Last week I was assigned to keep tabs on a “Fareed Khalid”.
You’re probably thinking that the guys we specifically track are members of all kinds of Jihadi websites, instead most of the time it is an edgy teenager who said something dumb or an investigative journalist.
Fareed was clean; I knew that from day one.
A quick look through his metadata painted a clear enough picture. All the kid did was go on Facebook, Youtube, Imdb, and YouPorn. A boring nobody—even his porn taste was vanilla.
The kid visited Yemen recently and made a quip about Israel on Twitter, therefore he was marked as “Terrorist Non Grata”…Yeeesh.
The only thing that kept me up at night was Fareed’s cringe worthy conversations with a Liza Bonnet.
Here is an example of Fareed’s convos:
May 11, 2015 (1:54pm)—Fareedzy Uptown Game: Yo.
✓Seen Mon 4:36pm
May 12, 2015 (2:26pm)—Fareedzy Uptown Game: How you doing?
✓Seen Tues 4:56pm
May 13, 2015 (6:10pm)—Fareedzy Uptown Game: Hy Gurl.
✓Seen Wed 9:56pm
May 14, 2015 (7:40pm)—Fareedzy Uptown Game: Sup.
✓Seen Thurs 9:56pm
Fareed has been having a solo conversation, every day, since 2014—you’d think he’d get the hint.
You know when you think about something that you did a lifetime ago, and it makes you want to scream? Well Fareed has been making me do that a lot recently.
What kept me up at night was the flashbacks.
Me: An awkward, 15 year old, sending love emails to a girl from middle school, for two and a half years after our graduation. I finally stopped when her boyfriend and friends brigaded me with phone calls and emails telling me to back off.
I suppose it was empathy that made me do what I did.
I contacted Ted Klepper, an ex-Navy Seal, turned ex-Blackwater contractor, turned mercenary for hire. Ted was unassuming, tiny, and nebbish—his demeanor and stature was as manly as a fanny-pack. Ted always reminded me of Clark Kent/Superman; as in when he is working he becomes Superman but otherwise he acts like Urkel.
“U-uh, sure…’Fareed Khalid’? Twenty-four hours? Sure.” He said on the phone.
Ted would take care of Fareed while I took care of Liza Bonnet.
She was a breeze to find. Based on her metadata she liked to go on: Facebook, Instagram, Tumblr, Twitter, 1o9, Jezebel, Imdb, and Shopbop.
I waited outside the Starbucks where she said she was meeting her friend. I saw her exit the bus across the street and walk towards me. I exited my van. I slide open the backside door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. She was inches away from me and heading towards the Starbuck's doors.
“Excuse me.” I said.
“Yeah?” She pulled out her earphone.
“Could you do me a huge favor?”
“What?”
“This is going to sound weird…could you smell my van?”
“No sorry.” She started to rush off.
“Wait! Listen it’s crazy, I know, but I’ve got a big date and my asshole friend left a foul odor in my van. I’ve been spraying and airing out the car for hours but I’m afraid I might have gotten desensitized to the smell.”
“You just want me to smell it?”
“Yeah.”
She poked her head inside the car. I looked around, no one was watching.
“I don’t smell anything.”
I grabbed my chloroformed cloth and pressed it over her mouth and nose. She struggled. I threw her inside and drove off.
“Where did you find this place?” asked Ted.
“Called in a favor.”
We watched behind a two-way mirror and into the interrogation room where Fareed and Liza sat opposite each other.
“Looks like they are coming to.” Ted said.
“Just in time.”
The popcorn finished microwaving I filled a party bowl and placed it on the counter in-between Ted and I. He cracked open two beers and passed me one.
“Nice and cold.”
“Yep.”
We watched two very groggy teenagers regain their senses. They looked at each other like they were in a dream.
“Liza?”
“Fareedzy?”
“Fareed…” Fareed corrected.
“Am I tied up?” Liza was shifting around and struggling—Fareed did the same.
“You’re such a gross creep! What the fuck is this?” she snapped.
“Woah! Woah! Listen I’m tied up as well.”
Liza yipped as she tried to struggle out of Ted’s knots—a top level boyscout couldn’t undo Ted’s knots. She jerked side to side but the chairs were bolted to the ground. I watched her panic go from manageable to hysterical.
Fareed was smitten; his pupils were dilated as he leaned as forward as possible watching her scream like a hyena, I imagined she could blast out a fart and it wouldn’t have made Fareed flinch.
She noticed, “Ew…”
“What?”
“Stop gawking at me and try something so we can get out of here.”
“Haah-ha, okay.” He said.
Fareed made a pathetic attempt to squirm out of his chair. Liza watched with a look of pure disdain.
I downed my beer and cracked open a second one. I hit a button and spoke into a mic.
“Listen kids, no one is leaving here until you come to some sort of understanding. Kiss and makeup—not literally—but talk, or we will be here forever.”
“Who the fuck was that? Ew! Is this you and your creepy friends? Did you set this up just too talk to me?”
“No! I swear!” he protested.
“Fareed has nothing to do with this.” I said on the speaker.
Fareed looked at Liza and said, “Why don’t we just do what he says?”
Liza looked perturbed, “I don’t even understand what we are supposed to do.”
“Talk about stuff, you know…connect.” I said. Ted motioned for cheers, we tapped bottles.
Fareed initiated, “What kind of music d-do you like?” He was a stuttering mess.
Liza let out a condescending giggle, “Prog rock, 80’s pop, melodic death metal…”
“Oh, I thought cause…on your Facebook it says you liked Arcade Fire…Y-you still like them?”
Ted facepalmed.
“My Facebook likes? I haven’t done that in years.”
“Oh…well do you still like them?”
“Sure.”
I hit the microphone, “Fareed, ask her what’s her story.”
Both of them looked perplexed by my suggestion.
“Story?”
I looked to my side, even Ted looked confused.
“Yeah, Liza, what do you want to do with your life, are you a goal oriented person? Where do you see yourself in 10 years?”
Fareed said, “What is this? A job interview?”
Liza laughed, Fareed went red. She caught herself and switched back to her steely frown.
I looked at Ted, “I say it’s time for plan B.”
“Okay just a second.”
Ted left and came back with a huge suit case. He removed a couple vials of sodium thiopental, he filled two syringes and handed me one.
We injected them with truth serum. They struggled.
Twenty minutes and two beers later, Ted and I watched them giggle like stoners.
Liza was first to talk.
“What kind of name is Fareedsy anyway?”
“It’s Fareed.”
Their eyes were glazed and their facial muscles drooped.
“Ha…You know you talk to me every day on Facebook but you don’t say anything to me at school.”
“I get…uh…nervous when I see you, like it’s…it’s like…my body…do you know flight or fight?”
“You flee?”
“Yeah.”
“You know I don’t hate you, I just wish that if you wanted to talk to me, just stop doing it the way you’re doing it.”
“Really?”
“Just stop being creepy about it.”
“Deal.”
I looked at Ted.
“Time to bag them.”
He nodded.
We left Fareed and Liza in a field one mile out of the city and stuffed their pockets with a $20 each. Ted said that a journey back home would make them bond more.
A week later I was reassigned to another non-threat with an Islamic name. But I kept tabs on Fareed who changed his Facebook name from ‘Fareedzy Uptown Game’ to his real name Fareed Khalid and seemed to have started a friendship with Liza.
They were both film buffs—who knew?