As ‘Struggle Endures,’ Dr. Aafia Siddiqui Perseveres Toward Clemency

In 1990, neurosurgeon Muhammad Salay Siddiqui and Islamic teacher Ismet Siddiqui were proud parents living in Karachi, Pakistan.

Their life was comfortable. The Siddiquis were upper-middle class and relatively privileged. They imparted a drive toward academic success in their children, as well as a deep respect for the Quran.

Their oldest son, also named Muhammad, was an accomplished student living in Houston studying architecture. Their second child, Fowzia, was pursuing her own education in Neurology closer to home at Dow Medical College in Karachi. And one day in the late spring of that year, their youngest daughter, Aafia, received an acceptance letter from the University of Houston. She would be following not only in her father’s footsteps, but her siblings’ too in continuing on a beaten path to excellence. She packed her bags and boarded a flight to attend school alongside her older brother.

Siddiqui began attending UH in the fall of that year. She was described by fellow students as warm, yet confident. But Muslims were not a common sight on a university campus like UH’s, let alone someone as devout as Siddiqui. A deeply religious woman, she was almost equally committed to her goals to bring education reform to Pakistan. 

As Aafia progressed through her first semester in Houston, news media was covering the bubbling conflict in the Middle East that would come to be known as the Gulf War. George H.W. Bush was laying the groundwork for the foreign policy that his son would be taking the reins on in the next decade. Modern-day American Islamophobia was effectively taking its first steps following its initial breaths after the October War in 1973.  And naturally, many Muslim students began to feel isolated on campuses across the country with the rising tension.

“I felt so out of place, straight out of high-school and in an actual university,” says Yasir Qadhi in a Facebook post from three years ago. “I had a meeting in the Engineering school with an advisor who had been assigned to me. But I was completely lost, wandering on campus trying to figure out where the building was. As my appointment grew closer, I began to panic.”

Qadhi, a young Muslim teen, spotted a hijabi woman that looked slightly older than himself. “Salam Alaikum sister,” he greeted her and explained that he needed a guide to the Engineering Building. “No problem, brother! I’ll take you there,” Siddiqui responded, according to Qadhi.

This was the first of many interactions between the two. Later, Qadhi saw Siddiqui speak at an Islamic conference held in Houston in 1991. “It was the first time I had seen a hijabi speaker defend Islam and speak so confidently about the role of women in Islam. That lecture definitely made an impact on me.”

Today, upstate from her alma mater, neuroscientist and education professor Aafia Siddiqui is imprisoned at FMC Carswell in Fort Worth. Her palms are outstretched in prayer often, according to her lawyers, and she bears the ability to recite the Quran by memory. Though she was never charged for terrorism, Siddiqui’s sentence was enhanced to 86 years, likely leveled with consideration to her suspected connections to al-Qaeda. Abuse and rape are commonplace at Carswell, which has earned a reputation as one of the most brutal federal penitentiaries in the country.

“Due largely to the way in which lawyers have enforced the rights of prisoners in Guantanamo, the conditions are vastly better there now than in the early days,” says Clive Stafford Smith, one of Siddiqui’s lawyers. “Meanwhile due to the shocking lack of oversight at FMC Carswell – where [other legal counsel] and I have visited Aafia as much as all the other lawyers in America have visited the other 975 prisoners in the past year – the mistreatment of prisoners has gotten totally out of hand.”

The US government asserts that when Siddiqui was captured in 2008 at 37, they found plans outlining these attacks on a flash drive in her bag. She was also allegedly in possession of precursor materials and instructional texts, including The Anarchist Arsenal. After she was taken into custody by the Afghanistan National Police on suspicion of a suicide bombing plot, Siddiqui attempted to shoot a group of US military officers with one of the soldiers’ own guns, according to federal prosecutors. 

Siddiqui’s case elicits a great deal of controversy. Along with widespread media bias at the time, misinformation on Siddiqui is attributable in the book Wanted Women: Faith, Lies and The War on Terror by Deborah Scroggins. Likewise, Scroggins has been criticized by the family of Emma McCune for an inaccurate portrayal in her other book Emma’s War. 

Siddiqui’s testimony, inconsistencies in the prosecution’s case, and witness accounts contradict the allegations and accusations against her. This information has materialized into a clemency petition and a lawsuit against FMC Carswell. The clemency petition has received the full support of current Pakistani Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif.

“From 2003 to the present day, we have outlined everything Aafia and her children have been subjected to at the hands of the US government with the Pakistani government acting in complicity,” says another lawyer on Siddiqui’s legal team, Maria Kari. 

Marriage & Divorce, Homecoming & Abduction

Upon completion of her undergrad in Houston, Siddiqui was then transferred to MIT to continue her education. Her thesis was on child learning and early brain development. In 1995, she entered an arranged marriage with her now ex-husband Amjad Khan. After accepting his proposal over the phone, he moved to Boston to live with her and pursue his own medical degree. They had three children together, Ahmed, Maryam, and Suleiman.

However, one year prior to Suleiman’s birth, the FBI visited Siddiqui’s apartment in late September 2001. They were investigating a recent purchase made by Khan. Specifically, scrutiny was applied due to the order’s inclusion of night vision goggles. As Khan was a hunter, and stated so, the FBI seemed satisfied by this explanation. Though the government kept note of this in accordance with authorization given by President Bush via a secret memo to track individuals with suspected ties to terrorism. This memo was distributed on Sept. 17, one day before Bush’s signed approval of the Authorization for Use of Military Force.

By 2003, Siddiqui had completed her PhD in Neuroscience and moved back to Karachi. She had separated from Khan for reasons including physical abuse, leading to a bitter divorce. Trauma from the event was compounded as her father died of a heart attack around the same time. While still grieving her father, Siddiqui began submitting applications outlining the proposal for the development of an academy she had been planning since her graduation. After a few weeks, she received a response from Muhammad Mian Soomro, then-governor of the province. He requested that she fly from Karachi Airport to Islamabad to meet him and discuss next steps. In April of that year, with her three children in tow, she was on her way to meet with Soomro. But Siddiqui never arrived at the airport and was intercepted by Pakistani forces, according to her testimony.

Siddiqui and her children were removed from her car. According to her son Ahmed’s account, six-month-old Suleiman was snatched from Siddiqui’s arms before she was dragged out of the driver’s seat. Ahmed has described having watched as a pool of blood spread across the ground surrounding Suleiman’s head, motionless on the ground. Suleiman is presumed to have been killed.

Siddiqui was taken to an undisclosed location. Though this facility was later revealed to be somewhere in Bagram, Afghanistan, she remained unaware of her exact location for years. In fact, it was the witness statements of fellow prisoners at the CIA black site in Bagram that provided her an alibi for a period of time that some press outlets claim she was “on the run”  from US authorities. 

Gordon Duff, a US Veteran, states that the Pakistani government was paid $55,000 by the CIA for Siddiqui’s abduction. This is substantiated by Former President of Pakistan Pervez Musharraf’s 2008 memoir. In the book, he states more than half of the prisoners in Guantanamo Bay were sold to the United States through an open bounty offered for individuals with possible connections to terrorism. Some of those imprisoned were as young as 14 and the vast majority were later found to have no serious connections to terrorist cells. Furthermore, confessions obtained were largely false, with many given as a result of grueling torture. 

For five years Siddiqui was subjected to constant abuse and sexual assault at several black sites in Afghanistan, including a CIA facility in Kabul. Referred to as the “Grey Lady of Bagram,” Siddiqui gained the nickname from her frail appearance and wailing cries during sleeping hours that kept her cell block awake. Guards not only tortured Siddiqui during interrogation sessions, but reportedly tortured children in front of her as well.

However, underneath a battered frame and face sunken with a broken nose, according to accounts, she maintained a strong enough sense of dignity to attempt to defend fellow inmates. At one point, she formed a plan with two other women to tie their hands together so as to physically overpower a guard with tendencies toward molestation and rape. Following this event, Siddiqui’s confinement had moved to what was essentially a large box for a period of time. During these years Siddiqui lost many of her teeth, either through brutalization or inaccessibility to adequate dental care.

Throughout this time, Siddiqui’s sister Fowzia had been organizing demonstrations in Karachi with human rights groups protesting her abduction, the details of which were not made public until years later. These efforts were repeatedly suppressed through both threats and direct violence. Investigative journalists Najeeb Ahmed and Yvonne Ridley uncovered many details, the former of which was found dead under mysterious circumstances.

On July 17, 2008, Siddiqui was released and placed with her son, Ahmed. At this point, he was 11 years old and given the new name “Ihsan Ali.” He had also been suffering his own abuse during this time in a juvenile detention facility. Both were reportedly in such a traumatized state that they never broached the topic of their familial connection during their interaction.

Siddiqui was told that they would travel to the Ghazni Province to meet with her daughter Maryam (who was then 8 years old with her name changed to Fatima), at which point they would all return home to Karachi. After waiting at the mosque she was directed to, she drew the attention of a bystander, a tailor. As the sun began to set, the tailor expressed concern and offered Siddiqui lodging for the night. Almost immediately as their interaction began, around 50 ANP officers arrived with assault rifles drawn on Siddiqui. The police shouted in Farsi at Siddiqui, accusing her of being a suicide bomber. They had apparently received a tip. After tearing her robe open — instead of shooting her immediately as the tailor attempted to shield her — her bare chest revealed no suicide vest. She was taken into custody along with her son.

Two Bullets to the Gut, 86 Years in a Cell

The next morning, Siddiqui awaited processing behind a curtain inside an ANP command center. She peered down at her hands, outstretching her palms as if in prayer as she awaited interrogation. Her fingers were thin and bashed like splintered wood. She exhaled, with slightly less ease through her previously broken nose. Her tongue prodded the roof of her mouth to feel small craters in her gums where her teeth used to be. Her son asked her what was happening. 

She then heard voices, not that of an Afghan but an American’s. Not Farsi, but English. She pulled the curtain to the side and peered out. What happened next, as well as the previous five years of Siddiqui’s life, was hotly debated between the prosecution and Siddiqui during her trial in New York in 2009.

The prosecution states that Siddiqui, seeing an unattended semi-automatic rifle placed neatly on the floor of the room, presumably perceived an opportunity to commit violence against the Americans after years living in Nazimabad, Karachi with her children while on the run as an al-Qaeda operative. She dived over, picked up the heavy M4 assault rifle, standing tall at 5’4, she shouted “Allah Akbar,” and various expletives as she fired on an Army officer. She missed, and the brave soldier fired his pistol back and hit her twice in the gut. 

The prosecution posits that bullet holes in the wall of the room were left by Siddiqui. This is contested, however, as the bullet holes are visible in footage from a press conference held the previous day.

Variably, Siddiqui states that she had not fully stepped out from behind the curtain by the time the officer had fired on her. She stood up and heard someone shout, “She’s loose!” before a US soldier fired his sidearm twice into her stomach. She recalled hearing hushed discussions between the officers as she came to. Reportedly, one urgently whispered to another, “We could lose our jobs.”

Testimony from an FBI expert aligns with this version of events, stating that Siddiqui’s fingerprints were not found on the gun, nor was there evidence of it being fired. Regardless, she was arrested and handcuffed to a hospital bed where she almost succumbed to her gunshot wounds. She was extradited to the United States to stand trial and separated from her son once again.

As the shooting is the sole instance reviewed by the courts, it is the basis for Siddiqui’s imprisonment. Siddiqui was tried for attempted murder and assault of US personnel. Originally declared unfit to stand trial in 2008 due to signs of post-traumatic stress, her trial proceeded after a competency hearing on July 6, 2009. Along with outbursts during proceedings, press at the time alleged that she made several antisemitic remarks during her trial. The specific phrasing of which differed between platforms. A source is never named and the statements could not be verified through documentation from the court itself.  Furthermore, her trial did not address the alleged evidence in relation to her supposed role in al-Qaeda whatsoever. After all, Siddiqui was never charged for terrorism.

Almost 15 years into her sentence at 52 years old, Siddiqui spends most of her time in solitary confinement. She has been absent for the majority of her surviving children’s lives. Ahmed, now 26, works as a medical doctor with the Red Cross in Afghanistan. Maryam, now 23, is suspected to still be living in the United States after she was forcibly adopted and placed in the custody of a white Christian family for seven years.

“Patience, a Beacon”

In a positive development, Siddiqui’s lawyers have made recent discoveries in investigating her recollection of events. Which has remained consistent throughout her entire time incarcerated. 

“We located more witnesses concerning the second black site where Aafia was held, an underground ‘Dark Prison’ in Bagram Air Force Base,” her legal representation says. “We also identified the prison where Ahmed was held in Kabul, allowing us to trace witnesses who were there. Further, we located more witnesses in Ghazni who are able to substantiate elements of the plot to dispose of Aafia by having her killed there.”

Now, a delegation from Pakistan’s current government has reached out to the Biden Administration in an effort to secure clemency for the neuroscientist and education professor and await a response. “With President Biden, it’s going to be very important for him to hear what this case means to people and for us to appeal to his empathetic side. He’s been a defender of victims of human rights violations and I think this is something he would be eager to take on in his final few months in office,” says Kari.

As the details of FBI bounties during the War on Terror and extraordinary rendition/rendition to torture have been illuminated in the last years, cases like Siddiqui’s are much more common than the general public realizes. The only difference is that Siddiqui is the only woman put through extraordinary rendition. But through abysmal treatment reported at FMC Carswell, Siddiqui joins a similarly abused demographic of prisoners. “Women have been abused there in every sense that a woman can be abused,” Kari says. “Whether it be a violation of her body, her sexual autonomy, her privacy, her dignity, or it be complete medical neglect, which is ironic because it is a medical center.”

In April Lacey’s lawsuit against Carswell, Lacey states, “My sentence did not include rape.”

With 99.5% of prisoners at Guantanamo Bay now freed, Siddiqui’s supporters are trying to draw upon a renewed hope. Not only for the goal of her freedom, but the closure of FMC Carswell entirely.

“I have never been more disgusted by a prison in my 40-year career, and that includes almost all the death rows of the US,” says Smith. “Our prison system in general is rotten and not suited to human beings, but Carswell is the worst of the worst, and we will be doing everyone a favor if we shut it down.”

Siddiqui’s case inspires a deep commitment in the Arab/Muslim community across the diaspora. “There’s a great group of activists right in Dallas who have taken the lead and have been outside of the prison regularly protesting for Aafia. And she can hear it,” Kari says. “When she can hear the protesters outside, they take her back to her room.”  

Groups like the Aafia Movement, Friends of Aafia Siddiqui, and DFW for a Free Aafia Siddiqui have organized protests outside Carswell. After having seen her sister for the first time in 20 years last December, Siddiqui’s sister Fowzia anticipates her release after years of leading organization efforts on her behalf in Pakistan.

“Can you imagine if your daughter returned after her PhD from Brandeis and MIT, the sky’s the limit for her, and all of a sudden she’s kidnapped? And you don’t even know where she is or where her kids are,” says Imam Asif Hirani from the Aafia Movement.

At a recent protest in support of Siddiqui at FMC Carswell, activists from Somalia sent a poem for recitation. An excerpt from the poem reads:

O Sister Aafia, steadfast and bright,
Your struggle endures through the darkest of night.
With hearts that bleed and spirits in pain,
We stand with you, in hope and refrain
Your patience, a beacon, through hardship and strife
Teaching us strength in the battles of life
As Fowzia said, words fall short, they’re too small,
To capture our sorrow, our tears, and our call.
Your courage and fortitude, a testament so bright,
In the face of injustice, you shine with Allah’s light.

If Siddiqui were released, this would mark the beginning of yet another struggle: her recovery.

“Before this horrible ordeal put a pause on her life, she loved Shakespeare, she liked Noor Jehan,” Kari says. “While I will say that Aafia is one of the most brilliant people, she’s been through some of the worst things that humanity could do to one another. And I think it’s imperative we get her the right kind of medical care.”

Lawyers Kari and Smith are currently pushing for Siddiqui to be allowed observation/treatment from an independent female Muslim physician. They are also attempting to secure religious counsel for Siddiqui from an imam. Her legal team also encourages supporters to send letters, both to President Biden and Siddiqui to provide solace. Letters to Siddiqui may be emailed to letters4aafia@gmail.com, with Smith CC’d at clivestaffordsmith2020@gmail.com.

The White House has not yet responded or commented on the clemency petition.