Gunman Opens Fire at San Diego Islamic Center in Targeted Attack

At 11:43 a.m. on Monday, May 18, 2026, two teenagers pulled into the parking lot of the Islamic Center of San Diego — the largest mosque in San Diego County — and began shooting [1]. By the time San Diego Police Department officers arrived four minutes later, three men lay dead outside the building. The two attackers were also dead inside a vehicle from what police described as self-inflicted gunshot wounds [2].

Inside the mosque, roughly 140 children and their teachers had been locked down, alive because the three men who died had placed themselves between the gunmen and the building's entrance [3]. The attack is being investigated as a hate crime [4].

The Victims: "They Gave Their Lives So Others Could Live"

The dead were Amin Abdullah, 51, a security guard; Nadir Awad, 57, a teacher; and Mansour Kaziha, 78, a caretaker who had worked at the mosque since it was built in the 1980s and was known by the community as Abu Ezz [5].

San Diego Police Chief Scott Wahl said Abdullah's actions were "pivotal" in preventing more bloodshed. Abdullah exchanged gunfire with the attackers while radioing the school inside the mosque into lockdown [3]. Kaziha, the mosque's shopkeeper known for letting children take candy for free, and Awad, described by congregants as cheerful and devoted, drew the shooters away from the building [6]. Investigators say their combined actions saved the lives of the children and staff inside [3].

A landscaper working nearby was shot at but not injured [1].

The Attackers: A 75-Page Manifesto and a Trail of Warnings

Law enforcement identified the shooters as Cain Lee Clark, 17, of San Diego, and Caleb Liam Vazquez, 18, of Chula Vista [2]. The two met online and bonded over shared extremist ideology [7]. One gunman shot the other twice in the head inside the car before killing himself [5].

Investigators recovered a 75-page document from the pair replete with neo-Nazi ideology, incel rhetoric, and racist meme culture drawn from fringe internet communities [8]. The manifesto features Nazi iconography and explicit references to accelerationism — a white supremacist ideology that promotes violent acts to hasten societal collapse and the creation of a white ethnostate [9]. The writers endorsed the "Great Replacement" conspiracy theory and cited the 2019 Christchurch mosque attacks, which killed 51 people in New Zealand, as direct inspiration [8][10].

Hate speech was written on at least one of the firearms used in the shooting. Anti-Islamic writings were found in the attackers' vehicle [4]. The suspects livestreamed the attack, following a pattern established by the Christchurch shooter, whose livestreamed massacre transformed extremist violence into shareable digital content [8][11].

During subsequent search warrant executions, over 30 guns and a crossbow were seized from two locations [4].

A System That Saw the Danger and Failed to Stop It

The most troubling dimension of this attack is the documented trail of warning signs that preceded it. Vazquez was the subject of a 2025 FBI eGuardian alert — a platform used by federal, state, and local law enforcement to share and track potential threats, with alerts reviewed by a joint terrorism task force [12].

In January 2025, following a police wellness check, Chula Vista police sought a gun violence restraining order (GVRO) against Vazquez after officers found he was "involved in suspicious behavior, idolizing Nazis and mass shooters" [13]. A Chula Vista detective declared the suspect dangerous based on "neo-Nazi obsessions" [14]. Vazquez had spoken of a "day of retribution" and expressed fascination with mass shooters who carried out attacks in Isla Vista, California; El Paso; and Norway [13].

The GVRO was granted, prohibiting Vazquez from buying or owning firearms, ammunition, and magazines. But on March 11, 2025, San Diego Superior Court Judge Enrique Camarena rescinded the restraining order and dismissed the case. Court documents do not spell out why [13].

Vazquez's father had also removed firearms from their home in a separate attempt to limit access [15]. Despite these interventions from police, school officials, classmates, and family, the legal system failed to maintain its hold [14]. Fourteen months later, Vazquez was dead alongside the three men he had killed.

The Radicalization Pipeline

FBI officials confirmed the gunmen were "radicalized online" [8]. Experts who reviewed the manifesto described the suspects as following a well-documented path of far-right radicalization that has accelerated in the social media era.

Jared Holt, a researcher who tracks online extremism, told KPBS that the attackers "sought to replicate one of the deadliest racist mass shootings in history" as tribute to the Christchurch gunman [11]. Heidi Beirich of the Global Project Against Hate and Extremism said the 75-page document indicated "more than just some online role-playing," given its deep engagement with extremist ideology [11].

Extremist communities increasingly disguise themselves as "true crime" enthusiast groups to evade detection on mainstream platforms [11]. Instagram and TikTok serve as entry points, but the most dangerous communities operate on Discord and niche forums where mass killers are celebrated [11]. Younger users often engage passively — consuming content without posting — making radicalization harder to detect [11].

The San Diego attack fits a pattern that has connected mass shootings at houses of worship across the globe. The 2018 Tree of Life synagogue shooting in Pittsburgh killed 11 worshippers. The 2019 Christchurch attacks killed 51 across two mosques. The 2019 Poway synagogue shooting, roughly 20 miles from the Islamic Center of San Diego, killed one and wounded three — and that attacker also cited Christchurch as inspiration [10][16]. Each act feeds the next through what researchers call a "deadly online blueprint" — manifestos, livestreams, and scoreboards that turn mass murder into a competitive subculture [8].

San Diego's Rising Hate Crime Numbers

The shooting occurred against a backdrop of sharply rising religious hate crimes in the region. Religious hate crimes in San Diego County increased 150% from 2024 to 2025 [17]. Antisemitic incidents in the county rose 150% as well, totaling 139 incidents [17]. Nationally, FBI data shows anti-Muslim hate crimes rose 18% in 2024, marking the fourth consecutive year of increases, with 228 reported incidents [18].

Source: FBI Hate Crime Statistics

Data as of Aug 5, 2025CSV

The Council on American-Islamic Relations (CAIR) received 8,683 complaints nationwide in 2025 regarding anti-Muslim and anti-Arab incidents — the highest number since the organization began compiling data in 1996 [19]. The trend mirrors a broader pattern: anti-Muslim incidents have spiked during periods of heightened political rhetoric about Islam and immigration, with the post-9/11 period, the 2015–2016 election cycle (when FBI-reported incidents hit 307), and the post-October 7, 2023 period each producing documented surges [18][19].

The Security Funding Gap

Federal security assistance for houses of worship flows primarily through FEMA's Nonprofit Security Grant Program (NSGP), which provides funding for physical security enhancements to nonprofits at high risk of terrorist attack [20]. The program has grown substantially, from $60 million in 2019 to $454 million in 2024 [20].

Source: FEMA/DHS

Data as of Sep 1, 2025CSV

But the growth masks structural questions about distribution. In June 2025, DHS announced $100 million in supplemental funding allocated specifically to more than 500 Jewish faith-based organizations [20]. The allocation reflected the acute threat environment facing Jewish communities — Jewish institutions nationwide spent $785 million on their own security in 2025 [17] — but it also raised questions about comparable investment in mosque security.

The NSGP fulfilled just over half of total grant applications in recent years, with total requests reaching $447 million against available funding [20]. This gap means many houses of worship, including mosques, remain without federal security support. The Islamic Center of San Diego had hired a private armed security guard — Amin Abdullah — but lacked the comprehensive security infrastructure (metal detectors, surveillance systems, hardened entry points) common at many synagogues and larger churches.

Sarah Youssef, a college freshman and gun violence prevention advocate who attended the Islamic Center as a child, told NBC News that when she was young, there were no guards or gates at the mosque. The later hiring of armed security "signified" the community's growing fears — fears that proved justified [17].

The Surveillance Paradox

In the aftermath of the shooting, CAIR called on local police departments nationwide to increase patrols and coordinate with Muslim community leaders to protect worshippers [21]. The request reflects an urgent reality: mosques face lethal threats and need protection.

But it coexists uneasily with a documented history of law enforcement agencies using "community outreach" and "protection" as pretexts for intelligence gathering against Muslim communities. In 2006, the FBI ordered an informant, Craig Monteilh, to pose as a Muslim convert and spy on congregants at several large mosques in Orange County, California, recording conversations and filming inside people's homes and mosques using hidden devices [22]. Federal agents in Northern California used community outreach meetings at mosques as cover for cataloging the identities, religious views, and travel plans of congregants [22].

The NYPD ran a separate surveillance program targeting Muslim student groups and mosques from approximately 2002 to 2014, which the department later acknowledged produced no credible intelligence leads. The city settled a lawsuit over the program in 2018 [23].

The damage to trust has been lasting. Sheikh Yassir Fazaga, an imam who had worked for years to foster cooperation between his congregants and the FBI — even inviting agents to speak at his mosque — later discovered the agency had been running an informant in his community the entire time. "They looked us all in the eyes and assured us unequivocally that they were not spying on us," Fazaga said [22].

Civil liberties advocates argue that this history has produced measurable harms. The ACLU has documented a chilling effect on religious practice: imams in Southern California were warned against discussing social justice issues in their sermons by their own boards of directors after the Monteilh operation became public [22]. The argument, at its strongest, is that surveillance erodes the community trust that is itself a prerequisite for effective threat reporting — the very activity that could prevent attacks like the one in San Diego.

Hussam Ayloush, executive director of CAIR's California chapter, told NBC News that "hate can reach anywhere" regardless of a jurisdiction's political orientation [17]. He and other Muslim leaders said their requests for meetings with San Diego Mayor Todd Gloria and law enforcement were repeatedly ignored — a claim the city disputed [17].

Response and Support

Online fundraisers for the victims' families raised more than $2 million within 48 hours, with an additional support fund collecting over $520,000 [24]. The funds are designated to cover funeral costs, immediate household needs, children's education, long-term financial stability for surviving spouses, and trauma counseling [24].

The San Diego County District Attorney's office made victim services available at no charge, including to individuals regardless of legal citizenship status — a significant detail given that immigration enforcement concerns can deter undocumented community members from seeking help [25]. California's statewide "California vs. Hate" hotline (833-866-4283) is providing legal aid, counseling, and mental health support to those affected [25].

Governor Gavin Newsom issued a statement condemning the attack [26]. Congress held a moment of silence for the victims [27]. The Islamic Center, CAIR, and the Muslim Leadership Council of San Diego organized an interfaith vigil at Lindbergh Neighborhood Park in Clairemont, where the Jewish Federation of San Diego called violence against houses of worship "intolerable" and the Catholic Diocese of San Diego expressed solidarity [24].

Heidi Gantwerk of the Jewish Federation of San Diego captured the shared burden facing religious minorities: "We pay a tax to be Jewish in the country right now" [17]. After this shooting, San Diego's Muslim community understands that tax in the most literal and devastating terms.

What the Failures Reveal

The Islamic Center of San Diego shooting exposes a specific, traceable failure in the domestic terrorism early-warning system. A suspect was flagged by the FBI. Police sought and obtained a gun violence restraining order. School officials and classmates raised concerns. A father removed guns from his own home. A judge rescinded the restraining order without documented explanation. Fourteen months later, three people were dead.

The question this attack forces is not abstract. The warning systems identified the threat. The legal tools to intervene existed. The intervention was initiated and then reversed. Whether the failure was judicial, procedural, or systemic, the result was the same: a known threat actor carried out the exact type of attack that every institution in the chain had been warned about.

The family of Vazquez issued a statement saying they were "deeply sorry for the pain and devastation" [28]. The family of Clark has not spoken publicly.

For the Islamic Center of San Diego — a community that buried three men who died protecting 140 children — apologies do not answer the question of why every warning was seen, processed, and ultimately set aside.