by Terry Toler
“At least they have something to sleep on,” Malak said. “A lot of girls don’t. They also have a cell to themselves. Many girls are crowded into one cell, sometimes, ten or twelve at a time. The biggest problem for Amina and MJ is that they aren’t getting any medical treatment.”
Something I had worried was the case. “They should’ve never been taken out of the hospital until their wounds had healed,” I said roughly.
“I don’t disagree,” Malak said. “They’re lucky their wounds haven’t become infected. The conditions are deplorable. The water’s not fit to drink. They’re each given a bar of soap and a rag to wash themselves. Amina got sick to her stomach from eating the food, so she’s lost a lot of weight.”
“She didn’t have much to lose,” I said.
Malak nodded. “All things considered, they’re doing pretty well. Fortunately, I haven’t seen any signs that either of them has been tortured or raped by the guards. It’s only a matter of time, though.”
“You act like it’s a foregone conclusion that all three of them are going to be found guilty,” I said to Malak strongly. I was beginning to question his competence and resolve to help the three of them.
“The fact is that they are guilty. Not of all the charges. But they have all confessed to their crimes in one way or another. Christopher and MJ did get married. MJ also converted to Christianity. It’s against the tribal laws for her to do so, and it’s against the law for them to marry unless he converts to Islam.”
I started to argue with him, but Malak put up his hand to stop me from saying what he probably guessed I was going to say.
“I agree that these charges should not have been filed. In other jurisdictions, they wouldn’t have been. But we are in the tribal areas. The local laws prevail. Regardless of what you think of the laws, they still exist. As does the punishment. My job is to minimize the severity of the sentences. The judge could make life extremely difficult for them if he so chooses. Our options on appeal are non-existent. This is our only chance to help them. It will not be easy.”
A sober silence filled the room.
“I’m most concerned about how they answer the charges,” he added.
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“Me either,” Mrs. Tate said.
“This isn’t like America,” Malak explained. “There’s no innocent until proven guilty standard in this court. There is, but it doesn’t mean anything. There’s no right to confront witnesses. All the prosecutor has to do is call the detective, and he’s allowed to present what he learned from the investigation. Hearsay is allowed. Everything that’s said can and will be used against them.”
“Do you intend to call any witnesses on their behalf?” I asked.
Malak shook his head no. “Who would I call? Everyone I could call would only make the situation worse.”
“I’ll testify,” Mrs. Tate said.
“What are you going to say?” Malak argued. “That they didn’t get married? No. Our best strategy is to keep quiet. The problem is going to come when the judge asks Christopher a particular question.”
“What question is that?” Mr. Tate asked.
“The answer to the charges,” Malak replied. The second time he’d referred to answering the charges. I didn’t understand why that had him so concerned.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you mean,” Mr. Tate said.
Malak was speaking in English, and while his English wasn’t bad, things were still being lost in translation.
“The way this judge runs a trial is that the prosecutor will read the charges. The detective will be called to provide the evidence. Then the judge will ask Christopher how he pleads. Guilty or not guilty.”
In America, the defendants were asked up front. Before any evidence was presented.
Malak continued. “Herein lies the problem. If he pleads not guilty, and the judge finds him guilty, then he’s committed another crime in his eyes. It’s against the law in this tribal jurisdiction to plead not guilty to a crime that you’ve committed. If you plead guilty, then the judge goes right to sentencing. This judge is more lenient in sentencing if you plead guilty.”
“That’s ridiculous! So, if you’re innocent, you make things worse if you plead not guilty?” I asked.
“If you’re found guilty by the judge,” Malak said, “then you are guilty in the eyes of the court. That’s what makes things much worse. The judge will believe that you lied to him if you plead not guilty when he thinks you are.”
“So, do the girls intend to plead guilty?” I asked.
“We haven’t decided yet. I want to wait and hear what the detective says and how Christopher’s trial goes.”
“Don’t you know what the detective’s going to say. Doesn’t the prosecutor have to provide you with pretrial discovery?” I asked.
Malak laughed. “No. He doesn’t have to give me anything. I’ll find out what he’s going to say at the same time you do.”
Things were much different here than in America. Not that I was surprised. But I hadn’t realized how different and unfair.
“Also, be prepared. The girls will be treated much harsher than the men. My job is to keep the two girls alive. MJ’s case will be easier. Even though apostasy is punishable by death, no one has been stoned for converting to Christianity for several years. Amina’s is a different situation. Her tribe is calling for her death on the grounds of adultery. The judge won’t sentence her to death, but the tribe might.”
“Won’t the judge have the final decision?” I asked.
“He’ll listen to the evidence and then render his judgment. At that time, the tribal lawyers add their punishment. The judge has no say as to what they decide. All he can do is adjust his own punishment, which they sometimes do if the tribe’s judgment is too harsh or cruel. Which I fear will be in Amina’s case.”
“It sounds so hopeless,” Mrs. Tate said. She looked at me. I wasn’t sure what I could do or say that would be reassuring.
“What about Christopher?” Mr. Tate asked. “What will the tribe do with him?”
“He’s not subject to a tribal verdict,” Malak replied. “He’s not a member of a tribe. The judge will decide his fate according to civil laws. Christopher’s problem is how he pleads.”
“He’ll plead not guilty, of course,” Mr. Tate said.
“It’s not that simple,” Malak said. “If Christopher pleads guilty, then the judge will likely go easier on him and simply expel him from the country. No jail time and no lashes.”
“That’s what we want, anyway,” Mr. Tate said. “We want him on the first plane out of here.”
“The problem is that if he pleads guilty, he seals MJ’s fate. His guilty plea is all the evidence the judge needs to convict her of marrying a non-Muslim. The judge will then assume that they consummated the marriage and find her guilty of sex outside of marriage. That won’t get her the death penalty, but MJ will get lashes and jail time.”
“How much jail time?” Mrs. Tate asked.
“That’s up to the judge. Probably two to five years. But he could go up to twelve years. And sixty to a hundred lashes. Plus, whatever the tribe adds to the sentence. Her tribe may not add anything to the sentence, though.”
“What happens if Christopher pleads not guilty?” Mrs. Tate asked nervously.
“If the judge finds him guilty, then he’ll throw the book at him. He’ll likely get prison time. Six months is my guess.”
“Damned if you do, damned if you don’t,” I said sarcastically.
“Basically,” Malak said while nodding.
I was warming to him. A little. He seemed to at least understand the system. I’d yet to see him in action in the courtroom. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen in there. Sounded like he didn’t know either.
My thoughts moved on to other things. Could A-Rad and I pull off a prison escape? How could we even get inside the prison? If we were going to do something, it should be there at the courthouse. The pr
oblem was that none of the three were there at the same time.
“How is Christopher going to plead?” Aunt Shule asked, which brought my attention back to the problem at hand. The most important question asked so far.
“I don’t know,” Malak said. “I explained everything to him yesterday. It’s his decision. We’ll know once we get inside the courtroom.”
“It sounds like MJ is going to be found guilty no matter what Christopher does,” I said. “It pains me to say it, but maybe Christopher needs to save himself and get out of the country.”
“I agree,” Mr. Tate said.
“Knowing him, he won’t do that to MJ,” Mrs. Tate said.
“I suspect that’s what she’d want him to do,” I countered. “Jail could be hard on him. No telling what he’d be subjected to.”
I didn’t want to elaborate, but I could envision how the guards and other inmates might treat a rich, white boy from America.
A knock sounded on the door. Several of us jumped.
The judge had arrived at the courthouse, and the court was convening.
We’d soon know what Christopher was going to do.
19
I’d only been seated in the courtroom for less than two minutes when Barney walked in. He took one look at me and made a beeline in my direction. His eyes were on fire with rage. I knew why.
“That video you sent me had a virus on it!” he said to me roughly.
“I know, right! I had to get a new phone. I can’t believe your email gave my phone a virus. You should really get that fixed.”
“I want that video.”
“I don’t have it. Like I said, my phone was ruined. So was the video, I guess.”
“I should arrest you on the spot,” he said.
“On what charge? You’re the one who gave me the email address with the virus.”
Barney glared at me and then stomped off to take a seat by the prosecutor.
Aunt Shule was sitting next to me. Mr. and Mrs. Tate were two rows in front of us. Right behind where Christopher would sit with Malak who was in place with papers strewn in front of him. Otherwise, the audience area in the courtroom was empty.
The room was nothing like an American courtroom. A small table sat in the front of the room where the judge would sit. It had no front, so his legs were showing. Malak said they didn’t have jury trials in the tribal region, so there wasn’t a jury box. Two small tables had been placed in front of the judge’s table. No witness stand. Apparently, statements were just read, and the judge or the attorney’s asked questions from their table.
The side door opened, and Christopher was brought in.
Mrs. Tate let out a muffled squeal. Malak had warned her not to try and approach Christopher, so she kept her seat. Christopher let out a broad smile when he saw her. He seemed in good spirits, considering. His hands were bound, and his feet shackled. The chains echoed eerily through the small room which was dead silent. He had to move furtively to keep from stumbling. A guard had a firm grip on his elbow and pushed him roughly down onto the chair beside Malak. I imagined he had received worse treatment when out of our watchful eye.
If I remembered right, Christopher was wearing the same clothes he wore when he was arrested that day at his parent’s apartment. His hair was mussed, and I could see slight stubble on his cheek. Such a sad sight, even though he seemed to be doing okay. I couldn’t imagine what was going through his mind. Here he was, an eighteen-year-old boy, facing a judge who held his future in his hands. Made worse by his agonizing decision to plead guilty or not guilty. MJ could be facing years in prison or even death if he said or did the wrong thing.
If the decision was weighing on him, it didn’t come through in his demeanor. I was torn and agonizing over it. If Alex were in that situation, I’d want him to save himself and let me figure out my own plight. But I was more resourceful than MJ. She could die in prison with her wounds untreated. The guards could make her life unbearable. The guards might eventually subdue me but not before I made their lives unbearable.
If Christopher did plead not guilty, what could he do about it anyway? He’d be rotting in jail as well for six to twelve months. If Alex were out of jail, at least he might be able to develop a plan to rescue me. Christopher had no such abilities. The best thing for both of them to do was to plead guilty and throw themselves on the mercy of the court. What other choice did they have? They could both plead not guilty, but it seemed like Malak wasn’t prepared to put up much of a defense. If they were going to be found guilty anyway, better to take the lesser-of-two-evils approach.
So unfair that these two kids were being tried for unfair laws. I’d broken more laws in foreign countries than I could count. Even in the UAE. We’d stolen the Sheikh’s painting and almost a billion dollars out of his account. Kidnapped a girl and smuggled her out of the country. The thought almost made me smile. What would Barney think if he knew what I’d done?
What I was going to do! That night even.
We were biding our time before we raided the Sheikh’s house and rescued Anya. A-Rad and I had been doing reconnaissance every night. Alex had hacked into the security system, so we were watching and hearing everything happening inside the house in real time. Several more laws I was currently breaking.
After the bombing in Turkey, the Sheikh had stepped up security and hadn’t gone out of the house. That’s the only reason we hadn’t acted to rescue Anya yet. We’d make our move tonight.
The back door opened, and a police officer appeared, followed by a man I presumed to be a judge. A younger man. Not at all like what I expected. Sharply dressed and immaculately groomed. He was wearing a black robe, with a blue vestment under it, along with a white collar and a white turban. More like a hat. Like a Russian would wear. White as the driven snow turban. His beard was of moderate length. Jet black color. The judge wore what appeared to be expensive glasses.
The judge began. “We’re here on the matter of Christopher Tate. The prosecutor will read the charges.”
The man sitting next to Barney stood and read them in Arabic. The prosecutor used fancier words and cited some penal code numbers, but from what I gathered, they were basically the same charges Barney had mentioned at the apartment. Proselytizing. Illegal marriage. Fornication. Meaning, since the marriage wasn’t legal, then they were having sex outside of marriage.
B.S. charges in my mind.
A travesty.
I’d asked Brad to have the President of the United States make a plea on their behalf, but I didn’t know if he had or not. Our relationship with the UAE was complicated. While we openly expressed concern about their human rights violations, the political scales of balance in the Middle East were more important to the powers that be than the lives of a few, poor, Arab girls. If Christopher was treated badly in the courts, then being an American citizen, the politicians might make more of an issue out of it. As of now, they probably wouldn’t get involved.
The wheels of justice spun quickly here. The prosecutor asked Barney a few questions. He mostly referred to the little black book I’d seen him writing in at the apartment and the hospital.
Mrs. Tate’s words were the most damning thing he read.
“Majahammaddan Tabithe was already a Christian when they met,” Barney said, reading from his notes. Mrs. Tate’s words almost verbatim.
I knew it at the time, and I knew it now. The biggest problem for MJ was converting from Islam to Christianity.
He read another of Mrs. Tate’s statements. “Mrs. Tate said they were already married when I read the charge of sex before marriage,” Barney said. Then he added, “Majahammaddan was wearing a wedding ring when I saw her at the hospital.”
The judge took a lot of notes. Barney said a few more things, then sat back down. The prosecution’s case took less than twenty minutes. By the demeanor of the judge, and the way he glared at Christopher, it seemed to me like he’d already made up his mind. The best thing for Christopher to do was plead guilty and hope f
or the best.
The judge asked Christopher to stand. “How do you plead to the charges?” he asked.
“Not guilty,” Christopher said, raising his chin defiantly.
I was shocked.
My heart skipped a beat as I feared he might be making a big mistake.
I guess we now knew.
Foolish boy.
Love above all.
Christopher would go to jail before he’d do anything to harm MJ.
While I admired his commitment to her, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was making a terrible mistake.
***
Since Christopher pleaded not guilty, Malak was going to have to defend him, like it or not. I hoped he had a rabbit to pull out of his hat.
Malak stood slowly and deliberately. Whether he was thinking or stalling for time, I wasn’t sure. Either way, he had a monumental task ahead of him. We’d see if he was worth what we were paying him.
“Your honor, if I may, I’d like to discuss these charges one at a time, if it would please the court,” he said.
“Go ahead,” the judge said.
“Let’s begin with the charge of proselytizing. A very serious offense under the tribal laws. The law provides up to five years in prison for blasphemy or for proselytizing of Muslims.”
I didn’t think he was off to a good start. Why remind the judge of the sentence?
Malak continued, “No evidence has been presented that the defendant has ever made any statements insulting God, the prophets, the holy books, or the houses of worship.”
“The prosecutor has made no such charge of blasphemy,” the judge said.
“But he has made a charge of proselytizing. As the court is aware, proselytizing is a form of blasphemy and is a crime against God.”
“As is apostasy, which the girl is charged with,” the judge added.
I didn’t know where Malak was going with this.
