A World Away from the West Bank, Vermont Shooting Victims Face New Grief and Fear

In this Thursday, Nov. 23, 2023, photo provided by family attorney Abed Ayoub, three college students, from the left, Tahseen Ali Ahmad, Kinnan Abdalhamid, and Hisham Awartani, stand together for a photograph. (Rich Price via AP, File)
In this Thursday, Nov. 23, 2023, photo provided by family attorney Abed Ayoub, three college students, from the left, Tahseen Ali Ahmad, Kinnan Abdalhamid, and Hisham Awartani, stand together for a photograph. (Rich Price via AP, File)
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A World Away from the West Bank, Vermont Shooting Victims Face New Grief and Fear

In this Thursday, Nov. 23, 2023, photo provided by family attorney Abed Ayoub, three college students, from the left, Tahseen Ali Ahmad, Kinnan Abdalhamid, and Hisham Awartani, stand together for a photograph. (Rich Price via AP, File)
In this Thursday, Nov. 23, 2023, photo provided by family attorney Abed Ayoub, three college students, from the left, Tahseen Ali Ahmad, Kinnan Abdalhamid, and Hisham Awartani, stand together for a photograph. (Rich Price via AP, File)

Nearly a week after three college students of Palestinian descent were shot and seriously wounded while taking an evening walk, relatives of two of the victims have arrived in Vermont from the war-torn West Bank, grappling with a new reality that has shattered their lives and a place they thought was a safe haven.

Elizabeth Price and her husband Ali Awartani flew in Wednesday just as their son, Hisham Awartani, underwent surgery. After the Israel-Hamas war erupted in early October, they decided it would be safer for Hisham to stay in the United States instead of coming home for the holidays.

Now they don't know if he will ever walk again.

"When my nephew came to this country to pursue his studies and when he came to stay with me for Thanksgiving in Burlington, Vermont, it never occurred to me that he may be victim to this type of violence," Awartani's uncle Rich Price said in an interview with The Associated Press on Friday. "And so, I feel a sense of shame, I feel a sense of outrage, and it’s been a really difficult awakening to the fact that even here — even in this country, even in this town — that many of the risks that exist for my nephew and his friends in Palestine exist for them here."

Awartani, Kinnan Abdalhamid and Tahseen Ali Ahmad, all aged 20 and attending colleges in the eastern US, were visiting Price and his family for the holiday break. The three have been friends since first grade at Ramallah Friends School, a private school in the West Bank. While they were out for a walk Saturday evening after a family birthday party, a man approached them and shot them without saying a word, they told police.

The young men were speaking in a mix of English and Arabic and two of them were also wearing the black-and-white Palestinian keffiyeh scarves when they were shot, Burlington Police Chief Jon Murad said.

Abdalhamid ran when the man started shooting and jumped over a fence. He hid in a backyard for a minute shaking, fearing the man was after him and that his friends were dead, before going to a house that had lights on and urging them to call 911, he told the AP on Friday. He learned at the University of Vermont Medical Center that his friends were alive but more seriously injured and asked to be placed in the intensive care room with them, he said.

"Palestinians in general and in the US are suffering from hate. I don't think any race or ethnicity should be targeted like that," Abdalhamid said in the hotel where he’s staying with his mother, Tamara Tamimi, after being released from the hospital earlier in the week.

Tamimi arrived in Vermont Wednesday from Jerusalem. After she and her husband got the 3 a.m. phone call that her son and his two friends were shot, she said she was relieved to talk to Kinnan from the emergency room — that he was alive. But she later fell apart, she said.

"I remember the overwhelming feeling was enough. It's just enough. It's enough pain for Palestinians. We're already grieving. We're already carrying so much grief," she said.

She said her son has been upset about what's happening in Gaza. "We've all been in so much pain and to have this happen, I really just fell apart and started throwing things around with so much anger saying, 'There's nowhere safe for us. There's nowhere safe for Palestinians. Where are we supposed to go?'"

Ahmad’s parents are expected to arrive in Vermont on Saturday.

Carmen Abdelhadi, the middle school librarian at the Ramallah Friends School, remembers meeting the three as fourth graders. When she heard about the shooting, she and others in their community were shocked and "outraged" because "we know them."

"Whenever I read something about them, I cry. It could have happened to any of our sons. My son is wearing the same scarf," she said. "It’s devastating. It’s devastating on top of everything that we are going through."

Awartani, she recalled, could always be found with a book while Abdalhamid "didn’t have a bad bone" in his body and was loved by everyone, she said. And Ahmad, she said, was the sensible one who found a love of poetry early on and went on to show an aptitude in science and tech.

"I see my son in every one of them," Abdelhadi said.

Awartani suffered a spinal injury in the shooting. A bullet that is still lodged in his spine is unlikely to be removed and he is currently paralyzed from the chest down, Rich Price said. "We don't know what the long-term prognosis is," he said.

Still, Awartani's uncle said he has the will and resilience for the recovery.

"He was concerned for his friends, who were with him, their well-being and recovery. And he was also deeply concerned that so much attention was being brought to him and he's thinking about the thousands of people that are dead, the now 80 percent of Gazans who have been displaced from their homes," Price said, wearing a keffiyeh in solidarity with the three young men. "There are dozens of Hishams that are in the list of the dead in Gaza, and he's saying, 'I'm the Hisham that you know. What about the Hishams you don't know?'"

The shooting last weekend came as threats against Jewish, Muslim and Arab communities have increased across the US in the weeks since the war began.

The suspected gunman, Jason J. Eaton, 48, was arrested Sunday at his apartment, where he answered the door with his hands raised and told federal agents he had been waiting for them. Eaton has pleaded not guilty to three counts of attempted murder and is currently being held without bail.

Authorities are investigating the shooting as a possible a hate crime.



What Has Assad’s Fall Revealed about the Captagon Drug Trade in Syria?

 A Syrian member of the opposition shows amphetamine pills known as Captagon hidden inside an electrical component at a warehouse where the drug was manufactured before the fall of Bashar al-Assad's government at a facility in Douma city, outskirts of Damascus, Syria, Friday, Dec. 13, 2024. (AP)
A Syrian member of the opposition shows amphetamine pills known as Captagon hidden inside an electrical component at a warehouse where the drug was manufactured before the fall of Bashar al-Assad's government at a facility in Douma city, outskirts of Damascus, Syria, Friday, Dec. 13, 2024. (AP)
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What Has Assad’s Fall Revealed about the Captagon Drug Trade in Syria?

 A Syrian member of the opposition shows amphetamine pills known as Captagon hidden inside an electrical component at a warehouse where the drug was manufactured before the fall of Bashar al-Assad's government at a facility in Douma city, outskirts of Damascus, Syria, Friday, Dec. 13, 2024. (AP)
A Syrian member of the opposition shows amphetamine pills known as Captagon hidden inside an electrical component at a warehouse where the drug was manufactured before the fall of Bashar al-Assad's government at a facility in Douma city, outskirts of Damascus, Syria, Friday, Dec. 13, 2024. (AP)

Since the fall of former Syrian President Bashar al-Assad, industrial-scale manufacturing facilities of Captagon have been uncovered around the country, which experts say helped flourish a $10 billion annual global trade in the highly addictive drug.

Among the locations used for manufacturing the drug were the Mazzeh air base in Damascus, a car-trading company in Latakia and a former potato chips factory on the outskirts of Damascus.

The factory that once produced the crunchy snack in the suburb of Douma under the name, Captain Corn, was seized by government forces in 2018.

"Assad’s collaborators controlled this place. After the regime fell... I came here and found it on fire," Firas al-Toot, the original owner of the factory, told The Associated Press. "They came at night and lit the drugs on fire but couldn’t burn everything."

"From here, Captagon pills emerged to kill our people," said Abu Zihab, an activist with Hayat Tahrir al-Sham, the main group now ruling the country, as his group gave access to journalists to the site.

Syria's nearly 14-year-old civil war fragmented the country, crumbled the economy and created fertile ground for the production of the drug. Militias, warlords and the Assad government transformed Captagon from a small-scale operation run by small criminal groups into a billion-dollar industrial revenue stream.

The recent ousting of Assad has disrupted these networks and has given a closer look at its operations — revealing the workings of a war economy that sustained Assad’s power over Syria. Experts say the change in Syria might create an opportunity to dismantle the Captagon industry.

How did Syria build its Captagon empire?

Captagon was first developed in Germany in the 1960s as a prescription stimulant for conditions like narcolepsy. It was later outlawed due to heart issues and its addictive properties.

Its amphetamine-like effects made it popular in the Middle East among both elites and fighters, as it enhanced focus and reduced fatigue.

Assad's government recognized an opportunity in the cheaply manufactured drug amid Syria’s economic turmoil and the heavy sanctions imposed on it.

Captagon is produced through a simple chemical process that involves mixing amphetamine derivatives with excipients to form tablets, typically in makeshift labs.

The Captagon trade began industrializing around 2018-2019 as the Assad regime — and other armed groups in Syria -- invested in production facilities, warehouses and trafficking networks. This allowed Syria to emerge as the largest producer of Captagon globally, with some production also occurring in Lebanon.

Most seized consignments of Captagon originated from Syria, according to data by the New Lines Captagon Trade Project, an initiative of the New Lines Institute think tank.

Evidence of the Assad regime’s sponsorship of the Captagon industry is overwhelming, the report published in May said. The Security Office of the 4th Armored Division of the Syrian Arab Army, headed by Bashar al-Assad’s brother Maher oversaw operations and created a coordinated production system, the report added.

Where and how was Captagon smuggled?

Captagon was smuggled across the border using various methods, hiding Captagon in trucks, cargo shipments and goods. Some shipments are concealed in food, electronics and construction materials to evade detection.

The primary smuggling routes were Syria’s porous borders with Lebanon, Jordan and Iraq, from which the drug is distributed throughout the region. Some were also shipped from Latakia port.

In Lebanon, the Captagon trade has flourished, particularly near the Syrian border and in the Bekaa Valley. Lebanese authorities struggled to curb the flow of Captagon from Syria, which analysts say was facilitated by the Hezbollah group, a key Assad ally.

Following the discovery of crates of fruit meticulously packed with bundles of the drug hidden among pomegranates and oranges, Saudi Arabia and the UAE implemented bans on Lebanese agricultural products.

Captagon has also found its way into international markets, reaching as far as Southeast Asia and parts of Europe.

How much revenue did it produce for the Assad regime?

The annual global trade in Captagon has an estimated value of $10 billion, with the ousted Assad family's annual profit reaching around $2.4 billion, according to Caroline Rose, director of the New York-based New Lines Institute Captagon Trade Project.

"Seeing the uncovering of so many industrial-scale facilities affiliated with the regime was shocking but not surprising. There was extensive evidence linking key regime-aligned cronies and Assad family members to the trade," said Rose, whose organization tracks all publicly recorded Captagon seizures and lab raids. The discovery of the facilities, she said, confirmed "the concrete relationship between Captagon and the former regime."

The exact number of factories in Syria remains unclear, but experts and HTS members estimate that there are likely hundreds spread throughout the country.

The future of Captagon in post-Assad Syria

Assad has turned Syria into "the largest Captagon factory in the world," HTS leader Ahmad al-Sharaa stated in a victory speech at Damascus’s Umayyad Mosque on Dec. 8. "Today, Syria is being cleansed, thanks to the grace of Almighty God."

While Assad and his circle may have been the primary beneficiaries, there is also evidence that Syrian opposition groups were involved in drug smuggling, opposition groups, local militias and organized crime networks manufactured and smuggled the drug to finance their operations, analysts say.

"Likely, we will see a short-term supply reduction in the trade, with a decline in the size and frequency of seizures as industrial-scale production is largely halted. However, criminal actors are innovative, likely seeking out new locations to engage in production and smuggling, particularly as demand levels remain stable," Rose said.

They may also "seek out alternative illicit trades to engage in instead," she said.

In addition to dismantling the Captagon trade, the country's transitional government should "establish programs for economic development that will incentivize Syrians to participate in the country’s formal, licit economic sphere," Rose said.