Evil came to San Diego—and we must name all of it

What happened Monday at the Islamic Center of San Diego was pure evil. There is no other word for it, and no justification—ideological, political, or otherwise—that can soften it. Two teenagers walked into the building intending to slaughter as many people as possible. Three men are dead, and 140 schoolchildren narrowly escaped a massacre only because of the extraordinary courage of the men who stood between them and the killers.

Amin Abdullah, the center’s security guard, deserves to be remembered as a hero. When the shooters arrived and tried to force their way inside, he opened fire. He was wounded but kept shooting, forcing them back outside, and he died holding them off. His last act on earth was buying time for children to reach safety.

But we must also tell the full truth—about the killers, and about the Islamic center they targeted.

The two suspects, identified in their own writings as Cain Clark and Caleb Vazquez, ages 17 and 18, met online before discovering they both lived in San Diego. They radicalized each other in digital echo chambers, marinating in white supremacist ideology until it consumed them. Their writings—obtained by the Associated Press—express calls to “exterminate” Muslims, hatred toward Jewish people, Black people, the LGBTQ community, women, and both political parties. They styled themselves “Sons of Tarrant,” invoking the white supremacist who massacred 51 Muslims in Christchurch, New Zealand, in 2019. Nazi symbols fill their documents.

This was not anti-Muslim bigotry alone—it was a broad, cruelly supremacist worldview that hated nearly everyone. Investigators found over 30 guns, ammunition, and a crossbow at two residences and are still probing whether broader targets were planned.

Personal factors compounded ideology. One of the writings reveals mental health struggles and rejection. These were troubled young men who found purpose, identity, and community in the darkest corners of the internet.

Online radicalization has become one of the most dangerous pipelines in modern society, turning isolated, grievance-filled youth into killers. Social media’s algorithm feeds the wound, the peer supplies the cause, and eventually a real target becomes the victim.

We must name this evil clearly—in all dimensions. That means addressing supremacist radicalization online with the same seriousness we warn against Islamic radicalization, especially as threats against Jewish and Muslim religious sites have been rising sharply since Oct. 7, 2023. But consistency also requires that we speak honestly about the Islamic Center of San Diego itself.

The center is part of the largest mosque in San Diego, which houses a school serving children ages five and up. This mosque has a documented and troubling history.

Two of the 9/11 hijackers—Nawaf al-Hazmi and Khalid al-Mihdhar—prayed there and, according to investigative reporting and the 9/11 Commission’s released materials, received assistance from mosque members in securing housing, Social Security cards, driver’s licenses, and funds. The FBI believed the center had knowingly helped the terrorists; the question featured in a civil lawsuit brought by victims’ families. Of course, the center has denied the allegations, but the record is a matter of federal documentation, not speculation.

More recently, the mosque’s imam (leader), Taha Hassane, came under serious criticism for his response to the Hamas massacre of nearly 1,200 Israelis on Oct. 7, 2023. “This did not start last week or on Oct. 7,” he said in a social media video days after the attack. “Resistance is justified when people are under occupation.” Those remarks cost him his seat on San Diego’s Human Relations Commission. His wife resigned from the San Diego school district after posting imagery widely condemned as anti-Semitic following the attacks.

Ironically, Gov. Gavin Newsom had awarded the center nearly $200,000 in state anti-terrorism funds just months ago.

Condemning the shooting and scrutinizing the institution are not contradictory—they are both required. The victims were human beings who deserved to live. The security questions surrounding this institution are real and documented. Both things are true.

What, then, must we do?

On online radicalization, the answers begin at home. Parents must use monitoring tools and open conversation as the first line of defense. Platforms must be held accountable for recommendation algorithms that funnel troubled teenagers toward extremist content. Age verification for high-risk spaces, stricter removal of incitement to violence, and expanded mental health programs are all necessary.

Schools must teach digital media literacy, including how to recognize propaganda, harmful patterns, and conspiracy thinking.

Law enforcement must improve tip-line responsiveness and act on family warnings—the guns used Monday were reportedly missed by adults who knew these boys. All of this must be done with care, because heavy-handed government censorship arguably drives radicalization underground. The approach must be targeted, transparent, and grounded in due process.

On institutional oversight, the standard must be consistent and clear: foreign funding transparency, enforcement of laws against incitement to violence, and tax status reviews for any religious institution that promotes or excuses terrorism. Taxpayers should not be subsidizing, as California shamefully has, institutions whose leadership has justified the slaughter of civilians. That is basic accountability, not bigotry.

The three men who died Monday were not symbols. They were precious humans. We honor them best not by looking away from hard truths, but by facing all of them—with moral clarity, consistent standards, and the courage to name evil wherever it lives and whatever form it takes.