Officials cast wide net in search for answers

Collecting evidence

The FBI dispatched agents from Austin, San Antonio and Waco to the scene, and pressed into service a 15-member forensic unit to help military police collect evidence. Agents from the bureau's Washington field office interviewed relatives, neighbors and friends who knew Hasan during his years in the Washington area. Agents from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives also are on hand to help with weapons analysis.

Investigators also focused on Guns Galore, a firearms store just down the highway from the mosque. Store owner David Cheadle said federal agents interviewed him about the sale of a FN Herstal Five-Seven pistol that was used in the shootings. "It is a popular choice for personal defense," Cheadle said, pulling one from his case, "but it's expensive" -- more than $1,100 at his store.

The gun, made of lightweight polymer, can handle magazines with 20 or 30 rounds. It is a controversial weapon among gun control advocates because it can penetrate body armor when used with more powerful, but restricted, ammunition employed by law enforcement and the military.

An Army official said the suspect had fired more than 100 rounds before he was felled by two Army civilian police officers, Sgt. Kimberly Munley and Sgt. Mark Todd.

Members of Hasan's family, split between suburban Virginia and their ancestral home on the outskirts of Ramallah in the West Bank, said they were struggling to reconcile the Fort Hood attack with a man they knew as unassuming and seemingly dedicated to his military career.

Hasan's brother, Eyad Hasan, who lives in Sterling, issued a statement Saturday, saying, "Our thoughts and prayers are with all the families who have lost loved ones and everyone else affected by the horrific events that transpired at Fort Hood." He described his brother as a "peaceful, loving and compassionate person."

As a high school student in Roanoke, Hasan did not appear to be especially religious and spent most of his days helping his father at the Capitol restaurant in downtown, a rowdy beer hall well known to locals, said classmates. "He was a normal kid," said James Jordan, a high school classmate.

The deaths of Hasan's mother and father seemed to have had a profound effect on him. The mother, Nora, had health problems in the years before her death in 2001, and Hasan acted as primary caregiver. After her death, the boys left the Roanoke area.

"He became religious after the death of his mother. Before that, he was more secular," said Hasan's cousin, Mohammed Mounif Hasan, in the West Bank. The cousin and other family members said that in recent years, Hasan had begun complaining that soldiers he was treating were biased against him.

"They would complain that he was Muslim and they were coming from Iraq. He never went into details -- just in general that they were critical of him," the cousin said.

Outside Fort Hood late Friday, the parking lot was packed at Starlite Station, a huge and flashy nightclub that boasts, "We love our troops!" Young men with buzz cuts and pressed jeans milled about, and vans full of soldiers kept pulling up.

A 'resilient force'

"We have an incredibly resilient force," said Brig. Gen. William Grimsley, the deputy commander at the post. "The fact that high school football was played here last night, that soldiers went out last night in town, that people are running on the track shows that things are moving on here."

After the past eight years of war and casualties, the Army has developed a routine for dealing with mourning and loss. As they do in Iraq and Afghanistan, units affected directly by the killings gathered to discuss what had happened. "There was lots of crying. Soldiers gathered together to tell their stories," said Jill Cone, the Fort Hood commander's wife, who attended several group sessions.

Troops also rallied around the wounded. Yvonne Hull, whose son was badly wounded in the shootings, rushed to the hospital Friday night from her home in Illinois to find her son's squad leader sitting in a chair at his bedside. The sergeant stayed with her son, Pfc. Najee Hull, throughout the night. "He has been with him the whole time," Yvonne Hull said.

Army officials had called in extra chaplains and counselors to minister to the grieving at Fort Hood's Spiritual Fitness Center. But by Saturday afternoon, the center, which was set up this year to help military family members and soldiers deal with the stresses of eight years of war, was devoid of grief-stricken soldiers.

Commanders at Fort Hood, however, were hesitant to send the grief counselors home. "Sometimes it takes a while after that first shock for the grieving to begin," Grimsley said.

Staff writers Michael Rosenwald and special correspondent Rick Rojas in Texas, and staff writers Spencer S. Hsu, Anne E. Kornblut and Carrie Johnson in Washington contributed to this report.