Prosecuted for race or religion? James Yee went from being the military's Muslim poster child to a suspect in the war on terror.

On a boiling November day in 2002, Captain James Yee, a Muslim chaplain in the U.S. Army, arrived in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba from his permanent base at Fort Lewis, Washington in the cool environs of the Pacific Northwest. At Guantanamo, the U.S. military was detaining more than 600 suspected Al Qaeda and Taliban fighters, most of whom were captured in Afghanistan. Yee was assigned to provide religious support for American personnel who were Muslim and to minister to the prisoners there, as well. Upon his arrival, Yee met his predecessor, Chaplain Hamza al-Mubarak, who took Yee on a tour of the prison camp. Mubarak drove to the prison in his truck, but before getting out, as both men dripped with sweat in the thick evening air, he turned to Yee and delivered a strange piece of advice. "This is not a friendly environment for Muslims, and I don't just mean for the prisoners," he warned. "You need to watch your back."

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Ten months later, Yee was arrested on suspicion of espionage. Under threat of the death penalty, he was held in solitary confinement in a cell measuring 8 feet by 10 feet for 76 days. When investigators could not turn up enough evidence, Yee was charged with mishandling classified information, a less serious crime. Moreover, in what some viewed as an attempt to publicly humiliate him, the military tacked on charges that Yee committed adultery and kept pornography on a government computer. When Yee's Syrian-born wife, Huda, heard about these accusations, she found a handgun in their house in Olympia and told Yee over the phone that she wanted to end her life. Eventually, military prosecutors dropped the charges of mishandling classified information, although Yee received a written reprimand for committing adultery and viewing pornography. The reprimand was subsequently overturned on appeal, and Yee's record was wiped clean.

With the assistance of journalist Aimee Molloy, Yee has recently published a memoir that recalls these events called For God and Country: Faith and Patriotism Under Fire. From his home in Olympia, Yee spoke over the phone in November about his harrowing experiences. In a confident, assertive voice, he talked about the toll these developments have exacted on him and his family. "It was emotionally and psychologically devastating," he said, "and we're still recovering."

A Military's Model Minority

The publication of Yee's book comes at a particularly sensitive time, as several Asian Americans have recently been investigated for espionage. An F.B.I. intelligence analyst who is a naturalized U.S. citizen from the Philippines was arrested in New Jersey last September for allegedly passing classified information to officials in Manila. In addition, two Chinese Americans pleaded not guilty last November in California to an indictment alleging they were agents for China gathering information about U.S. naval warships.

Historically, Asian Americans have had their patriotism questioned. The most glaring example was when Japanese Americans were placed in internment camps during World War II. More recently, a Taiwanese-American scientist, Wen Ho Lee, was suspected of being a spy for China and imprisoned for nearly nine months before pleading guilty to only one count of mishandling classified information. Given this ugly underside of American history, it would be fair to ask if the military targeted Yee due to his Chinese heritage in addition to being a Muslim.

It would be deeply ironic if Yee's mistreatment was indeed partly because he appeared "foreign." A third-generation Chinese American, Yee grew up in a middle-class suburb in Springfield, New Jersey. His father worked as an engineer at Bell Laboratories while his mother raised Yee and his four siblings in a Lutheran household. Yee joined the Boy Scouts, played the snare drum in junior high school and spent much of his youth hoarding baseball cards. Baseball, in fact, became his singular childhood passion. "All I wanted to do," he writes in his memoir, "was to grow up and play for the Yankees."

Yee was one of only two Asian Americans in a high school class of 235 students, where he excelled in his studies and captained the wrestling team. When he later attended West Point, Yee did not get involved in any Asian-American groups. He later served in the army and was deployed to Saudi Arabia during the first Gulf War. After learning about Islam, Yee converted and became more serious about his religious faith. To learn Arabic and study Islam, he moved to Syria, where he met and married Huda. They had a daughter, Sarah, and after accepting a position as a military chaplain in the U.S. Army, Yee moved back to the States with his new family.

After September 11, Yee delivered briefings to military personnel to explain that the attacks were the work of extremists and not condoned in the Koran. He then made numerous media appearances, becoming, in his words, "the U.S. military's poster child of a good Muslim."

Race or Religion?

According to an exhaustively reported series in The Seattle Times, Yee initially aroused suspicion during a cultural-awareness briefing he conducted for U.S. soldiers newly arrived at Guantanamo. At least one intelligence officer who attended a briefing in December 2002 wondered if Yee was sympathetic to the detainees. This officer also noticed that Yee exclusively socialized with American soldiers who practiced Islam. Investigators soon began to suspect that Yee was part of a major spy ring, and the army opened an investigation of Yee in May of the following year.

Yee believes that he was targeted, in part, because of his race. "It was definitely a factor," he said. In his book, Yee discusses a letter written by a lieutenant colonel who sup-ported his appeal, in which he attributed the allegations against Yee to "prejudices and petty jealousies" and quoted a source for the investigation: "Who the hell does this Chinese Taliban think he is, telling us how to treat our prisoners?"

Yee has enjoyed the support of the Asian-American community, at least at the grassroots level. In addition to Muslim civil rights organizations in the United States, Asian-American groups, including various local chapters of the Organization of Chinese Americans, arranged benefits to help pay Yee's legal bills. Of the $250,000 in legal costs he accrued, about $200,000 was paid through such fundraisers.

Some prominent leaders within the Asian-American community, however, believe that Yee's race did not lead to his mistreatment. "The fact that he was a Muslim chaplain was the key," said John L. Fugh, a retired major general and chairman-elect of the Committee of 100, a non-partisan, Chinese-American public policy organization. "That Yee was of Chinese descent had little or nothing to do with it." Fugh cited other more important factors, including the rapport Yee developed with the detainees, his Arabic language ability and the general atmosphere of distrust toward Muslims at Guantanamo.

Meanwhile, Yee and his family have been trying to piece their lives back together. Recognizing that he would not advance in the military, he applied for and received an honorable discharge last January. Still waiting for an apology from military officials, Yee will complete his master's degree in international relations this spring and has been considering a range of professional options, including possibly entering the corporate world. Despite his seemingly bright future, Yee was quick to point out that he would probably never be free of government scrutiny. "I can only speculate," said Yee, "but I believe I will be under surveillance for the rest of my life."

William S. Lin is a writer living in Brooklyn, New York.