Retired Marine's 177 days in a Yemen prison: Blindfolds, beatings and al-Qaeda cellmates

Haisam Farran. Photo / Washington Post

Security specialist shared cell with al-Qaeda operatives after being accused of spying.

When Haisam Farran flew into Sana'a, the capital of Yemen, on March 19, he quickly spotted the discreet surveillance. The city was in the hands of Houthi rebels, but the National Security Bureau was little changed, and Farran, a retired US Marine and former assistant defence attache at the US Embassy, was well known to local security officials.

Farran's company provided security services, including guards, to Western companies in Yemen. And he was one of very few Americans willing to travel to the country after the Houthis toppled a US-backed Government.

Six days after Farran arrived, Saudi Arabia launched an air campaign in an effort to dislodge the rebels, members of a Shia sect that the Saudis say is backed by Iran. Farran, 54, was with another American, Scott Darden, in a house owned by one of Farran's clients when the bombs began to fall.

The Saudi campaign, supported by the US with intelligence and other assets, suddenly made any American in Sana'a deeply suspect, and Farran was about to begin a 177-day ordeal in a prison where his cellmates were al-Qaeda operatives.

"We used to call it one death for each day. You know how you get up and start a new day? Over there you wake up and wish you were dead again," said Farran, a Lebanese-American dual national, in his first extensive interview since his release.

Speaking in Dearborn Heights, Michigan, where he lives, Farran provided a rare glimpse into the security apparatus of the Houthis, the rebels who have withstood nearly seven months of Saudi bombing.

On the night of March 27, nearly a dozen men - armed with American-made M-4 assault rifles - stormed the villa. Farran recognised them as members of a counterterrorism unit, funded and equipped by the US, that was built to fight al-Qaeda. Now they were commanded by three Houthis, Farran said. The men ransacked the villa and the Americans were stripped to their underwear and T-shirts, blindfolded and shoved into separate SUVs.

About 30 minutes later, Farran, still blindfolded, was hustled into an interrogation room.

"Why are you in Yemen?" the interrogator asked. Farran explained his business in the country. "You are a spy," the interrogator said. Why had he arrived just before the bombing? the interrogator asked. Was he providing targeting information to the Americans so the Saudis would know what to hit? Farran denied it.

"Liar," the interrogator said. And then someone started to slap him repeatedly and box his ears. He lost consciousness.

He ended up in a cell with three others, two of them medics in al-Qaeda's local affiliate who told him he was in a prison on a military base they called "Guantanamo Yemen". There were three meals a day, mostly stews, but Farran lost more than 13kg. The cycle of interrogation, accusation, denial and beatings continued. He was struck repeatedly with a heavy stick on the arms and legs the second time. Farran's cellmates told him to feign heart trouble. He spent time in hospital and was then moved to a different cell with a new group of al-Qaeda prisoners. He described them as hardcore, and he was worried that they might harm him. Farran, who speaks fluent Arabic, emphasised his Lebanese heritage, but that was not much better than saying he was American, because he is a Shia.

But the Sunni al-Qaeda prisoners were also curious about Farran. They thought all Muslims were mistreated in US and could not pray freely there. Farran gently correctly them.

After 130 days of detention, he was allowed to spend one hour outside.

The Houthis wanted Farran to sign a confession that he was a spy. "Nobody is asking about you," one interrogator said. "Sign the confession and you can walk out of here." In fact, the Hostage Recovery Fusion Cell led by the FBI had been trying to secure his freedom, as had Ali Soufan, a former FBI agent.

By the end, the Houthis had stopped accusing him of being a spy.

About a week after the final interrogation, the guards asked his shoe size, a clear sign to Farran that he was going home. "I fell on the ground. I was shocked. It's hard to believe. Every day you pray for that moment." Even his al-Qaeda cellmates were happy for him. They were praising Allah, Farran said.

Wearing new shoes and clothes, Farran and Darden were driven to the airport on September 20 to board an Omani Air Force Boeing 737. A third American is still in custody in Sana'a.