Briefly turning to the video screen behind him-incongruously, the men were dressed in Western clothes, including one who looked like the young Omar Sharif in a well-tailored blue blazer-Roland said, “The men pictured here were all arraigned before a New York State judge fifteen minutes ago. They are Amir Butt, Ravi Al-Haq, and Alan Richards. All of them are United States citizens. Butt and Al-Haq are native-born citizens, Butt was born and raised in Chicago, Al-Haq in Providence, Rhode Island. Richards, whose real name we might not know, was born in Saudi Arabia but is a naturalized U.S. citizen.”
Roland resisted the temptation to drink water. He thought doing so would show a lack of resolve, a sense of anxiety, weakness, or fatigue. “Our best information is that a common link joins them to the earlier attacks. They have each spent two to three months in Sudan and ISIS-controlled areas of Syria, although at different times. Al-Haq, we believe, is an accountant. Butt has worked as a manager of a car and limousine service. Richards has said he is a New York lawyer, a claim we need to verify since there are five lawyers in New York named Alan Richards.”
Although Irv Rothstein had told the reporters in the room that they should not ask questions until after Roland had finished, three people started urgently waving upraised hands. Roland ignored the hands. “Al-Haq, Butt, and Richards have been removed from New York. They are now in separate, secure facilities. They have each been charged with attempted murder and conspiracy for mass destruction.”
Irv Rothstein gave Roland an almost imperceptible signal to wind up the prepared part of his statement. “From the outset of these awful events, Commissioner Carbone and I have committed ourselves to truth telling in describing only what we know. And truth about what we don’t know. We do know, as a result of the events two hours ago at St. Patrick’s, and the events earlier today at the George Washington Carver Houses, that we are closing in on the people responsible for these vicious acts. And, more important, that we are shutting these people down and preventing further devastating attacks. The fact is that we are now on the hunt. We are the hunter, not the victim.”
Gina Carbone knew that Roland’s prepared statement was over. She shifted slightly in the direction of the microphones into which the mayor had spoken. They had done many joint press conferences in the last few years. They worked very well as a team. Gina said, “We will take questions. But as you’ll all understand, there are probably going to be many questions we will not be able to answer for security and law enforcement reasons. But Mayor Fortune and I will do our best to give you all the facts that we can.”
They had decided that Roland would select the reporters who wanted to ask questions. He started by pointing at Beth Connor of CNN, a competent reporter who had interviewed him several times. She was not friendly or unfriendly; she was straightforward. “How was this plot to destroy St. Patrick’s uncovered?”
Gina took the initiative. “We can’t comment on that specifically. But suffice it to say that we have, among many other sources, confidential informants. Some of them are useful. Others not.”
“Was this informant under arrest?” Connor asked.
“I can’t comment on that,” Gina said.
“Is that informant being protected?”
“I can’t comment on that either,” Gina said.
Other hands waved like small flags in the wind. Roland pointed to Jack Kramer of WNBC seated in one of the folding chairs in the middle of the press room. “How many people have been arrested since the bombing at the Met?” Kramer asked.
Gina lied. “Forty-five.” This answer did not include the eighteen men on Pier 37. Or Silas Nasar.
“How many more arrests will there be?” Kramer asked.
“As many,” Gina said, “as are needed. We will arrest them all or we will disable them all.”
Roland nodded at Jackie Lin of NPR. She asked, “Why were no prisoners taken at the George Washington Carver projects?”
Gina answered, “It was in reality a combat situation. There were ten terrorists on the fifth floor in the Carver Towers. Our information was that they were about to mount a major operation. We had to act decisively. Our counterterrorism officers were all combat veterans from Desert Storm, Iraq, and Afghanistan. They confronted men who obviously had also been in combat, somewhere in the world. As Mayor Fortune mentioned just a few hours ago, if you have been in combat yourself, you understand that your overriding task is to defend yourself and the other members of your team. And to carry out your mission.”
“Was it the mission to kill every person in that apartment?” Jackie Lin asked.
“No.” Gina’s voice and tone never varied. She was cool and powerful and attractive. The question was, Roland recognized, meant to provoke her. Gina said, “The mission was to prevent these terrorists from inflicting damage on the people of this city. It’s important to remember that the men in that apartment elected to be there. Our information is that they had rented the apartment three months ago and gradually built up an arsenal. And, as we can tell in the inventory of the weapons seized there, they had reached a point of complete readiness to mount other assaults. These were professional killers who were themselves prepared to die.”
Roland now recognized that the clamor of questions had reached the point that always caused concern to Irv Rothstein. Irv had often urged Roland to exert control by pointing to reporters Roland knew were friendly or noncombative. But now it was at the stage when the quickest or loudest or most distinctive voice took over the event. Despite Irv’s seasoned advice, Roland, always surefooted, often let these more active and intense conferences take their own course. He enjoyed the give and take. Since he’d had many press conferences with Gina over the last three years, most often after gang killings in which innocent children were bystander victims or the murders of cops, Roland had complete confidence that she, too, was a master of the freewheeling news conference.
A woman’s voice rang out from the near center of the active crowd, “Were the dead in that apartment part of the group that bombed the Met and the memorial?”
“Obviously there’s every indication they were,” Gina said. “It’s clear that these were organized cadres.”
The same voice: “Was it an ISIS affiliate?”
“It’s natural to think that, but at this stage we don’t know.”
“Can you explain the chaos at the approaches to the Triboro Bridge?”
“First,” Roland intervened, “let me say it shouldn’t be characterized as chaos. Even in extraordinarily troubled times like this, it’s important to keep perspective and not get swept away in overcharged words. Yes, there are several hundred cars that, as their drivers must have known, would not be permitted to leave the city. At least not yet. But almost one million men, women, and children live in Manhattan. There have been no organized disturbances. We have seen cooperation, steadiness, and the legendary resolve of those who live in this great city. The fact that one or two hundred motorists are expressing frustration only underscores the discipline and resolution of hundreds of thousands of others. In the final analysis, the issue at the Triboro Bridge is a traffic problem, and not a significant one.”