Part 1 Discuss how the financing of the September 11th attacks was done. Give a detailed example 150 words Part 2 Discuss some of the ways that illegal charities can be utilized to collect funds for

Following his death on Sunday, there ’s been a rash response to the famed boxer ’s

life — both pre and post prison. Was he really “all love? ”

Michael Moynihan, Daily Beast , July 12, 2017

“This man right here is love. He’s all love,” announced Denzel Washington while

swaddling his Best Actor gong at the Golden Globes in 2000. The man of love ,

former boxer Rubin “Hurricane” Carter, who died yesterday at 76, rubbed his

hands nervously, managing a meek smile as Washington spoke while patting him

on the back.

How could one dispute Denzel’s characterization? This paragon of love, who onc e

beat people up for a living, had long since transformed a life of violence, including

a 19 -year spell in prison, into a crusade for justice, prompting Washington’s

award -winning Hollywood hagiography of a man falsely accused and falsely

convicted by a co rrupt and racist system. But Carter’s past wasn’t simply a story

of love triumphing over hate; there were messy details his supporters,

screenwriters, and obituarists elided.

In 1964, a Saturday Evening Post profile of the up -and -coming fight er reported

that “society had [already] confined [Carter] for a total of 10 years for crimes of

violence.” The Newark Star -Ledger , his hometown newspaper, later explained

that “he was sent to…reformatory for breaking a bottle over the head of a man

from wh om he stole a wristwatch and $55.” He confessed to the Pos t in 1964 that “my partner and me . . . used to get up and put our guns in our pockets like you

put your wallet in your pocket. Then we go out in the streets and start fighting —

anybody, everybody. We used to shoot at folks.” He bragged in the same

interview that he had once knocked out an uncooperative horse with a single

punch. (Bob Dylan sang that Carter wanted nothing more than to go “where the

trout streams flow and the air is nice, and ride a horse al ong a trail,” while failing

to mention his penchant for equine assault).

But it was in 1966 when Carter, along with an accomplice, was accused — and later

convicted by a jury — of a gruesome triple murder in Paterson, N.J. After a

campaign to establish his inn ocence was promoted by supporters like

Muhammad Ali, Carter was paroled in 1976 and granted a new trial, a brief spell

of freedom during which he knocked out a 112 -pound woman running his “free

Rubin” support committee. As she told the Newark Star -Ledger in 2000, “I didn’t

see it coming. I felt everything getting dark. I remember praying to Allah, ‘Please

help me,’ and apparently Allah rolled me over, and he kicked me in the back

instead of kicking my guts out. Allah saved my life.”

The second jury upheld his conviction.

So the “Hurricane” was not always a dealer of love. It was something he managed

only after his release from prison, to which he was confined, according to Dylan,

“for something he never done.” It was that song from 19 75, a brilliant, 8 -plus

minute attack on Carter’s persecutors and police prosecutors, that helped push

the case from the ghetto of radical media into the public consciousness. Almost

all of the detail was wrong, but it’s still the only detail anyone rememb ers.

When Carter’s death was confirmed on Sunday by John Artis, the man tried and

convicted as his accomplice in the Paterson shootings, the internet offered

encomiums, fulsome Twitter RIPs, and broad condemnations of the criminal

justice system (the last one richly deserved). My phone buzzed with pushed

updates from the Wall Street Journal , BBC News, and New York Times announcing

his passing. Mike Tyson, another boxer who spent time behind bars (exiting

humbled and chastened, with an image of genocidal man iac Mao Tse -Tung

tattooed on his stomach), tweeted “we a lost a great man today, Rubin “Hurricane” Carter, the boxer who was wrongfully accused and became a symbol

for racial injustice. RIP.”

I have no doubt that Paterson, N.J., was stuffed to the gills wi th racists in 1966,

but I still have suspicions that Hurricane’s versions of events and the ubiquitous

media claim that he was “wrongly” convicted isn’t exactly true.

To be clear, Denzel Washington’s film version of Carter’s life is so fancif ul that a

contemporaneous New York Times account catalogued the “contorted” history,

the “major fabrication” of certain events, and the elision of various

uncomfortable details surrounding the case. Vaunted lefty journalist Jack

Newfield complained that “I knew Rubin Carter, attended his fights, covered his

retrial, and I didn’t see much reality on the screen,” while also stressing that the

judge who vacated Carter and Artis’s two convictions did “not say they were

innocent, only that their rights were tram pled on.” In 2000, another New York

Times writer reminded readers that “Mr. Carter was never exonerated; he was

released in 1985 when a federal judge ruled there had been procedural errors

during the second trial, and prosecutors decided not to try him a t hird time.”

This distinction is important — and is one that rightfully liberated Carter from

prison — but it created a “wrongful” conviction of procedure, not of evidence. Cal

Deal, who covered the trial for the Herald News , a local paper serving Paterson,

New Jersey, has amassed a vast online archive detailing the case agai nst Carter,

concluding that the two juries got it right.

Perhaps this is why Bob Dylan hasn’t performed “Hurricane” live since a 1976

benefit concert for Carter. Princeton professor and Dylanologist Sean Wilentz

points out in his terrific 2010 book Bob Dyl an in America , the singer “had a long

since abandoned” Carter when he was finally released from prison in 1985, while

noting the “simple sincerity” of the protest song, one that “easily (perhaps too

easily)” trusted the boxer’s version of events.

Unfortuna tely, many skeptical accounts of Carter’s story exist in the gutters and

fetid swamps of the internet, promoted by crackpots with far more sinister

concerns than Hollywood’s version of the truth. And I suspect most readers understand that historical films routinely and radically transform complicated and

nuanced historical narratives into simple parables. And while viewers who believe

“Hurricane” should be treated as reliable history are probably beyond help (just

have a look at Twitter to see the effect Wa shington’s portrayal had on Carter’s

reputation), Hollywood is happy to assist in leading them astray with that slippery

phrase based on a true story .

By almost all accounts, Carter led an exemplary life upon leaving prison, agitating

for the wrongfully co nvicted while carefully curating the story of his past. And

while it’s impossible to know if he pulled the trigger on three innocents that night

in 1966, it’s important to remember that his case wasn’t an obvious case of

injustice. And Carter wasn’t always all love .