunned.

  Before a room full of Muslim citizens she said to the court, “Your Honor, the fact that the defendant has strong support from the community, that is what makes him unique in this case. He is unique because he has limitless resources; he has the resources of this entire community here. Investigation reveals that he can tag resources from Pakistan as well. It’s our position, Your Honor, that if you issue bail, then you are issuing him a passport under these circumstances to flee the country. [… T]here is a pattern in the United States of America where young Pakistani males have been jilted, have committed murder, and have fled to Pakistan, and we have been unable to extradite them back. […] We have information from our investigation that the defendant has an uncle in Pakistan, and he has indicated that he can make people disappear.”

  That was the first time that the community got an inkling of what was really goin
g on: the police went after Adnan because he was Muslim and Pakistani. If they, upstanding citizens, could be indicted by this prosecutor in one broad sweep, then it was clear that the core of the police’s theory hinged on Adnan’s religion and ethnicity. No one expected—least of all Adnan’s attorneys—to hear such an argument. But Wash didn’t make that argument up on the fly. She had prepared for it, having spoken with a legal advisor at the Department of Justice (DOJ) and, just a few days prior, having honed in on mosque members and a friend of Adnan’s to ask questions about Islam. Defense notes indicate that three days prior, “Detectives Ritz and MacGillivary along with Vicki Wash made a 7:30pm visit to the residence of a Hindu friend of Adnan’s and asked questions about Islam.”

  Many points affirm that Adnan was targeted because of his religion and ethnicity. This is one of them. There is no other explanation for a prosecutor, who could easily argue against bail based on the heinous nature of the crime, based on premeditation, or based on witness statements, to research and prepare an argument connected with his ethnic background, which for them was basically interchangeable with his religious affiliation. This, of course, doesn’t even address the fact that Adnan isn’t, and never has been, a Pakistani citizen. He is an American citizen, born and raised in the United States.

  The following day, bail was denied.

  Wash’s arguments inflamed Adnan’s attorneys, who reached out to the DOJ legal counsel she had consulted, and wrote a letter of complaint to the State’s Attorney.

  In arguing that Mr. Syed presents a risk of flight, Assistant State Attorney Vicki Wash relied upon improper and erroneous assertions concerning Mr. Syed’s nationality, ethnicity, ancestry, and religion. Ms. Wash also referred to the national origin and religion of Mr. Syed’s parents and made a similar references to the Baltimore community that supports Mr. Syed’s pretrial release. [… I]n my opinion, Ms. Wash’s presentation was wholly outside the boundaries of proper argument.