“In America, there’s a lot of opportunity.” Seeking just that, in 1985, the five Sodhi brothers began emigrating from India, each establishing his own life, career, and family. On September 11, their lives, like so many in their adopted country, changed forever. But even as the Sodhis were, like other Americans, feeling afraid and anxious after the attacks, they were also feeling targeted—and not by Muslim terrorists.

The first few moments of A Dream in Doubt show why, in menacing graffiti ("Kill Muslims 9/11") and TV reports that underlined the “difference” embodied by the bearded and turbaned Osama bin Laden. Though Rana Sodhi and his brothers are Sikh, and had in fact left Punjab in order to escape persecution, they were now affiliated in unknowing, fearful minds with the “terrorists.” A series of photos reveals the effects on men wearing turbans, their faces smashed and broken, now become evidence in crimes that may or may not be solved. On 15 September 2001, Rana’s oldest brother Balbir was shot and killed in Mesa, Arizona. Rana’s nine-year-old son Satpreet describes what happened: “My uncle was talking to some people at his gas station, some man came up and shot him.”

While Satpreet expresses a child’s grief and wonder at what’s happened, the adults around him, primarily Rana, struggle what it means to live in America. Though the family came to the States in search of the usual celebrated freedoms—of religion, mobility, ambition, and community—here they were confronting violent persecution premised on fear, ignorance, and racism. The disappointment is almost unspeakable, though Rana’s brother Harjit makes this effort, in fractured yet utterly coherent English: “Our second heaven was here in America, It’s so neat and clean, a place people respect human, they love each other.”

Airing on PBS’ Independent Lens at 10pm on 20 May, A Dream in Doubt observes this struggle as it becomes increasingly complicated. It turns out that the suspect in Balbir’s murder, Frank Roque, proceeded after that shooting to shoot at two other targets, a gas station owned by Lebanese Americans and a home owned by Afghan Americans. Though he did not kill anyone else, the shell casings and descriptions of his car help detectives identify him.

Difficulties ensue. First, another one of the Sodhi brothers, this one a cab driver in San Francisco, is shot and dies in a horrific car wreck. Though investigators there doubt that Sukhpal was a hate crime victim (instead, they decide, he was caught in the way of a “regular” gang fight), the Sodhis must still figure what to make of the concept of “American justice.” They never complain, but the film lays out by understated observation (including local news reports and courtroom footage) the difficulties of the legal case against Roque. Though his shooting spree was preceded by declarations of his intent to “shoot some towelheads,” the case is prolonged as he pleads insanity. Coworkers describe him as a “ticking time bomb” and his own attorney notes that for years Roque’s “mental illness… was just bubbling beneath the surface of his being,” while he ought to “treat it with a daily six pack of beer.” But even as Roque suggests that his attack was a function of too much TV (specifically, too much coverage of the Towers falling on September 11), the Sodhi family and other Sikhs face a daunting lack of coverage and communication. Though the police encourage them to call whenever they feel threatened, one especially long night of repeated phone calls reveals that dialing 911 doesn’t always produce desired results.

Sikh community members hold meetings and join with the Anti Defamation League to march in unity. “Racism, bigotry,” says Phoenix regional ADL director Bill Strauss, “It’s a disease that is always looking for an opening, it’s a virus that’s always looking for a host.” The demonstration, Rana says, walking in matching t-shirts with his son, will “give the people the real picture of America, when we all togethers, in unity. Different religions, different people when we all get together, the people who are ignorant, they will see what’s America, what’s American people.”

This assessment runs up against images of Roque, his wife (during a police interrogation), his devastated daughter on the stand, and an interview with William Courtney, the bouncer at a bar where Roque and others gathered to declare outrage over 9/11. Courtney’s own appraisal is dismally telling. He recalls that Roque and others in the bar were fired up, that “anybody with a turban on their head was a target, and you find out where the guy’s from and that’d be a little different situation if he’s from the country that got together and did it, that’d be a little different story.” Here the bouncer inserts how he’d handle such a misinterpretation. “I wouldn’t go out there and shoot ‘em,” he says, “I’d go beat the hell out of ‘em, something. But not shoot ‘em and kill ‘em, cause what you gonna do then? You gonna be up the creek without a paddle.”

A Dream in Doubt grants the bouncer his say without overt commentary. But as he appears after Roque’s wife (who remembers her husband being angry at “the Iranians, the ones that wear what you call ‘em, the turbans") and before a sequence showing a 9/11 anniversary on TV. As Rana shakes his head in dismay, President Bush reads, “We remember lives lost, we remember the compassion, the decency of our fellow citizens on that terrible day.” But we do not remember, apparently, the deleterious effects of patriotism, rage, and willful ignorance, the ways that calls for vengeance can incite more aggression, cruelty, and condemnation. The cycle feeds doubts about the dream that the Sodhis so earnestly pursue. [Link]

When filmmaker Tami Yeager set out to make a documentary about a surge in hate crimes following the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, she envisioned a movie that would reflect her shock and shame.

That was before the director met Rana Singh Sodhi, whose brother was fatally shot on Sept. 15, 2001, by a man who thought Balbir Singh Sodhi -- a Sikh who wore a turban as part of his faith -- was of Middle Eastern origin.

"I thought I'd make a film primarily focused on hate crimes," Yeager said. "It wasn't my agenda to go out and make a film really emphasizing the American dream. But of the things I learned from Rana, for the first time in my life, I really understood what it meant to be American."

Rana Sodhi's utterly upbeat, patriotic attitude is at the heart of Yeager's film, "A Dream in Doubt," which will air nationwide May 20 as part of the PBS series "Independent Lens."

The film cuts between interviews and footage of Rana Sodhi and his family and news headlines and audio of 911 calls that recall the racially charged atmosphere in the months after Sept. 11. The result is a portrait of a hardworking family man attempting to live his own American dream amid extraordinary chaos.

At the time, Balbir Sodhi's shooting in the parking lot of his Mesa gas station sparked sympathy and outrage worldwide. In his native India, the prime minister put in a call to President Bush. Nearly 3,000 people of all different backgrounds mourned him at a public service in Phoenix. Some called Sodhi the final victim of Sept. 11.

The film also shows the stress brought on by the 2003 trial of the gunman, Frank Roque, as well as the death of another Sodhi brother who was randomly shot in 2002 while driving a cab in San Francisco.

Yeager spent more than three years filming the family off and on, interviewing authorities and poring over evidence from Roque's trial. She essentially became another member of the household. In the five years she's known Sodhi, the director-producer said she's still struck by how unwavering Sodhi is in his faith in American culture.

"I think I take my rights for granted," Yeager said. "Of course, I also understood how many inequities there are in this country, but what I learned from Rana, when putting it in perspective elsewhere, is this country is still heaven on Earth. Really, the answer (to why he feels that way) is because he got justice."

Sodhi said he was extremely touched by how public officials denounced his brother's killing and prosecuted Roque -- now serving a life sentence.

"That gave us so much comfort. You are in good hands and you are protected where you are," Sodhi said. "The government and law enforcement, they will punish those people."

The Sodhi family's ordeal came to Yeager's attention through the film's co-producer, Preetmohan Singh, who is also Sikh. In 2002, Singh was tracking hate crimes for the Sikh American Legal Defense & Education Fund in Washington, D.C. Already friends, he and Yeager had previously worked together on an educational DVD on the Sikh community.

Preetmohan Singh believes many hate crimes fell off the radar in the wake of other Sept. 11 news stories.

"Nobody connected the dots to say 'Wow, these communities feel like they're under siege in their own country.' That's the story we feel really hasn't been told," Singh said. "Now six, seven years after 9/11, there's a little more distance. Viewers are able to appreciate what happened because it's not so raw anymore."

Yeager said she was surprised at how quickly Rana Sodhi took to the idea. For Sodhi, who runs his own Indian restaurant in Mesa, the opportunity to give viewers a glimpse into the Sikh community was too important to pass up.

"Most Americans don't know about Sikhs. They always think turban people belong to terrorist organizations. That's the only thing they know," Sodhi said. "I'm really surprised the lack of education (about Sikhs) is very poor here."

Much of the film's funding came from Independent Television Service, which produces many "Independent Lens" programs. The company had been wanting to make a piece about hate crimes, said Lois Vossen, an "Independent Lens" series producer. They encouraged Yeager to follow her instincts and make Sodhi the central character.

"To find someone like Rana who's so incredibly positive and forward-thinking about renewal as opposed to bitterness, especially juxtaposed with this incredible footage with the man who murdered his brother with such vitriol and hatred ... it's just mind-blowing," Vossen said. "That's clearly the story we wanted to share."

Since the documentary has been screened in several major cities, Sodhi has been an ambassador of sorts for the Sikh community. He and Yeager have spoken at several screenings, including one at Slamdance in Park City, Utah.

About 300 people attended a screening in April at Scottsdale Community College. It was put on by the Anti-Defamation League and the Phoenix chapter of Make A Difference, a national community service nonprofit.

Rhonda Oliver, CEO and president of Make A Difference, Phoenix, praised the film as a way to initiate a dialogue. She said it was also moving to see Sodhi reaching out to others.

"He was very demure. He strikes an interesting balance between somebody who doesn't like being the center of attention but feels it's important," Oliver said.

Ironically, Sodhi and Balbir had been planning to call media the weekend after Sept. 11 to discuss Sikhism in the hopes of educating the public. But then Balbir was shot.

Sodhi is positive his brother would have loved the movie and what it is trying to promote. "'I think that it's a wonderful idea.' He would say that," Sodhi said.

Yeager hopes the film's portrayal of Sodhi will demonstrate how reactions to hate crimes are as important as preventing them. [Link]

The John Michael Kohler Arts Center offers a free screening of the documentary film "A Dream in Doubt" at 7 p.m. on Tuesday, April 29.

Part of the Arts Center's "Independent Lens" series, "A Dream in Doubt" tells the story of Rana Singh Sodhi, a member of the Sikh religion whose brother was murdered in one of America's first post-9/11 hate crime murders.

Four days after the 9/11 attacks, Balbir Singh Sodhi was gunned down at his Phoenix-area gas station by a man named Frank Roque. To Roque, Balbir Sodhi's beard and turban — articles of his Sikh faith — symbolized the face of America's new enemy. Seeking retaliation for 9/11, Roque killed Sodhi and went on to shoot at a Lebanese American man and fire multiple rounds of ammunition outside an Afghan American family's home.

"A Dream in Doubt" follows Rana Singh Sodhi, Balbir's brother, as he attempts to fight the hate threatening his family and community. The Sodhis had fled ethnic violence in India to pursue their version of the American dream. Sodhi finds himself coping with national tragedy and murder, finding support in community and attempting to reclaim the American dream. "A Dream in Doubt" also probes a difficult question: In a country with millions of immigrants, what does an American look like? [Link]

Three days after the 2001 terrorist attacks, a gas station owner stepped outside his Mesa, Ariz., shop and was shot to death.

The victim was an Indian Sikh. The shooting was in retaliation against Osama bin Laden. But the only thing Balbir Singh Sodhi had in common with bin Laden was that he wore a beard and turban.

They were from different countries and religions and spoke different languages. Sodhi was a law-abiding small-business owner who believed in the promise of America, its entrepreneurial spirit and its freedoms.
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Last Sunday, Des Moines Area Community College's Diversity Commission organized a screening of a new documentary, "A Dream in Doubt," about Sodhi's death and its aftermath, through the lens of his brother, Rana Sodhi. As family members struggled to cope with their grief, they and other Sikhs continued to be targeted by threats and sometimes violent attacks. Within the year, another Sodhi brother was shot to death while driving a cab in San Francisco, though the county attorney didn't call that a hate crime. Rana Sodhi himself made repeated, terrified middle-of-the-night calls to police when someone was at his door.

On the 5th anniversary of 9/11, according to the film, the U.S. Department of Justice reported it had investigated over 750 related hate crimes. That same year, the Discrimination and National Security Initiative at Harvard University said 83 percent of Sikhs surveyed had experienced a hate incident or knew someone who had. A recent Bureau of Justice Statistics report said the actual number of hate crimes is probably more than 15 times what's reported to the Justice Department.

Mob justice can happen anywhere. In a tragic irony, the film tells of how five Sodhi brothers emigrated to the United States after a period of persecution and violence against Sikhs in mid-1980s India. That followed the assassination of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi by two Sikh bodyguards. Now in America, Sikhs were having to wear American-flag lapel pins and carry cards explaining their religion to stay safe.

The film has its hopeful parts. The Sikhs finds support when the local Anti-Defamation League organizes a march against discrimination, and the county attorney speaks passionately at an anniversary observance of Sodhi's death.

The shooter is convicted of first-degree murder, though his sentence is later reduced from death to life without parole because of questions about his mental stability.

But instead of mental illness, could it be cultural sickness fueled by prejudice and ignorance? Certainly not every member of a hate group such as the Ku Klux Klan is ill. Prejudice has to be learned. The good news is that it can also be unlearned, and more organizations are taking on that job. By showing and discussing the film, DMACC's Diversity Commission helped stimulate dialogue. And by having such committees in the first place, organizations enable constructive self-criticism and outreach.

On Saturday, I attended a daylong workshop on multiculturalism at the First United Church of Christ in Sioux City. More than 120 people left committed to continuing to promote understanding.

In a memorable moment, the film demonstrates that prejudice is not an instinctive response. The camera captures the Sodhis taking their son, who wears a head covering, into elementary school for the first time. As they enter the classroom, there's tension over how the children might respond. But after the parents explain their religion (a forward-looking principal planned that), the students have only childlike curiosity. One asks if the family celebrates Halloween. The film ends, poignantly, with the parents taking their kids trick or treating.

What can you do? Walter Reed Jr., director of the Iowa Department of Human Rights, recommends "honest conversations" on race, discrimination and diversity. His office has helpful resources. as does Tolerance.org. "A Dream in Doubt" will be broadcast on IPTV May 25 at 11 p.m. That could be a teachable moment, one to gather, watch and talk. [Link]

"A Dream in Doubt" 5 p.m. to­day.

Capri Theatre.

Free.

Documentary about a Sikh man who was killed in Arizona after the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks. Pro­ducers will be on hand to discuss the film from 6-6:30 p.m. [Link]