In the wake of a horrifying terrorist attack in Boulder, Colorado—where six people were hospitalized after 45-year-old Mohamed Sabry Soliman reportedly launched an incendiary assault while shouting “Free Palestine”—the Biden administration now finds itself grappling with the aftermath: not just how to prosecute Soliman, but what to do with his family.
This week, federal agents detained Soliman’s wife and five children, revoked their visas, and began expedited removal proceedings. The message was swift and unmistakable: the United States will not harbor individuals who present, abet, or are even remotely connected to threats against its citizens.
But to some, this zero-tolerance response has raised uncomfortable questions.
On NewsNation’s Cuomo, blogger and analyst Ahmed Fouad Alkhatib struck a more cautious tone. While condemning the attack unequivocally, Alkhatib argued that deporting Soliman’s entire family might be “rushed,” “reactive,” and lacking empathy for individuals who—he contends—may have had no knowledge of Soliman’s plot. “Their life is going to be turned upside down,” Alkhatib said, adding that the family’s return to Egypt may not be as simple as their passports suggest.
It’s a familiar narrative arc: a tragic event, a rapid government crackdown, and voices urging restraint. But what sets this situation apart is the sheer brutality of the act, the nature of Soliman’s visa overstay, and the political climate in which it occurred.
Soliman entered the U.S. in 2022 under a temporary B2 visa. That visa expired in early 2023, yet he remained in the country, eventually launching a violent attack tied directly to foreign ideological conflicts. DHS confirmed he was in the U.S. illegally. That, for many Americans, is the full stop. There is no constitutional right to remain in the U.S. as a foreign national after one has broken immigration law—especially when tied to domestic terrorism.
What Alkhatib characterizes as a rushed move, others view as long overdue. Critics of current immigration enforcement point out that it was precisely this kind of policy leniency—overstayed visas, questionable asylum claims, and a sluggish federal response—that allowed Soliman to remain in the U.S. in the first place. Deporting his family isn’t simply punitive; it’s preventative.
The emotional appeal that “they haven’t lived in Egypt in years” or “Kuwait won’t take them” may draw sympathy, but it sidesteps the deeper point: Soliman’s presence in the country violated U.S. law, and any legal status his family enjoyed was contingent upon that compliance. When a violent ideology leads to Molotov cocktails in public squares, national security becomes a higher-order priority.
Alkhatib also warned of a “missed opportunity” to gather intelligence from the family. But federal officials are not naive. Interrogation and information-gathering are standard practice in such high-profile cases. If Soliman’s family offers valuable insight, they will likely be debriefed. What’s different now is that the administration is no longer treating visa violations with a bureaucrat’s shrug.
