War’s Shadow, & The Story Behind A Lie

Mohamed Kamash was born in February of 1991 as American bombs fell upon his home town of Tal Afar, in northern Iraq. The six-week aerial bombing campaign known as Operation Desert Storm killed thousands of Iraqi civilians, and, unable to risk a hospital visit in what would be its final days, Kamash’s mother gave birth to her son at home.

Those details of a life upended by war and migration from the very start emerged in recently filed federal court papers in a yearslong case that has now reached its conclusion. They also put in painful biographical context a refugee’s decision to lie under oath in an effort to distance himself from his past, and try to stay in his adopted new home.

Kamash, 33, pleaded guilty in March to making false statements as he sought to attain U.S. citizenship. The crux of that crime were lies he told to immigration officials in 2019 and 2021 about his brothers’ affiliation with a terrorist group. The crime itself carried a sentence of up to five years in prison.

On Aug. 14, U.S. District Judge Omar A. Williams in Hartford ultimately sentenced Kamash to time served — that is, two months imprisonment, already covered by time he spent in detention following his initial arrest in May 2022 — along with two years of supervised release. 

As the prosecution and the defense filed sentencing memorandums in the runup to the Aug. 14 hearing, Kamash and his federal public defenders, Kelly Barrett and Carly Levenson, argued that painting an image of Kamash’s life in Iraq was necessary to understand the choices he made. 

Those documents also show Kamash accepting responsibility for his crime, and explaining to the court why he did what he did. 

“I didn’t want to lose my citizenship because of my brother,” he’s quoted as saying in one of the documents submitted by the defense to the court on July 26. ​“I made a bad choice because I was scared. I had fled my country for my life, and I felt like I need this. I would do it all differently. Now I understand. I just came here to work hard to make a better life.”

All in all, the defense’s sentencing memorandum argued that Kamash should receive a sentence of time served (two months) and one year of supervised release.

The prosecution’s sentencing memorandum, submitted by U.S. Attorney Vanessa Roberts Avery and Assistant U.S. Attorney Patrick Doherty on Aug. 2, does not differ very much from the defense. The government called for a sentence that falls within the agreed-upon guidelines — 0 to 6 months imprisonment, followed by a period of supervised release.

The U.S. Attorney noted that this was Kamash’s first offense, that he has taken ownership of his actions, that he has strong ties in New Haven, that he hasn’t been able to see his family, and that he has complied with his release conditions. ​“The Government is sympathetic to the defendant’s difficult youth,” the prosecution’s memorandum reads. ​“However, those sentiments simply cannot overshadow the seriousness of his offense.”

"War Touched Every Aspect Of Mohamed's Life"

Kamash’s attorneys spend much of the defense’s sentencing memo describing the violence that beset the part of the world that Kamash came from, and how deeply Kamash and his family were affected by such tumult. 

They describe in detail not just the challenges that Kamash faced personally, but also what it was like to live through the Gulf War, the Iraq War, the reign of Saddam Hussein, intensified Sunni-Shi’a conflict after Hussein’s fall, the takeover of Al-Qaeda and rise of ISIS, and more. 

They do so through statistics and a narration of the history of these conflicts, and even include a 2005 photo from Tal Afar — where Kamash was born and grew up — of a 5‑year-old girl, ​“screaming and splattered with blood, after her parents were shot in their car” by U.S. soldiers while driving through the city. (That photo, as pictured in the context of the legal filing, is shown at the top of this article.)

“War touched every aspect of Mohamed’s life, even before he was born,” the sentencing memo reads. The U.S. and its allies began their aerial bombing campaign in Iraq one month before Kamash was born. ​“The danger and risk prevented Mohamed’s mother from going to the hospital, so she gave birth to Mohamed at home in February 1991.”

“Mohamed grew up in the shadow of the Gulf War,” the memo continues. Bombing- and conflict-induced devastation and its long-term impact on infrastructure and institutions hindered recovery. Many Iraqi citizens found themselves in ​“ongoing cycles of poverty and hardship.”

With harsh sanctions imposed by the United Nations on Iraq in hopes of restricting Saddam Hussein’s leadership, the resulting international trade embargo restricted necessary food and medical supplies for citizens — and led to scarcity and skyrocketing prices of necessary goods. ​“The long-term deprivation of adequate nutrition not only stunted the physical and cognitive development of children, but also left lasting scars on the health and wellbeing of the broader population.”

Due to the the loss of oil revenue, the country’s main funder of public schools, education received ​“massive” budget cuts, and schools destroyed in the conflict were not rebuilt. 

Kamash’s father was a schoolteacher, the memo states. He earned only $2.67 per month during this period. With that salary, he had to support himself, his wife, and their nine children. ​“The Kamash family often did not have necessities like water, electricity, and food,” the memo states. ​“They primarily subsisted on eggs, since basic foods, like milk, were beyond their means. … Looking back at that time, Mohamed describes his family as ​‘poor, beyond imagine.’ ”

The start of the Iraq War in 2003, when Kamash was 12 years old, and the fall of Saddam Hussein’s regime boosted sectarian violence between Sunni and Shi’a Muslims. Kamash and his family are Sunni like Hussein, who elevated the status of Sunnis — many of whom were in Tal Afar, like Mohamed’s family, as it was a Sunni-majority city, unlike Iraq as a whole. 

Al-Qaeda then gained power in Tal Afar, drawn by its strategic position between the largest city in northern Iraq — Mosul — and the Syrian border. As sectarian differences were exploited by the new force in power, between 2003 and 2005 Tal Afar was plagued by violence between Sunni extremists and the Shi’a-affiliated police force. 

Kamash and his family left Tal Afar for Mosul after the U.S. military dropped leaflets telling citizens to evacuate, ahead of a U.S. invasion to expel Al-Qaeda. Violence continued in Mosul throughout Kamash’s teenage years. 

Once on his way home from school, he witnessed the shooting of three people. While on his way to pick up his brother from school another day, he saw a man shot at close range and the smoke rising from the bullet wound in his body. 

Later, he ​“accidentally discovered a piece of his neighbor’s skull with hair on it, after his neighbor, a London-trained, well-respected doctor, was assassinated next door.” He still remembers ​“seeing bodies lying in the streets — some without heads.”

In December of 2011, the U.S. military left Iraq and left behind ​“an unstable democracy and warring sectarian groups.” Shiite Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki targeted Sunni officials and political and social backlash against Sunni Muslims is cited as a major driver of the rise of ISIS in 2014.

When Kamash was 21, he noticed what he believed to be ​“suspicious behavior” at a checkpoint in Mosul. He tried to report what he saw to the police, and he began receiving death threats from the sect-affiliated group in control of his neighborhood. 

Kamash fled to Turkey, applied for asylum in the United States, and worked in Turkey until he was granted approval to come to the U.S. in 2014, when he was 23.

In America, & A Fateful Interview

Kamash landed in New York City on July 1, 2014. With just enough bus fare, he travelled from JFK airport to Integrated Refugee & Immigrant Services (IRIS) here in New Haven. Seemingly immediately, Kamash began establishing a life and a community. He began taking English classes two days after arriving and began working three months later after passing all the classes he could. 

Kamash signed up for every program IRIS offered, including a program that paired refugees with locals to practice English and get to know New Haven. In a letter to the court, program coordinator Laurel McCormack wrote that ​“Mohamed was one of the only young men to ever sign up and full-heartedly participate in the program during the seven years I ran it.” 

When he was finally able to buy a car, he volunteered with IRIS and drove newcomers to appointments, helped them find housing, and served as a translator. He also played weekly pickup games with the IRIS soccer club, strengthening his ties to his newfound refugee community. 

Many of the people in his network came forward to submit letters for Kamash’s case, describing him as helping others ​“without a hint of superiority but rather with humility” and as having ​“deep kindness” and generosity.

Throughout his time in America, Kamash financially supported his family back home. This included his mother and younger brothers, as well as his wife, whom he had known for years and went back to Turkey in 2021 to marry. He wanted his wife, and later his son, to join him in America.

After a year of living in New Haven, Kamash applied for a green card. 

Around the same time Kamash arrived in America in 2014, the world turned its eyes to Mosul — the terrorist organization ISIS had captured the city, after remnants of Al-Qaeda leadership had rebranded itself in 2012 as the Islamic State of Iraq (ISI), later adding Syria (ISIS).

Millions of people were trapped under ISIS’ control after the Iraqi military fled, and as Kamash’s sentencing memorandum reads, ​“Everyone who was not able to escape became a de facto prisoner in Mosul.” ISIS controlled the city for three years.

Members of Kamash’s family, meanwhile, were still in Mosul. Months after ISIS took over, his 15-year-old brother Ahmed sent Kamash a message on Facebook saying that he had joined ISIS, and that they had given him a pistol. Ahmed also sent that message to Kamash’s 17-year-old brother Ali. Ahmed and Ali continued sending messages for a year and a half that demonstrated Ahmed’s involvement in ISIS. Kamash said he didn’t know about these messages until after his arrest, much later.

ISIS was easily able to target boys and young men, especially Sunni teenage boys who were oppressed under the Shiite Maliki regime. Through an extensive social media campaign and a sophisticated education system, ISIS’ indoctrination was far-reaching. 

In April 2016, Kamash found out that his brother Ahmed had died, though he wouldn’t find out the circumstances until later. He changed his Facebook profile photo to a photo of Ahmed to honor his memory. 

In May, Kamash had a conversation with his brother Ali through Facebook direct messages. 

Ali wrote, in Arabic, ​“Muhammad, hardest thing, but don’t be too hard on yourself, I’m not sure yet, but I’ll go along the path of the late Ahmed until I get him there.” 

Kamash knew that he was too far away here in America to prevent his brother from doing whatever he was going to do. He responded in Arabic: ​“Don’t worry about me.” He told Ali to talk to their parents. 

Kamash stopped directly talking to his brother Ali soon after that. However, they were part of the same family group chats. For one day in late January 2017, both brothers were in the same family Facebook group chat. During that day, 312 messages were sent. One, not sent by Kamash, included a photo of Ahmed with a group of friends, one of whom was wearing a headband with an ISIS flag. Eight minutes later, Kamash sent an unrelated video to the active chat. 

Kamash’s last ever contact with his brother was May 29, 2017, and Ali last used Facebook in July. It’s unclear whether he’s still alive. By the end of 2017, Iraq had announced its defeat over ISIS. 

In April 2019, Kamash submitted a USCIS Form N‑400, Application for Naturalization. The form asked, ​“Have you EVER been a member of, or in any way associated (either directly or indirectly) with a terrorist organization?” Kamash checked the ​“No” box. 

More than two years later, in August of 2021, Kamash had an interview for his application — ​“nine years after he fled Iraq, over five years since Ahmed had died, and more than four years since his last contact with Ali,” his lawyers’ sentencing memo states.

Kamash told the interviewer that his brother Ahmed had been killed in Iraq and that he wasn’t in contact with his brother Ali. Then, they had what would be a pivotal exchange for Kamash.

That exchange reads in part:

Interviewer: Have you ever been a member of, involved with, or in any way been associated with any organizations, associations, funds, foundations, parties, clubs, societies or similar groups in the United States or in any other location in the world? Is there any kind of group, good group, bad group, does not matter? 

Mohamed: I always want to stay by myself. 

Interviewer: Have you ever been a member of or in any way associated with the communist party? 

Mohamed: No.

Interviewer: Or any other totalitarian parties? 

Mohamed: No

Interviewer: Or any terrorist organizations? 

Mohamed: No.

Interviewer: Have you ever known anybody that was involved in a terrorist organization? 

Mohamed: No.

Interviewer: Do you have any family members that were ever involved in terrorist organizations? 

Mohamed: No.

Worried that if he said ​“I don’t know” or ​“Yes” then he would lose his bid for citizenship, Kamash lied under oath. In his letter to the court, Kamash wrote, ​“I apologize for what I have done. I wanted to escape problems. I know what my brothers may have done is not a good thing, and I didn’t want it to be associated with it.”

The Arrest & Its Aftermath: "I Just Came Here To Work Hard To Make A Better Life"

Kamash’s wife Fadila was pregnant, and Kamash flew to Turkey in early 2022 to support his wife ahead of an emergency early delivery. Fadila successfully gave birth to their son, and Kamash stayed for three months, taking in the earliest moments of his son’s life and supporting his wife. 

Kamash was arrested at JFK airport immediately upon his return to America on May 5, 2022, almost exactly eight years after he had stepped foot in that airport for the very first time. 

He was transferred to Donald W. Wyatt Detention Facility in Rhode Island without even a way to call his family overseas, and he spent the first two weeks of his detention in a dark room — ​“smaller than a parking space” — by himself. He was then transferred to a block and spent the next month and a half there. He worried about his wife and his newborn son, and what his incarceration would mean for his family. 

“It was especially hard because I could not call my family since I had no money to do international calls,” Kamash wrote. ​“Because they took my phone when I was arrested, I couldn’t tell my family what had happened. My wife had just given birth and my son was only 3 months old. Eventually, friends from the outside started sending money so that I could call my family.”

In her letter to the court, translated from Arabic, Fadila described Kamash’s last visit to Turkey for the birth of their son. ​“That was the last time he was saw our son in person. He has been the most supportive and loving husband. He has been a present father despite the distance. My son’s wish is to be able to see his father again one day.”

Kamash was released on bond with strict monitoring conditions, and the members of his New Haven community immediately came forward to support him — eight people were willing to sign his bond. In their letters to the court, many of his friends felt that it was time for them to support Kamash after all he had done to support them. 

Over the past two years since his arrest, Kamash hasn’t stepped out of line or violated his pre-trial release conditions. But the years have been difficult for him. When he first came home, according to Kamash and his lawyers, his landlord kicked him and his roommate out because of his arrest. They were then scammed at their next apartment. 

He spent some time living out of his car, and now he lives in a basement unit in Newhallville.

“It is an illegal unit. It does not have windows. But we live there because we have no other option,” writes Kamash.

Because debt piled up while he was at Wyatt, Kamash was blocked from Western Union and unable to send money home to the people who solely relied on him for support — his mother, his two youngest brothers, his wife Fadila, and his son, all of whom are living in Turkey. He had to borrow money from other family members to pay for basics, especially for his son’s lifesaving care after he got RSV and wasn’t able to be treated at standard Turkish hospitals due to his and Fadila’s wife’s refugee status. 

“For awhile my hand was shaking nonstop, which the doctor explained happened because of all of the stress,” Kamash wrote. 

Still, Kamash complied with every condition, including an ankle monitor — which made it difficult to find jobs and housing — for the past two years. He committed to therapy to build effective coping mechanisms. The court even allowed Kamash the freedom to travel to other states. 

It emphasized that Kamash takes ownership of his actions, and that the court must consider the effects of his sentence on the many family members who rely on him. 

“Mr. Kamash has endured much more than mere incarceration. He has experienced the stress of an ongoing federal criminal case, fear of deportation, anxiety about his family’s future and safety, and shame for what he has done,” the memorandum reads. ​“He has also suffered numerous downstream consequences for his actions, including losing his housing, navigating the additional financial stress of this case, and living with the stigma of an ankle monitor for two years.”

In the end, U.S. District Judge Omar A. Williams ultimately handed down a sentence to Kamash on Aug. 14 of time served and two years of supervised release.

“Everyone in my family is looking to me like a father,” Kamash wrote at the conclusion of his letter to the court. ​“I don’t know what happened to my father, but he is gone. Everyone is waiting for me to help or do something. I can’t do anything right now, so it is very hard.” His family is at risk of being deported from Turkey, but their home in Iraq has been taken over by the powerful popular mobilization forces, a consequence of his brothers’ involvement in ISIS. 

“I just wish I could live with my family in safety, but that has never happened. We never saw good times. I am a good person, and I don’t want any problems. I have to focus on the future. I applied for my son and wife to come here so that we can be together, but the future feels blind right now. I would do it all differently. Now I understand. I just came here to work hard to make a better life.”