I got a knock at the door, and there were two guys in suits. "I'm from the FBI."
The first thing I said was, "What took you guys so long?" I told them the truth—I was going to make my own IED, set it across from the Islamic Center in a bank's parking lot, dial it in, and just watch the show.
Growing up, I saw a movie—Rambo. Rambo was tough, respected, and had intestinal fortitude. I said, "That's what I want to do." So, I joined the Marine Corps.
I wanted action. The first time I got shot at, I remember looking at my watch and thinking, "Man, this time last year, I was in English class." I fought several times in the Middle East—Desert Shield, Desert Storm—South America, the Philippines, Somalia.
The worst things I saw were dead children. I had to suck it up. I had to be there for my guys. Each one of those teardrops stood for a confirmed kill. I stopped counting after 26. In the Marine Corps, you’re taught to own it and then let it go. But there comes a time when there's too much of it, and you can't turn it off anymore.
One time, my wife and I went to a DSW. I saw, in the distance, two women in black burqas. In my stool, I cried. I prayed for the strength to go over there and break both their necks.
I was angry. I was full of hate. At that point, I was drinking half a gallon of vodka every two days. I devised a plan—to create my own IED, a homemade bomb, and set it off right outside the Muncie Islamic Center.
200-plus killed or injured. That was the plan.
I saw it as one last thing I could do for my country. That was my rationale. I knew I would end up in a federal prison with a needle in my arm. I didn’t care. Hatred was the only thing keeping me alive.
Then one day, my daughter came home. Second grade, maybe. She told me about a little boy who sat across from her. His mom came to pick him up. She said, "She had scarves on her. She had a dress all the way down to her feet. I couldn’t see anything but her eyeballs."
At that point, I snapped. I started spewing things that should never be said in front of children—or anyone.
She didn’t say anything.
It was the look on her face.
I remember my daughter looking at me like I was the craziest person on earth. She was my little buddy. She used to say we were "road dogs." But in that moment, I saw it in her eyes—I made her question that love. And that’s when the light bulb came on.
I decided to give the people in this community one more chance.
I went to the Islamic Center. I saw a gentleman in the shoe room taking off his shoes. He looked at me and smiled.
"Can I help you?"
"Yeah. I want you to teach me about Islam."
So, he went and brought me a Qur’an. "Read this. Come back when you have questions."
So, I did. And I would find things in the book, thinking, "There it is! I got them right there!"
"Explain this to me."
And they would.
This was a kind of awakening.
Long story short—eight weeks after I first stepped into the Islamic Center, I became a Muslim.
I’m a Muslim, a veteran, and a proud American. I had to learn that I was completely wrong about everything I felt.
Judaism had a message. Christianity had a message. Islam had a message.
Funny thing is—it was the same message. It was about peace. It was about love.
They welcomed me. They forgave me.
My big thing now is to stop the hate.
Nothing good has ever come from it.
I've done too many things. I’ve hurt a lot of people. And I have to live with that.
But if I can stop somebody else from walking the path of hatred and unforgiveness—I want to.
Continue Reading: Video: An Ex-Marine's Journey to Islam - Omar Saeed Ibn Mac (English)