Twenty-five years after nearly 3,000 lives were taken in a single morning, the man accused of orchestrating that loss has yet to face a verdict — and the earliest he might is 2028, a span of time that now encompasses the entire childhoods of those born in the attacks' aftermath. The trial of Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, long entangled in the legal consequences of torture, shifting political winds, and procedural collapse, stands as one of the most prolonged reckonings in American judicial history. What began as a question of justice has become, for the families who wait, a question of survival — wh
9/11 Trial Delayed to 2028: Families Face 27-Year Wait for Justice
The wound never healed, and every year we get salt poured back into that wound.
Why is this trial taking so long? The defendants have been in custody since 2006.
The core problem is evidence obtained through torture. The CIA held Mohammed at black sites and used waterboarding and other harsh techniques. Everything that came after that—including statements to FBI agents in 2007—is legally tainted in the eyes of the court.
But wait. The government is arguing those 2007 FBI statements came from a "clean team" and should be separate from the torture. Why did the judge reject that?
The judge found the statements were still tainted by the coercive treatment that came before. The government didn't appeal because they were afraid it would push the trial date back even further.
So they're choosing a later trial over a chance to win on the evidence?
Essentially, yes. That tells you how fragile this case is. And that's just one problem. There have been five different military judges, a failed plea deal in 2024, an attempt to move it to Manhattan that fell apart, the pandemic—the list goes on.
For the families, each delay is like reopening the wound. One man said his father was killed on the 100th floor of the North Tower. He's been going to the memorial every year for 25 years.
What does the trial date actually mean if there are still this many legal obstacles?
It's tentative. The judge set June 5, 2028, but that assumes no more major rulings, no more appeals, no more disruptions. Given the history, that's a big assumption.
And some of the older family members are aging. They may not live to see a verdict. That's the real weight of this.
So we could be looking at a situation where the accused are convicted—or acquitted—but the families never get closure?
Or we could be looking at a situation where the trial never happens at all. That's the possibility nobody wants to name out loud, but it's there.
Le Pouls
- A military judge has set June 5, 2028 as the trial date — the fifth judge to oversee a case that has cycled through legal crises since defendants were first arraigned in 2012.
- A recent ruling barred prosecutors from using statements Mohammed made to FBI agents in 2007, finding them tainted by years of CIA torture including repeated waterboarding — a blow that could unravel the government's case.
- Prosecutors declined to appeal the ruling, choosing to protect the trial date over fighting for the evidence, a calculated gamble that reveals how precarious the entire proceeding remains.
- Plea deals reached in 2024 were withdrawn by the Defense Secretary, then blocked by a federal appeals court, adding yet another collapsed resolution to a case already defined by them.
- For families spanning two generations — aging parents who fear dying before a verdict, and adults who were children on September 11 — the delay has become its own enduring wound, reopened each anniversary.
Twenty-five years after nearly 3,000 lives were taken in a single morning, the man accused of orchestrating that loss has yet to face a verdict — and the earliest he might is 2028, a span of time that now encompasses the entire childhoods of those born in the attacks' aftermath. The trial of Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, long entangled in the legal consequences of torture, shifting political winds, and procedural collapse, stands as one of the most prolonged reckonings in American judicial history. What began as a question of justice has become, for the families who wait, a question of survival — whether they will live long enough to see it.
Twenty-five years after the September 11 attacks killed nearly 3,000 people, the trial of Khalid Sheikh Mohammed — the accused mastermind — is scheduled to begin on June 5, 2028. If that date holds, it will mark almost 27 years between the crime and the start of proceedings. The word "if" carries real weight. A military judge recently barred prosecutors from using statements Mohammed made to FBI agents in 2007, ruling them tainted by the coercive CIA interrogations he endured at secret black sites years earlier. The government declined to appeal, fearing the move could collapse the already fragile trial date. The judge who set 2028 is the fifth to oversee the case since the defendants were arraigned in 2012.
Mohammed was captured in Pakistan in 2003 and subjected to harsh interrogation, including waterboarding, before being transferred to Guantánamo Bay in 2006. The central legal problem has always been whether evidence gathered after torture can be considered voluntary. Prosecutors argued that statements made to a separate FBI "clean team" should be admissible — the recent ruling suggests that argument is failing. The case has been derailed repeatedly: a 2009 plan to try Mohammed in federal court in Manhattan collapsed under political pressure; plea agreements reached in 2024 were withdrawn by the Defense Secretary and later blocked by a federal appeals court; judges, a pandemic, and unresolved pretrial motions have each taken their turn.
For those who lost someone, the delays have become their own form of suffering. John Ryan, a former Port Authority Police chief who lost 37 officers and spent nine months at Ground Zero, said the justice system was never designed to take this long. Sean Passananti, whose father died on the 100th floor of the North Tower, described the experience as a twilight zone. Dennis McGinley, whose brother worked on the 89th floor of the South Tower, called it a wound that never heals — salt poured in every year. He urged President Trump to close what he called an American embarrassment.
Ryan observed that the case now spans two generations: adults who were children on September 11, and elderly parents and grandparents who fear they may not live to see a verdict. The accused have aged inside a detention complex that has cost taxpayers hundreds of millions of dollars without producing a single verdict in the 9/11 case. Separately, families are pursuing a civil lawsuit against Saudi Arabia over alleged support for the hijackers — a parallel search for answers that the Guantánamo prosecution does not address. Whether the 2028 date survives the legal obstacles ahead remains uncertain. For the families, the possibility that justice may never arrive has stopped being unthinkable.
Twenty-five years after the attacks of September 11, the trial of Khalid Sheikh Mohammed—the man accused of masterminding the plot that killed nearly 3,000 people—is scheduled to begin on June 5, 2028. That date, if it holds, will mark almost 27 years between the crime and the start of proceedings. But the word "if" carries real weight here. A military judge recently barred prosecutors from using statements Mohammed made to FBI agents in 2007, ruling that those statements were tainted by the coercive interrogation techniques he had endured in CIA custody years earlier. The government chose not to appeal the decision, fearing that an appeal could jeopardize the already fragile trial date. The judge who set the 2028 date is the fifth military officer to oversee the case since the defendants were arraigned in 2012.
Mohammed was captured in Pakistan in 2003 and held for years at CIA detention facilities known as black sites, where he was subjected to harsh interrogation techniques, including repeated waterboarding. He and three co-defendants were transferred to Guantánamo Bay in 2006, where they have remained ever since. A fifth defendant, Ramzi bin al-Shibh, is being handled separately after being found mentally incompetent to stand trial. The central legal problem that has haunted this prosecution for over a decade is whether evidence gathered after the torture can be considered voluntary and therefore admissible in court. Defense attorneys argue it cannot. Prosecutors have tried to argue that statements made to a "clean team" of FBI agents should be separable from the earlier coercive interrogations. The recent ruling against the government suggests that argument is failing.
The case has been derailed repeatedly. In 2009, the Obama administration announced that Mohammed and four others would be tried in federal court in Manhattan. That plan collapsed after fierce opposition from New York officials and lawmakers who raised security and logistical concerns. The prosecution was moved back to the military commissions at Guantánamo, where it has remained. In 2024, the defendants reached plea agreements that would have required them to plead guilty in exchange for life sentences rather than face the death penalty. Then-Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin withdrew those agreements, prompting another round of litigation. A federal appeals court later blocked the defendants from entering guilty pleas under the withdrawn deals. The case has also been disrupted by changes in judges, the coronavirus pandemic, and a mountain of unresolved pretrial motions.
For the families of those killed, the accumulation of delays has become its own form of suffering. John Ryan, the former chief of the Port Authority Police Department who spent nine months working on the recovery operation at Ground Zero, later became a commander with the FBI-led Joint Terrorism Task Force. He lost 37 police officers he had worked with during his career, along with civilian colleagues at the Port Authority. "The fact is that they've all admitted their involvement, it's not a question of guilt, it's just a question of the process and the fact that the process has taken 25 years," he said. "Our justice system isn't designed to work that late. It's designed to produce justice in a fair time."
Sean Passananti's father was killed on the 100th floor of the North Tower. "It feels really like a twilight zone and unbelievable that we have to fight for justice for the worst terrorist attack that ever happened on our soil," Passananti said. He has attended the memorial ceremony every year but one since the attacks. Dennis McGinley's older brother Danny worked on the 89th floor of the South Tower. McGinley described the families' grief as an injury that keeps reopening. "It is like the wound never healed, and every year we get salt poured back into that wound," he said. He called on President Trump to "finally close the books on this American nightmare, which is now becoming an American embarrassment."
Ryan noted that the case now spans two generations of victims' families: people who were children when the attacks happened and are now adults, and older parents and grandparents who fear they may never live to see a verdict. The accused plotters have aged at a detention complex that has cost taxpayers hundreds of millions of dollars while producing no verdict in the 9/11 case. The military commission is focused on whether Mohammed and the other defendants planned and carried out the terrorist operation. Separately, 9/11 families have brought a civil lawsuit against Saudi Arabia examining whether Saudi government employees or agents helped two hijackers establish themselves in the United States. A trial in that civil case could force testimony and the release of evidence that families believe may clarify how the plot was supported before the attacks, though the Saudi-related allegations are not the charges at issue in the Guantánamo prosecution.
If the current schedule holds, the proceedings would begin in June 2028—16 years after the defendants were arraigned and nearly three decades after the attacks themselves. But the recent ruling barring key FBI statements, combined with the history of delays and legal obstacles, has underscored an extraordinary possibility that families are now confronting: they may still never see a verdict. Ryan put it plainly: "It's like an open sore, and that sore gets even more hurtful when we get to anniversaries."
Citations marquantes
It's like an open sore, and that sore gets even more hurtful when we get to anniversaries.— John Ryan, former Port Authority Police chief and recovery worker at Ground Zero
It feels really like a twilight zone and unbelievable that we have to fight for justice for the worst terrorist attack that ever happened on our soil.— Sean Passananti, whose father was killed on the 100th floor of the North Tower