Deadly Consequences: Biden’s Afghan Evacuation Ignored Terror Warnings

Paul Riverbank, 12/16/2025New revelations expose security lapses during the Afghan evacuation, with thousands flagged for terror ties entering the U.S. The fallout has sparked urgent debate over whether America can balance border security with its promises to wartime allies—without putting citizens at risk.

Operation Allies Welcome—that’s what officials called it. The intention seemed noble: bring out not only those who’d risked their lives to help U.S. forces, but their families as well. Yet even as flights landed and relief spread through shelters and military bases up and down the country, voices inside the administration worried. Senior officials flagged more than a thousand Afghans linked, allegedly, to the likes of Islamic State or related extremists. Simon Hankinson, once a diplomat, now with the Heritage Foundation, put it bluntly: “The decision was made to move at pace, based on trust in service history, not in paperwork.”

The speed came with a price. The Department of Homeland Security’s watchdog didn’t mince words in its later report: at the border, crucial data vanished into the avalanche. Agents were sometimes left with profiles missing basics—name, date of birth. With the clock ticking, the standard background process—usually rigorous, often lengthy—withered under the pressure. As the FBI would later acknowledge, the urge to rescue took precedence over the protocols that, in quieter times, form America’s main defense against infiltration.

New numbers keep surfacing. Joe Kent, heading up the National Counterterrorism Center, told lawmakers that investigators had so far found about 2,000 among 88,000 Afghan arrivals with some connection—direct or indirect—to terrorist factions. But Kent’s real headline came next: there may be another 16,000, he testified, swept in on Biden’s orders, whose allegiances are suspect. He called it straightforward: “This is the top security risk we face right now.”

Statistics are sober things, but the consequences can be searing. Last Thanksgiving in Washington, D.C., for instance, the issue hit home in the cruelest way. An Afghan national, Rahmanullah Lakanwal, shot and killed a National Guard member, 20-year-old Sarah Beckstrom, wounding her colleague. Court documents noted Lakanwal’s shout of “Allahu Akbar.” His entry to the U.S. had been on a Special Immigrant Visa, a category meant, ironically enough, for those deemed trustworthy. The vetting, it turned out, was incomplete.

It wasn’t an isolated event. In Texas, Mohammad Dawood Alokozay had posted a video on bomb-making—federal officers found and charged him. Elsewhere, Jaan Shah Safi found himself arrested by ICE, accused of sending weapons to Islamic State affiliates, all while residing in the U.S. without legal status. These are not scenes from a thriller; they’re recent entries in law enforcement logs.

Inside government circles, frustration has boiled over. “Prioritizing speed and volume comes at the expense of security,” Joe Kent insisted to Congress, echoing thoughts of many who’d sounded alarms earlier. White House officials have pushed back, insisting their process tapped into every available law enforcement and intelligence resource, but official audits tell a story shot through with gaps.

Numbers from the Office of the Director of National Intelligence suggest as many as 18,000 “known or suspected terrorists” have crossed American borders in the last four years—whether via the southern frontier, or flights out of chaotic Kabul. It’s a jarring figure, especially as international headlines continue to carry news of attacks—like the one during Chanukah celebrations in Australia—linked to inadequately screened newcomers.

Some analysts, less diplomatic, have argued that the West has been naive about protecting its doors, exposing citizens in the name of openness. Whether that’s an overstatement is up for debate. But what is plain, and echoed now by lawmakers across the aisle, is the need to revisit and tighten vetting for those already here. “Re-vetting” isn’t just a bureaucratic term now—it’s a grim necessity, with human faces behind it.

For many in Washington, as for families like Sarah Beckstrom’s, the questions don’t resolve easily. Can America honor its commitments to wartime allies and, at the same time, keep its gates secure? There aren’t easy answers—nor, it seems, much time to find them.

Warnings from America’s intelligence circles rarely strike with such urgency, but they did in the weeks that followed the fall of Kabul. On President Biden’s desk, messages grew increasingly pointed: men flagged as terrorists had managed to blend in with the wave of Afghan evacuees surging toward the United States.Operation Allies Welcome—that’s what officials called it. The intention seemed noble: bring out not only those who’d risked their lives to help U.S. forces, but their families as well. Yet even as flights landed and relief spread through shelters and military bases up and down the country, voices inside the administration worried. Senior officials flagged more than a thousand Afghans linked, allegedly, to the likes of Islamic State or related extremists. Simon Hankinson, once a diplomat, now with the Heritage Foundation, put it bluntly: “The decision was made to move at pace, based on trust in service history, not in paperwork.”The speed came with a price. The Department of Homeland Security’s watchdog didn’t mince words in its later report: at the border, crucial data vanished into the avalanche. Agents were sometimes left with profiles missing basics—name, date of birth. With the clock ticking, the standard background process—usually rigorous, often lengthy—withered under the pressure. As the FBI would later acknowledge, the urge to rescue took precedence over the protocols that, in quieter times, form America’s main defense against infiltration.New numbers keep surfacing. Joe Kent, heading up the National Counterterrorism Center, told lawmakers that investigators had so far found about 2,000 among 88,000 Afghan arrivals with some connection—direct or indirect—to terrorist factions. But Kent’s real headline came next: there may be another 16,000, he testified, swept in on Biden’s orders, whose allegiances are suspect. He called it straightforward: “This is the top security risk we face right now.”Statistics are sober things, but the consequences can be searing. Last Thanksgiving in Washington, D.C., for instance, the issue hit home in the cruelest way. An Afghan national, Rahmanullah Lakanwal, shot and killed a National Guard member, 20-year-old Sarah Beckstrom, wounding her colleague. Court documents noted Lakanwal’s shout of “Allahu Akbar.” His entry to the U.S. had been on a Special Immigrant Visa, a category meant, ironically enough, for those deemed trustworthy. The vetting, it turned out, was incomplete.It wasn’t an isolated event. In Texas, Mohammad Dawood Alokozay had posted a video on bomb-making—federal officers found and charged him. Elsewhere, Jaan Shah Safi found himself arrested by ICE, accused of sending weapons to Islamic State affiliates, all while residing in the U.S. without legal status. These are not scenes from a thriller; they’re recent entries in law enforcement logs.Inside government circles, frustration has boiled over. “Prioritizing speed and volume comes at the expense of security,” Joe Kent insisted to Congress, echoing thoughts of many who’d sounded alarms earlier. White House officials have pushed back, insisting their process tapped into every available law enforcement and intelligence resource, but official audits tell a story shot through with gaps.Numbers from the Office of the Director of National Intelligence suggest as many as 18,000 “known or suspected terrorists” have crossed American borders in the last four years—whether via the southern frontier, or flights out of chaotic Kabul. It’s a jarring figure, especially as international headlines continue to carry news of attacks—like the one during Chanukah celebrations in Australia—linked to inadequately screened newcomers.Some analysts, less diplomatic, have argued that the West has been naive about protecting its doors, exposing citizens in the name of openness. Whether that’s an overstatement is up for debate. But what is plain, and echoed now by lawmakers across the aisle, is the need to revisit and tighten vetting for those already here. “Re-vetting” isn’t just a bureaucratic term now—it’s a grim necessity, with human faces behind it.For many in Washington, as for families like Sarah Beckstrom’s, the questions don’t resolve easily. Can America honor its commitments to wartime allies and, at the same time, keep its gates secure? There aren’t easy answers—nor, it seems, much time to find them.