by Terry Toler
When she let her mind go there, she could still smell the stinging chemical that burned her eyes and skin. Then she heard the sound of the lighter. A clicking sound. She could still hear it sometimes at night when everything was quiet.
All her senses were heightened that day. While she wanted to forget every detail, they were etched in her mind.
Especially the agony.
When her father set her clothes on fire with the lighter, the pain was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. She was so paralyzed in fear, she didn’t know what to do other than just thrash around in the bed. The more she tried to put out the flames, the more they spread.
Why did she keep reliving it?
Today would be bad enough without living the horrors of the past.
Her trial was today.
MJ lay in her bed. Not a bed. An old moldy mattress laying on the concrete floor. The darkness of the night engulfed her. So did the now-familiar putrid smell of the prison. A mix of urine, sweat, vomit, and stale air from the lack of ventilation. The only other thing in the room was a broken toilet and a sink with unclean water. That, and the cockroaches, ants, and the occasional rat who frequently invaded the cell and were not afraid of them.
Amina lay next to her. MJ hadn’t been able to sleep. She was careful not to wake her friend. Amina tried to make herself stay up but succumbed to sleep several hours before. MJ could only lay on her left side. The slightest movement or touch sent pain shooting through her body from the still-unhealed burns on the right side of her body.
Tonight, she was left to her thoughts. Regrets from the past. Fear of the present and the hopelessness of the future. Her attorney wasn’t optimistic about today. The only thing that was bringing her peace were the Bible verses she’d memorized and kept saying in her head over and over again.
I will never leave you nor forsake you.
Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.
How could she pray for her father? Her attorney said she’d have to face him today. She tried to say a prayer for the prosecutor and the judge, but the words seemed insincere.
One verse did bring her comfort. She knew it by heart. Aunt Shule had made her memorize verses and then recite them to her. This was one of her favorites which now had new meaning.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to them. Blessed are you when people insult you and persecute you and say all kinds of evil things about you falsely on account of me. Rejoice and be glad because your reward is great in heaven, for they persecuted the prophets before you in the same way.
Malak, her attorney, had warned her that they were going to say all kinds of evil things about her today. They’d try to get her to recant her faith. Promise her leniency in exchange for renouncing Christianity. That was her biggest fear. Would she be strong enough to stand firm in the faith? She’d rather die than deny Christ. That’s how strong she felt now, but what about in the courtroom? In front of all those people? Under the threat of more pain? The judge could make her life even more miserable.
A verse she remembered sent chills down her spine.
Everyone who confesses me before men, I will also confess him before my father in heaven. But whoever denies me before men, I will also deny him before my father in heaven.
MJ began to cry.
What if I refuse to deny him?
What will they do to me?
Even worse, What if I do deny him?
She prayed fervently and asked God for strength. She didn’t think she could do it on her own. She couldn’t deny Christ, but she didn’t know how to endure the lashes or possibly even the stoning.
MJ felt so alone.
The prison cell was dark except for a dim light in the hallway. The conditions were harsh. She felt such pain in her soul. Agony. Fear. That she’d make a mistake and say the wrong thing, like she did with her father.
Then she remembered a verse. Or maybe the Holy Spirit brought it to her mind. She suddenly knew what to do.
When you are brought before judges, rulers, and authorities, do not worry about how you will defend yourself or what you will say. For the Holy Spirit will teach you at that time what you should say.
Don’t say a word, she heard a still small voice say.
Then she thought about what Jesus did when he faced his accusers. When Jesus was before Pilate, they hurled all sorts of accusations at him. Reviled him. Accused him of crimes he didn’t commit. The verse suddenly popped into her mind.
When Jesus was accused by the chief priests and elders, he answered nothing. Then Pilate said to him, “Do you not hear your accusers? Will you not answer them?”
She wasn’t sure she remembered the verses word for word. But this was the essence.
“He answered not a word,” MJ said aloud.
That’s what she’d do. She wouldn’t answer them. She’d keep her mouth shut. Her attorney could mount her defense, but she would remain silent. Like Jesus did. If the Holy Spirit told her to say something, then she would. Otherwise, she’d keep quiet.
MJ suddenly felt peace. For the first time. She even fell asleep and didn’t wake up until morning when she felt Amina stir.
“I’m so worried about you,” Amina said as they lay on the mattress together.
“Things will be okay,” MJ said, still feeling the peace that had come upon her during the night.
“How can you be so calm?” Amina said. “I’d be a nervous wreck. I am a nervous wreck. My trial is in four days.”
“I’ll be fine. God will be with me.”
“They have to find you not guilty. Like they did Christopher. If they do, you can go to America and be with him. I’ll miss you, though.”
“Everything’s going to be fine. I know it. I trust God.”
MJ didn’t know what was going to happen today. One thing she was almost certain of was that they weren’t going to let her go. She didn’t know if God was preparing her for it, or if it was her imagination running wild, but she was expecting the worst.
She’d be punished. MJ could sense it. Almost picture it. Like a sandstorm. An ominous cloud in the distance slowly moving toward her. Soon, it would envelope her with the fury of an unrelenting storm.
One thing was for sure.
She wasn’t through with the pain.
***
The guards took MJ out of the prison and drove her thirty minutes to a town outside her village. There she was led into a building that looked like a house. In the back of the building was a small room with benches. The guard chained her to the wall. She was wearing a black burqa and only her eyes were showing. Just as well. She didn’t want anyone to see her face. It’d be easier to keep quiet if her mouth were covered. It might not hide the tears, though.
The plan was to stay silent. No matter what happened. She felt the strength to do so. Her hateful father had demanded silence around him most of her life, so she was used to it. While she felt more peace, her emotions swirled around like a jetty in an oasis. They were like two men fighting. Each trying to get the better of the other. Sometimes peace got the upper hand. Other times anger, fear, bitterness, or unforgiveness was winning the day. The burqa would hide the confusion.
The door opened, and the rage rose to the surface and overwhelmed every other emotion she’d been experiencing as her father was led into the room and chained to the wall right across from her. His eyes were filled with crazed fury when he looked at her. His jaw clenched and his fists balled up. She got the feeling he would’ve killed her if he wasn’t chained to the wall.
Don’t say a word.
“You are no longer a daughter of mine,” he said with vitriol dripping from every word.
She wanted to ask him why he set her on fire. Why did he hate her so much? What did she ever do to deserve it? She’d always been an obedient daughter. Until now.
But MJ remained silent.
“It’s like I don’t even have a daughter.”
F
ortunately, they weren’t together long. The guard showed up and led her father out of the room. Then another guard came for her. She was led into a larger room and made to stand alongside the wall just inside the door. Her father was sitting at a table with another man. Presumably, his attorney. Two other men were sitting at another table. One of them she recognized as the man who arrested her.
MJ could see her attorney sitting in the back. Next to Aunt Shule on one side and Mrs. Steele on the other.
In the row behind them were Christopher’s parents. At that moment, she wished the burqa weren’t covering her face so they could see her smiling. It warmed her heart that they were there. Her attorney said the Tate’s were paying her legal fees. She had wondered if they hated her because she had brought this on their son.
Her eyes met Mrs. Tate’s. She smiled. That brought her comfort. Reassurance that they didn’t hate her.
A guard entered the room through another door followed by a man in a robe. Presumably the judge. He sat down at the table in the front.
When the judge began speaking, MJ’s heart started pounding even faster and stronger. All her confidence and resolve left her like a balloon released in the sky. How could she get it back?
“This is the matter against defendant, Emir Tabithe, who is present in the courtroom. Mr. Prosecutor, what are the charges?”
Clearly, her father would be tried first.
“Domestic abuse, Your Honor,” the man at the second table said. “Emir’s daughter, Majahammaddan Tabithe married a Christian man against his wishes. According to the tribal customs of his village, the father chooses a husband for his daughter. His daughter refused to marry the man, costing Emir his dowry and his reputation among the other tribal elders. Then he learned that his daughter had committed crimes against God. Apostasy and blasphemy. According to the laws of the tribe, the punishment for denouncing Islam is death. Emir was simply doing his duty to the elders of his tribe and protecting his honor.”
Who’s on trial here?
It sounded like the prosecution was reading charges against MJ and not against her father.
“I understand all that,” the judge said. “According to the complaint, the defendant set his daughter on fire. Is that the allegation and the reason for the charge?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” the prosecutor said.
“How does the defendant plead?” the judge asked.
The man sitting next to her father stood and said, “Emir pleads guilty.”
“I sentence you to two years in prison and fifty lashes,” the judge said. “However, I reduce the sentence to six months and no lashes, since Emir pled guilty.”
“We thank Your Honor for the consideration,” his attorney said.
“Is Emir’s tribal elder in the courtroom today?” the judge asked.
A man in the audience stood.
“Do you wish to add any punishment to the sentence I’ve imposed?”
“No, Your Honor.” The man said. “I’d actually like to speak on Emir’s behalf if I may.”
“Of course.”
“Emir is a well-respected man in his tribe. He’s also a tradesman providing essential services to his Emirate. A number of businesses and employees are counting on him for their livelihood. Considering the guilty plea, might the court consider a suspended sentence so that there is no disruption in his work.”
The judge rubbed his beard like he was thinking. “If Emir agrees to fifty lashes, then I will suspend the sentence to time served.”
Her father’s attorney stood and said, “Emir will agree to that with appreciation to the court.”
MJ could hardly believe it. Her father had practically killed her, and he basically got a couple weeks in jail for it.
Don’t say a word.
The judge abruptly turned and looked at MJ. “Is it true that you refused to marry the man God had chosen for you?”
Don’t say a word.
Actually, Christopher was the man God had chosen for her. It took all of her self-control to keep from saying so.
“I’ll ask again,” the judge said. “Did you marry a Christian so that you wouldn’t have to marry the man your father chose for you?”
Yes!
That’s what she wanted to say, but instead, MJ stood against the wall in silence.
“Did you convert to Christianity?” the judge demanded, his voice getting louder.
I love the Lord.
MJ bit her lip. Hard.
“Have you blasphemed God?”
“Do you refuse to answer my questions?” The judge was practically shouting now.
“If I may, Your Honor,” Malak, her attorney, said. “May I have a moment to confer with my client?”
“No! Sit back down. Do you refuse to answer my questions?” he said to MJ.
She stood there like a statue and didn’t answer. Her gaze was fixed on the judge, so he’d know she’d heard him.
The judge picked up his gavel and hit the table.
“I find the defendant, Emir Tabithe, not guilty on the charge of domestic abuse. You are free to go without punishment. As to the fifty lashes, his daughter will take those upon her back for disrespecting this court.”
A murmur went through the crowd. Then a gasp. Coming from Aunt Shule.
The judge hit the table with the gavel two more times. Hard. Like he was furious.
“After the punishment is carried out, we will begin her trial. Hopefully, she will learn to respect this court.”
He looked over and glared at MJ.
MJ let out a breath she’d been holding.
Not a word.
The guard took her arm and led her out of the courtroom, through the cell, and outside around back of the courthouse. He threw MJ roughly to the ground.
Another guard emerged with a cane. Her burqa was raised over her head exposing her back. She got on her knees and put her hands in front of her to pray.
She heard the swoosh of the cane. The exhale from the man as he brought it down upon her back.
Then she felt the pain.
The worst pain she’d ever felt in her life as the cane hit on her right side. Against the unhealed burns.
Don’t say a word.
Don’t even let them hear you cry out.
After five lashes, the resolve left her and she could no longer keep from crying out in pain.
23
Inside the Courthouse
If I could, I’d burn the whole place down.
Then kill every single person involved in a system that would let the father go free and subject an eighteen-year-old girl to fifty lashes for falling in love.
When they brought MJ back inside from her beating, her burqa was stained in blood. She walked gingerly and hunched over. If the guard wasn’t holding her up, I was concerned that she would’ve fallen over. When she sat in the chair, she leaned forward so her back wouldn’t be up against the seat.
The tragic part was that her ordeal wasn’t over. The trial hadn’t even started, and the worst might very well be ahead of her. If she made the judge angry again, he could send her right back to the yard for another beating. One thing I’d learned from Malak was that the law allowed up to two hundred lashes at a time. While rare, he’d seen the maximum punishment meted out several times. Even against women and girls. Theoretically, MJ could be facing up to a hundred and fifty more lashes with the cane.
The other thing I’d learned was that a courtroom in the tribal region was like the wild, wild, west. The judge ruled. He set the procedures and doled out the punishment. The appeals court rarely overturned the judges. I understood why MJ refused to answer his questions. Had she answered yes to any of them, she’d been found guilty of the charges. The result would have been lashes anyway. Probably jail time. Maybe even death. MJ did the right thing by not even dignifying the judge’s questions with an answer.
Aunt Shule was sobbing, so I reached over and squeezed her hand. I could hear muffled cries coming from the row behind me. Probably Mrs.
Tate.
As much I wanted to, I couldn’t act now. I had other things to consider. Anya was safe and out of the country so one thing was off my list of worries. But I still had Odille to think about and search for. Anya said there might be even more girls missing. Both Anya and Bianca said the girls were taken to the yacht and they never saw them again. I had to find a way to get on the yacht and see if there were any clues as to their whereabouts.
Then there was Amina. In four days, her trial would begin. If I helped MJ, I risked the possibility that my cover would be blown, and I couldn’t help Amina or the Sheikh’s girls. The problem was that I couldn’t rescue both MJ and Amina. They were never in the same place at the same time. I’d looked at a possible mission at the prison, but that wasn’t feasible. Alex and I went over the plans and satellite images of the facility for more than an hour and came to the same conclusion. Any rescue attempt was a suicide mission.
If I was going to rescue MJ, it had to be now. Once she was sentenced, she’d be behind bars for an extended period of time. Or perhaps even executed. I went through a plan in my mind. All I had on me was the knife hidden in my skirt. Two guards had guns. Barney probably did as well. I’d need a diversion. Maybe wait until after the trial and act while they were taking her away. Then I’d only have one or two guards to contend with.
Really, the best time would’ve been while she was in the yard getting a beating. I could sneak out of the courthouse, disable the guards, and get MJ out of there before anyone inside knew what had happened. But they’d know it was me who took her.
Then what about Amina?
I could come back to get her on her trial date, but the place would be crawling with guards if they even tried her in the same location. I’d need my whole AJAX team to fly to Abu Dhabi to help me. Alex already said he would, but I dismissed the idea. Right now, no one knew I was a threat. That gave me the advantage. A whole team could make a big play and bring a lot of firepower to a rescue attempt, but that many people weren’t as good at integrating undercover into the situation.
