LOS ANGELES (AP) — The three people killed by two teen shooters at a San Diego mosque were beloved pillars of the community, and died while saving roughly 140 children who were in the building at the time of the attack, authorities said Tuesday.
All three men were shot while trying to delay and distract the two gunmen who barged into the Islamic Center of San Diego on Monday, San Diego Police Chief Scott Wahl said.
The Imam of the Islamic Center of San Diego, Taha Hassane, identified the three victims as Amin Abdullah, 51, Nader Awad, 57, and Mansour Kaziha, 78, who was known as Abu Ezz.
“We call them our brothers in the community. We call them our martyrs and our heroes,” said Hassane.
The three men saved lives
Authorities described how the shooting unfolded based on security camera footage at the mosque, which is the largest in San Diego and attracts thousands of people from across the region during major holidays. In addition to having prayer five times a day, it also provides dinners and breakfasts during the Ramadan fasting period, hosts a school for Arabic and Islamic studies, and has a store inside.
When the two shooters, ages 17 and 18, entered, they passed Abdullah, seemingly without notice, Wahl said. Abdullah, who was a security guard for the mosque for about a decade, quickly confronted them and exchanged gunfire.
At the same time, he grabbed his radio and warned everyone to go into lockdown. As the shooters made their way into the lobby, they wounded him as he kept firing, forcing them back outside into the mosque’s parking lot. There, he was fatally shot.
The shooters went back inside and searched through rooms that were emptied during the lockdown, Wahl said. The gunmen then went back out to the parking lot where Kaziha and Awad confronted them. Kaziha was able to call 911 before the gunmen fatally shot both men outside.
“All three of our victims did not die in vain. Without distracting the attention, without delaying the actions of these two individuals, without question, there would have been many more fatalities,” Wahl said.
A warm and welcoming presence
Amid an outpouring of condolences from Muslim leaders and politicians around the country, people in the tight-knit community say they are struggling to imagine the Islamic Center without the three men — who were widely regarded as central figures who made the mosque feel like home.
Abdullah greeted all visitors to the mosque with a smile and the traditional Muslim greeting in Arabic of “as-salamu alaikum,” or “peace be upon you,” according to Mahmood Ahmadi, a longtime attendee. Another friend, Shaykh Uthman Ibn Farooq, said Abdullah was there nearly every single day and was dedicated to his wife and eight kids.
His daughter Hawaa Abdullah, surrounded by family members at a Tuesday news conference, said her father was loving and supportive, a “best friend” and a role model. He took his job protecting the community so seriously he sometimes wouldn't eat during his shifts, she said.
“He wanted to save his food until after he left the job because he was afraid that if he were on his break, something bad will happen," she said.
Abdullah was raised Christian and described in a 2019 YouTube video his journey discovering the Islamic faith after graduating high school. Farooq said he met Abdullah shortly after he became a Muslim in the 1990s. Most recently, they had gone on a pilgrimage trip to Mecca together.
Khalid Alexander converted to Islam around the same time as Abdullah roughly 30 years ago. The two men lived in a different San Diego mosque together at the time, where they helped each other imagine how to make meaningful, stable lives. Over the years, Alexander said that he has watched Abdullah take pride in his ability to care for his community as a security guard.
“That was his dream job,” Alexander said.
Alexander said that he and Abdullah sometimes discussed concerns about rising “anti-Muslim, anti-Black, anti-immigrant" sentiments on television. Often, those sentiments came directly to the San Diego mosque through hate mail, which prompted the hiring of security guards like Abdullah and installation of cameras, Hassane said.
Alexander said Abdullah "was keenly aware of the dangers of his job — and that’s exactly why he chose to do it.”
Father figure in the center
Kaziha, known as Abu Ezz, was an integral part of the mosque since it was built in the 1980s, and has served the community “non-stop” since then, Hassane said.
Hassane and others knew Kaziha as the first person to call when something went wrong.
“He was the handyman. He was the cook. He was the caretaker. He was the storekeeper. He was everything,” he said.
Alexander has known Kaziha since before Alexander converted to Islam, and still remembers the first time in the mid-1990s when he was welcomed into Kaziha's home. Decades later, Alexander said it was hard to imagine the center without him.
“He was like, kind of like the father of that space,” said Alexander.
Running toward gunfire
Awad lived across the street from the Islamic Center and attended prayers “every single day,” Hassane said.
When he heard gunfire, Awad ran toward the building, where his wife is a teacher at the school.
The three men's actions, Alexander said, embodied the virtues of Islamic community in San Diego.
“They really represented everything that’s beautiful about Islam and everything that is beautiful about Muslims,” said Alexander.
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This story has been corrected to say Abdullah had eight children, not nine.
