JUST IN: U.S Army Major Nidal Malik Hasan To Be Execυted — The Army Knew, The FBI Knew, But 13 D*ed… A military jury at Fort Hood, Texas, today sentenced Army Major Nadal Hassan to death for killing 13 people and wounding more than 30 in a 2009 attack. He could become the first American soldier to be executed since 1961. The American-born Muslim has said he acted to protect Islamic insurgents in Iraq and Afghanistan. He represented himself at his court marshal, but offered no defense. The man holding the gun had metals on his chest, a medical degree on his wall, and the trust of every soldier in that room. He used all three to get close enough to kill them. In December 2008, an email landed in an FBI inbox. The sender was a United States Army officer, a commission psychiatrist with full security clearance trusted with the mental health of American soldiers returning from war. The question he was directing at a man already under federal surveillance was whether it was religiously permissible to take the lives of American military personnel. The FBI read it. They read the next one and the one after that. 18 emails in total. Each one reviewed, each one assessed. Their official conclusion consistent with authorized research. File closed. 11 months later, 13 people were dead inside the soldier readiness processing center at Fort Hood, Texas. At the time, the largest active duty military installation in the United States. The man who sent those emails was not a foreign operative. He held no place on a watch list. He was Major Nidal Malik Hassan, a United States Army psychiatrist whose entire career was built on the promise of protecting the soldiers around him. This is not a story about one act of violence. It is a documented record of warnings issued, evidence gathered, and decisions made and not made by the institutions responsible for preventing exactly what happened on November 5th, 2009. What you are about to hear is accurate. It is verified. And every layer of it is more disturbing than the last. If this is your first time on this channel, we go further than the headline. We cover the evidence, the failures, and the courtroom details that most coverage never reaches. Subscribe and hit the bell. This story has layers most people have never heard, and we are just getting started. Nadal Malik Hassan was born on September 8th, 1970 at Virginia Hospital Center in Arlington, Virginia. To anyone looking in from the outside, this was a family building something real in America. His parents were Palestinian immigrants, naturalized American citizens who had made their way from Albire, a city in the West Bank near Jerusalem. They did not arrive with much, but they worked. His father established multiple businesses in Rowan Oak, Virginia, a market, a restaurant, and an olive bar. His mother, Nora, ran the Capital Restaurant, a place known in the local community not just for its food, but for her willingness to provide a warm meal to anyone who could not afford one. By every measure, they were a family that believed in contribution. Growing up, Nadal went by a different name entirely. His childhood nickname was Michael, a name as American as the country his parents had chosen to build their lives in. He attended Wakefield High School in Arlington. When the family relocated to Rowan Oak in 1986, he transferred to William Fleming High School where he graduated in 1988. What happened next surprised his parents. Against their wishes, Nadal Hassan enlisted in the United States Army. He did not walk away from education. For the next 8 years, he served as an enlisted soldier while simultaneously working his way through college. He started at Barstow Community College in California, transferred to Virginia Western Community College where he earned his associate degree in 1992 and then moved on to Virginia Tech where he graduated with a degree in biochemistry with honors in 1995. The United States Army then funded his place at the Uniform Services University of the Health Sciences in Bethesda, Maryland, one of the most competitive military medical programs in the country. He later added a master’s degree in public health. By 2003, Nadal Hassan had earned his medical degree. He went on to complete his psychiatry specialization at Walter Reed Army Medical Center. On paper, this was a story of discipline, sacrifice, and achievement. But during those years of training, something was quietly shifting. In 1997, Hassan visited relatives in the West Bank for the first time. It was his first direct connection to the land his parents had left behind. And by multiple accounts, it deepened his sense of religious and cultural identity in ways that those around him began to notice in the years that followed. Then came two losses that by several accounts left a permanent mark. His father passed away in 1998 at just 51 years old. His mother, Nora, the woman who had fed strangers without asking anything in return, died in 2001 at 49. Both were gone before Hassan had completed his training. His mother’s funeral was held on May 31st, 2001 at the Dar Al-Hyra Islamic Center in Falls Church, Virginia. It was there at that service that Nidal Hassan came back into contact with a figure who would in time play a significant role in the direction his life would take. That name and what followed belongs to a later part of this story. What is documented is this. His cousin, Virginia attorney Nater Hassan, later stated publicly that Nadal’s perspective began to shift after years of listening to soldiers in his care describe their experiences in Iraq and Afghanistan. Session after session, account after account, the wars his country was fighting in Muslim majority nations were no longer something distant. They were sitting across from him every day in the form of the people he was supposed to be helping. The man the army had trained, funded, and trusted was beginning to see the institution differently. And the institution, for its part, was not paying close enough attention to notice. Nadal Hassan arrived at Walter Reed Army Medical Center with credentials, government funding, and a clear path forward. What followed was something the army’s own records could not ignore. The psychiatry residency was designed to be completed in 4 years. Isan took six. But the deeper concern was not the timeline. It was what the timeline concealed. Over 38 weeks, he saw approximately 30 patients. The expected standard was closer to 300. He was not answering emergency on call lines. He was failing basic shift duties. On one formally documented occasion, a patient classified as a danger to others was allowed to leave the emergency room without supervision on his watch….Full Story Comment 👇👇