THE NEW YORK TIMES, FRIDAY, AUGUST 7, 2020 N ABEIRUT, Lebanon — A former
top Saudi intelligence official pub-
licly accused Crown Prince Mo-
hammed bin Salman on Thursday
of sending a team of agents to
Canada to kill him.
The allegation came in a lawsuit
filed in United States federal court
on Thursday by the former offi-
cial, Saad Aljabri, who has ac-
cused Prince Mohammed of seek-
ing to silence or kill him to stop
him from undermining the
prince’s relationship with the
United States and the Trump ad-
ministration.
The suit marks the first time a
former senior Saudi official has
publicly accused Prince Moham-
med, the kingdom’s de facto ruler,
of carrying out a widespread and
sometimes violent campaign to si-
lence critical voices.
Mr. Aljabri, who was a top aide
in the Saudi Interior Ministry, now
lives in self-imposed exile near To-
ronto. Prince Mohammed has
been trying to coax him to return
to Saudi Arabia and in March,
Saudi Arabia detained two of Mr.
Aljabri’s adult children and his
brother, prompting accusations
by relatives and United States of-
ficials that they were being held to
secure Mr. Aljabri’s return.
His lawsuit says that Saudi
agents tried to target Mr. Aljabri
in Canada less than two weeks af-
ter another team of Saudi opera-
tives killed and dismembered the
dissident Saudi writer Jamal
Khashoggi in the Saudi consulate
in Istanbul. American intelligence
agencies have determined that
Crown Prince Mohammed likely
ordered the killing.
Mr. Aljabri’s suit contained
scant evidence to support its
charges, including about the al-
leged Canada operation, nor could
they be independently verified by
The New York Times.
A spokesman for the Saudi em-
bassy in Washington did not re-
spond to a message seeking com-
ment, and Prince Mohammed has
said that he had no prior knowl-
edge of the operation targeting
Mr. Khashoggi.
The lawsuit is the latest riposte
in a yearslong battle at the top of
the Saudi power structure as
Prince Mohammed has worked to
consolidate his power.
Mr. Aljabri worked for years as
a top aide to former Crown Prince
Mohammed bin Nayef, who
headed the Saudi Interior Min-
istry, which oversees domestic se-
curity and counterterrorism. That
work gave Mr. Aljabri close rela-
tionships with intelligence offi-
cials from the United States and
other countries.
Mr. Aljabri was fired by royal
decree in 2015, before Prince Mo-
hammed ousted Mohammed bin
Nayef as crown prince and put
himself next in line to the throne.
Mr. Aljabri left Saudi Arabia two
years later.
Mr. Aljabri has accused Prince
Mohammed of using increasingly
aggressive tactics to try to return
him to the kingdom, including of-
fering him a job, threatening to
have him extradited on corruption
charges, and arresting two of his
adult children as leverage.
In 2017, Saudi Arabia filed a no-
tice through Interpol, the interna-
tional police organization, asking
other nations to arrest and extra-
dite Mr. Aljabri to Saudi Arabia on
corruption charges. Interpol later
deemed that notice politically mo-
tivated, a violation of the organi-
zation’s rules, and removed Mr.
Aljabri’s name from its system,
according to Interpol documents
reviewed by The Times.
Mr. Aljabri’s suit adds a number
of new allegations, accusing
Prince Mohammed of deploying
Saudi agents in the United States
to determine his whereabouts and
sending agents to Canada.
The lawsuit was filed in the U.S.
District Court for the District of
Columbia under the Torture Vic-
tims Protection Act and the Alien
Tort Statute, which allow non-
Americans to sue in U.S. courts for
certain crimes committed abroad.
Mr. Aljabri could not be reached
for comment. In an interview, his
son, Dr. Khalid Aljabri, a cardiolo-
gist also based in Canada, said his
family chose to file the suit after
running out of other options to se-
cure the release of their relatives
and resolve the conflict with
Prince Mohammed.
“We have exhausted every sin-
gle avenue for a peaceful remedy
and reconciliation, to no avail,” Dr.
Aljabri said. “We hope that this
will help end the torment that my
family is suffering.”
Citing unnamed Saudi officials,
The Wall Street Journal reported
last month that Mr. Aljabri had
been involved in large-scale cor-
ruption schemes, charges that
were repeated by state-controlled
Saudi media. Saudi officials have
not responded to questions from
The Times about corruption
charges against Mr. Aljabri.Ben Hubbard reported from
Beirut, and Mark Mazzetti from
Washington.Ex-Official
Says Saudis
Are Trying
To Kill Him
By BEN HUBBARD
and MARK MAZZETTIBEIRUT, Lebanon — Visiting a
neighborhood ravaged by this
week’s giant explosion in Beirut’s
port, the president looked resi-
dents in the eye, vowed to send
food and pursue a new political
initiative, expressed sorrow for
the lives lost and shoved aside a
bodyguard to give a woman a hug.
The only hitch was that he was
the president of France, not Leba-
non.
Less than 48 hours after the
blast that shook Lebanon’s capi-
tal, killed at least 145 people and
left entire neighborhoods virtual-
ly uninhabitable, President Em-
manuel Macron of France on
Thursday did what no senior Leb-
anese politician has: He came to
see the suffering firsthand.
The distinction was not lost on
the Lebanese. As they clean the
rubble from their streets and
homes, bury their dead and pon-
der where the billions needed to
fix their capital will come, they
have seen few signs that their po-
litical leaders will help in their
time of need.
“I don’t want France to send
money to these corrupt people,”
said Khalil Honein, sitting outside
his damaged auto parts store near
where Mr. Macron had walked.
“Let him take all these politicians
with him, or let him be our presi-
dent!”
As the toll from Tuesday’s blast
— and the indications of govern-
mental neglect that led to it — be-
come increasingly clear, the re-
covery effort has been shouldered
largely by Lebanese citizens,
while countries across the globe
have chipped in.
On Thursday, Cyprus, the
neighboring island nation where
many felt the blast, sent doctors.
Denmark sent cash. Italy, Jordan
and China sent medics and medi-
cal equipment. The United Na-
tions announced that it was re-
leasing $9 million to aid Beirut’s
hospitals, three of which were
blown out of commission by the
explosion.
It was unclear how much those
contributions would address the
tremendous needs left by the ex-
plosion, which registered as a mi-
nor earthquake in neighboring
countries, displaced more than
250,000 people from their homes
and came on the heels of a finan-
cial crisis that had sent many Leb-
anese sliding toward poverty.
Beirut’s governor estimated the
damage at $3 billion.
In many of the hardest-hit ar-
eas, foreign crews joined armies
of Lebanese volunteers to distrib-
ute food and help people clear the
glass and rubble from their homes
and streets.
“It’s an individual initiative,”
said Joelle Debs, a member of a
volunteer group that was distrib-
uting sandwiches and wielding
shovels and brooms. “We’re not
expecting much from the govern-
ment or the municipality.”
At times, the cleanup crews
erupted with anger at the govern-
ment they blamed for destroying
the neighborhood, chanting,
“Revolution! Revolution!” or
shouting profanities about Presi-
dent Michel Aoun.
A fight broke out in front of the
Lebanese Red Cross building in
Gemmayzeh, a heavily damaged
area, after someone insulted Mr.
Aoun and fans of the president
pushed back. Soon, a Red Cross
tent had been torn down, one
man’s head was bleeding and on-
lookers intervened to stop several
men from rushing into the fray
with shovels.
Other volunteers teared up at
the partisanship on display, which
many Lebanese blame for their
government’s perpetual inability
to get anything done.
“We’ll never have a country,”
one said.
“We already don’t have a coun-
try,” another answered.
Anger at the country’s ruling
class has been rising since last
fall, when protests broke out in
Beirut and other cities calling for
its ouster because of years of mis-
management and corruption.
Since then, a financial crisis has
sent the Lebanese currency into a
steep dive and shaken the econ-
omy, increasing unemployment.
Lockdowns aimed at slowing the
spread of the coronavirus in-
creased the economic pain.
Then Tuesday’s explosion hit,followed by indications that it was
caused by the accidental combus-
tion of 2,750 tons of explosive
chemicals that had been stored in
the port since 2014, despite multi-
ple warnings from port officials
that they were dangerous.
Prime Minister Hassan Diab
has vowed to hold accountable
anyone found responsible for the
blast after an investigation, but
the government has released few
details on its findings so far.
On Thursday, the central bank
said it had frozen the accounts of
the heads of the Beirut port and
the Lebanese customs authority
and five others, presumably in
connection with the investigation.
But many Lebanese doubt that
real accountability will be
achieved in a country where top
politicians, enriched through cor-
ruption, live in guarded enclaves
and are usually seen in public only
when their armored convoys of
black S.U.V.s with tinted windows
zoom through traffic.
None of them have set foot in
the neighborhoods most damaged
in the blast, but some have been
caught up in public anger else-
where.
On Wednesday, protesters
rushed the convoy of former
Prime Minister Saad Hariri,
whose bodyguards tackled a
woman who kicked one of the ve-
hicles.
The conspicuous absence of po-
litical leaders drew a sharp con-
trast to Mr. Macron’s presence.
Wearing a skinny black tie with
his sleeves rolled up, Mr. Macrontoured the blast site and waded
into the crowd that had gathered
in a hard-hit neighborhood to see
him.
At times pulling down the surgi-
cal mask he wore to protect
against the coronavirus, he chat-
ted with residents, waved to
groups watching from balconies
and gave fist bumps to people
filming him with their phones.
“I see the emotion on your face,
the sadness, the pain,” he told one
group, speaking of the deep his-
toric ties between their countries,
which go back to when Lebanon
was a French colony. “This is why
I’m here.”
He vowed to marshal aid for the
displaced and promised that it
would “not go to corrupt hands,”
an indirect dig at Lebanon’s poli-
ticians.
Bystanders shouted insults at
Mr. Aoun and chanted for the top-
pling of the government. Mr. Ma-
cron said he planned to talk to the
country’s leaders about “a new po-
litical pact.”
“What is also needed here is po-
litical change,” he said. “This ex-
plosion should be the start of a
new era.”
Before leaving Lebanon, Mr.
Macron said he had presented
Lebanese leaders with a list of ur-
gent reforms that needed to be
carried out to unlock billions of
dollars in international funds.
He said that France would orga-
nize an international donors con-
ference and ensure transparency
to make sure that aid reached the
people instead of being siphoned
off by the country’s power bro-kers.
Lebanon had failed to make
progress on the reforms required
to release the last batch of prom-
ised international funds, and
some commentators wondered
how much Mr. Macron’s stroll in
Beirut had been intended for do-
mestic consumption in France.
But many Lebanese were
charmed by his retail politics, es-
pecially compared with what they
saw from their own politicians. An
online petition made the rounds
imploring him to “place Lebanon
under French mandate for the
next 10 years.”
“We’re asking for the president
of France to take over Lebanon,”
said a cleanup volunteer who had
just signed it, Jana Harb, 17. “Just
throw away the government.
There’s no future here for us if the
current politicians stay. We’d
rather get colonized than die
here.”
Funerals for those killed in the
explosion continued on Thursday,
with small groups of mourners
gathering across the city to bury
the dead.
A funeral for Sahar Fares, a 24-
year-old emergency medical
worker who had joined the rush to
the port to help extinguish an ini-
tial fire, only to be downed by the
huge explosion, was aired on na-
tional television on Thursday
morning.
“My sister is a hero,” a woman
could be heard yelling through
sobs as Ms. Fares’s coffin was
loaded into a vehicle. “She was
someone who served, who sacri-
ficed her life to save the country.”Macron Visits Rubble, but Lebanese Leaders Are No-Shows
By BEN HUBBARDThe devastated port of Beirut on Thursday. Lebanon’s central bank said it had frozen the accounts of the heads of the port.DIEGO IBARRA SANCHEZ FOR THE NEW YORK TIMESVivian Yee and Hwaida Saad con-
tributed reporting from Beirut;
Marc Santora, Megan Specia and
Elian Peltier from London; and
Adam Rasgon from Jerusalem.
On Thursday, Sahar Fares’s fi-
ancé and family gave her the wed-
ding party she will never have.
A zaffe band played for her, the
flute striking a joyful tune while
drums kept the beat, as family and
friends threw rice and flower pet-
als. The musicians, in festive,
gold-embroidered white gowns,
played while uniformed firefight-
ers carried her white coffin to a
waiting hearse.
Her fiancé, Gilbert Karaan, sat
atop the shoulders of a relative,
crying as he waved goodbye for
the last time, blowing her a final
kiss.
“Everything you wanted will be
present except you in a white wed-
ding dress,” Mr. Karaan had
vowed in a tribute posted on social
media. “You broke my back, my
love, you broke my heart. Life has
no taste now that you’re gone.”
Ms. Fares, a 24-year-old para-
medic, was one of at least 145 peo-
ple killed on Tuesday by the mas-
sive explosion that leveled most of
the Port of Beirut, devastated en-
tire neighborhoods, injured more
than 5,000 people and left hun-
dreds of thousands homeless. In a
split second, it left Lebanon’s capi-
tal looking like a war zone without
a war.
Each death is a unique, unfath-
omable tragedy, but the story of
Ms. Fares, the young bride-to-be,
has rippled across social media,
capturing the attention and heart-
ache of many Lebanese. The de-
termined daughter of a family of
modest means, she had managed
to break into the nearly all-male
world of the Beirut Fire Brigade,
devoting herself to public service
and making plans to build a family
of her own.
Instead, her relatives and Mr.
Karaan, 29, buried her.
Ms. Sahar called Mr. Karaan on
Tuesday evening to show him the
fire that was consuming a ware-
house at the Port of Beirut. No one
needed medical attention, so she
sat in a fire engine, watching her
colleagues as they struggled to
douse the flames.
As the roar of the blaze intensi-
fied, she climbed down from the
truck, holding her phone up to
give Mr. Karaan a better look at
what appeared to be fireworks ig-
niting, shimmers of red and silver
within the thick smoke. The
sounds were weird, Ms. Fares
said, like nothing she and her
team had ever encountered.
He pleaded with her to run for
cover, relatives said later, and she
did, but too late. The last image
Mr. Karaan saw of his fiancée was
her shoes pounding on pavement
as she sought safety. And then, a
blast.
“My beautiful bride. Our wed-
ding was to be held on June 6,
2021,” he wrote Wednesday in his
online message, accompanied by
a photo of her posing proudly in
her paramedic’s uniform. Instead,
it will be “tomorrow, my love.”
“I loved you, love you and will
always love you,” it went on, “until
I am reunited with you where
we’ll continue our journey togeth-
er.”
Trained as a nurse, Ms. Fares
decided in 2018 to enter the Civil
Service. She craved the job stabil-
ity and social benefits of a govern-
ment career, she told relatives, af-
ter she and her two sisters
watched her father, an aluminum
welder, and her mother, a school-
teacher, struggle to make ends
meet.
She grew up in the village of al-
Qaa, in northern Lebanon, on the
border with Syria, and dreamed of
opportunities and security it could
not provide. In 2016, residents
said, at the height of the Islamic
State’s rampage across the Mid-
dle East, the militants stormed
into al-Qaa, killed five of its resi-
dents and wounded dozens more.
A cousin of Ms. Fares, awak-
ened by the attack, rushed out toto help his neighbors and was one
of those killed in the fighting.
For many people from her vil-
lage, her death was too much to
bear, apparently stemming not
from the external threats that
have long plagued Lebanon, but
from the internal ills of govern-
ment corruption and indifference.
Officials say that what deto-
nated was a huge cache of ammo-
nium nitrate that had been stored
near the waterfront for years, de-
spite repeated warnings about the
danger it posed and discussions
about what to do with it. That has
set off a wave of anger at the gov-
ernment and demands that those
responsible be punished.
In the moments after Ms. Fares
was laid to rest, al-Qaa’s residents
seethed with anger and despair.
They had lost too much, they said,
dedicating too many of their own
for a country that was barely func-tioning.
“Our history is one of martyrs
and martyrdom,” said al-Qaa’s
mayor, Bachir Mattar. “Sahar is a
message to our youth that there
are people who commit to the na-
tion and lose everything. I wish
there was a nation that was worth
such sacrifice and commitment,
though. I wish we had a proper
state.”
The village named its sports
field for her, “in recognition of the
martyr of all martyrs.”
“People are fed up,” Mr. Mattar
continued. “We are proud of her
sacrifice, but we are just as both-
ered. Why? What was it all for?
For a dysfunctional system does-
n’t know how to solve a single
problem.”
In the months before she died,
Ms. Fares was saving up to pre-
pare her home for the weddingand to buy her wedding dress. But
like other Lebanese citizens, she
saw her savings evaporate
overnight as the currency
crashed, losing 80 percent of its
value this year.
The Lebanese government put
a curb on bank withdrawals, al-
lowing citizens to pull out only a
few hundred dollars a month.
Hyperinflation quickly ate into
what little money she had, making
everyday products like groceries
unaffordable.
Ms. Fares and her fiancé, Mr.
Karaan, took pride in their service
to the country. He works as an offi-
cer in the Lebanese State Security,
which provides internal policing
and protection to the country’s po-
liticians.
They posted photos of them-
selves in uniform to their social
media accounts, Ms. Fares sitting
inside a fire truck peeking out an
open window, smiling in her camo
uniform.
“She was the most loving per-
son I know,” said her cousin, The-
resa Khoury, 23. “Kind and caring
and always looking out for her
parents and sisters. She was full of
life and loved life. Her dream was
to marry the love of her live and
spend the rest of her life with him.”Firefighter, Fiancée, Martyr:
One Life Cut Short in Beirut
By MARIA ABI-HABIBLeft, the funeral for Sahar
Fares, above, a firefighter who
was killed in the Beirut explo-
sion on Tuesday, in photo-
graphs provided by friends.
Her fiancé wrote in a tribute
on social media: “Life has no
taste now that you’re gone.”Kareem Chehayeb and Georgi
Azar contributed reporting.