I was still in Pakistan when a Black British man on an airplane tried to light a bomb that was hidden in his shoe, setting off another wave of panic. Mr. Mubashir got a tip that the would-be shoe bomber had been a follower of a reclusive spiritual leader in Lahore named Sheik Gilani. We poked around some religious institutions that were said to be affiliated with him and left a letter requesting an interview at his compound. I interviewed a Pakistani intelligence source who claimed that Sheik Gilani was being investigated for possible ties to the shoe bomber. I also found a person who lived near Mr. Gilani’s compound who claimed to recognize the shoe bomber in a picture. But associates of the spiritual leader vigorously denied any association, claiming it as a plot to discredit him. I wrote the story and included the denial. After it ran, I kept trying to follow it up with an interview. I heard that a Wall Street Journal reporter was also working on a story. I had never met Daniel Pearl, but I worried that he would scoop me.
Eventually, my assignment ended. I flew home. It all seemed like a great adventure — until Daniel Pearl disappeared. From my living room in the Boston area, I read news reports from Pakistan with growing alarm: The spiritual leader had been detained briefly and questioned about Mr. Pearl’s whereabouts. He denied any involvement in Mr. Pearl’s disappearance and accused me and Mr. Pearl of being spies.
It got worse. Mr. Pearl’s kidnappers sent ransom notes demanding that Pakistani prisoners in Guantánamo Bay be returned to Pakistan for trial: “If the Americans keep our countrymen in better conditions we will better the conditions of Mr. Pearl.”
After they learned that Mr. Pearl was Jewish, they asserted falsely that he was a spy for Mossad, Israel’s intelligence agency, and would be executed.
The police swiftly located Omar Sheikh, who surrendered to a man he’d known for years: Ijaz Shah, a powerful figure in military intelligence who now serves as Pakistan’s minister for narcotics control. The military interrogated Mr. Sheikh for more than a week before turning him over to the police. Then came the shocking video of Mr. Pearl’s beheading, which sparked a global outcry. In 2002, a civilian counterterrorism court sentenced Mr. Sheikh to death. Ever since, he has filed appeals. He claims to have played only a minor role in the plot.
Little is known about how Mr. Sheikh handed Mr. Pearl off to those who actually beheaded him. But his claims to have played an insignificant role are laughable. “Omar Sheikh was of course deeply involved,” Hassan Abbas, a former police officer in Pakistan who is now a professor at the National Defense University, told me. But the police in Karachi had also identified another man in military custody who was considered just as guilty but had never been handed over for trial. For that reason, among others, the legal case against Omar Sheikh is viewed as flawed.
Asra Nomani, a longtime friend and colleague of Mr. Pearl who had been hosting him in Karachi the day he disappeared, spent years investigating his murder as part of The Pearl Project at Georgetown University. She told me there is little doubt that Omar Sheikh is responsible for the murder.