A Russian oligarch who is now a witness in special counsel Robert Mueller’s investigation spent millions of dollars in an attempt to rescue an American held hostage in Iran at the time Mueller was director of the FBI, a report said.
Details of the FBI’s 2009 deal with Russian oligarch Oleg Deripaska to help rescue retired FBI and DEA agent Robert Levinson from Iran were recounted in a May 14 column by John Solomon for The Hill.
Deripaska’s ties to former Trump campaign manager Paul Manafort have brought him under the scrutiny of Mueller’s investigators.
Levinson, who remains missing, was last seen alive in 2011.
“Though Iran has never admitted it, Levinson was believed to be held in a secret government prison there after his disappearance,” the Daily Mail said in a May 15 report.
Andrew McCabe, the recently-fired FBI deputy director, was one of Deripaska’s early FBI contacts, sources told Solomon.
Deripaska’s lawyer told Solomon that the Russian spent $25 million assembling a private search and rescue team working with Iranian contacts in an effort to free Levinson.
Robyn Gritz, a retired agent who supervised the Levinson case in 2009, told Solomon: “I kept Director Mueller and Deputy Director [John] Pistole informed of the various efforts and operations.”
The State Department, then under Hillary Clinton, reportedly blocked a deal for Levinson’s return from going through, Gritz said.
“We tried to turn over every stone we could to rescue Bob, but every time we started to get close, the State Department seemed to always get in the way,” Gritz told Solomon.
David McGee, a former federal prosecutor who represents Levinson’s family, told Solomon that “Deripaska’s efforts came very close to success. We were told at one point that the terms of Levinson’s release had been agreed to by Iran and the U.S. and included a statement by then-Secretary of State Hillary Clinton pointing a finger away from Iran. At the last minute, Secretary Clinton decided not to make the agreed-on statement.”
Mueller’s spokesman declined to comment to Solomon, as did McCabe and the State Department.
The plans were ready; the $250,000 payoff cash was committed. On December 10, 2018, a former Air Force intelligence officer named Bob Kent was planning to board a plane in New York for the Middle East on a most improbable secret mission: freeing Robert Levinson from Iran.
Levinson, an ex–FBI agent well into a second career as a private detective, had disappeared over a decade earlier from a hotel on Iran’s Kish Island. He had been seen only twice since then, first in a hostage video his family received from unknown intermediaries in 2010, then in photos three years later, showing the then-63-year-old increasingly haggard and begging for help.
At first, the U.S. government claimed it had no knowledge of why Levinson, an expert on Russian organized crime, had gone to Iran. The Iranian regime denied it was holding him. But in 2013, the Associated Press and other news outlets revealed that the ex-agent had gone to Kish on an off-the-books CIA mission to probe high-level Iranian money laundering.
To the Levinson family, that explained why the government had not adequately pursued his release over the years, or in a prisoner swap the Obama administration conducted with Iran: He was an embarrassment to both the FBI and CIA. The possibility also existed that rival factions in Iran had not been able to agree on his release after years of denying it had him.
Desperate, the family put its own plans in motion to win his release. In doing so, they shared the plight of scores of families whose loved ones had been snatched by the Iranians (or Hezbollah, their Lebanese proxy) over the decades, including, at present, four other Americans and a U.S. permanent resident held by Iran. Levinson’s past FBI employment, and then revelations of his murky CIA mission, lent his case more gravity, of course, not to mention mystery. But in 2013, Levinson earned yet another dubious distinction: He became the longest held U.S. hostage in American history.
March 9 will mark the 12th anniversary of his disappearance.
Levinson’s wife Christine, center, arrives in Tehran’s Imam Khomeini airport, along with her son Daniel, right, in December 2007. BEHROUZ MEHRI/AFP/Getty
And what a tangled web his case inspired. Kent would be just the latest in a chain of unlikely players in the hunt for the missing man, including a onetime Iranian assassin, a retired detective with CIA connections, an ex–FBI agent, a former federal prosecutor, a Philadelphia truck driver and Russian mobsters.
“For years, there’s been a steady parade of well-meaning, crazy and even corrupt people who have tried to help the Levinson family or tried to use Bob’s case to help themselves,” Barry Meier, author of 2016’s Missing Man: The American Spy Who Vanished in Iran, tells Newsweek. “It’s enough to make your head spin.”
Kent’s mission, like all the other private efforts to locate and win Levinson’s release, came to nil. Not for lack of resources—money men “with CIA connections,” as three sources involved in the case described them, had offered to pay Kent’s Iranian helpers $100,000 for a proof-of-life package, including fingerprints, a blood sample and what they claimed was a recent, 41-second video clip of Levinson, who would be 71 on March 10. “Another $150,000” would be needed “for the rescue,” Kent says. But just as Kent readied to leave for the airport three months ago, the federal government got in the way, he says, refusing to issue the Americans a waiver from the Trump administration’s sanctions on Iran to permit the payments.
“I received a phone call informing me that the funding was withdrawn because the State Department and/or FBI threatened my sponsors” with prosecution, Kent tells Newsweek.
To Levinson family attorney David McGee, a former federal prosecutor who had several meetings with government officials on the case over the years, the last-minute abort of Kent’s mission fit a long pattern of official neglect and sometimes outright interference in efforts to free the former FBI agent.
“I am continually astounded and dismayed at the failure of the government of the United States, through three administrations, to bring Bob Levinson home,” McGee tells Newsweek. “He was taken by enemies of this country while in its service. There is no moral justification for their failure to do what is necessary to bring him home.”
The FBI took sharp umbrage at McGee’s judgment. “While we cannot discuss how we handle particular investigations, over the past 12 years, the FBI has worked diligently to follow every credible lead to determine the whereabouts of Bob Levinson and will continue to do so,” the bureau says in a statement to Newsweek. “Bob spent 22 years serving as an FBI special agent, and as we mark the anniversary of his disappearance, our resolve to find him only increases.”
Meanwhile, the bureau has posted a $5 million reward for “information that could lead to Bob Levinson’s safe return.”
Kent, who had been collecting threat intelligence for corporate clients in the Middle East for several years since his 2007 Air Force discharge, got involved in the Levinson case last April “in response to an informal FBI inquiry,” he says. He had been tracking the movements of Iranian operatives, particularly Saif al-Adel, an Egyptian-born militant on the FBI’s Most Wanted Terrorists list suspected of working for Iran’s Revolutionary Guard.
Hoping to land a government intelligence contract, he reached out to FBI counterterrorism agents. But they were skeptical about his sources, he says; as a kind of test, they “sarcastically” told him to “find Bob Levinson.” Two months later, he came back with assurances he could obtain proof-of-life evidence and perhaps even more.
Kent’s main FBI contact (a counterterrorism agent whose name Newsweek is withholding at the bureau’s request) “thanked me for sharing my information, promised to investigate the background information I shared and told me repeatedly that arranging the proof-of-life meeting in Iraq would be ‘incredibly complex,’” Kent says. The agent said he would get back with an update within 10 days. He also “recommended I not contact McGee,” Kent says—the FBI privately dismisses the lawyer as “a meddler”—but Kent rejected the suggestion. Since July, he’s been “working for McGee pro bono,” he says.
Months went by without further word from the FBI. A group in Northern Virginia “with ties to the CIA” that had volunteered to finance the proof-of-life mission—and whom Kent, McGee and others involved declined to identify—was standing by. But as it turns out, moneymen have often been attracted to the Levinson cause—some of it from troubling sources.
Oleg Deripaska, the Russian aluminum tycoon who offered to fund a search for Levinson amid visa problems with the U.S. Sergei Savostyanov/TASS/Getty
One such was Oleg Deripaska, the Russian aluminum tycoon who would be sanctioned by the Treasury Department in 2018 for “a range of malign activity around the globe.” A decade earlier, hoping he might earn points toward solving his visa problems with the U.S., “Deripaska announced he was willing to fund a search [for Levinson] and pay any ransom needed to free Bob,” according to Meier’s authoritative account. “Bureau officials were elated.” In the end, nothing came of it.
The same offer came from an even more odious Russian figure with U.S. legal problems. Notorious mobster Semion Mogilevich, who occupies a spot on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted Fugitives list in connection with an alleged massive stock swindle, telegraphed U.S. officials through intermediaries that he would finance a Levinson rescue effort. The involvement of Mogilevich, often dubbed “the most dangerous criminal in the world,” was hugely ironic: As an FBI agent and private investigator, Levinson had been tracking Mogilevich for years. “I don’t know his motivation,” Kent says of Mogilevich, but “he backed out.“
“We had several other people offer to put up the money,” Kent adds, provided they could persuade the Office of Foreign Assets Control (OFAC), which administers and enforces economic and financial sanctions, to grant them a waiver.
They couldn’t. But soon after Kent’s aborted December trip, McGee met with FBI agents and sensed a new, more cooperative mood at the bureau. He came away thinking the FBI was going to help fund the $100,000 proof-of-life payment—after it vetted the material as genuine—but those prospects soon dissolved. Then, in an early February meeting, Kent and McGee had with several officials at the State Department, Robert O’Brien, the special presidential envoy for hostage affairs, told them that if OFAC cleared the deal and the Defense Department authorized it, the Joint Special Operations Command might be able to assist with the Levinson mission.
McGee soon got a personal meeting scheduled with a sanctions official at Treasury to pursue the waiver issue. At the last minute, however, the department canceled the February 8 appointment. “We were back to square one,” McGee says. (A Treasury spokesman asked that Newsweek not identify the official by name and refused to discuss the case further.) Kent’s appeals to various congressional offices were also fruitless.
Meanwhile, another private group was angling to locate Levinson, this one sparked by a most unlikely character. Walton Martin, a Philadelphia-area truck driver and former Marine, tells Newsweek he became obsessed with Iran during the 1979-81 hostage crisis, in which revolutionary-minded students in Tehran stormed the U.S. Embassy and captured 52 U.S. diplomats and citizens. Eventually, he launched a one-man project to aid Iranian defectors and refugees in Turkey, working closely with the U.N. high commissioner for refugees’ office in the capital city of Ankara.
Over time, he developed a constant stream of intelligence from inside Iran, some of it related to the Iranian Revolutionary Guard’s operations and, eventually, on Levinson’s purported whereabouts. He began sharing it with the FBI. They developed a close relationship, judging by several emails Martin shared with Newsweek.
His FBI handlers, whose names Newsweek is withholding out of concern for their personal safety, were excited. “There is a definite ‘buzz’ in the govt about our missing friend,” one of the agents told him in a July 27, 2017, email, “and part of it is you working nonstop on it—I am relaying everything you are telling me to the people that need it.”
Martin eventually found his way to yet others working privately on Levinson. One was Joseph O’Brien, a former FBI agent who had led the bureau’s 1980s investigation of Paul Castellano, head of the Gambino crime family. He had considered Levinson a mentor when they worked together in New York. In 2016, O’Brien and another ex–FBI colleague offered the bureau help on Levinson with their own Iranian-exile contacts but were rebuffed. “They told us to get lost, basically,” O’Brien told Newsweek last year.
Eventually, Martin and O’Brien began working together and getting their own reports from inside Iran on Levinson’s purported whereabouts and offers of proof-of-life evidence—but, as with McGee and Kent, for a price. Now, the government demanded to know what they had and how they got it. Martin, wary of the FBI’s handling of the case, refused. On February 22, 2018, he was subpoenaed by Tejpal Chawla, an assistant U.S. attorney for the District of Columbia, demanding he appear before a grand jury with “all letters, correspondence and reports related to” Levinson’s “whereabouts, condition and location.” In a tense meeting with Justice Department officials, Martin handed over his information, and the subpoena was withdrawn. O’Brien says he later delivered packages of their Iranian reports to the offices of Secretary of State Mike Pompeo and White House national security adviser John Bolton. They got no response, but the FBI later told Martin it was “skeptical” about the authenticity of his Iranian sources and reports. (A Farsi speaker who examined a handful of the reports for Newsweek identified some of them as “obvious forgeries.”)
Secretary of State Mike Pompeo, left, talks with White House National Security Advisor John Bolton in June 2018. Mark Wilson/Getty
Martin is bitter about his treatment by the FBI. “I don’t work on a one-way street and to be frank, the Bureau will need to subpoena me again before they get a damn thing from me,” he told McGee in an email he shared with Newsweek. “I’m working to get Bob home and I will NOT willingly submit to threats, intimidation or interference from anyone, including USG and FBI. We are much closer to bringing Bob home than the Bureau is.”
But O’Brien, partnered with Martin, persisted with developing sources in Iran. They were also joined by a retired Washington, D.C., detective who had worked on counterterrorism cases with the CIA and FBI. The detective, who asked not to be named because of his continuing government work, tells Newsweek that in the spring of 2018 he met with Abolfazl Bahram Nahidian, a radical Virginia imam who is considered close to Iran and whose contacts might offer a back channel on Levinson.
One of the imam’s contacts, according to the detective, was David Belfield, an African-American convert to Islam who had taken the name Dawud Salahuddin and in 1980 carried out an assassination of an anti-regime activist in Potomac, Maryland. Decades later in Iran, he was offering himself up to journalists and others as a source of information and analysis on the regime.
Dawud Salahuddin is the last person known to see Robert Levinson alive in 2007 before the former FBI agent disappeared from the Iranian island of Kish. Scott Peterson/Getty
It was Salahuddin whom Levinson flew to Kish Island to meet in March 2007, to discuss high-level Iranian money laundering abroad. And it was Salahuddin whom Levinson’s wife, Christine, reached out to after he disappeared. But the imam claimed to have no specific knowledge of the Levinson affair and referred the detective to the Pakistan Embassy, which handles Iran’s affairs in Washington, D.C.
Salahuddin had insisted to Christine that he had nothing to do with her husband’s disappearance; Iranian agents had hustled him from the hotel where they met. He himself had suffered from their connection, Salahuddin said, with authorities refusing to give him a new passport or internal travel documents.
A former senior intelligence official responsible for Iran tells Newsweek the government believes, privately, that Levinson is dead. Officially, it maintains he’s alive, with the FBI calling the 12th anniversary of his disappearance “an opportunity for the leadership of the government of Iran to demonstrate its commitment to basic freedoms and civil rights and return Mr. Levinson home to his family.”
But Christine Levinson says the government has let her down. “Time and time again, Bob has been left behind, deprioritized or seemingly forgotten,” she told the House Foreign Affairs Subcommittee on the Middle East, North Africa and International Terrorism on March 7.
“My husband served this country tirelessly for decades,” she said. “He deserves better from all of us and from our government. He deserves our endless pursuit to bring him home, to fight day and night and leave no stone unturned.”
Source: https://www.newsweek.com/robert-levinson-fbi-agent-iran-rescue-1356990
The Don, The Donald, and the Network
The Evolution of Donald Trump, Fred Trump, and the Russian mafia.
President Donald J. Trump’s connections: The Don, The Donald, and the Network (The Dirt on Christopher Wray, Donald Trump & Fred Trump)
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Trump Had No Problem with Iran’s Revolutionary Guard When He Was Doing Business with Its Associates
According to an exhaustive report, the group the president just labeled a terrorist organization reportedly had financial ties to the Trump family business.
April 8, 2019
by Bess Levin
Trump listens during a signing ceremony in the Oval Office.
On Monday, Donald Trump announced that his administration was designating the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps a terrorist organization, the first time in history the U.S. had classified another country’s government as such, an action that flips the switch on a range of sanctions on the military unit and companies, individuals, and organizations with ties to it. According to The New York Times, top C.I.A. and Pentagon officials argued against the designation, saying it will “allow hard-line Iranian officials to justify deadly operations against Americans overseas, especially Special operations units and paramilitary units working under the C.I.A.” But Secretary of State Mike Pompeo and national security adviser John Bolton reportedly pushed for it, and ultimately persuaded the president. “This action will significantly expand the scope and scale of our maximum pressure on the Iranian regime,” Trump said in a statement on Monday. “It makes crystal clear the risks of conducting business with, or providing support to, the I.R.G.C.”
Not mentioned in the statement? Allegations, detailed in an extensive investigative report, that the Trump Organization participated in a scheme that likely helped the I.R.G.C. launder money and acquire weapons of mass destruction. (Must have been an oversight!) In 2017,
The New Yorker published a story about Trump Tower Baku, a hotel in Azerbaijan that never opened and appeared “to be a corrupt operation engineered by oligarchs tied to Iran’s Revolutionary Guard.” According to reporter
Adam Davidson, in 2012, the Trump Organization signed multiple contracts to build the tower with the Mammadov family, whose patriarch,
Ziya Mammadov, was the Transportation Minister at the time. (Ziya Mammadov was described by a U.S. diplomat as “notoriously corrupt even for Azerbaijan,” which is
among the most corrupt nations in the world.) The Mammadovs were financially entangled with the Darvishi family, at least three members of which were reportedly associates of the Revolutionary Guard. (When the tower was originally announced, Ziya Mammadov “awarded a series of multimillion-dollar contracts to Azarpassillo, an Iranian construction company” run by the Darvishis.)
Ivanka Trump, the most senior Trump Organization official involved in the project, toured the site in October 2014, reportedly offering “very strong feelings, not just about the design but about the back of the hotel—landscaping, everything.” (Ivanka, who declined
The New Yorker’s request for comment at the time, was said to “personally approve everything” on the project.)
It was around the time the Trumps went into business with the Mammadovs that international banks had become increasingly reluctant to accept money from businesses owned by the I.R.G.C., making it necessary for Iran to find an alternative way to send money outside the country, including to allies like Hezbollah and the Syrian government. As Davidson noted today, the I.R.G.C. came up with “a clever scheme [to] create hundreds of ‘private’ companies, owned by I.R.G.C. officers, that would fund terror, seek W.M.D, launder money and do other bidding of the central organization.” Many of these companies, including the Darvishi’s Azarpassillo, were “barely disguised.” As The New Yorker reported in 2017, anyone paying half an ounce of attention would have noticed that the Trump Tower project sure carried some hallmarks of a money-laundering operation:
Frank McDonald, an Englishman who has had a long career doing construction jobs in developing countries, performed extensive work on the building’s interior [and said] his firm was always paid in cash, and that he witnessed other contractors being paid in the same way. At the offices of Anar Mammadov’s company, he said, “they would give us a giant pile of cash,” adding, “I got a hundred and eighty thousand dollars one time, which I fit into my laptop bag, and two hundred thousand dollars another time.” Once, a colleague of his picked up a payment of two million dollars. “He needed to bring a big duffelbag,” McDonald recalled. The Azerbaijani lawyer confirmed that some contractors on the Baku tower were paid in cash.
The construction firm for the project denied involvement in any corruption. Davidson’s calls and e-mails to Azarpassillo, the Iranian Mission to the U.N., and the Azerbaijani government went unreturned, and neither Ziya nor Anar Mammadov responded to requests for comment.
According to The New Yorker, Alan Garten, the Trump Organization’s lawyer, said it learned in 2015 about the “possibility” that the Mammadovs had ties to the Revolution Guard—but didn’t end the Baku deal until December 2016, claiming that there was “no rush” because “the project had already stalled and was showing no signs of moving forward.” Garten also told Davidson that the Trump Organization’s hands were tied because it had “signed binding contracts with the Mammadovs and couldn’t simply abandon its agreements,” an argument that experts found laughable. (“You can’t violate sanctions just because you have a contract with someone,” Jessica Tillipman, an assistant dean at George Washington University Law School, told the outlet.) As late as 2017, Garten said the Trumps couldn‘t say definitively whether there was a link between the Mammadovs and the Darvishis, or if the association was a myth “spread by the media.” Allison Melia, previously one of the C.I.A.‘s lead analysts on Iran’s economy, told Davidson she could have assembled a dossier on the Mammadovs and their connection to the Revolutionary Guard in “a couple of days,” and that any reputable investigative firm could have done the same.
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