So I Married a Terrorist . . .

She's sharing her story now because, she says, the FBI ignored her when she tried to warn them about Diab before 9/11—and that they refused to protect her from retaliation by Al-Qaeda once she went public with her story. Olson is also upset because the FBI still doesn't believe everything she's told them.

"The last time I talked to them was in December 2004," she says. "I cut off all contact with them because they misled me and lied to me and tried to make me think I'm crazy—that Hisham had nothing to do with bin Laden."

If so, the U.S. government—which has steadfastly refused to confirm key elements of her story—isn't alone in questioning her credibility. Many people familiar with her tale, including at least one of her biggest supporters, say Saraah Olson might be exaggerating.

Her relationship with Diab began blissfully, she says, but quickly degenerated into "hell." But to hear her describe it, Olson's life wasn't so easy long before she met Diab.

Born to a mother who worked as a nurse and a father she never knew—her stepfather inspected mining equipment but never seemed to work—she arrived in Long Beach in 1982, when her parents divorced at the age of 15.

Shortly thereafter, her mother became ill with cancer but didn't qualify for welfare because she wasn't officially a California resident. So both Olson and her sister started working full-time, flipping burgers at McDonald's and frying poultry at Kentucky Fried Chicken.

"I dropped out of school to support the family," Olson says. "It was minimum-wage, but back then, you could lie about your age."

Four years later, Olson gave birth to a son, Ryan, out of wedlock. Ryan's father, she says, was an alcoholic and "world-class" crack addict. They never married. Raising Ryan on her own wasn't easy, especially since his father typically sent her less than $100 per month in child-support payments.

While juggling her duties as a single mother, she began taking classes at Long Beach City College and, in 1990, enrolled at Cal State Dominguez Hills, where she majored in political science and psychology. To cover her tuition, Olson worked as a teaching assistant to an English professor at Long Beach City College and processed student visas for foreign-born students studying English as a second language at Cal State Dominguez Hills.

One day, Hisham Diab, a clean-cut Egyptian wearing an expensive suit, walked into her office. "His English wasn't that good, but he was clean-shaven, well-groomed and well-mannered," Olson recalls. Diab didn't shake her hand, which didn't surprise her: her sister had recently married a Jordanian, and she knew that observant Muslims frowned upon informal contact between the sexes.

"He just seemed like a normal guy," Olson says. "He left and came back five minutes later and said, 'Would you like to go to dinner?' And I said, 'No, but thanks for asking.' So he came back every day for the next three or four days and finally I said, 'Okay, how about lunch?'"

The first date was hardly the stuff of romance: a quick bite at El Torito in Buena Park, where Olson lived at the time. "I figured it was close to my house, so I could drive home if I needed to leave, but he was a nice guy."

Olson recalls being attracted to the fact that, like her—and unlike her ex-boyfriend—Diab didn't drink alcohol. So Olson agreed to extend the date with a stroll through the shops at Knotts Berry Farm.

The next day, Diab arrived at her office with a bouquet of flowers. When he asked if he could see her again, Olson said yes. Along with Diab's Mexican roommate and his girlfriend, the two went out for a series of dinners. "They seemed nice, and we went out a few more times with them," Olson says. "And from there, we just started dating."

At the time, Diab was in the process of divorcing his first wife, an American woman.

"Hisham and I had been dating for six months, and he said we should get married. By this time, he had been giving me $2,000 or $3,000 a month, and I had his ATM card, so if I ever needed anything, I could use it. He was really nice to Ryan at the time—helping him learn the alphabet in kindergarten."

Diab's divorce finally became official in July 1992; Olson married him the very next day. The crowd was evenly divided between Olson's family and people Diab had invited from the mosque. His only prenuptial condition was that Olson convert to Islam. The process was simple. Olson simply went to the mosque and stated three times that there is no god but Allah and Muhammad is his prophet. But the day before the wedding, Olson says, the imam who had agreed to perform the ceremony backed out. Diab had to spend the rest of the evening calling around to find a replacement.

"The guy who had agreed to do it never spoke to us again," Olson says. "And then one day, I see him at the mosque, and he tells me I have to be very careful of my husband and some of his friends. And I thought he was saying that because Hisham was pissed at him for not showing up for the wedding. But I found out later that he [the imam] found out what they were doing, what they were all about, and what kind of politics they had, and he didn't want to have anything to do with it."