Daughter of Terror Suspect Was an Award-Winning Student – Now She’s Being Deported

In high school yearbooks, stories like Habiba Soliman’s are the ones that shine an immigrant teen overcoming language barriers, building school clubs, volunteering at hospitals, and dreaming of medical school. It’s the kind of narrative that embodies the promise of the American dream: come, work hard, give back, and you’ll belong.

But what happens when that story is interrupted not by failure or apathy but by fire, fear, and a father’s secret?

On June 1, just three days after Habiba stepped off the stage with her diploma, her father allegedly ignited Molotov cocktails at a pro-Israel march in Boulder, leaving over a dozen injured, including an 88-year-old Holocaust survivor. By June 3, Habiba and her entire family were in federal custody, facing deportation.

Now, one of Colorado’s most celebrated high school seniors has become an emblem of a nation’s fractured conversation around immigration, accountability, and inherited consequences. Her story asks uncomfortable questions: Can personal merit shield someone from legal consequence? Should a child’s success be enough to distance them from a parent’s crime?

And what do we do when the line between promise and peril is drawn within the same family?

A Promising Future in a New Land

When Habiba Soliman arrived in the United States as a teenager, she brought with her not just the dreams typical of an ambitious high school student, but also the burdens of starting over in a country where she barely spoke the language. Born in Egypt and raised in Kuwait, she entered the American education system as a sophomore at Thomas MacLaren School in Colorado Springs an award-winning public charter school known for its rigorous curriculum and classical liberal arts focus. Her first year, by her own account, was “a disaster.” Isolated by her limited English, Habiba found herself without friends and overwhelmed by the pace of a new academic culture.

But by the time she graduated with honors in May 2025, Habiba had become one of the school’s most active and admired students. She taught herself to speak English fluently, studied German to fulfill a foreign language requirement, and started an Arabic club to share her heritage with classmates. She joined Big Brothers Big Sisters to help younger students adjust to the demands of high school, and even took up basketball learning the sport from scratch to participate more fully in American school life. Her efforts were recognized with the Highlander Award for Leadership Involvement, a testament to her impact beyond academics.

Her dedication also extended to community service. Volunteering at UCHealth, Habiba shadowed healthcare workers and contributed her time in a clinical setting a step she hoped would prepare her for a future in medicine. Her interest in healthcare was deeply personal: she often cited witnessing her father’s recovery from a difficult surgery as a pivotal moment that inspired her career aspirations. “It was like magic,” she wrote in an essay. “I want to be part of that magic.”

That same essay earned her a spot among the 2025 recipients of the Colorado Springs Gazette’s Best and Brightest scholarship an honor awarded to just 20 seniors across the region. Chosen for her academic performance, leadership, character, and service, Habiba stood out not only for her accomplishments but for her reflective insight. “Coming to the USA has fundamentally changed me,” she wrote. “I learned to adapt to new things even if it was hard. I learned to work under pressure and improve rapidly in a very short amount of time. Most importantly, I came to appreciate that family is the unchanging support.”

A Father’s Secret Life and a City Shaken

On June 1, 2025, the quiet routine of a Saturday afternoon in downtown Boulder was shattered by flames and panic. Witnesses on Pearl Street reported sudden bursts of fire Molotov cocktails hurled into a crowd of pro-Israel demonstrators. Among those injured was an 88-year-old Holocaust survivor. In total, a dozen people sustained serious burns, and a community was left stunned by an act that investigators quickly labeled an act of domestic terrorism.

The man arrested at the scene was 45-year-old Mohamed Soliman, an Egyptian national and father of five. According to investigators, Soliman had been planning the attack for over a year and had deliberately waited until after his daughter Habiba’s high school graduation to carry it out. On the day of the assault, he drove from his home in Colorado Springs to Boulder, making several stops along the way to gather supplies: gasoline, glass bottles, and flowers reportedly used as a cover to get closer to the group.

Authorities say Soliman attempted to use a backpack sprayer filled with gasoline and ignited multiple homemade firebombs. When arrested, he was carrying 16 additional Molotov cocktails. An affidavit later revealed that he had left behind a journal outlining his hatred of Zionists and his intent to “kill them all.” He reportedly shouted “Free Palestine” as he launched the devices, and admitted to federal agents that he saw the attack as necessary to protect Palestine from being “taken over.”

The scale and symbolism of the violence quickly drew national attention. Soliman’s background was scrutinized: he had entered the U.S. in August 2022 on a tourist visa, which expired in February 2023. Despite overstaying, he was later granted a work authorization permit in March 2023, allowing him to work legally until March 2024. He had passed Uber’s background check and was listed as having held roles in accounting and inventory control at Denver-area healthcare companies.

But beneath the appearance of a quiet, working-class immigrant, authorities discovered evidence of a long-planned act of ideological violence. Soliman had hidden an iPhone with goodbye messages to his family, which his wife later turned over to investigators. The FBI also uncovered extremist videos and writings in his home. Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem stated that federal agents were now questioning the family to determine whether they had knowledge of, or provided any support for, the attack.

“This terrorist will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law,” Noem declared, emphasizing that justice would be served.

For the neighbors who knew the Soliman family, the news was almost impossible to believe. One local resident, who attended the mosque with Soliman’s wife, told The New York Times, “I can’t believe he was a part of that. You don’t raise a daughter like that and have a wife like that, and do something like that.”

Deportation and Public Scrutiny

Three days after the firebombing in Boulder, immigration officials arrested Mohamed Soliman’s wife and five children, including 18-year-old Habiba. The same young woman who had been profiled just weeks earlier as one of Colorado Springs’ “Best and Brightest” was now in federal custody her family facing deportation in the wake of her father’s alleged terror attack.

At the time of their arrest, the legal status of Habiba and her siblings remained murky. Mohamed Soliman had overstayed his tourist visa, which expired in early 2023. Yet, despite that violation, he had been granted a work permit under U.S. immigration policy. The family’s original entry into the country had been from Kuwait—a relatively stable, wealthy nation raising further questions about whether any asylum claim they might have filed was credible or strategically motivated.

Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem confirmed that the Soliman family was cooperating with authorities but stated that investigators were actively looking into whether any family members had knowledge of the planned attack or had provided support. “We are investigating to what extent his family knew about this heinous act,” she wrote. While no charges have been filed against Habiba or her relatives, they remain in ICE custody as that investigation continues.

Their arrest has sparked intense public debate. Critics of the Biden administration have seized on the case as evidence of a lax immigration system, highlighting that Soliman was granted both entry and work authorization despite overstaying his visa. Conservative commentators, including former Trump advisor Stephen Miller, called the family’s presence a result of “suicidal migration policies,” pointing to a broader critique of how immigration enforcement has been handled.

But others see the Soliman family particularly Habiba as collateral damage. Neighbors described the family as kind and engaged. Some teachers and classmates expressed disbelief that a student as hardworking and community-minded as Habiba could be caught in the crosshairs of a political and legal storm she did not create.

Still, not all observers are convinced of her innocence. Some right-leaning outlets and immigration watchdogs argue that the family knowingly gamed the system. They point to Habiba’s own words—admitting her family came to the U.S. primarily so she could attend medical school—as evidence that their stay may have been more opportunistic than humanitarian. Others question why, if she suspected her father’s radical leanings, she did not alert authorities.

Legal experts note that even absent criminal charges, deportation is a likely outcome. As attorney and radio commentator Barkdoll observed, “If they are here illegally, and it certainly appears they are, then they should be deported.” This view reflects a growing sentiment among some Americans that immigration laws should be enforced regardless of the age or achievements of those affected.

Sympathy, Accountability, and the Immigration Debate

As the fallout from the Boulder firebombing continues, the public conversation surrounding Habiba Soliman and her family has become emblematic of a deeper national divide—one that pits empathy against enforcement, individual merit against collective accountability, and personal storylines against systemic scrutiny.

On one side are those who see Habiba as a young woman who embodied the values America claims to reward: resilience, academic achievement, and community service. Her supporters point to her rapid adaptation after immigrating, her volunteer work in a hospital, and her scholarship recognition as proof that she was not only integrating, but contributing meaningfully. From this view, the crimes of her father—however horrific—should not negate her efforts or erase her future.

But others argue that the picture is more complicated. Critics point to her silence in the wake of her father’s arrest—noting that she has yet to publicly condemn his ideology or express remorse for the victims. Some ask whether her family’s asylum or immigration claims were based on genuine need, given that they moved from Kuwait, not a conflict zone, and appeared to use the educational and work benefits of the U.S. system without legal standing.

Media coverage has added to the polarization. Outlets like USA Today and The Denver Gazette have profiled Habiba as a sympathetic figure, while conservative platforms have condemned these portrayals as “whitewashing” her family’s unlawful stay and potential complicity. In one striking post on X (formerly Twitter), the official White House account under the Trump administration posted: “Six One-Way Tickets for Mohamed’s Wife and Five Kids. Final Boarding Call Coming Soon.” The message sparked backlash for its tone, but it reflected a growing call among some lawmakers and citizens to pursue stricter immigration enforcement—even for families with no proven link to terror acts beyond association.

Legal analysts note that under current immigration policy, association alone may be enough. The U.S. has the authority to deport individuals who are unlawfully present or whose visas have lapsed, regardless of whether they have committed a crime. In cases involving national security, such scrutiny often intensifies. “The law doesn’t require complicity,” immigration attorney Michele Barkdoll noted in a recent interview. “If someone is here illegally, and their continued presence raises even peripheral concerns, removal becomes a probable outcome.”

Meanwhile, some human rights advocates warn against what they see as a dangerous conflation of identity and guilt. They argue that punishing family members for the crimes of a relative—absent evidence of involvement—undermines the principles of individual justice. “Habiba didn’t light the fire,” one columnist wrote. “Yet she may lose everything because of who her father is.”

What Does Justice Look Like in Cases Like This?

In the wake of violence, the pursuit of justice often feels clear-cut: find the perpetrator, hold them accountable, and restore a sense of order. But what happens when the fallout reaches those who didn’t light the match—when the collateral damage includes an 18-year-old honor student with a scholarship letter in one hand and a deportation order in the other?

Habiba Soliman’s story disrupts our instinct for binary judgments. She is not the attacker, yet she is now facing the full consequences of her father’s actions—legally, socially, and existentially. Some argue this is simply how immigration enforcement works: if a family is in the country illegally, removal is justified regardless of context. Others warn that this logic risks turning policy into punishment, especially when applied without clear evidence of wrongdoing.

There is also the uncomfortable reality of silence. Habiba has yet to publicly distance herself from her father’s ideology, leading some to interpret her quiet as indifference, or worse, tacit approval. But others, including legal advocates and psychologists, suggest that trauma, fear of retaliation, or even cultural loyalty could be shaping her response. What looks like silence may in fact be the language of survival.

This case also confronts us with deeper questions about collective guilt and inherited consequence. Should a child’s legal standing be reevaluated because of a parent’s crime? Does merit—academic or moral—hold weight in decisions about removal, or does the letter of immigration law trump all else? These are not just legal queries but ethical ones, forcing a nation to examine how much nuance it’s willing to hold when the narrative no longer fits cleanly into “victim” or “villain.”

Ultimately, justice in this case may not come through a single verdict or deportation order. It may come in the form of policy change—clearer asylum criteria, tighter visa enforcement, or stronger protections for children brought into legal gray zones by their guardians. Or it may come only when we accept that justice is not always about perfect fairness, but about how we choose to respond when fairness feels impossible.

Habiba Soliman once wrote that coming to America “fundamentally changed” her. Now, her story forces us to ask how America will change in return—not only in how it handles security threats, but in how it weighs compassion, responsibility, and the costs of being born into someone else’s secrets.