One of the most disturbing and revealing moments in Parallax 9/11 by R. Taylor Hopkinson is not found in an airplane or a New York skyscraper—but in a quiet government office in Homestead, Florida. There, months before the world knew his name, Mohamed Atta walked in and attempted to secure a $650,000 loan. What follows is one of the eeriest exchanges ever documented in the lead-up to September 11.
Atta met with Johnelle Bryant, a long-serving loan officer with the U.S. Department of Agriculture. Hopkinson meticulously recounts Bryant’s now-famous televised interview, in which she describes a bizarre and deeply unsettling meeting. Atta claimed he wanted to buy and modify a small crop-dusting aircraft, insisting he had the engineering background to convert it for charter use—and chemical dispersal.
Her account reveals Atta’s erratic behavior and ominous demeanor. He referenced Osama bin Laden. He asked about the Pentagon and the Twin Towers. When denied the grant, he grew agitated and allegedly threatened her, suggesting he could slit her throat and take the money. Bryant, composed and unshaken, responded that she was trained in karate and that the safe he pointed to was empty.
This conversation is more than chilling—it’s historically significant. Hopkinson connects it to a larger pattern of overlooked red flags. According to FBI records, Atta wasn’t even supposed to be in the United States at the time of the meeting, which took place between April and May 2000. The official account claims he entered in June. Yet Bryant recognized him instantly when his image was released post-9/11 and later passed a lie detector test about the encounter.
What does this tell us about Mohamed Atta’s state of mind? It shows a man who was already radicalized, already plotting, and already seeking the means to carry out a deadly plan. It may also suggest that his original intentions involved chemical terrorism via crop duster aircraft—something even more terrifying in its potential scope. Was this an abandoned plan? A cover story? Or part of a layered strategy that evolved into the airline hijackings?
Hopkinson doesn’t speculate wildly. He presents the details and lets readers judge for themselves, using his legal rigor to evaluate the timeline, testimony, and inconsistencies. Yet the implications are haunting. If Atta could walk into a federal office, declare admiration for bin Laden, express interest in American landmarks, and still walk away unnoticed, what does that say about our systems?
Through this chilling chapter, Parallax 9/11 achieves more than just narrative tension—it provides a crucial case study in missed signals and bureaucratic blindness. It paints a picture of Mohamed Atta as not just a terrorist in hiding, but a man operating in plain sight, leaving behind clues that nobody fully understood until it was too late.
Hopkinson’s decision to highlight this encounter elevates the book from personal tragedy to historical reckoning. It invites readers to reflect not only on what happened, but on how it could happen again if we fail to listen to the warning signs.