Rahmanullah Lakanwal, a former Afghan commando who fought alongside American forces, vanished from his Washington state home late last month. His wife, Khamila, desperately tried reaching him by phone, only to receive unsettling replies. Initially, he claimed to be “busy with some friends.”
Hours later, his answer chilled her to the core: “I’m with Tablighi.” He added, simply, “I’m doing Tabligh.” To Khamila, and her family, this single phrase ignited immediate alarm. They knew the implications of this group, a shadow lurking beneath the surface of religious observance.
Tablighi Jamaat, originating in British India in 1926, is a global Islamic missionary movement. While publicly denouncing terrorism, counterterrorism experts warn it functions as a subtle, yet potent, pathway to radicalization – a “conveyor belt” to extremism, mirroring groups like the Muslim Brotherhood. Its influence spans at least 150 countries, including the United States.
Lakanwal’s brother, Ismail Khosti, shared details of these calls with the FBI. Investigators are now urgently working to determine if the Tablighi Jamaat network played a role in radicalizing Lakanwal, aiding his cross-country journey, or providing support for the devastating ambush he launched on Thanksgiving eve.
The ambush targeted two West Virginia National Guard service members, Sarah Beckstrom, 20, and Andrew Wolfe, 24, as they patrolled near the White House. Beckstrom tragically died from her injuries, and Wolfe remains critically injured. Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem has indicated investigators believe Lakanwal was radicalized *after* arriving in the U.S., through connections within his community.
Beyond the immediate investigation, a disturbing pattern is emerging. Reports suggest Lakanwal was struggling with isolation, depression, and psychological distress. Experts note that untreated trauma and deep-seated grievances can create fertile ground for extremist ideologies, attracting those seeking justification for violence.
The Tablighi Jamaat’s missionary culture, focused on evangelization, has appeared in the early stages of radicalization for other extremists, including John Walker Lindh, the “American Taliban.” Lindh attended Tablighi Jamaat retreats in California before ultimately joining the Taliban in Afghanistan and becoming implicated in the death of a CIA officer.
The irony is stark. Lakanwal and his brother had spent years battling the Taliban in Afghanistan as members of the “Zero Units,” a covert force funded and trained by the CIA. Now, it appears he may have fallen prey to the very ideology they fought against, even within the safety of the United States.
Khosti is consumed by shame and a desperate need for answers. He wants to understand how his brother, a veteran who risked his life fighting extremism, ended up perpetrating a violent act on American soil. He describes his brother’s actions as “wrong,” a profound betrayal of the alliance forged in years of shared struggle.
Afghan Lt. Gen. Haibatullah Alizai, the final commander of Afghan forces, feels a personal responsibility to uncover the truth. He believes it is a duty to help America find justice and prevent similar tragedies, recognizing the danger of religious fundamentalism exploiting vulnerabilities.
Lakanwal’s wife and five sons have moved in with her brother-in-law’s family in San Diego. Amidst the grief and confusion, investigators are meticulously examining Lakanwal’s life in the U.S., including emails revealing a history of “manic” road trips and periods of unexplained absence.
These trips, lasting days or weeks, coincided with the Tablighi Jamaat’s practice of sending men on missionary journeys, called *khuruj*. The emails also reveal Lakanwal demanded a divorce from his wife, invoking a strict interpretation of Islamic law.
Khosti is grappling with how his brother financed his 2,800-mile journey to Washington, D.C., and obtained a firearm. Mohammad Iqbal Selanee, Lakanwal’s former company commander, now works as a janitor in San Diego, grateful for the new life America offered his family, yet heartbroken by this betrayal.
Selanee recalls the faces of the American service members he fought alongside and the image of Sarah Beckstrom, the young woman whose life was tragically cut short. He believes Lakanwal was isolated and drawn into a new army of zealotry, fueled by the Tablighi Jamaat.
Lakanwal had attended a local mosque, but officials state he wasn’t an active member of the community. Ismail Royer, a former extremist who once joined a terrorist group, warns that Tablighi Jamaat can serve as a “cover for jihadists” and a stepping stone towards violent extremism.
Alizai fears that religious fundamentalists exploited Lakanwal’s frustrations, preying on his sense of displacement and offering a distorted path to restore his honor. He and other Afghan veterans are now committed to uncovering the truth, driven by a sense of responsibility to both their homeland and the nation that once stood beside them.
The investigation continues, a somber quest for answers in the wake of tragedy, as one family grieves and another holds vigil, forever marked by the devastating consequences of a path to extremism.
