Adnan's Story Read online

  Krista still clearly remembers the events of that night, and the following few days:

  She called Adnan between 10:40 p.m. and 11:00 p.m. but at first didn’t reach him, so she left him a voicemail. She called back two minutes later and he answered the phone. He sounded happy, but she knew what she was about to tell him was completely going to change his life. She told him that they had found Hae and that she was dead. Initially he seemed to be in complete shock and unable to speak. After a few minutes of silence on his end, Krista asked if he was going to be okay, then told him to come over to her place if he needed to. Adnan finally responded, asking if Aisha was home. Krista said she was, and Adnan said he was going to go over to her house instead. Krista phoned Aisha to let her know Adnan was on his way, and she asked Krista to come over as well, since she wasn’t emotionally equipped to handle Adnan on her own. Krista arrived at Aisha’s house around 11:30 p.m., pulling up at the same time as Stephanie McPherson, to find Adnan sitting at the kitchen table crying. When he calmed down enough to speak he said that there had to be a mistake and that Hae was still alive because her name was written on Aisha’s agenda book. Krista recalls that Adnan used his cell phone to call Detective O’Shea, but the detective wasn’t in. Adnan started crying again and Krista took the phone from him and spoke with the police officer to explain that they just wanted to get some information. The officer instructed the kids that they needed to call homicide in the morning—there wasn’t anyone there they could talk to now.

  The friends stayed at Aisha’s house until about 12:45 a.m., and then Krista took Adnan with her because she didn’t think it was safe for him to walk home alone that late at night. She dropped him off in the parking lot across the street from his house and he ran home from there.

  By the next morning, the entire school knew that Hae was dead.

  The Magnet Program circle of friends were all at school that day, seeking comfort in the familiar and bonding over an incomprehensible loss.

  Students and teachers alike approached Adnan to console him; he was dazed, still in denial, unsure of how to deal with the outpouring of sympathy. Sympathy for what? For the death of his ex-girlfriend or the death of his friend? It was all too much for him.

  He went to the nurse’s office, where his friend Ja’uan Gordon came to see him. Adnan was irritated with the nurse, who kept pressing him and insisting that he believe the news. Ja’uan remembers Adnan’s denial, the nurse literally shaking him, and then seeing him “break down” in tears. Quivering and upset, Adnan got a pass to leave school with Ja’uan and went to the home of another Woodlawn friend, Peter Billingsley, who was on the yearbook staff along with Adnan. Hae had also been part of their yearbook team.

  A number of friends were gathered at Peter’s house, and Adnan retreated to the basement. After a while they found him downstairs alone in a corner, crying. Peter noted that he had been sobbing for over two hours. Krista remembers it like this:

  Laura, Aisha, and I went to pick up lunch and took it back to Peter’s house. Adnan was very quiet, kept to himself and cried a lot. Several times he went downstairs and locked himself in the bathroom. After we left Peter’s house Aisha and I went to her house for the afternoon. Adnan called and stopped by to hang out for a little while. As we were watching TV the previews of the five o’clock news came on and the discovery of Hae’s body was the top headline. As we watched the story you could tell by his reaction that Adnan realized that Hae really wasn’t coming back. All he could do at that very moment was lay in my arms and cry.

  Adnan remembers feeling sheer disbelief. He had never seriously considered that Hae might not ever return, that she might be dead, that she might have been hurt or killed. Neither had any of their friends.

  The discovery of Hae’s body shocked them to the core. Krista says “February 10, 1999, was the day we were forced to become adults. We were struck with real life tragedy and lost someone we cared very deeply for. We lived more aware of the world around us and that bad people existed. As a group of friends we vowed to watch out for each other and stay in constant communication, so that none of us would just disappear again.”

  But there would be no waking from what Adnan wished was a bad dream; his nightmare was just beginning.

  Adnan:

  It was toward the end of that fourth week that Krista called me one night. She was crying as she told me she had just heard that a body had been found, and that the police believed it was Hae’s. She told me she would meet me at Aisha’s house, so I left home and went there. The three of us sat at the table in her parents’ kitchen, and I had this strong feeling of disbelief. I even recall arguing with them about whether or not the police could’ve been mistaken. Afterward, I just remember us crying together, and having this overwhelming feeling of sadness, in a way that I had never felt before.

  That night was almost 17 years ago; literally, half a lifetime away. And of all the horrible things I’ve experienced, from that day till this—nothing has ever compared to that sorrow. Beginning to realize that I would never see Hae’s smile, or hear her laughter, or enjoy the warmth that she brought into our lives, ever again? I don’t think I’ll ever have the words to describe the grief of that moment.

  Going back to that night, after leaving Aisha and Krista and going to school the next day; well, everything was pretty much a blur. I just recall going through the motions of life, school, work, etc. I remember feeling a mixture of shock and disbelief, coupled with an immeasurable amount of sadness over her loss. We began planning Hae’s memorial service, and I think that is when it really hit home. That I would never again see a person that I loved so much.

  It was the saddest time in my life. Each of those days kind of faded into the next. And it would only be 19 of them, until I was arrested.

  * * *

  The next day, Friday, February 12th, Saad took Adnan on a long drive to help clear his head. Adnan was coping, but not well. An observant Muslim home offers no outlet to express anything about a forbidden relationship, and while things have improved slightly now, in 1999 no counseling was available in Muslim communities. Approaching a religious leader about the loss of someone he wasn’t even supposed to be friends with, much less date, was a no-go. And many Muslims, like those in other conservative faith communities, have lived their lives swallowing grief and processing pain on their own. In religious circles those who suffer through divorce, abuse, addiction, and loss are often encouraged to pray more and have patience, without any attention to mental health or any prospect of real healing.

  Of course, Adnan was also in high school, a teenager. How many teens seek the comfort of their parents or other adults in times of crisis? They rarely do; instead they turn to friends and peers. Adnan had his friends at Woodlawn, but they did not have the same relationship and friendship with Hae as he did; they also wouldn’t understand his faith perspective.

  Together, Saad and Adnan headed to western Maryland, our former home and where Saad grew up. Interstate 70, whose eastern end hits Baltimore not far from Woodlawn High School, stretches in the opposite direction for nearly a hundred miles through scenic countryside, all the way to the Pennsylvania border. They drove west on I-70, crossing over the Monocacy River, before veering off onto Route 15 toward Catoctin Mountain.

  The temperature was near freezing so they didn’t get out of the car. Saad drove through Cunningham Falls State Park, letting Adnan sit in silence as they listened to music—hip-hop, R&B, some occasional bhangra.

  They got back on the interstate and kept heading west, to Hagerstown. Right inside the town limits was a small mosque, established in the years after we had moved to Baltimore. They stopped to pray the weekly congregational Jummah prayer after listening to a sermon, and then Saad took Adnan to Rocky’s Pizza, his favorite comfort food spot, for lunch.

  Between hot, gooey slices of pizza they spoke about Hae and what could have happened to her. Adnan had no idea; there was no public information about how she died. All they knew was that she�
�d been found in Leakin Park. And they didn’t even know where Leakin Park was.

  In fact, most of us didn’t. Many of us had never driven that way. It was an internal route to the city that we weren’t even aware of, and the only part of the city my family ever went to was the Baltimore harbor, usually with guests. To get there, we simply hopped onto the interstate because it took you almost directly there. And for those who may have actually driven past that area, they never realized that it was called Leakin Park; there was no sign on Franklintown Road identifying the woods to either side as an actual park.

  As they drove back they tried to reconcile themselves with Hae’s death. In Islam, life and death are already decreed by God. We are each born with certain things preordained: the amount of our “rizq,” or sustenance, be it food or money, and the time of our death. Even before we enter this world our days and nights are written, numbered, noted by the angels in our individual decrees of life. We must live, then, like travelers in this world, treating it like a temporary abode, until we move on to our eternal homes.

  Muslims are given three days to mourn unless the deceased is their spouse. Any more than three days is considered disrespectful to God because every soul came from Him, belongs to Him, and will return rightfully to Him. We don’t own each other, only God owns us.

  Adnan’s discussions with Saad, and later with his mosque mentor, Bilal, helped him manage what he could barely accept as reality, but he still carried a deep sadness. Yusuf recalls Adnan taking him out for dinner one night, during the last week of that month. Even as a child Yusuf knew something was wrong. His big brother was unusually somber, even as he attempted to make small talk with Yusuf, who prattled on about Dragon Ball Z. It was a memorable dinner for Yusuf because it was the last time he spent time alone with Adnan.

  * * *

  On February 11, two days after Hae’s body was found, something odd happened. A “walk-in witness” showed up in the Woodlawn Stationhouse of the Baltimore City Police. The forty-one-year-old black man had seen media reports that evening that a murder victim had been found in Leakin Park, and he thought he had seen something that may have been connected to the crime. The police officer on duty called the Homicide Division and Detective Ritz arrived with a colleague to speak with him.

  The man had seen a black man driving a light-colored vehicle and acting suspiciously by some concrete roadblocks on a road leading to another part of Leakin Park, about a mile from where Hae’s body was found. The officers’ report is sparse. It doesn’t note the time of the incident, why the man was suspicious, or why the witness thought it might be connected to the murder. The police quickly dispensed with the man, concluding “investigators believe that this observance is not connected to the murder of Hae Lee.” No one ever contacted him again.

  That same evening the police pulled the registration records for Adnan’s car. Having checked to see if he had a criminal record on February 3rd, the police seem to have considered him their prime suspect all along.

  As Hae’s family, friends, and community tried to cope with the horrific news, the police went into overdrive to close their case. This was not the average Baltimore murder, not a gang-bang killing, not a drive-by, not a drug crime. This also wasn’t the average Baltimore victim, mostly black and poor. Hae was a bright, promising honor roll student from the suburbs. She belonged to a family and a community with a strong local business presence, and a church that rallied around them. The murder of Jada Lambert, the young black girl who was found dead seven months prior, did not get the same investigatory vigor or media coverage as Hae’s case, and I don’t hesitate to say that the victim’s “profile” made all the difference.

  In a city with a terrifying amount of violence, this case was distinct, because both the victim and their chief suspect, Adnan, were top students, popular, and came from ethnic communities that the police rarely ventured into. But mostly because the nature of the crime seemed to be a departure from anything they’d encountered before. They believed they were dealing with religiously/ethnically motivated violence, an “honor killing.”

  This, however, is not how honor killings operate. In honor killings, which have been documented mostly in the Middle East and the South Asian subcontinent, including Pakistan, India, and Bangladesh, and across all religions, a woman’s family members (frequently men: father, brother, uncle, husband etc.) murder her for “dishonoring” the family. This dishonor can be brought about in a number of ways but is usually connected to an illicit affair, extramarital sexual activity, or marrying a person the family disapproves of. Contrary to popular belief, honor killings aren’t limited to Muslim or South Asian communities. They are even found in Far Eastern cultures, including Korean culture, as documented in the memoir Ten Thousand Sorrows: The Extraordinary Journey of a Korean War Orphan by Elizabeth Kim. In the book, Kim recalls witnessing the honor killing of her mother by her grandfather and uncle, her mother’s father and brother. She died for the crime of having a “half-breed” child out of wedlock with an American G.I.

  Mandy Johnson, who would come to present herself as an expert on Muslim “culture” despite there being no evidence of her having any such credentials, met again with the detectives on February 15 and was interviewed about Hae’s diary, which was still in her possession. They took the diary from her, seeking more support for their theory of the case. A theory that had been further confirmed by a mysterious call a few days prior.

  On February 12, at approximately 3:19 p.m., Detective Daryl Massey of the Baltimore City Police got two calls from the same tipster.

  The tip was essentially a nod in Adnan’s direction, with no actual information about the crime or his involvement. Beyond that, it also contained inaccurate information—Adnan and Hae never hooked up in Leakin Park, and they certainly did not break up a week prior to her disappearance; they had broken up at least a month before. Hae’s car, as it turned out, was nowhere near a lake.

  Still, the fact that an “anonymous Asian” male thought Adnan deserved their undivided attention supported their existing theory that he was the perp. Did “Asian” mean South Asian, and suggest that someone from Adnan’s community knew something they weren’t divulging? Or did it mean East Asian, and suggest someone from Hae’s community or family with a hunch?

  In order to find out, the police set out in search of one “Baser Ali” who turned out to be Yaser Ali, a friend of Adnan’s who was also in his senior year of high school.

  Detectives MacGillivary and Carew tracked down and visited Yaser a few days later, on February 15th, meeting him at Pizza Hut in Ellicott City.

  Master Ali has known the victim’s prior boyfriend one Adnon [sic] Syed 7034 Johnnycake Road Baltimore, Maryland M/P/17 05/21/81 for numerous years. In fact both boys attend the same Mosque “Islamic Society of Baltimore”. Ali indicated that in the spring of 1998, Adnon became involved with the victim socially and apparently attended the Junior Prom together. As a result of the relationship between Adnon and Hae, Master Ali found that his friendship with Adnon began to dissolve.

  Ali also indicated that during the holy month described as “Ramadan” which occurred this year from 23 December 1998 to 16 January 1999. At the conclusion of the month, a festival named “Eid” occurs on 17 January 1999, and was held at the mosque. Ali also indicated that on 17 January 1999, he arrived at the mosque at approximately 5 a.m. He eventually saw Adnon at or about 0730 hours, however, both indicated that they would meet later in the day at one of the parties scheduled. Ali stated that they actually never met up that day, as a result of missing each other between events.

  Ali further indicates that Adnon eventually comes over to his house, exact date unknown, however is after the victim is found by the Police. A discussion takes place as to Adnon’s knowledge of how the victim was killed and whether Adnon knew who had killed Hae Min Lee.

  Master Ali was asked whether he had heard from other friends about Hae Lee’s disappearance and Ali indicated that [there] were discussions about
her, however, nothing pertinent to this investigation.

  Master Ali was also asked that if Adnon had killed Hae Min Lee, would Adnon tell anyone? Ali indicated that he didn’t think he would.

  Master Ali was asked if he had called Homicide with any information concerning this event, and Ali indicated no.

  Ali was then asked if Adnon had been involved, and he wanted to get rid of the car, where would he do so? Ali indicated somewhere in the woods, possibly in Centennial Lake or the Inner Harbor.

  Investigation to continue.

  Nothing that Yaser said connected Adnan to the crime. Whoever pointed the police in his direction did so futilely. But the police questions show their line of thinking: first, that Adnan may have told someone if he had committed the crime, and second, they still needed to find Hae’s car. The anonymous tip of the 12th didn’t accomplish much in the way of actual evidence, but it paved the way for investigators to narrow their suspect list down to one, Adnan, and was also a convenient excuse to not investigate anyone else.

  On the same day that police visited Yaser, Adnan was pulled over for a seatbelt violation—not in itself unusual—but the real reason he was pulled over isn’t known until many years later.

  The police investigation continued as Hae’s family and community rallied for her murder to be solved. On the 16th, Detective MacGillivary was informed by the medical examiner that none of the swabs taken from Hae’s body returned any trace of spermatozoa, evidence that she had not been sexually assaulted.

  The next day, February 17th, Hae’s church arranged a public vigil, seen in media footage from that evening. Holding lit candles as dusk fell, local Korean Americans walked soberly, singing church songs. They would not let this young girl be forgotten. The police understood, and took the pressure seriously. So much so, they made a special request to the Maryland State Aviation Unit that day to fly over Leakin Park and Woodlawn to help locate Hae’s car. The request was denied.