CHICAGO: Between the prayers that fill the holy month of Ramadan,
during the long fasts that stretch from dawn to dusk, Muslims have been
meeting to discuss the disappearance of Salman Ibrahim.
The
respected businessman persuaded up to 200 Pakistani and Indian
immigrants to contribute their savings and mortgage their homes to
finance real estate deals.
But Ibrahim vanished in August,
leaving his investors with losses that could total 50 million dollars —
in some cases their life's savings.
'The scale of impact that
this stands to have on a lot of people in the South Asian and Muslim
communities is potentially very drastic,' said attorney Salman Azam,
who filed a petition last week to force Ibrahim's company, Sunrise
Equities Inc., into bankruptcy.
'There are a lot of very, very sad stories and dire financial situations.'
But
it's the loss of trust that has really shaken people along Devon Avenue
on Chicago's North Side, home to one of North America's largest South
Asian communities.
Ibrahim lived in the neighborhood lined with
South Asian groceries and businesses — where men wear shalwar kamiz and
prayer caps, most women cover their heads and Hindi and Urdu are spoken
as often as English. He wore a beard and traditional dress, and
attended the local Jame Masjid mosque.
'Everyone here knows him,' Ali Akbar said from behind the counter of his convenience store. 'He was a very pious man.'
Perhaps
most significant to investors: Ibrahim was a member of the Shariah
Board of America, a Devon-based group of Islamic clerics who advise
Muslim investors. The board certified Sunrise as conforming to an
Islamic law, or Shariah, that prohibits Muslims from earning interest
on investments.
Instead of interest, Sunrise Equities paid dividends in lump sums.
The
firm was founded in 2001 and developed, managed and sold properties
throughout Chicago. Its projects included an unfinished 12-story West
Loop condominium building and a 52-unit, mixed-use building under
construction on the near west side.
Fazal Mahmood, an engineer
from suburban Des Plaines, invested 50,000 dollars around 2004 after a
friend on Devon Avenue told him Ibrahim was an upstanding community
member whose investments made good profits. Mahmood, a 52-year-old
Pakistani immigrant, met Ibrahim and liked him.
'He seemed like
a good, dependable man,' said Mahmood, who wanted to earn money for his
two daughters' tuition to private colleges.
For three years he
received an 18 per cent return, as Ibrahim had promised. Last year,
Ibrahim persuaded him to borrow 200,000 dollars against his home,
Mahmood said. In return, Ibrahim gave Mahmood an unsecured promissory
note, which Sunrise was not licensed to issue.
An unsecured
note serves as proof of an investment but doesn't provide collateral,
so investors had no recourse after Ibrahim disappeared, said Azam, the
investors' attorney.
During a meeting in August, Ibrahim told
about 50 investors, including Mahmood, that banks were demanding 1
million dollars more from him. The investors decided to chip in and
help Ibrahim, Mahmood said. A few weeks later, Mahmood learned that
Ibrahim had disappeared.
'You trust your fellow man and then he does such a thing,' said Mahmood. 'It's disturbing.'
He will now have to work two jobs to keep his daughters in school.
Many believe Ibrahim and his family have returned to his native Pakistan.
Sunrise's
Devon Avenue offices are closed. The director of the Illinois
Securities Department said the company doesn't have a lawyer. No one
responded to a telephone message left by The Associated Press at
Ibrahim's last known residence or at the home of Sunrise's senior vice
president, Amjed Mahmood. No phone number could be located for senior
vice president Mohammad Akbar Zahid.
The state Securities
Department took steps Wednesday to safeguard investors' money by
suspending Sunrise's rights to buy and sell assets. Director Tanya
Solov said her office may work with Attorney General Lisa Madigan or
the U.S. Attorneys' office to pursue criminal charges against Ibrahim
or Sunrise.
Such cases are known as 'affinity fraud,' where
someone uses a position in a religious community to build faith with
investors, Solov said.
'The victims have something in common
with the perpetrators so there's tremendous trust,' she said. 'We don't
get notified until they don't get paid, the offices are shut down and
the perpetrators can't be located.'
However, many still have
faith in Ibrahim, who they said put himself through college in the
1990s by working long hours driving a taxi. Ibrahim — said to be in his
late 30s or early 40s — graduated from Northeastern Illinois University
in Chicago in December 1997 with a bachelor's degree in accounting.
Noor
Mansuri, a 60-year-old engineer from Chicago's Albany Park neighborhood
who has invested 600,000 dollars with Sunrise since last November,
still expects Ibrahim to return. He and others think Ibrahim got
into some kind of trouble, speculating that he overextended himself
financially and was caught in the real estate market's decline.
Even
so, Mansuri and other investors gathered Sept. 5 at a home near Devon
Avenue and decided to file the bankruptcy petition before banks that
Sunrise did business with seized the firm's assets and nothing was
left. Bank representatives did not return calls seeking comment.
'The
man I know wouldn't do this,' said Ghazi Feroz Alam, a Devon-based
businessman who invested with Ibrahim. 'We don't know what happened.
All this is guessing.'