Reda Mazen Rida Sabassi, a 38-year-old San Diego resident, was charged last month in a five-count federal complaint with funneling money to Hamas, the Palestinian terror group, under the guise of charity.

Prosecutors say Sabassi used social media, crowdfunding platforms and a purported San Diego charity called Ikram — the “Arab Charity Foundation Inc.” — to raise money for helping Palestinians in Gaza while diverting funds to Hamas and to himself.

Between December 2023 and February 2024, prosecutors say Sabassi raised approximately $600,000 through online campaigns; sent about $116,000 to a Hamas member; and tried converting roughly $382,000 into cryptocurrency through Gaza Now, a Hamas-linked fundraising operation later sanctioned by the Treasury Department.

Less than two weeks later, federal prosecutors in New York charged Catherine Beth Washburn, 37, of Irondequoit, with attempting to provide material support to another terror group, Palestinian Islamic Jihad.

Washburn is not accused of confusing charity with politics. She is accused of trying to move money straight to a terrorist fighter.

But in cases involving charitable front groups, the alleged fraud begins before the first transfer of money. It begins when civilian suffering is turned into a financial instrument.

Donors believed they were helping Palestinians. Real Palestinians in need had their misery used as fundraising collateral. Legitimate charities were damaged by the suspicion created by fake ones.

And the American public was again forced into the same absurd moral trap: Question the destination of the money and be accused of hostility to humanitarian aid; look away and risk becoming the collection arm of a terror ecosystem.

That is why the Sabassi case matters beyond one defendant. It exposes how the humanitarian lane can be abused when emotion is faster than verification.

The Hamas charity model was exposed in the Holy Land Foundation case, two decades ago, when a federal judge sentenced the foundation’s leaders after convictions for providing material support to Hamas.

One defendant, Mohammad El-Mezain of San Diego, received 15 years. The Justice Department said the foundation disguised Hamas support behind charitable giving and provided approximately $12.4 million.

The method is not new. The deception is the same.

Money does not become harmless because it is collected under the language of humanitarian relief. If it supports the broader terror machine, the label on the campaign page is irrelevant.

Humanitarian aid to Palestinians should move through verified, transparent and accountable channels. Anything less helps the fraudsters, damages legitimate charities, and endangers the civilians whose suffering is being used to sell the campaign.

“Gaza relief” cannot be a phrase that disables scrutiny.

Crowdfunding platforms should verify organizers, beneficiaries, linked wallets, foreign counterparties, and extremist indicators before these fundraising campaigns go live.

Payment processors should stop acting like neutral plumbing, when their rails may move money toward designated terrorist groups.

Crypto platforms should be treated as chokepoints, not sanctuaries beyond law enforcement scrutiny.

Charity regulators should not wait for federal charges to reveal what front-end review should have caught earlier.

Donors should stop treating unknown pages, unknown operators, and unknown overseas endpoints as acts of virtue.

That is not generosity. It is exposure.

Sabassi’s alleged scheme is alarming because it appeats to be ordinary.

The alleged fundraising route for Hamas did not require a tunnel, a weapons shipment, or a clandestine cell. It required a charity name, a cause, a payment mechanism, and a public culture reluctant to interrogate anything wrapped in suffering.

The next fake campaign may not only steal from donors or exploit an ongoing war. It may help finance the terrorists who launch the next one.

Kevin Cohen is CEO of RealEye and Head of Cyber Intelligence at Trident Group America.