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Hey, I'm Cassie DePeckel, host of Against the Odds, where we tell true stories of people overcoming the toughest conditions. Since we launched the show a year ago, we featured tales of avalanches, shipwrecks, mine collapses, and more. Often, these harrowing conditions mean survivors must fight to stay alive one day at a time, as was the case for Jessica Buchanan.
As a humanitarian aid worker, Jessica was traversing the Somali desert in 2011 when she was kidnapped by Somali land pirates. We're re-airing the remarkable story of how she and her co-worker survived 93 days in captivity before they were finally rescued by Navy SEALs.
It's 3 p.m. on October 25th, 2011. 31-year-old Jessica Buchanan grips the handle of a Land Cruiser's passenger door as the car bumps over the rutted path. Here, there are no real roads, just rocks and dirt. There aren't any red lights either. People here know you don't stop a car for anything. A stopped car is an instant target.
Jessica's in a no-man's land, south of the small city of Galkayo in the Somali desert, beyond what's called the Green Line. The Green Line is the last stop where the Somali government has any sway. Below it is a wild world of land pirates, warlords, and Islamic mercenaries. ♪
Jessica is an American humanitarian aid worker. She works for a Danish non-governmental organization, or NGO. She's a teacher. Her job is to educate locals about landmine risks and gun safety. Every household here has at least one automatic weapon. Most have more, and kids are paying the price.
She has dedicated her life to helping children in war-ravaged places in Africa. But she had a bad feeling about this trip. Twice she called in sick, but her colleague Paul Thisted told her if she didn't come in today, he would report her. So here she is. Paul sits in the front seat next to the driver, which gives her comfort.
He knows what he's doing. He's a small Danish man in his late 50s who is a diehard pacifist and has spent his entire career in dangerous parts of the world. Plus, there's a group of armed guards traveling with them. There's one next to her and one in the back. She's going over the laundry list of things to do when she gets back to the North. Paperwork, dinner, calling Eric to find out about his day. When suddenly, the SUV comes to a jarring halt.
A wave of mud splashes violently against the windshield. Jessica looks out the side window. Another SUV is blocking the road in front. Car doors slam open. People scream at each other in Somali. She jumps at the sound of the butt of an AK-47 slamming the hood of the car. Her driver is frozen in place, hands on the wheel, like he's waiting for something to happen.
Before anyone can say anything, the car is surrounded by several screaming Somali men wearing special protection unit uniforms. Normally, these uniforms are worn by men hired to protect expats like her. But these men have AK-47s pointed directly at Jessica and Paul. Jessica looks at Paul, but he looks as confused and panicked as she feels.
A man yanks open the back door, yelling in Somali. He has rotten teeth and a sea of pockmarks. He grabs hold of the hair of a guard next to her, trying to pull him out, but the guard is wearing a seatbelt. The man starts screaming and slapping the guard's head. Finally, the guard gets the seatbelt off. The attacker beats him to the ground.
Another man crawls into the back behind her. He's shorter than the rest and high as a kite on cot. His pupils are dilated and wild. He grabs her bag and starts tossing out papers one by one, laughing deliriously. Jessica feels her mind starting to skid, reality slipping from her grasp. She has nothing to compare this with. No anchor, no frame of reference. ♪
Go, go, go!
Jessica concentrates on her breathing. She steals a glance at Paul. What's happening? Paul stares straight ahead, eyes scared. Finally, he whispers back, Jess, we're being kidnapped. In our fast-paced, screen-filled world, it can be all too easy to lose that sense of imagination and wonder.
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Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and Affiliates. Price and coverage match limited by state law. From Wondery, I'm Cassie DePeckel, and this is Against the Odds. What would you do if you were abducted by armed men you didn't know and held hostage in the Somali desert? How would you survive, physically and psychologically?
That's the question humanitarian aid worker Jessica Buchanan had to ask herself when she was kidnapped by Somali land pirates. Her story made headlines around the world, but few people know exactly what it took for her to survive in an area known as one of the most dangerous places on Earth.
Over the next three episodes, we're telling the story of a woman who faced unthinkable odds, her family who refused to give up on her, and the SEAL Team 6 that attempted her unlikely rescue. This is Episode 1: Beyond the Green Line. It's 4:30 p.m. in Garraway, Somalia. Outside a large guest house in the center of town, Eric Landelbaum picks up a boulder and heaves it over his head and sends it flying across the courtyard.
It's his way of working out. His wife Jess teases him by saying it's one of his Viking habits. Eric is an ex-rugby player from Sweden, a bear of a man with a round face and closely shaved head who has a gift for making people feel at ease. He's been working in the region for years and is well-liked in the Somali community. Much of his work involves training and education in judicial infrastructure, specifically human rights law.
Somalia is still predominantly a tribal society, a nomadic culture with a tradition of meeting out justice as clans see fit, just like it's been for hundreds of years. Rape and murder go unreported and unpunished. Innocent people are thrown in prison every day. But Eric believes everyone deserves access to education and a fair trial. He dreams of a world where people are treated equally in the eyes of the law.
Eric picks up his t-shirt and wipes the sweat off his face and then checks his phone. Still, no word from Jess. She was supposed to be back at the NGO office in North Galcayo at 3.30. He didn't want her to go on this trip, but she promised him she'd be fine. She even tried to make light of it by sending him a text when she landed saying, if I get kidnapped on this trip, will you come get me?
He quickly texted back, of course I will. But he didn't like the joke. Somalia is not a safe place, especially south of the Green Line. But Jess has worked in dangerous parts of the world. She knows what she's doing. But still, maybe he should have insisted she stay. Eric bends down and grabs another boulder when his phone rings. Eric? Eric?
Dan is the security director at Jessica's NGO. There's an urgency in his voice. What are you saying? Where is she? Eric's heart drops.
Look, Eric, we don't know much. The locals who came back told us she and Paul were taken around 3 p.m. We don't know where they are. Haven't been contacted by anyone yet. Believe me, we're following protocol. We have negotiators coming in. You just have to sit tight. If anyone calls, be cautious. We have to keep this under wraps. I'll call you as soon as I hear anything.
When Eric hangs up the phone, the sun is just starting to set. It casts a pastel light over the city, but he hardly notices. There's someone he needs to call. John Buchanan is alone in his shop in a small country town in Virginia, methodically sanding the edges of a table when he gets the call. It looks like an international number. Maybe it's Jessica. The last time they spoke was a week ago, just before she left on her trip to Galcayo.
"You're my good luck charm," she said to him. "I have to call you before every mission." He smiles at the thought. But it's not Jessica. It's his son-in-law, Eric. He's immediately on high alert. "Eric, what's wrong?" "John, I don't know how to say this, but I have some difficult news. Jess has been taken. She's been kidnapped." John sits quietly trying to make sense of the words.
Jess is his oldest daughter, his firstborn, the one who always pushed the envelope and took chances. He's always admired her strong mind and free spirit, and up until now, she's always landed on her feet. Do they know where she is? They don't know anything yet, but I promise to let you know anything I hear. When John hangs up the phone, he looks out the window. Clouds are starting to roll in.
John is a simple man of few words. He prefers his woodshop and nature to people. But he wishes Marilyn were here, Jessica's mother. Her death last year was a blow. He still hasn't recovered. And now Jess is somewhere in Africa, alone and afraid. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts. Then he leaves his shop and takes the short walk to the house, entering through the back door. The house is quiet.
In the kitchen, he sits down at the round wooden table. He remembers a prayer, one he and his family shared the day after Marilyn died. Jess was here too. It's the only time he broke down and cried. He bows his head and repeats the words now. God, I don't understand, but I choose to trust.
It's 9 p.m. on October 25th, 2011. An SUV rips across a rutted Somali desert road, shooting up trails of dust in its wake. Inside, Jessica Buchanan clutches her seatbelt, trying to steady herself against the bumps.
They've been driving south for hours, the men in the car screaming into their phones and chewing bundles of a traditional herbal stimulant called khat. Khat has been used in East Africa for thousands of years. In small amounts, its effects are similar to coffee, but in higher doses, it can make people aggressive and paranoid. And these men are clearly very high.
Their eyes are bulging and wild. They've changed vehicles three times. Each time they stop, one group leaves and another jumps in. On the third stop, a new person gets into the back behind her. When Jessica hears a soft voice, she turns around. It's a child. He couldn't be more than 10 years old. He has a chain of ammo wrapped around his chest and an AK-47 in his hand.
In the green zone, children start learning the family business early. Around midnight, the SUV comes to another stop. The fourth of the night. The doors open and the men hop out. But the new group that comes in looks different. Something is changing. One of the men has a machine gun and wears a turban. He motions to Jessica. Out. Jessica doesn't move.
His turban could mean he's part of a local fundamentalist group, Al-Shabaab. Al-Shabaab is known to behead hostages to make a statement. Out now. The man points his gun at her head. Walk. But Jessica's legs won't move. She's sure they're going to rape and kill her. She'd rather die now than go through that. No. Paul gets out behind her. Jess, we have to walk.
She takes a breath. Maybe it'll be okay if Paul is with her. Her legs begin to move. It's dark and quiet, except for the soft voices of men walking behind her. Her feet stumble across the cracked desert floor. She starts to cry quietly. Every step she takes feels like a death march.
Within hours of Jessica's kidnapping, word spreads from her NGO to the FBI field office in Kenya and then to the U.S. intelligence community in Bethesda, Maryland. An alert goes out. An American citizen has been abducted in Somalia. Whenever a U.S. citizen is kidnapped anywhere in the world, the president is alerted.
CIA Director Leon Panetta interrupts a West Wing meeting to bring President Obama a brief on Jessica's kidnapping. Panetta knows that this situation could escalate fast and end badly. Many hostages don't make it past the 24-hour mark.
The question is, who is behind this and what do they want? There are any number of groups in Somalia that might have abducted a young American woman. It could be the pirates looking for a ransom or militants using her as a bartering chip, or worse, al-Shabaab, the terrorist group who executes hostages as a recruiting tool. There have been several public beheadings in the last few years. ♪
Terrorism and protecting U.S. citizens is at the forefront of the administration's mind. Just months earlier, President Obama ordered a raid in Pakistan that successfully killed Osama bin Laden, the architect of the 2001 attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. But they know that's just the tip of the iceberg, the part you can see.
A kidnapped American is a high priority. No one wants to see another person die, especially a young humanitarian aid worker. Jessica and Paul walk in a single file line through the Somali desert, forced along by more than a dozen Somali men pointing guns at their heads. It's pitch black. The only light comes from a silvered moon high in the sky.
Jessica trips over bushes and rocks. On one fall, she feels blood drip down her leg. Good, she thinks. I can feel pain. Pain means I'm still alive. Jessica doesn't want to think about what might happen next. If it's her time, she prays she'll go with dignity. She doesn't want to cry and beg in the last moments of her life. She wants to be clear.
As they walk, Jessica listens to the clang of ammunition bullets bouncing around on the kidnappers' chests. Suddenly, they stop. She looks around. There are no buildings, no other people, nothing. Just a slim desert horizon line. Jessica can hardly breathe. She feels like she's underwater, floating away from her body. Down! Down!
The sound of the sharp voice brings her back. Jessica drops to her knees. She feels Paul fall beside her. In the dark shadows, she sees the glint of a bayonet on top of the machine guns. She imagines the blade going into her neck, what it will feel like to be beheaded. This endless space where time stands still catches her off guard. She wonders how other people felt in moments like this, waiting to die.
She doesn't understand what she did to deserve this. Down on her knees and executed. She's never been so terrified in her entire life. She closes her eyes and pictures her mother who passed away last year. Mom, help me. Please give me strength. Then she holds her breath and waits. Suddenly a voice pierces through the air. Sleep.
Jessica doesn't think twice. She drops into a fetal position. Paul falls beside her. She can hear his ragged breathing. She closes her eyes and pictures the face of her husband, Eric. It gives her comfort. Then her body takes over. On the hard, packed Somali earth under the desert moon, she falls asleep.
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It's night in Garraway, Somalia. Inside a guest house in the center of town, Eric Landelman paces the floor. It's been hours since he got Dan's call. Since then, he's had nothing but time to think. The curtain blows from the small fan on the wall. Each minute feels like an eternity. How could he have let this happen? How could he have let her go?
He thinks of the conversations they had before she left, how they talked about having a family. When his phone rings, his hands are shaking as he picks up. On the other line is a somber American voice. "Is this Eric Landel, Mom?" "Yeah, who's this?"
Okay. He thinks for a moment.
Just Jess's father. Okay, I'll give him a call. Suddenly, Eric is suspicious. What if he's not from the FBI? What if he's working for the kidnappers and trying to get information out of him? Matt, let me have your number. I'll call you back. When Eric calls back, it rings and rings. Finally, a woman picks up. American Embassy, Nairobi. Okay, this is real.
He's connected back through to Matt. Eric, listen to me. You can't do anything proactive here. Eric shakes his head. How can Matt expect him to do nothing? Matt, I've been in Somalia for a really long time. I know how these things can end. I'm her husband. I brought her here. It's my responsibility to get her out. Matt interrupts.
Listen to me, Eric. It's not going to help Jess if you get yourself killed. Look, I know this is the last thing you want to hear, but the best thing you can do is do nothing. We have to wait to be contacted and then we'll know more. That's how it works. For how long? It could be hours or days or even months. Look, I'll contact you when we find out more. Just sit tight, okay? When Eric hangs up, he sinks to the bed.
Of course he doesn't want to put Jess in any more danger than she already is, but he can't just sit there and do nothing, can he? What would Jess do? She would do whatever it takes to stay mentally strong. He has to stay strong too, for her. So he sits tight, for now. Jessica opens her eyes and squints into the dawn. Her back is sore and her body aches, but she's still alive.
She closes her eyes and listens to the birds. Morning thrush. Small, dusty brown birds with black, speckled bellies. She and Eric used to lay in bed and listen to the birds for hours, holding hands before they opened their eyes. Back in Garroway, does Eric hear them too? Her eyelids fly open as she feels a foot in her ribs. Walk. A man stands over her with an AK-47. Walk. Walk.
She and Paul quickly stand up. Her feet automatically start to move. She glances at Paul, but he's looking straight ahead. Jessica whispers out of the corner of her mouth, "'Where are they taking us?' Paul keeps his eyes straight ahead. "'I don't know. Just pay attention to the faces. "'Look for details that'll help us identify them "'when we get out of here.'"
Jessica nods. But she has her own plan. She's going to study her captors. Who's dangerous? Who's safe? Who might be sympathetic to her plight? Every detail is a clue to who might help her stay alive. When they arrive at a small group of trees, the kidnappers point a gun in her face and yell at her to sleep. It seems like the only word they know.
Jessica quickly lays underneath an acacia tree. One of the kidnappers throws her a mini can of tuna and a packet of dry biscuits. Jessica looks around. There are at least 30 men, all armed. Some sit in groups, chewing cot. Others pace back and forth. It seems like they're waiting for something or someone, but Jessica doesn't want to wait any longer. She raises her voice and looks in their direction.
I need to speak to your leader. The faces of the kidnappers look confused, and then they look tense. One of them gets up and walks over and puts a gun in her face. Jessica flinches and then looks at Paul. Both of them gesture like they're using a phone, trying to get them to understand. Can we call our NGO? NGO. Paul? Phone. Phone.
The kidnappers huddle together. Finally, one of them turns and shakes his head. But Jessica notes that it's clearly a group decision, not just one man. She whispers to Paul, It looks like nobody is in charge. The men continue talking. She strains to hear. They're speaking Somali, but she thinks she hears two English words, Chairman and Wait. Jessica is suddenly alerted.
If their boss is called Chairman, it means the kidnappers aren't Al-Shabaab. She still has no idea who these people are or what they want. But now, she has one piece of information she didn't have before. And that's one step closer to making it out alive. Eric bolts up in bed, drenched in cold sweat. Jess. He swings his legs over the side and puts his head in his hands. Where is she?
He needs to do something. He pictures himself jumping into an armed caravan and driving south until he finds her, ripping her from the kidnapper's claws, and then killing them all. But the FBI agent is right. If he does something rash, it could put her in danger. Besides, how would he even find her? He wishes he could just talk to her, tell her all the things he didn't say when she was here.
He grabs a piece of paper and a pen and sits down at his desk to write.
Eric gets up and opens a window, letting in the cool desert air. He and Jessica had talked about children, the lives they wanted to build together, but they always assumed there was time. Now, he doesn't want to think about that. He will see her again. They will have all the things they imagined together. Eric walks back to the desk and gently places the letter in a drawer. For now, he has no place to send it.
For the next three days, Jessica sits and waits. She and Paul are ordered to stay down. The only time she's allowed to get up is for bathroom breaks, but she tries to hold it in. She waits for times when the men aren't looking her way and tries to find somewhere remote behind a low patch of shrubs, keeping an eye out to make sure none of the men follow her. It's frightening and humiliating.
She knows she's the only woman for miles. If they want to hurt her or rape her, there's no way Paul can stop them. Other than being beheaded, it's her number one fear. On day three, she watches clouds gather over their heads, and suddenly cold rain is pouring down onto the hot desert plains.
After a few minutes of the downpour, her body temperature drops. She can't stop shivering. She keeps her head tucked low, trying to shield her face. When the rain finally stops, she looks up to find a gun in her face. Again. Sleep. Jessica has figured out that when her captors yell sleep, they really mean stay down. Normally she does, but now she's cold and wet, and she's starting to get angry.
She yells to one of the kidnappers, "I need a blanket or something." She pantomimes that she is cold. She doesn't expect it to work, but to her surprise, one of the younger men hands her his jacket. Someone here has a conscience. She may be able to leverage that later. It's power. Hours later, a man walks over. He's gangly with a full beard. "Hello, I am Abdi.
Finally, someone who speaks English. But what does he want? She looks up at him. Are you going to kill me? Abdi grins. His bloodshot eyes lock in on Jessica's face. He sits in silence for several seconds and then finally shakes his head no. No. No one is going to die. She lets out a cautious sigh of relief. She desperately wants to believe him. It means there's hope.
Then what do you want? Abdi smiles again. Another long beat. Money. Big money. Jessica's moment of hope fades away.
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Head over to Symbiotica.com and use code ODDS for 20% off and free shipping on your subscription order. On the fifth morning of her captivity, Jessica wakes with a start to the sound of yelling. We need water. It's Paul. Jessica looks up and sees Paul standing up inches from one of the kidnapper's faces. Sleep. No, we need water. The kidnapper pushes Paul down, but he jumps back up. Sleep. Sleep.
No. She looks at Paul, willing him to lay back down. But Paul continues to stare at the man, determined. The kidnapper grabs his gun and points it directly at Paul. His eyes flare. Jessica's heart starts to pound. Oh God, please make him stop. The man cocks his AK-47 and then he presses the trigger. Jessica flinches.
The kidnapper starts to laugh. It wasn't loaded. But Paul is shaken. Suddenly, Jessica is angry. Really angry. She's angry at the smug kidnapper who thinks it's okay to play on their fears.
She's angry at Paul for putting her in this situation. She's angry at Eric for not being there to protect her. But mostly, she's angry at herself for agreeing to go to Galcao in the first place. She knew it wasn't safe. She should have listened to her gut. Now here she is, thirsty and dirty, watching men pound their chests and point their guns. And for what?
Paul sits down next to her. He's breathing hard. It's okay, she whispers. It's over now. When she looks up, there's a man standing in front of her. Someone she's never seen before. He has a curved spine and missing teeth. I am Jabril. I am not part of these men. They called me here to be a translator.
I'm from Mogadishu. I'm with an NGO, too. Like you. Jessica is relieved. Someone who might understand. I need to speak with my people back home. These men? Pirates. Crazy. Stupid crazy. What do they want? They want 45 million U.S. dollars.
45 million? Do they even know how much that is? I tell them the most they get for you is $900,000. Less than $1 million. You have to tell them we are aid workers. Our NGO is not rich. Our family is small. We can't pay. Jabril nods. We'll see. Let's make a phone call. He points to a silver SUV in the distance. Let's go. As they walk to the car, more men join in.
Jessica knows what phone call means. It was part of her emergency training. She was told if she were ever kidnapped and survived the night, the people holding her hostage would eventually do a proof of life. That's a call to someone back home to let them know she's still healthy and breathing. After that, sometime later, they'll ask for money. The SUV bumps over the desert floor as Jabril hangs his arm out the window, searching for reception on his phone.
Finally, they come to a clearing. Jabril gets out, along with the other English speaker, Abdi. Jabril holds out the phone to Jessica. Call. Jessica takes the phone and dials Eric's number. Her heart is pounding. The number you have called has been disconnected. Jessica's mind scrambles. Why is Eric's number disconnected? Jabril motions to the phone. Try someone else. She quickly dials her father in Virginia. Call.
Jessica looks at Jabril helplessly. They're both disconnected. Jabril takes the phone out of her hand. He pulls out a business card and looks at a number, then dials. He puts the phone on speaker. This is Mohammed.
Jessica knows a dozen Mohammeds, but she doesn't recognize this man's voice. The man explains he wants to ask her some security questions to confirm her identity. Jessica blinks. Didn't she answer questions like these during her training with the NGO? I have a tattoo of an elephant on my back.
In her training, she answered this question too. Mohammed must be from her NGO. Things start clicking into place. When a member of an NGO is kidnapped, the organization alerts the insurance company. Not all NGOs carry kidnapping and rescue insurance, but Jessica's group does. They would have brought in negotiators. Mohammed must be working with them. Jessica, let me talk to Jabril. Jabril takes the phone and walks away where no one can hear him.
Abdi looks angry, like he didn't expect any of this. Who's this Mohammed? Do you know him? Jessica looks at Paul. Yeah, we know him. Jessica follows his lead. Mohammed works with us in Nairobi. Abdi's eyes narrow. He doesn't believe them. Where's your husband? His phone. It was disconnected. I don't know.
Paul whispers. It's protocol to shut down family phones. What did he say? Jessica feels panic rising in her throat. She starts to cry. Abdi doesn't like this at all. He leaps forward, holding his AK-47 under her chin. He yells into her face. Do you want to die? Do you? The message is clear. You do not show emotion. Not ever. Not if you want to stay alive.
Eric sits on a leather couch inside a homey office trying to find the right words to express what he's feeling. It's been over a week since his wife disappeared in the Somali desert, and they're no closer to finding her than they were on day one. A few days ago, a negotiator made contact with the kidnappers and affirmed Jess is still alive. But who knows what's happened since then? No one's heard anything for the past three days.
When he talks to the FBI agent, Matt is kind, but he's even more tight-lipped than the NGO. It feels like everything is moving in slow motion, which makes Eric feel crazy. He can't get out of his head. So Matt arranged for Eric to meet a special crisis counselor in Nairobi, Dr. Leila Gupta. This has to be very hard for you, Eric. Please tell me how you're doing. Eric clears his throat. I've been better.
Dr. Gupta smiles reassuringly. I know Jessica. Did you know that? Well, I don't know her, but I know of her. My children go to the school in Nairobi where she used to teach. I hear she's very good with kids. Kind. Eric feels his stomach turn. Jessica might still be there teaching if he hadn't taken the job in Somalia. He feels like this is all his fault.
I'm scared that I let her down. Abandoned her. I didn't protect her. I didn't stop her from going to Galcayo. Eric can barely get the last part out. His mouth is like sandpaper. Is Jessica the type of person you would have commanded to stay home? Eric considers, then shakes his head. No, no, but I could have pushed harder for her not to go. I know how unstable it is. Dr. Gupta leans in. Eric, I'm going to tell you the truth.
What you're feeling is normal in an abnormal situation. You're doing great. You're not responsible. Eric nods, but he's still not so sure. It's day nine, 11 p.m. The desert air has cooled down to 40 degrees. Paul Thisted folds his arms for warmth and leans his head against the seat. Jessica is on one side of him and a man with a gun on the other.
It's not the first time the kidnappers have driven them around all night, but tonight there's an urgency to the movement. The one word he could understand when the kidnappers woke up was American. And then they hustled them into the car. It's been two days since the proof of life call. The optimism he felt is draining. And now this. Paul sees his reflection in the tinted window. He looks 10 years older than he did just weeks ago.
He's worked in this part of the world most of his life, and he's had his share of close calls. But this is on another level. This is a disaster. This is his fault. He pressured Jessica to come, and now she's in it too. Paul feels the SUV come to a halt. He looks around. Something is happening. People are yelling orders at each other. One of the captors pulls open the door and motions to Paul. "Out!"
What's happening? Why? The man motions again. Paul obeys. The men start walking. He can just make out another SUV in the distance. He hears Jessica's voice wail into the darkness. Please don't take him away. Paul turns back. Be cool, Jess. Be cool. Then, Paul feels the pressure of the kidnapper's hands on his arm. He's never felt more afraid.
He's been here long enough to know how these things work. He's Danish. Jess is American, which makes Jess more valuable in their eyes. If the kidnappers decide to make a statement, he's pretty sure he's the one who will lose his head. When they're close to the second SUV, a door flies open. The kidnappers quickly shove him inside. Then the car speeds off into the night. ♪♪
Jessica's throat is closing. Her pulse racing. She can barely breathe. She's having an anxiety attack. Paul is gone. Now she's alone. Her stomach is in knots. She tries to get the attention of her kidnappers in the front. Abdi, Abdi, I'm going to be sick. Abdi looks back at Jessica. He looks annoyed. He orders the driver to stop the SUV. Abdi, Abdi, I'm going to be sick.
Jessica jumps out and throws up what little food she has left in her stomach onto the desert floor. After a few moments, Abdi comes over. He hands her some water. When she's done drinking, they sit in silence. When Abdi speaks, his voice is soft. Do you have children? At first, Jessica's not sure she heard him right. Abdi is cold, even mean. Who is this new Abdi? Yes, yes, I have a boy. Abdi is a boy.
It's a lie, but Jessica knows that mothers in Somalia are respected. Maybe Abdi will treat her better if he thinks she has a child. Jessica sees his face soften. "'I have four kids. What's your son's name?' She says the first thing that comes into her mind. "'Smulan. My son's name is Smulan. Smulan is the name of her and Eric's dog, a brown and white husky mix they found on the street. The name means crumble in Swedish.'"
After a few minutes, they walk back to the SUV where Jabril is waiting, a phone in his hand. Let's call Mohammed. His eyes are glazed. Jessica can tell he's high on cot. Jabril motions to Jessica to follow and walks towards a group of termite stacks. They're six feet tall, natural insect-made skyscrapers in a flat desert wasteland. Jabril begins to climb. Come, better reception.
Jessica pulls herself up behind him. Jabril dials a number and holds out the phone. It rings. This is Mohammed. Jabril motions to Jessica to speak. Tell him what happened. Jessica starts to cry. Mohammed, this is Jessica. They took Paul away. They split us up. I don't know what's happening. Are you okay? Are you physically hurt? Jessica cries harder. I'm okay. Okay, Jessica. Message received.
Put Jabril on the phone. Jessica starts to panic. What if this is the last time she's able to speak to someone on the other side? Mohamed, wait. Please tell my family I love them. Tell Eric I love him. Tell him I'll make it out. Jabril grabs the phone. He turns his back to her and climbs back down the hill. Jessica looks up at the pitch black Somali night. There are millions of stars.
It makes her feel alone and small, but not as small as standing on a termite hill in Somalia, watching two strangers negotiate a price on her life.
This is the first episode of our three-part series, Kidnapped in the Desert. If you like our show, please give us a five-star rating and a review. Follow Against the Odds on Apple Podcasts, Amazon Music, the Wondery app, or wherever you're listening right now. Join Wondery Plus and the Wondery app to listen one week early and ad-free. ♪
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Another way to support us is to answer a short survey at wondery.com slash survey. A quick note about our scenes. In most cases, we can't know exactly what was said, but everything is based on historical research. If you'd like to learn more about this event, you can read Impossible Odds by Jessica Buchanan and Eric Landelum with Anthony Flacco. I'm your host, Cassie DePeckel. Tamaya Payne wrote this episode. Jessica Buchanan is our consultant. Our
Our producers are Davey Gardner and Emily Frost. Our editor is Maura Waltz. Brian White is our associate producer. Our audio engineer is Sergio Enriquez. Sound design is by Aaron May. Our senior producer is Andy Herman. Our executive producers are Stephanie Jens and Marshall Louis. For Wondery...
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