05/21/05 "New York Times" - - The prisoner, a slight, 22-year-old taxi
driver known only as Dilawar, was hauled from his cell at the detention center
in Bagram, Afghanistan, at around 2 a.m. to answer questions about a rocket attack
on an American base. When he arrived in the interrogation room, an interpreter
who was present said, his legs were bouncing uncontrollably in the plastic chair
and his hands were numb. He had been chained by the wrists to the top of his cell
for much of the previous four days.
Mr. Dilawar asked for a drink of water, and one of the two interrogators, Specialist
Joshua R. Claus, 21, picked up a large plastic bottle. But first he punched
a hole in the bottom, the interpreter said, so as the prisoner fumbled weakly
with the cap, the water poured out over his orange prison scrubs. The soldier
then grabbed the bottle back and began squirting the water forcefully into Mr.
"Come on, drink!" the interpreter said Specialist Claus had shouted,
as the prisoner gagged on the spray. "Drink!"
At the interrogators' behest, a guard tried to force the young man to his knees.
But his legs, which had been pummeled by guards for several days, could no longer
bend. An interrogator told Mr. Dilawar that he could see a doctor after they
finished with him. When he was finally sent back to his cell, though, the guards
were instructed only to chain the prisoner back to the ceiling.
"Leave him up," one of the guards quoted Specialist Claus as saying.
Several hours passed before an emergency room doctor finally saw Mr. Dilawar.
By then he was dead, his body beginning to stiffen. It would be many months
before Army investigators learned a final horrific detail: Most of the interrogators
had believed Mr. Dilawar was an innocent man who simply drove his taxi past
the American base at the wrong time.
The story of Mr. Dilawar's brutal death at the Bagram Collection Point - and
that of another detainee, Habibullah, who died there six days earlier in December
2002 - emerge from a nearly 2,000-page confidential file of the Army's criminal
investigation into the case, a copy of which was obtained by The New York Times.
Like a narrative counterpart to the digital images from Abu Ghraib, the Bagram
file depicts young, poorly trained soldiers in repeated incidents of abuse.
The harsh treatment, which has resulted in criminal charges against seven soldiers,
went well beyond the two deaths.
In some instances, testimony shows, it was directed or carried out by interrogators
to extract information. In others, it was punishment meted out by military police
guards. Sometimes, the torment seems to have been driven by little more than
boredom or cruelty, or both.
In sworn statements to Army investigators, soldiers describe one female interrogator
with a taste for humiliation stepping on the neck of one prostrate detainee
and kicking another in the genitals. They tell of a shackled prisoner being
forced to roll back and forth on the floor of a cell, kissing the boots of his
two interrogators as he went. Yet another prisoner is made to pick plastic bottle
caps out of a drum mixed with excrement and water as part of a strategy to soften
him up for questioning.
The Times obtained a copy of the file from a person involved in the investigation
who was critical of the methods used at Bagram and the military's response to
Although incidents of prisoner abuse at Bagram in 2002, including some details
of the two men's deaths, have been previously reported, American officials have
characterized them as isolated problems that were thoroughly investigated. And
many of the officers and soldiers interviewed in the Dilawar investigation said
the large majority of detainees at Bagram were compliant and reasonably well
"What we have learned through the course of all these investigations is
that there were people who clearly violated anyone's standard for humane treatment,"
said the Pentagon's chief spokesman, Larry Di Rita. "We're finding some
cases that were not close calls."
Yet the Bagram file includes ample testimony that harsh treatment by some interrogators
was routine and that guards could strike shackled detainees with virtual impunity.
Prisoners considered important or troublesome were also handcuffed and chained
to the ceilings and doors of their cells, sometimes for long periods, an action
Army prosecutors recently classified as criminal assault.
Some of the mistreatment was quite obvious, the file suggests. Senior officers
frequently toured the detention center, and several of them acknowledged seeing
prisoners chained up for punishment or to deprive them of sleep. Shortly before
the two deaths, observers from the International Committee of the Red Cross
specifically complained to the military authorities at Bagram about the shackling
of prisoners in "fixed positions," documents show.
Even though military investigators learned soon after Mr. Dilawar's death that
he had been abused by at least two interrogators, the Army's criminal inquiry
moved slowly. Meanwhile, many of the Bagram interrogators, led by the same operations
officer, Capt. Carolyn A. Wood, were redeployed to Iraq and in July 2003 took
charge of interrogations at the Abu Ghraib prison. According to a high-level
Army inquiry last year, Captain Wood applied techniques there that were "remarkably
similar" to those used at Bagram.
Last October, the Army's Criminal Investigation Command concluded that there
was probable cause to charge 27 officers and enlisted personnel with criminal
offenses in the Dilawar case ranging from dereliction of duty to maiming and
involuntary manslaughter. Fifteen of the same soldiers were also cited for probable
criminal responsibility in the Habibullah case.
So far, only the seven soldiers have been charged, including four last week.
No one has been convicted in either death. Two Army interrogators were also
reprimanded, a military spokesman said. Most of those who could still face legal
action have denied wrongdoing, either in statements to investigators or in comments
to a reporter.
"The whole situation is unfair," Sgt. Selena M. Salcedo, a former
Bagram interrogator who was charged with assaulting Mr. Dilawar, dereliction
of duty and lying to investigators, said in a telephone interview. "It's
all going to come out when everything is said and done."
With most of the legal action pending, the story of abuses at Bagram remains
incomplete. But documents and interviews reveal a striking disparity between
the findings of Army investigators and what military officials said in the aftermath
of the deaths.
Military spokesmen maintained that both men had died of natural causes, even
after military coroners had ruled the deaths homicides. Two months after those
autopsies, the American commander in Afghanistan, then-Lt. Gen. Daniel K. McNeill,
said he had no indication that abuse by soldiers had contributed to the two
deaths. The methods used at Bagram, he said, were "in accordance with what
is generally accepted as interrogation techniques."
In the summer of 2002, the military detention center at Bagram, about 40 miles
north of Kabul, stood as a hulking reminder of the Americans' improvised hold
Built by the Soviets as an aircraft machine shop for the operations base they
established after their intervention in the country in 1979, the building had
survived the ensuing wars as a battered relic - a long, squat, concrete block
with rusted metal sheets where the windows had once been.
Retrofitted with five large wire pens and a half dozen plywood isolation cells,
the building became the Bagram Collection Point, a clearinghouse for prisoners
captured in Afghanistan and elsewhere. The B.C.P., as soldiers called it, typically
held between 40 and 80 detainees while they were interrogated and screened for
possible shipment to the Pentagon's longer-term detention center at Guantánamo
The new interrogation unit that arrived in July 2002 had been improvised as
well. Captain Wood, then a 32-year-old lieutenant, came with 13 soldiers from
the 525th Military Intelligence Brigade at Fort Bragg, N.C.; six Arabic-speaking
reservists were added from the Utah National Guard.
Part of the new group, which was consolidated under Company A of the 519th
Military Intelligence Battalion, was made up of counterintelligence specialists
with no background in interrogation. Only two of the soldiers had ever questioned
What specialized training the unit received came on the job, in sessions with
two interrogators who had worked in the prison for a few months. "There
was nothing that prepared us for running an interrogation operation" like
the one at Bagram, the noncommissioned officer in charge of the interrogators,
Staff Sgt. Steven W. Loring, later told investigators.
Nor were the rules of engagement very clear. The platoon had the standard interrogations
guide, Army Field Manual 34-52, and an order from the secretary of defense,
Donald H. Rumsfeld, to treat prisoners "humanely," and when possible,
in accordance with the Geneva Conventions. But with President Bush's final determination
in February 2002 that the Conventions did not apply to the conflict with Al
Qaeda and that Taliban fighters would not be accorded the rights of prisoners
of war, the interrogators believed they "could deviate slightly from the
rules," said one of the Utah reservists, Sgt. James A. Leahy.
"There was the Geneva Conventions for enemy prisoners of war, but nothing
for terrorists," Sergeant Leahy told Army investigators. And the detainees,
senior intelligence officers said, were to be considered terrorists until proved
The deviations included the use of "safety positions" or "stress
positions" that would make the detainees uncomfortable but not necessarily
hurt them - kneeling on the ground, for instance, or sitting in a "chair"
position against the wall. The new platoon was also trained in sleep deprivation,
which the previous unit had generally limited to 24 hours or less, insisting
that the interrogator remain awake with the prisoner to avoid pushing the limits
of humane treatment.
But as the 519th interrogators settled into their jobs, they set their own
procedures for sleep deprivation. They decided on 32 to 36 hours as the optimal
time to keep prisoners awake and eliminated the practice of staying up themselves,
one former interrogator, Eric LaHammer, said in an interview.
The interrogators worked from a menu of basic tactics to gain a prisoner's
cooperation, from the "friendly" approach, to good cop-bad cop routines,
to the threat of long-term imprisonment. But some less-experienced interrogators
came to rely on the method known in the military as "Fear Up Harsh,"
or what one soldier referred to as "the screaming technique."
Sergeant Loring, then 27, tried with limited success to wean those interrogators
off that approach, which typically involved yelling and throwing chairs. Mr.
Leahy said the sergeant "put the brakes on when certain approaches got
out of hand." But he could also be dismissive of tactics he considered
too soft, several soldiers told investigators, and gave some of the most aggressive
interrogators wide latitude. (Efforts to locate Mr. Loring, who has left the
military, were unsuccessful.)
"We sometimes developed a rapport with detainees, and Sergeant Loring
would sit us down and remind us that these were evil people and talk about 9/11
and they weren't our friends and could not be trusted," Mr. Leahy said.
Specialist Damien M. Corsetti, a tall, bearded interrogator sometimes called
"Monster" -he had the nickname tattooed in Italian across his stomach,
other soldiers said - was often chosen to intimidate new detainees. Specialist
Corsetti, they said, would glower and yell at the arrivals as they stood chained
to an overhead pole or lay face down on the floor of a holding room. (A military
police K-9 unit often brought growling dogs to walk among the new prisoners
for similar effect, documents show.)
"The other interrogators would use his reputation," said one interrogator,
Specialist Eric H. Barclais. "They would tell the detainee, 'If you don't
cooperate, we'll have to get Monster, and he won't be as nice.' " Another
soldier told investigators that Sergeant Loring lightheartedly referred to Specialist
Corsetti, then 23, as "the King of Torture."
A Saudi detainee who was interviewed by Army investigators last June at Guantánamo
said Specialist Corsetti had pulled out his penis during an interrogation at
Bagram, held it against the prisoner's face and threatened to rape him, excerpts
from the man's statement show.
Last fall, the investigators cited probable cause to charge Specialist Corsetti
with assault, maltreatment of a prisoner and indecent acts in the incident;
he has not been charged. At Abu Ghraib, he was also one of three members of
the 519th who were fined and demoted for forcing an Iraqi woman to strip during
questioning, another interrogator said. A spokesman at Fort Bragg said Specialist
Corsetti would not comment.
In late August of 2002, the Bagram interrogators were joined by a new military
police unit that was assigned to guard the detainees. The soldiers, mostly reservists
from the 377th Military Police Company based in Cincinnati and Bloomington,
Ind., were similarly unprepared for their mission, members of the unit said.
The company received basic lessons in handling prisoners at Fort Dix, N.J.,
and some police and corrections officers in its ranks provided further training.
That instruction included an overview of "pressure-point control tactics"
and notably the "common peroneal strike" - a potentially disabling
blow to the side of the leg, just above the knee.
The M.P.'s said they were never told that peroneal strikes were not part of
Army doctrine. Nor did most of them hear one of the former police officers tell
a fellow soldier during the training that he would never use such strikes because
they would "tear up" a prisoner's legs.
But once in Afghanistan, members of the 377th found that the usual rules did
not seem to apply. The peroneal strike quickly became a basic weapon of the
M.P. arsenal. "That was kind of like an accepted thing; you could knee
somebody in the leg," former Sgt. Thomas V. Curtis told the investigators.
A few weeks into the company's tour, Specialist Jeremy M. Callaway overheard
another guard boasting about having beaten a detainee who had spit on him. Specialist
Callaway also told investigators that other soldiers had congratulated the guard
"for not taking any" from a detainee.
One captain nicknamed members of the Third Platoon "the Testosterone Gang."
Several were devout bodybuilders. Upon arriving in Afghanistan, a group of the
soldiers decorated their tent with a Confederate flag, one soldier said.
Some of the same M.P.'s took a particular interest in an emotionally disturbed
Afghan detainee who was known to eat his feces and mutilate himself with concertina
wire. The soldiers kneed the man repeatedly in the legs and, at one point, chained
him with his arms straight up in the air, Specialist Callaway told investigators.
They also nicknamed him "Timmy," after a disabled child in the animated
television series "South Park." One of the guards who beat the prisoner
also taught him to screech like the cartoon character, Specialist Callaway said.
Eventually, the man was sent home.
The Defiant Detainee
The detainee known as Person Under Control No. 412 was a portly, well-groomed
Afghan named Habibullah. Some American officials identified him as "Mullah"
Habibullah, a brother of a former Taliban commander from the southern Afghan
province of Oruzgan.
He stood out from the scraggly guerrillas and villagers whom the Bagram interrogators
typically saw. "He had a piercing gaze and was very confident," the
provost marshal in charge of the M.P.'s, Maj. Bobby R. Atwell, recalled.
Documents from the investigation suggest that Mr. Habibullah was captured by
an Afghan warlord on Nov. 28, 2002, and delivered to Bagram by C.I.A. operatives
two days later. His well-being at that point is a matter of dispute. The doctor
who examined him on arrival at Bagram reported him in good health. But the intelligence
operations chief, Lt. Col. John W. Loffert Jr., later told Army investigators,
"He was already in bad condition when he arrived."
What is clear is that Mr. Habibullah was identified at Bagram as an important
prisoner and an unusually sharp-tongued and insubordinate one.
One of the 377th's Third Platoon sergeants, Alan J. Driver Jr., told investigators
that Mr. Habibullah rose up after a rectal examination and kneed him in the
groin. The guard said he grabbed the prisoner by the head and yelled in his
face. Mr. Habibullah then "became combative," Sergeant Driver said,
and had to be subdued by three guards and led away in an armlock.
He was then confined in one of the 9-foot by 7-foot isolation cells, which
the M.P. commander, Capt. Christopher M. Beiring, later described as a standard
procedure. "There was a policy that detainees were hooded, shackled and
isolated for at least the first 24 hours, sometimes 72 hours of captivity,"
he told investigators.
While the guards kept some prisoners awake by yelling or poking at them or
banging on their cell doors, Mr. Habibullah was shackled by the wrists to the
wire ceiling over his cell, soldiers said.
On his second day, Dec. 1, the prisoner was "uncooperative" again,
this time with Specialist Willie V. Brand. The guard, who has since been charged
with assault and other crimes, told investigators he had delivered three peroneal
strikes in response. The next day, Specialist Brand said, he had to knee the
prisoner again. Other blows followed.
A lawyer for Specialist Brand, John P. Galligan, said there was no criminal
intent by his client to hurt any detainee. "At the time, my client was
acting consistently with the standard operating procedure that was in place
at the Bagram facility."
The communication between Mr. Habibullah and his jailers appears to have been
almost exclusively physical. Despite repeated requests, the M.P.'s were assigned
no interpreters of their own. Instead, they borrowed from the interrogators
when they could and relied on prisoners who spoke even a little English to translate
When the detainees were beaten or kicked for "noncompliance," one
of the interpreters, Ali M. Baryalai said, it was often "because they have
no idea what the M.P. is saying."
By the morning of Dec. 2, witnesses told the investigators, Mr. Habibullah
was coughing and complaining of chest pains. He limped into the interrogation
room in shackles, his right leg stiff and his right foot swollen. The lead interrogator,
Sergeant Leahy, let him sit on the floor because he could not bend his knees
and sit in a chair.
The interpreter who was on hand, Ebrahim Baerde, said the interrogators had
kept their distance that day "because he was spitting up a lot of phlegm."
"They were laughing and making fun of him, saying it was 'gross' or 'nasty,'
" Mr. Baerde said.
Though battered, Mr. Habibullah was unbowed.
"Once they asked him if he wanted to spend the rest of his life in handcuffs,"
Mr. Baerde said. "His response was, 'Yes, don't they look good on me?'
By Dec. 3, Mr. Habibullah's reputation for defiance seemed to make him an open
target. One M.P. said he had given him five peroneal strikes for being "noncompliant
and combative." Another gave him three or four more for being "combative
and noncompliant." Some guards later asserted that he had been hurt trying
When Sgt. James P. Boland saw Mr. Habibullah on Dec. 3, he was in one of the
isolation cells, tethered to the ceiling by two sets of handcuffs and a chain
around his waist. His body was slumped forward, held up by the chains.
Sergeant Boland told the investigators he had entered the cell with two other
guards, Specialists Anthony M. Morden and Brian E. Cammack. (All three have
been charged with assault and other crimes.) One of them pulled off the prisoner's
black hood. His head was slumped to one side, his tongue sticking out. Specialist
Cammack said he had put some bread on Mr. Habibullah's tongue. Another soldier
put an apple in the prisoner's hand; it fell to the floor.
When Specialist Cammack turned back toward the prisoner, he said in one statement,
Mr. Habibullah's spit hit his chest. Later, Specialist Cammack acknowledged,
"I'm not sure if he spit at me." But at the time, he exploded, yelling,
"Don't ever spit on me again!" and kneeing the prisoner sharply in
the thigh, "maybe a couple" of times. Mr. Habibullah's limp body swayed
back and forth in the chains.
When Sergeant Boland returned to the cell some 20 minutes later, he said, Mr.
Habibullah was not moving and had no pulse. Finally, the prisoner was unchained
and laid out on the floor of his cell.
The guard who Specialist Cammack said had counseled him back in New Jersey
about the dangers of peroneal strikes found him in the room where Mr. Habibullah
lay, his body already cold.
"Specialist Cammack appeared very distraught," Specialist William
Bohl told an investigator. The soldier "was running about the room hysterically."
An M.P. was sent to wake one of the medics.
"What are you getting me for?" the medic, Specialist Robert S. Melone,
responded, telling him to call an ambulance instead.
When another medic finally arrived, he found Mr. Habibullah on the floor, his
arms outstretched, his eyes and mouth open.
"It looked like he had been dead for a while, and it looked like nobody
cared," the medic, Staff Sgt. Rodney D. Glass, recalled.
Not all of the guards were indifferent, their statements show. But if Mr. Habibullah's
death shocked some of them, it did not lead to major changes in the detention
Military police guards were assigned to be present during interrogations to
help prevent mistreatment. The provost marshal, Major Atwell, told investigators
he had already instructed the commander of the M.P. company, Captain Beiring,
to stop chaining prisoners to the ceiling. Others said they never received such
Senior officers later told investigators that they had been unaware of any
serious abuses at the B.C.P. But the first sergeant of the 377th, Betty J. Jones,
told investigators that the use of standing restraints, sleep deprivation and
peroneal strikes was readily apparent.
"Everyone that is anyone went through the facility at one time or another,"
Major Atwell said the death "did not cause an enormous amount of concern
'cause it appeared natural."
In fact, Mr. Habibullah's autopsy, completed on Dec. 8, showed bruises or abrasions
on his chest, arms and head. There were deep contusions on his calves, knees
and thighs. His left calf was marked by what appeared to have been the sole
of a boot.
His death was attributed to a blood clot, probably caused by the severe injuries
to his legs, which traveled to his heart and blocked the blood flow to his lungs.
The Shy Detainee
On Dec. 5, one day after Mr. Habibullah died, Mr. Dilawar arrived at Bagram.
Four days before, on the eve of the Muslim holiday of Id al-Fitr, Mr. Dilawar
set out from his tiny village of Yakubi in a prized new possession, a used Toyota
sedan that his family bought for him a few weeks earlier to drive as a taxi.
Mr. Dilawar was not an adventurous man. He rarely went far from the stone farmhouse
he shared with his wife, young daughter and extended family. He never attended
school, relatives said, and had only one friend, Bacha Khel, with whom he would
sit in the wheat fields surrounding the village and talk.
"He was a shy man, a very simple man," his eldest brother, Shahpoor,
said in an interview.
On the day he disappeared, Mr. Dilawar's mother had asked him to gather his
three sisters from their nearby villages and bring them home for the holiday.
But he needed gas money and decided instead to drive to the provincial capital,
Khost, about 45 minutes away, to look for fares.
At a taxi stand there, he found three men headed back toward Yakubi. On the
way, they passed a base used by American troops, Camp Salerno, which had been
the target of a rocket attack that morning.
Militiamen loyal to the guerrilla commander guarding the base, Jan Baz Khan,
stopped the Toyota at a checkpoint. They confiscated a broken walkie-talkie
from one of Mr. Dilawar's passengers. In the trunk, they found an electric stabilizer
used to regulate current from a generator. (Mr. Dilawar's family said the stabilizer
was not theirs; at the time, they said, they had no electricity at all.)
The four men were detained and turned over to American soldiers at the base
as suspects in the attack. Mr. Dilawar and his passengers spent their first
night there handcuffed to a fence, so they would be unable to sleep. When a
doctor examined them the next morning, he said later, he found Mr. Dilawar tired
and suffering from headaches but otherwise fine.
Mr. Dilawar's three passengers were eventually flown to Guantánamo and
held for more than a year before being sent home without charge. In interviews
after their release, the men described their treatment at Bagram as far worse
than at Guantánamo. While all of them said they had been beaten, they
complained most bitterly of being stripped naked in front of female soldiers
for showers and medical examinations, which they said included the first of
several painful and humiliating rectal exams.
"They did lots and lots of bad things to me," said Abdur Rahim, a
26-year-old baker from Khost. "I was shouting and crying, and no one was
listening. When I was shouting, the soldiers were slamming my head against the
For Mr. Dilawar, his fellow prisoners said, the most difficult thing seemed
to be the black cloth hood that was pulled over his head. "He could not
breathe," said a man called Parkhudin, who had been one of Mr. Dilawar's
Mr. Dilawar was a frail man, standing only 5 feet 9 inches and weighing 122
pounds. But at Bagram, he was quickly labeled one of the "noncompliant"
When one of the First Platoon M.P.'s, Specialist Corey E. Jones, was sent to
Mr. Dilawar's cell to give him some water, he said the prisoner spit in his
face and started kicking him. Specialist Jones responded, he said, with a couple
of knee strikes to the leg of the shackled man.
"He screamed out, 'Allah! Allah! Allah!' and my first reaction was that
he was crying out to his god," Specialist Jones said to investigators.
"Everybody heard him cry out and thought it was funny."
Other Third Platoon M.P.'s later came by the detention center and stopped at
the isolation cells to see for themselves, Specialist Jones said.
It became a kind of running joke, and people kept showing up to give this detainee
a common peroneal strike just to hear him scream out 'Allah,' " he said.
"It went on over a 24-hour period, and I would think that it was over 100
In a subsequent statement, Specialist Jones was vague about which M.P.'s had
delivered the blows. His estimate was never confirmed, but other guards eventually
admitted striking Mr. Dilawar repeatedly.
Many M.P.'s would eventually deny that they had any idea of Mr. Dilawar's injuries,
explaining that they never saw his legs beneath his jumpsuit. But Specialist
Jones recalled that the drawstring pants of Mr. Dilawar's orange prison suit
fell down again and again while he was shackled.
"I saw the bruise because his pants kept falling down while he was in
standing restraints," the soldier told investigators. "Over a certain
time period, I noticed it was the size of a fist."
As Mr. Dilawar grew desperate, he began crying out more loudly to be released.
But even the interpreters had trouble understanding his Pashto dialect; the
annoyed guards heard only noise.
"He had constantly been screaming, 'Release me; I don't want to be here,'
and things like that," said the one linguist who could decipher his distress,
Abdul Ahad Wardak.
On Dec. 8, Mr. Dilawar was taken for his fourth interrogation. It quickly turned
The 21-year-old lead interrogator, Specialist Glendale C. Walls II, later contended
that Mr. Dilawar was evasive. "Some holes came up, and we wanted him to
answer us truthfully," he said. The other interrogator, Sergeant Salcedo,
complained that the prisoner was smiling, not answering questions, and refusing
to stay kneeling on the ground or sitting against the wall.
The interpreter who was present, Ahmad Ahmadzai, recalled the encounter differently
The interrogators, Mr. Ahmadzai said, accused Mr. Dilawar of launching the
rockets that had hit the American base. He denied that. While kneeling on the
ground, he was unable to hold his cuffed hands above his head as instructed,
prompting Sergeant Salcedo to slap them back up whenever they began to drop.
"Selena berated him for being weak and questioned him about being a man,
which was very insulting because of his heritage," Mr. Ahmadzai said.
When Mr. Dilawar was unable to sit in the chair position against the wall because
of his battered legs, the two interrogators grabbed him by the shirt and repeatedly
shoved him back against the wall.
"This went on for 10 or 15 minutes," the interpreter said. "He
was so tired he couldn't get up."
"They stood him up, and at one point Selena stepped on his bare foot with
her boot and grabbed him by his beard and pulled him towards her," he went
on. "Once Selena kicked Dilawar in the groin, private areas, with her right
foot. She was standing some distance from him, and she stepped back and kicked
"About the first 10 minutes, I think, they were actually questioning him,
after that it was pushing, shoving, kicking and shouting at him," Mr. Ahmadzai
said. "There was no interrogation going on."
The session ended, he said, with Sergeant Salcedo instructing the M.P.'s to
keep Mr. Dilawar chained to the ceiling until the next shift came on.
The next morning, Mr. Dilawar began yelling again. At around noon, the M.P.'s
called over another of the interpreters, Mr. Baerde, to try to quiet Mr. Dilawar
"I told him, 'Look, please, if you want to be able to sit down and be
released from shackles, you just need to be quiet for one more hour."
"He told me that if he was in shackles another hour, he would die,"
Mr. Baerde said.
Half an hour later, Mr. Baerde returned to the cell. Mr. Dilawar's hands hung
limply from the cuffs, and his head, covered by the black hood, slumped forward.
"He wanted me to get a doctor, and said that he needed 'a shot,' "
Mr. Baerde recalled. "He said that he didn't feel good. He said that his
legs were hurting."
Mr. Baerde translated Mr. Dilawar's plea to one of the guards. The soldier
took the prisoner's hand and pressed down on his fingernails to check his circulation.
"He's O.K.," Mr. Baerde quoted the M.P. as saying. "He's just
trying to get out of his restraints."
By the time Mr. Dilawar was brought in for his final interrogation in the first
hours of the next day, Dec. 10, he appeared exhausted and was babbling that
his wife had died. He also told the interrogators that he had been beaten by
"But we didn't pursue that," said Mr. Baryalai, the interpreter.
Specialist Walls was again the lead interrogator. But his more aggressive partner,
Specialist Claus, quickly took over, Mr. Baryalai said.
"Josh had a rule that the detainee had to look at him, not me," the
interpreter told investigators. "He gave him three chances, and then he
grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him towards him, across the table, slamming
his chest into the table front."
When Mr. Dilawar was unable to kneel, the interpreter said, the interrogators
pulled him to his feet and pushed him against the wall. Told to assume a stress
position, the prisoner leaned his head against the wall and began to fall asleep.
"It looked to me like Dilawar was trying to cooperate, but he couldn't
physically perform the tasks," Mr. Baryalai said.
Finally, Specialist Walls grabbed the prisoner and "shook him harshly,"
the interpreter said, telling him that if he failed to cooperate, he would be
shipped to a prison in the United States, where he would be "treated like
a woman, by the other men" and face the wrath of criminals who "would
be very angry with anyone involved in the 9/11 attacks." (Specialist Walls
was charged last week with assault, maltreatment and failure to obey a lawful
order; Specialist Claus was charged with assault, maltreatment and lying to
investigators. Each man declined to comment.)
A third military intelligence specialist who spoke some Pashto, Staff Sgt.
W. Christopher Yonushonis, had questioned Mr. Dilawar earlier and had arranged
with Specialist Claus to take over when he was done. Instead, the sergeant arrived
at the interrogation room to find a large puddle of water on the floor, a wet
spot on Mr. Dilawar's shirt and Specialist Claus standing behind the detainee,
twisting up the back of the hood that covered the prisoner's head.
"I had the impression that Josh was actually holding the detainee upright
by pulling on the hood," he said. "I was furious at this point because
I had seen Josh tighten the hood of another detainee the week before. This behavior
seemed completely gratuitous and unrelated to intelligence collection."
"What the hell happened with that water?" Sergeant Yonushonis said
he had demanded.
"We had to make sure he stayed hydrated," he said Specialist Claus
The next morning, Sergeant Yonushonis went to the noncommissioned officer in
charge of the interrogators, Sergeant Loring, to report the incident. Mr. Dilawar,
however, was already dead.
The findings of Mr. Dilawar's autopsy were succinct. He had had some coronary
artery disease, the medical examiner reported, but what caused his heart to
fail was "blunt force injuries to the lower extremities." Similar
injuries contributed to Mr. Habibullah's death.
One of the coroners later translated the assessment at a pre-trial hearing
for Specialist Brand, saying the tissue in the young man's legs "had basically
"I've seen similar injuries in an individual run over by a bus,"
added Lt. Col. Elizabeth Rouse, the coroner, and a major at that time.
After the second death, several of the 519th Battalion's interrogators were
temporarily removed from their posts. A medic was assigned to the detention
center to work night shifts. On orders from the Bagram intelligence chief, interrogators
were prohibited from any physical contact with the detainees. Chaining prisoners
to any fixed object was also banned, and the use of stress positions was curtailed.
In February, an American military official disclosed that the Afghan guerrilla
commander whose men had arrested Mr. Dilawar and his passengers had himself
been detained. The commander, Jan Baz Khan, was suspected of attacking Camp
Salerno himself and then turning over innocent "suspects" to the Americans
in a ploy to win their trust, the military official said.
The three passengers in Mr. Dilawar's taxi were sent home from Guantánamo
in March 2004, 15 months after their capture, with letters saying they posed
"no threat" to American forces.
They were later visited by Mr. Dilawar's parents, who begged them to explain
what had happened to their son. But the men said they could not bring themselves
to recount the details.
"I told them he had a bed," said Mr. Parkhudin. "I said the
Americans were very nice because he had a heart problem."
In late August of last year, shortly before the Army completed its inquiry
into the deaths, Sergeant Yonushonis, who was stationed in Germany, went at
his own initiative to see an agent of the Criminal Investigation Command. Until
then, he had never been interviewed.
"I expected to be contacted at some point by investigators in this case,"
he said. "I was living a few doors down from the interrogation room, and
I had been one of the last to see this detainee alive."
Sergeant Yonushonis described what he had witnessed of the detainee's last
interrogation. "I remember being so mad that I had trouble speaking,"
He also added a detail that had been overlooked in the investigative file.
By the time Mr. Dilawar was taken into his final interrogations, he said, "most
of us were convinced that the detainee was innocent."
Ruhallah Khapalwak, Carlotta Gall and David Rohde contributed reporting for
this article, and Alain Delaqueriere assisted with research.
Copyright 2005 The New York Times Company