There weren't many people inside the synagogue when the man, identified Sunday by the FBI as Malik Faisal Akram, 44, a resident of Great Britain, walked in and turned life upside down. Most congregants were in their own homes on Zoom, prevented by the pandemic from gathering in one room and embracing each other and their traditions of worship.
Those who came to the building — now Akram's four hostages — included an elderly man in fragile health, two other congregants and their leader, Cytron-Walker, whom the temple had hired in 2006, two years after it opened its own building, seven years after a group of 25 families who had tired of traveling half an hour or more to the nearest synagogue decided to build their own community.
And now, one more person in the building, this stranger, threatening violence, and, according to law enforcement officials, brandishing a gun and what he said were explosives.
Akram entered Beth Israel by knocking on a glass door and pretending to be looking for shelter, he said on the live stream of the morning service.
Akram said he liked Rabbi Charlie. "I can see they're good guys," he said on the live stream, apparently speaking with negotiators. "They let me in. I didn't look nice. They let me in. I said, 'Is this a night shelter?' and they let me in. And they gave me a cup of tea. So I do feel bad."
The rabbi opened the door, Akram said: "It's a glass door. I made a knock on it. He let me in. And I go, Oh, my word. Because I did pray. Before everything, I did pray, I said God . . . I don't want to shoot anyone to get in."
Akram had come from across the ocean, arriving at New York's John F. Kennedy airport on Dec. 29, according to law enforcement officials, and he said he had spent 16 hours somewhere in the synagogue's area, "walking around with what I have in my bag, and with my ammo." If he'd been confronted by a police officer, he said, "he was gonna die. . . . He would have gotten shot in the head, straight away."
Akram chose this place, according to people who heard him on the live stream, because it appeared to be the closest assemblage of Jews to a federal facility in Fort Worth where an American-educated Pakistani convicted terrorist is serving an 86-year sentence for shooting at U.S. soldiers and FBI agents.
Akram wanted Aafia Siddiqui released. He wanted to see her, after which, he said, he and she — "my sister," he called her, though her relatives say they were not related — would rise together to Jannah, the Muslim paradise where the faithful are taken after Judgment Day.
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Twice during the negotiations, Akram pushed Cytron-Walker to phone a rabbi at New York's Central Synagogue to convey his demand that Siddiqui be freed. That rabbi, Angela Buchdahl, said she called police. Federal and local authorities provided security for her and her synagogue as a precaution, according to law enforcement officials who spoke on the condition of anonymity to discuss the investigation.
Inside Beth Israel, the talks were primarily between Akram and Cytron-Walker, who was keenly aware of the threat that his and all American Jewish institutions faced. Synagogues are targets and their leaders now routinely train for the worst.
"We know that some people just don't like us," Cytron-Walker said in his final sermon of 2021. "Antisemitic attacks over the past couple weeks include a terrorist attack in Jerusalem, a hateful attack on a Hanukkah party bus in London, and multiple cases of vandalism worldwide. We know that antisemitism is out there."
Cytron-Walker had emphasized building relationships with other faiths throughout his 16 years at Beth Israel, Eisen said. Every year, he helped organize "Peace Together," an interfaith walk with churches and mosques.
As welcoming as he was, Cytron-Walker made security "very much a part of the congregational culture" at Beth Israel, Drazin said. The rabbi did not start meetings without announcing where the exits were, she said, and synagogue leaders had gone through active-shooter training.
On Aug. 22, security experts from the Secure Community Network, a nonprofit that works with Jewish congregations to prepare for attacks, visited Beth Israel and met with Cytron-Walker, inspecting the building's perimeter, reviewing safety measures and practicing drills on how to behave in the event of a shooting.
During that training, Stuart Frisch taught the rabbi and about 25 Beth Israel members how to identify behavioral cues that could lead to violence. It was the third course the Secure Community Network had led at the synagogue in the past year.
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But at the synagogue, things were not going well. "In the last hour of our hostage crisis, the gunman became increasingly belligerent and threatening," Cytron-Walker said in a statement released late Sunday. He credited the training he'd had for helping him know how to act and when to flee.
Shortly after 9 p.m., the remaining three hostages emerged from the building.
At 9:15 p.m., a side fire door at Beth Israel opened, and under the harsh white lights that police had trained on the building, a man poked his head out, his handgun preceding him out the door.
As a dog barked, several men in camouflage crept closer to the building. Shots rang out, then a big blast. At the security perimeter, police shouted to reporters to hit the ground.
At Beth Israel, there was a lull, then more shots. Then silence. And after a minute, an armored police vehicle began to pull back from the house of worship.
Akram was dead.
"There was nothing we could have said to him or done that would have convinced him to surrender," his brother Gulbar wrote in a statement.
Much more in the second link.