Alison Grinter Allen
Audio By Carbonatix
Two weeks after a politically charged trial, Tarrant County is still pursuing multiple criminal charges against activist Raunaq Alam, the man charged with a hate crime after being arrested for vandalizing a local church. On Wednesday, the 32-year-old Alam was indicted for aggravated perjury and sent to jail for his answers to questions about drug use asked by the prosecution during the trial.
It was the fifth time Alam had been arrested on charges related to the same crime.
According to his attorney, Adwoa Asante, it’s a clear sign of malicious prosecution and a “vindictive” county.
The first arrest happened in March 2024, when Euless police and the FBI arrested Alam for allegedly spraypainting “Fuck Israel” on the wall of Uncommon Church. The nondenominational church, which was flying the Israeli flag and has provided material donations to the Israeli Defense Force during the attacks against in Gaza.
During that arrest, Alam’s attorney says the police illegally searched her client’s car and allegedly found less than a gram of the drug psilocybin, or mushrooms. Thus, the county also pursued a charge for possession of a controlled substance.
“His car was locked and legally parked as an employee of The Sam’s Club parking lot where he worked,” his attorney, Adwoa Asante, writes in a filing calling for a new bond on this latest arrest. “Officers took custody of his keys, unlocked his car, and searched his car without a warrant. While Detective Norvell had his body camera activated for Mr. Alam’s arrest a mere 5 minutes before the search, his body-worn camera was deactivated for the search.”
The Observer has reached out to the Euless police department for comment. In records obtained by the Observer, a police officer claims they discovered the drugs when they “inventoried” Alam’s car prior to it being towed, but before a search warrant. (The police claim they saw evidence through the car windows that indicated Alam’s involvement in the graffiti.)
Initially, a grand jury found insufficient evidence to formally charge Alam. He was also offered probation for the graffiti allegation.
But that offer was revoked less than a week later. Tarrant County assigned Lloyd Whelchel to the case: a prosecutor who typically handles death penalty cases. The graffiti charges were bumped up from a misdemeanor to felony criminal mischief and further elevated by a hate crimes enhancement, meaning Alam could have faced up to 10 years in prison. The possession charges were resurrected, too.
The trial for criminal mischief took place in early September, and much of the arguing centered on the state’s attempts to conflate opposition to Israel with hatred of the Jewish faith. During the proceedings, Asante argued again and again that Alam is not hateful or anti-semitic.
The graffiti, she told the jury, was a choice he made after watching endless hours of what Alam called “a livestreamed genocide.” The prosecutor, in turn, called Alam “a thug” and accused him of terrorism. Whelchel also asked Alam about reams of text messages the county obtained from Alam’s phone, which included discussions of parties and drug use. The prosecutor accused Alam of lying, but Asante pointed out that Alam has been on bond for more than a year, and he has passed every drug test he’s taken.
Ultimately, the jury rejected the hate crimes escalation that could have sent Alam to prison for a decade.
“I’m grateful that the jury has rejected the baseless claim by the prosecution that a state — especially one that is currently committing a brutal genocide against Palestinians — deserves special legal protections to shield it from any and all criticism,” said Dr. Barry Trachtenberg, a Jewish history professor at Wake Forest University and a witness for the defense. “By referring to Raunaq Alam as a ‘terrorist’ because of his advocacy for Palestinian lives in its closing remarks, the state made its racist intentions against the defendant clear for all to see — and the jury recognized that.”
The jury also seemed to agree that incarceration wasn’t the right decision in this case, which was the crux of Asante’s final remarks. She urged the jurors to help Alam “find a way back to the light” with help from the dozens of supporters in the gallery. When the jury found Alam guilty of criminal mischief but recommended a community supervision sentence, many of those supporters broke out in tears. Alam’s parents and sister, who sat behind him the entire trial, started crying and embraced each other, as did Alam and Asante.
Then Judge Brian Bolton added 180 days of jail time. Members of the gallery exchanged stunned looks, and Alam was quickly led behind locked doors by a pair of officers.
“In a case that should have been treated as a simple misdemeanor, Mr. Alam is now facing a de facto six-month sentence,” the defense team said in a statement after the trial. “This outcome underscores how the legal system is being used to silence opposition to the US and Texas’ complicity in the ongoing genocide in Gaza.”
Asante visited her client in Tarrant County Jail, where Alam didn’t have access to any soap and was using the same towel for showers and as his prayer mat. Asante told him she would file an appeal bond with a higher judge, but she couldn’t promise anything.
“You may be here for six months,” she told him.
But an appeal bond for $20,000 was granted, and on Tuesday morning, Alam tearfully reunited with his family in the shadow of the jail. Getting him out was crucial, Asante said, because his family needs him: They rely on Alan for help covering bills, especially because his father is blind in one eye and in poor health. (Both of his parents also survived the Bangladesh genocide in the early 1970s.)
In the week or so after his release on bond, Alam largely focused on spending time with his family and his cats. He knew the state was still pursuing the possession charge, and there were rumors of a perjury charge, too. But he tried to stay positive.
On Wednesday, September 24, he and his legal team hosted a press conference at a park in Arlington. It was his first public statement since his release from jail.
Shortly after he addressed the crowd, encouraging people to use their voices and speak out against genocide, his attorney received word that Alam had to turn himself in because of the aggravated perjury indictment.
“For the past year and a half, Tarrant County has been doing everything they can to get the highest possible charge for Raunaq and get him behind bars,” Lydia Faith, an activist with Free Palestine Tarrant, told the crowd as Alam walked to his car. “They’re using a large amount of resources and their highest prosecutors to go after Raunaq, who was just supposed to have a graffiti charge. What was supposed to be a simple misdemeanor has turned into over a year and a half of harassment.”
Alam travelled to the Tarrant County Jail facility, where his parents were able to hug him before he was taken away in handcuffs. Now, Asante and his family say he is being held in solitary confinement. (Tarrant County Jail wouldn’t confirm this status, only confirming that Alam is in custody.)
Asante has filed for a new bond, but as of this writing, a bond hasn’t been issued yet. Holding him without one, Asante points out, is a violation of his constitutional rights. And every time she can, she reminds reporters and supporters that all of this began as a misdemeanor spray paint case. The Tarrant County District Attorney’s Office did not respond to a request for comment.
“The Tarrant County DA’s office has demonstrated a genuine fear of anti-genocide activists through the criminalization of all of Raunaq’s speech and his confinement in maximum security,” she said in a statement to the Observer on Thursday night. “They were so desperate to charge him with something that they didn’t take the appropriate steps to even appear neutral in this perjury charge. The same prosecutor that questioned him during the official proceeding alleging the perjury is the same prosecutor that went to the grand jury to procure an indictment. This is an obvious conflict, as he has now become a witness in his own case. Prosecutorial retaliation is an abuse of power, and while history will vindicate Raunaq Alam for his genuine attempts to bring attention to a genocide against Palestinians, history will remember the Tarrant County DA’s office as heavy-handed, careless, and power drunk.”
