The trial started the Monday after the 2015 Super Bowl.
Nelly and I arrived in Toronto the Thursday before for trial prep. We flew out of a small airport near my house on the RCMP’s jet. This way, we didn’t have to deal with security or any cameras or biometrics. The flight was short and when we landed in Toronto, there were no other planes in sight. The pilot handed me a ski mask and asked me to put it on before he opened the door to the plane. Nelly got out first, carrying one large duffel bag. I climbed down the retractable stairs next and met several large, burly men dressed in all black carrying assault rifles.
When the pilot opened the back, the RCMP SWAT guys started unloading my bags. The team leader, Hal, pulled Nelly aside.
“How many people are on the plane?”
Nelly laughed as the security team unloaded my bags into the back of an SUV.
“They’re all his,” he said, pointing at me.
I didn’t realize they were flying me home every weekend, so I had two large suitcases, a garment bag, a carry-on, and my backpack. I can’t pack light. I like options, especially for court. I found out later I earned my code name that day. The guys called me “T-Bags.” I laughed every time I heard it on the police radios.
“T-Bags is on the move.”
For the next three weeks, I lived in a bubble. Hal and his men became my family. They protected me at the safe house, which overlooked Lake Ontario. On Super Bowl Sunday, they even rigged an antenna so we could watch the Buffalo, New York, feed instead of the Canadian feed without the commercials. It turned out to be an amazing game—New England beat Seattle. Or more like Seattle beat Seattle. At one point, I made a joke about a guy getting used to having a security detail, but I was sexually frustrated and I needed them to address it. The next day, when I got back from court, they had a blow-up doll in the living room with her ass in the air.
She was pretty hot.
The prosecution—called the Crown in Canada—was led by Croft Michaelson. An experienced prosecutor, his cochair Sarah Shaikh was overseeing my testimony. Sarah was of Pakistani descent and a Muslim. We had met a few months prior in New York to start my trial prep. After I landed, they met me at their office in downtown Toronto for a few days of last-minute prep. I had let my hair and beard grow on Heidi’s suggestion. The Crown wouldn’t let me wear a disguise—even fake glasses—and I wanted to change my appearance.
“Why the fuck do you look like that?” Sarah asked.
She always cursed.
“You look like a Neanderthal jihadi.”
She sent me to a salon to get a haircut before starting trial prep. It lasted twelve to fifteen hours a day leading up to my testimony. Initially, I tried to sound too professional and proper, but the words sounded phony. After a few hours, Nelly spoke up.
“Sarah, I apologize for interrupting,” he said. “Ask him whatever you want and let him be himself. It will come across more natural and he will be a much better witness for you.”
He then looked at me.
“No one in the world knows this case better than you do,” he said. “You lived it. You were there. Just be yourself and everyone will love you.”
That was exactly what I needed to hear. Sarah tried it Nelly’s way and the trial prep got much smoother. Nelly saved me, again.
I was nervous as Hal and his team drove me to the courthouse the first day. They ushered me into the courtroom from the jury’s door so I could avoid the media. When I first entered, my eyes went right to Chiheb. He was sitting on the opposite side of the courtroom encased in a glass bowl, a goldfish without water. He was wearing the black and blue ski jacket he was arrested in with a blue button-down shirt on underneath it. His jeans were rolled up into thick cuffs.
Chiheb looked me dead in the eye and didn’t blink. It was the blankest stare I’ve ever seen. For a second, I wanted him to smile or say something. I wanted him to understand. My heart sank. I felt sorry for the human inside him. Not the monster. No, the monster was going to jail. It was the lost puppy that I felt sorry for, but it was Allah’s will that I stop him and this was the final step.
To his left, closer to me, in another empty fishbowl, was Jaser. He was wearing a suit with a neatly trimmed beard and glasses. I almost didn’t recognize him. He looked like a businessman or a lawyer. Jaser couldn’t wait to get my attention. His hands were palms down on the desk in front of him as he leaned forward, begging me to look at him. When he caught my attention, Jaser looked around the courtroom to make sure no one else was looking and then looked me in the eye.
“I will find you,” he mouthed.
Nelly saw him do it and looked at me with a smirk. I relaxed immediately. Jaser was desperate. He knew we had him. I couldn’t wait to get started.
All the attorneys arrived wearing black robes like American judges. Sarah and Croft sat to my left behind a wooden table. To my right was a lawyer the court appointed to help Chiheb. In front of him was John Norris—Jaser’s lawyer. Norris came over to greet me before we started. I had no idea what to make of that. The niceties started early.
I arranged my notes and introduced myself to the court clerk—an older man who made sure I always had a glass of water. Justice Michael Code took the bench soon after and court was called to order. Code reminded me of the judge from My Cousin Vinny. He had a reputation for being one of the most brilliant legal minds in Canada. I had also heard that he was one hell of a prosecutor back in his day. The judge greeted the court and looked at the cameras and greeted the media sequestered in another room. They couldn’t see me; they could only hear my testimony. Code instructed the clerk to bring in the jury. They filed into the jury box.
I was introduced to the jury as Special Agent Tamer Elnoury of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Tamer Elnoury was burned. His apartments were gone. His company dissolved. Tamer didn’t exist anymore, so the FBI agreed to let me testify in that name. My training and experience were discussed without ever mentioning where I was from or where I was currently assigned and without giving away anything that could disclose my true identity. It was a very well-scripted opening that was agreed to by both sides.
I had great chemistry with Sarah from the start. It began the same way every day.
“Good morning, Agent Elnoury.”
“Good morning, Ms. Shaikh.”
After lunch was the same thing.
“Good afternoon, Agent Elnoury.”
“Good afternoon, Ms. Shaikh.”
Croft must have said something to her, because after the first couple of days she started right with her questions without the pleasantries. But I interrupted her.
“Good morning, Ms. Shaikh.”
She blushed, smiled, and replied in kind. The entire jury laughed. They were waiting for it too. Croft was pissed. I found out later that he told someone I was an American witness but it was still a Canadian courtroom.
The entire trial was about the conspiracy to attack the train from Toronto. Sarah would ask me questions to set the stage and then play a recording for the court to hear. The courtroom was wired with surround sound and multiple flat-screens that showed videos or transcripts. A translator sitting at the prosecutor’s table would scroll down and highlight the transcript.
This was the Crown’s way of playing the recordings in court even if the conversations were in Arabic. Very smart, because there’s nothing like hearing the words coming out of the defendants’ mouths in surround-sound stereo. A lot of it was in English, which just highlighted the horror even more. During some of the recordings when we were laughing and joking, Chiheb sat back and smiled and laughed. He was reminiscing and enjoying it.
After the first few days of testimony, we wrapped up early enough for me to catch the local evening news at the safe house. I hadn’t seen any of the coverage so far and was shocked to see what was happening. The focus was on Islamic extremism. Nothing about true Islam. In the media’s defense, all they were hearing were Chiheb’s and Jaser’s interpretations.
The next morning, when Sarah came into the courthouse break room, I told her about the coverage.
“I know, I’ve been watching,” she said. “What can you do?”
“I could state the obvious,” I said.
“What do you mean?” she asked, focused more on the day’s testimony than my editorializing. “You can’t say anything. What are you going to do? What are you going to say?”
We were getting to the Christian burial speech, where I gave Chiheb a chance to back out of the attack. I told her there was a pause in the middle of the conversation. After the pause, I told her to ask me what was going through my mind.
“What are you going to say?”
“I’m going to say that his thoughts and rationalizations are not indicative of true Islam.”
Sarah was good with that explanation and agreed to ask the question. We wrapped up for lunch right before the Christian burial speech. After lunch, I was excited to take the stand. This was a point I wanted to make. I needed to make it. Islam was never the cause, and I wanted the jury to hear it. I wanted the world to hear it. Just as I got comfortable, Croft and Sarah walked over to the witness stand.
“Tamer, Sarah mentioned to me what you wanted to say about Islam,” Croft said. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Have you been watching the media coverage?” I said. “They are making it about Islam. The world needs to hear from me that this is not Islam.”
“Yes, but that’s not what this trial is about,” he said. “We’re going to leave your personal comments out of it.”
I leaned closer because I didn’t want the whole courtroom to hear.
“Croft, I am your witness, not your fucking puppet,” I said. “Either ask me the way that Sarah and I discussed, or I will blurt it out at some point while I am on the stand, and that could get awkward. Your choice.”
Croft backed away. He looked me in the eye and then put both his hands up.
“Ask him what he wants,” he said as he walked away.
Sarah smiled at me as she walked back to the table. When the pause came, she stopped the tape.
“I have one more question for you, Agent Elnoury,” she said. “You also said prior to the break that this particular part of your conversation with Mr. Esseghaier stuck out in your mind, and you provided a justification for that. What was really the reason that this bothered you?”
I sat up a little straighter in my chair.
“These religious views that are presented are a complete desecration of my religion,” I said. “So it stands out to me when I am having a discussion about rationalizing killing innocent women and children.”
Chiheb kept quiet for most of the proceedings. He knew to wait for Justice Code’s permission to speak, but my comments set him off. I wasn’t talking about the facts of the case anymore. I was talking about Islam. He jumped out of his seat and was waving his hand at the judge to get his attention. Code removed the jury and then let Chiheb speak.
“I want to address what that witness agent just said,” Chiheb said. “He is very, very wrong. There is no interpretation of Islam. There is only one Islam. Either you get it or you don’t.”
I couldn’t have said it any better myself. His interpretation was wrong. Chiheb went on and on about religion but was eventually cut off by Code so we could all get on with it.
“Your religious explanation is duly noted on the record, Mr. Esseghaier,” Code said.
The media coverage shifted that night. TV reporters were interviewing Imams at local mosques who echoed my sentiments. That was one of my proudest moments throughout this entire case. The Muslim community had a platform, and their ally was an American FBI agent. Al Qaeda and ISIS weren’t the only ones with a voice anymore.
Two weeks after I took the stand, Sarah was done. We were confident in my testimony. I wasn’t allowed any contact with the Crown from this point forward. It was now Jaser and Chiheb’s turn to defend themselves.
But so far Chiheb hadn’t even tried. During parts of the trial, Chiheb fell asleep in the prisoner’s box. He didn’t cross-examine witnesses and declined to even present a defense. Before the trial began, he argued the Quran should be used in place of the Canadian criminal code. Code asked if the Quran would lead to a different outcome for murder.
“Just wait and see who is in truth and who is in falsehood,” Chiheb said.
When Code asked Chiheb if he had any questions for me, he didn’t move or say anything. He sat in silence before turning to face the back of the courtroom.
Justice Code asked Jaser’s attorney, John Norris, if he was ready. Norris smiled politely as he stood.
“Yes, Your Honor.”
Like Sarah, he said good morning before he started. In Canada, defense counsel was a “friend” to the court and he was always polite. That was so foreign to me. Every defense attorney I had run-ins with in our courts had always tried to trick me, yell at me, discredit me. I never met one I didn’t want to fight in the parking lot afterward. I welcomed combative, nasty exchanges. I knew how to navigate that. What if Norris lulled me with his kindness?
Norris started with how I met Chiheb.
“There was an ongoing investigation into Mr. Esseghaier?”
“Yes,” I said.
“And as part of that investigation, you were tasked with forming a relationship with him?”
“Correct.”
“You engaged with Mr. Esseghaier and the two of you exchanged Islamic greetings?”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“You were portraying yourself as someone who shared views with him?”
“Yes, of course.”
Norris talked about my five days with Chiheb in San Jose.
“You shared with Mr. Esseghaier how meeting him had had a real effect on you, how fate had brought the two of you together?”
“Well, fate had nothing to do with it,” I said.
“Because of meeting him, your life had a purpose now,” Norris said.
“Something like that.”
“That’s the gist?”
“That’s the legend,” I said.
Norris had been instructed to stay away from any sensitive techniques, so when he asked me if the FBI orchestrated the whole initial meeting, I balked.
“Mr. Norris, I cannot confirm or deny that,” I said. “If you would like to know whether or not I knew if Mr. Esseghaier was going to be on that flight, I can answer that question.”
This went back and forth for a while. Heidi and I made eye contact. She was fidgeting and Nelly was almost out of his seat. Norris looked to Code for help. Code took off his reading glasses and looked at me.
“Agent Elnoury, any reasonable person can infer what your answer would be in this situation,” he said. “I don’t think you would be jeopardizing national security by answering this one simple question. I think you are taking your oath a little too seriously.”
I could feel my blood pressure rise. It felt like Code was siding with the defense from the start. They seemed to win every objection. He was kicking out our legs at every turn.
Code called for a twenty-minute recess so that counsel could discuss it. He released the jury and I went back to the break room. I was livid. Heidi reworded the question so it better fit the FBI and Norris’s agenda. As we were leaving to go back to court, Heidi grabbed my arm and asked me if I was okay. I nodded and she squeezed my arm.
“Calm down before you go back up there,” she said. “He’s just trying to get to you.”
I was more pissed at the judge than at Norris. I had to say something. I wouldn’t be able to go on unless I addressed this with him.
“I trust we reached an agreement with this matter?” Code asked when court resumed.
“Yes, Your Honor,” both attorneys said.
“Okay, let’s have the jury,” Code said as he sat down behind the bench.
I interrupted him.
“Judge, I’d like to address the court before the jury enters, please,” I said.
He turned to me, annoyed, and said go ahead.
“Your Honor, I want you to know that I was highly offended by your inference that I take national security and my oath ‘too seriously’”—and yes, I used air quotes here. It was the most respectful way I could be disrespectful. “Of all the people in the world that I would think that meant something to, I would think that would be you, sir. I do take national security and my oath very seriously.”
He was onstage and the cameras were rolling. Everyone in the media was there and this was his show. So he couldn’t just apologize to me.
“I never implied that national security or your oath wasn’t a serious matter,” he said. “I am very appreciative of how serious you take these matters. I’m sorry you feel that way. It was never my intent to insinuate anything like that.”
Sarah had a very proud look on her face and Nelly winked at me. I felt like I could breathe again.
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
He called for the jury and we continued. Norris asked the question the right way and we moved on from there. It wasn’t clear what Jaser’s defense would be until we got to our first meeting at his apartment. Norris’s argument was that Jaser was a con man looking to get money from Tamer. If that meant pretending to be a jihadi, so be it. He left the train plot because he wasn’t going to be able to get any money from me, not because he was spooked by the police and afraid to get caught.
There were two major holes in that defense.
Jaser was part of the plot from the start. He checked out a possible site with Chiheb before I even entered the picture. I got to hammer that home repeatedly during cross-examination. I kept getting nods from Sarah every time it came up.
The second point was going to be trickier, but I needed Norris to open the door. During my testimony, Sayyid Qutb’s name came up a few times. He was the author of Milestones, one of the founding jihadi texts. I told Sarah after the second day of testimony to ask me who he was so I could explain it to the jury. She did, but Norris objected. He argued I was an expert in counterterrorism and law enforcement but had no literary expertise. Code agreed and Sarah was forced to move on.
I brought his name up every single chance I got, but we never got to explain how his writings inspired jihadism. After a week of questions, Norris was wrapping up his cross-examination by asking me a bunch of short questions that forced me to answer yes. It’s a common ploy used by defense attorneys to get the jury to hear the prosecution’s witness repeatedly agree with the defense. It sounds stupid, but it works. Toward the end of this barrage, he circled back to my first meeting with Jaser.
“From the moment he met you, he knew you were a wealthy businessman and—”
I cut him off. That was the crack of the door I’d been waiting for.
“No, actually, that’s not true, Mr. Norris,” I said. “When your client first met me, he had no idea what my legend was. But he made sure to let me know who he was with his reverence of Sayyid Qutb.”
Norris’s face was beet red and his carotid artery was coming out of the side of his neck. He opened the door and Sarah went through it during redirect.
“Agent Elnoury, we keep hearing about Sayyid Qutb and Mr. Jaser’s reverence of him,” she said. “Could you explain why, as an experienced counterterrorism operative, that was a red flag to you?”
Perfect. I couldn’t have worded the question any better. Norris jumped out of his seat.
“Your Honor, we covered this already.”
But Code just shook his head.
“I believe you opened that door during your cross-examination of the agent.”
Code then looked at me.
“Isn’t that right, Agent Elnoury?”
“Spot-on, Your Honor,” I said, without taking my eyes off Norris.
“Your Honor, with all due respect to Agent Elnoury, I did no such thing. He sort of kicked that door open on purpose.”
My second proudest moment of the trial. Code allowed the question, but cautioned me to be brief.
I explained that Qutb was a radical cleric seen in the mujahideen community as a founder of the jihadist ideology against the Western world. He was Osama bin Laden’s idol.
It doesn’t get much shorter than that. I’d been waiting to say that for two weeks, and I didn’t have to cause a mistrial to do it. I got to tell the jury that before Jaser even knew who I was, he was quoting excerpts from Milestones and telling me about how he aligned himself with that philosophy. There was no con.
Sarah wrapped up redirect in a couple of days. I was on the stand for more than three weeks. After I was done, Code thanked me for my time and professionalism. After the jury was dismissed for the day, Norris came over to shake my hand.
“You were a formidable opponent, Agent Elnoury,” Norris said. “I wish you all the best.”
My bags were already packed and in the car. Hal and his men ushered me back to the break room, where I changed out of my suit and into jeans and a sweatshirt. Nelly was late getting back there. He walked in with a grin on his face.
“Code stopped me in the hall and asked if I was going to see you,” Nelly said. “He wanted me to relay a message. He said to tell you that you’re not only a hero in your country, but in his. Your service and commitment will forever be appreciated. He told me to take care of you.”
I finally got it. Code wasn’t against us. He was giving the defense every benefit of the doubt because he didn’t want them to have any grounds for an appeal. The evidence was insurmountable and he knew it. I felt bad for being so angry with him.
It took us a while to get out of the courthouse. I shook a lot of hands. Some of the courthouse staff and the Crown came down to the break room to thank me and Nelly. Each handshake and kind word was humbling.
Nelly and I got on the plane with bottles of high-end Canadian liquor, patches, coins, pins, hats, stuffed Mounties, and maple syrup from the Crown and the RCMP. As the plane started to taxi, I looked out the window. The entire security detail was lined up and saluted us. That’s when I cried like a baby.
Nelly did too.
It was finally over.