The lure of easy money lands a yeshivah bochur behind bars. A monologue of remorse

Photos: Elchanan Kotler

I had no illusions. The worst scenario had come true. One of the officers handcuffed me and led me, like a common criminal, past thousands of passengers in Brussels airport. They drove me to a holding jail and dumped me in a putrid, freezing cell. There was only a bed there, with a torn, filthy mattress. The cold, the loneliness, the fear, were overwhelming. I burst out crying. I davened to Hashem with all my heart and soul. I promised I would do what I could to become stronger, to serve Him more sincerely, and of course, I pledged not to repeat this terrible mistake. I recited whatever Tehillim I knew by heart, and offered up a tefillah with more intensity than any Ne'ilah on Yom Kippur. As I began to calm down, I started to replay the events that got me into this horrible mess…

His name is Yechiel David Sin-Shalom. He’s a regular 19-year-old yeshivah bochur from Modiin Illit, studying at a yeshivah in Jerusalem. Except that on Rosh Chodesh Adar I, he landed on the tarmac of Ben Gurion airport after spending a month in a Belgian prison. It wasn’t easy to face the cameras with his story instead of hiding behind some anonymous persona, but to him, it’s more important to share what he went through than to protect his dignity, more urgent to spare others the shame and suffering than remain in the shadows. 

“It all began when I noticed how a friend from yeshivah always seemed to have lots of cash on hand,” Yechiel relates. “I asked him where he had the money from. At first, he was evasive, but then he reconsidered and told me that way back, a friend of his had tempted him to fly abroad with a suitcase full of khat. The handlers were paying 3,000 shekels [about $930] per run. He’d already been doing it for three years and was never caught.”

While khat, a green leafy stimulant plant that's a staple of Middle-Eastern recreational culture, is illegal in most European countries, there are no restrictions on its sale or distribution in Israel, creating a lucrative opportunity for traffickers to take advantage of young people willing to smuggle it into Europe for a free ticket and a wad of spending money. While the penalty for smuggling can be as severe as seven years in prison, most of these young smugglers — some as young as 14 — are told by their handlers that in the worst-case scenario, their suitcases will be confiscated. (And because it’s a legal substance in Israel, handlers are legally off the hook.)

“I asked my friend if it was dangerous,” Yechiel says, “and he told me that Daniel, his handler, assured him that the risk was very small, and that anyway, detainees are released right away.

“At first, I tried to convince him not to continue with this little adventure, but the more we spoke, the more he convinced me to join him. He reminded me that I have valid Israeli and French passports, and really, what was so bad about earning 3,000 shekels for one day of work, which didn’t really require any work at all?

“Then one night, when I was sitting in the beis medrash and learning, my friend called and asked me if I wanted to fly that night to Brussels. I hesitated a minute, but then agreed. What could be so bad? My friend told me that Daniel, the one he worked for, would pick me up from the yeshivah at one a.m., together with another bochur, and we’d fly together. With two bochurim flying together, it’s always easier to get through security on the other side, where it counts.”

Still, Yechiel shared his hesitations with Daniel about being caught and jailed. “Don’t worry,” Daniel glibly reassured him. “Even if they catch you, after 24 hours at most, you’ll be back home. I was also caught in Amsterdam, and I was released the same day. Just play it calm, cool, and confident so that they don’t check your suitcase at the airport over there,” Daniel instructed.