Finding Patience

by D. Allen Henry

  Chapter 10

  Eye of the Arachnid

  Lincoln - April 2, 2012

  Brandt had finally been placed under FBI protection a month before the trial was set to open. Patience having been swept away by the FBI immediately upon their arrival back in the United States a year earlier, he had no idea where she was. At the moment he was ensconced in his federally protected hotel room at the Lincoln Embassy Suites, awaiting his turn to testify. The case centered around the fact that Al-Wadi’s plane was known to have landed in Lincoln the night before the bombing. Having subpoenaed the pilot and co-pilot, the FBI had been informed that the plane had found it necessary to land in Lincoln due to an engine problem. Had it not been for that, there might have been no case at all, for it could not have been established that Al-Wadi had kidnapped Patience. As it stood, Frank had informed Brandt that the Federal Prosecutor was confident of their case.

  Seeking something to do to mitigate the rather strange simultaneous sensations of boredom and jitters, he turned on the television just in time to watch the news. The television screen focused in on a reporter in a studio who announced, “I’m Jim Sanders, and you’re watching CBN News. And now let’s go live to Stephanie Miller, who is on site in Lincoln, Nebraska covering the sensational kidnapping trial of billionaire Hakeem Al-Wadi. Over to you, Stephanie.”

  “Thanks, Jim,” Stephanie replied as the television image switched to her, “We’re here on the steps of the Federal Courthouse in downtown Lincoln, where the trial of Hakeem Al-Wadi is in its eighth day. Almost all of last week was spent in the jury selection portion of the trial, with the jury finally seated late Thursday afternoon. At that point the judge gave the jury their charge and recessed for the day. On Friday both sides gave opening statements, and on Friday afternoon the prosecution began to present its case. Not too much of significance happened immediately, with the federal prosecutors essentially doing nothing more than laying out the timeline of events covering the alleged kidnapping of the now world-famous icon Patience Walker.”

  “So Stephanie,” Jim cut in.

  Holding one hand up to her earphone, Stephanie replied, “Yes, Jim?”

  “What is the general mood there up to now?”

  “Good question, Jim. It’s been a real circus here. Of course, you can see the enormous crowd behind us here in downtown Lincoln. One local told me just a few minutes ago that the only time he’d ever seen bigger crowds in Lincoln was during a football game on a Saturday afternoon. This trial is certainly the biggest thing to happen in Nebraska in a long time.”

  “Can you describe the setting in the courtroom for us, Stephanie?”

  “Sure. The crowds here have grown visibly with each passing day of the trial thus far. I’d say there were more than a thousand people standing in line this morning just for the chance to sit in the gallery on the second floor of the courtroom. Most of those people are going to be disappointed, since the courtroom will only hold perhaps a hundred visitors. Inside the courtroom things have been somewhat more subdued, but there have already been several occasions when the gallery has erupted in unrestrained applause. I’d say the judge has her hands full.”

  “Tell us, Stephanie - paint a picture for us of Mr. Al-Wadi, if you can.”

  “Tough question, Jim. Up to now he hasn’t said a word, except to occasionally lean over and whisper something to one of his lawyers. Frankly, he looks almost disinterested, perhaps even a bit sullen, sort of like it’s all an enormous waste of his time. But that’s just a guess on my part.”

  “What’s on the docket for today, Stephanie?”

  “Today is the big one, Jim. The prosecution will call Patience herself to the witness stand. This is of course the moment we have all been waiting for. After fifteen years in hiding, the public will finally get to see and hear Patience Walker, the worldwide iconic image for Restoring Patience, in person. This is certainly going to be an eventful day in Lincoln, Jim.”

  The camera switching back to him, Jim replied, “Thank you, Stephanie. And there you have the latest from Lincoln, Nebraska on this breaking story of truly global proportions. Stay tuned for more news regarding the trial of Hakeem Al-Wadi.”

  That Same Morning

  Frank and Patience were encamped in a suite in the Cornhusker Hotel, less than a mile from the Federal Courthouse. Frank picked up Patience’s coat, saying, “Okay, it’s time to go, Patience. I know you’re terrified, but think of it this way. This is it. After fifteen years, it’s finally coming to an end. We’re going to get that son-of-a-bitch, and then you can start living a normal life.”

  “Yeah, I know, Frank, but somehow it doesn’t make today any easier,” she replied.

  “I understand,” he responded and, helping her into her coat, he was careful to avoid mussing her rather bizarre hairstyle. “Thanks for agreeing to the watusi, by the way.”

  Glancing at it one last time in the mirror, she replied, “Frankly, it feels really strange. The last time I looked like this I felt like someone who deserved to have this sort of hairdo. It reminds me of what I did that afternoon.”

  “Don’t think about it,” he replied. “Think of what that hairdo is going to do to Al-Wadi when you arrive in the courtroom.”

  “Yeah, I know, but to tell you the truth, I’m not sure I could have gone through with cutting it just for that reason alone. I really want to just disappear and blend in, like I did before. And with this monstrosity removed from the top of my head after the trial is over, I just might pull it off.”

  “I hope so. I surely hope so,” Frank replied. Passing through the doorway, he spoke into his wireless microphone, “Okay, we’re on the move. Initiate the plan of action.”

  That Same Morning

  Brandt was in his kitchenette at the Embassy Suites pouring himself a cup of coffee, when he suddenly overheard unusually loud chatter coming over the TV in the living room. Racing back to the television, he arrived just as Jim Sanders came onscreen once again.

  “My God,” Sanders blurted out, obviously listening into his earpiece. “Oh, my God, this news just in - it appears that the FBI convoy carrying Patience Walker to the courthouse in Lincoln, Nebraska has just been attacked by as-yet-unknown armed assailants several blocks from the courthouse. We’re going live to Lincoln. Stephanie, are you there?”

  “Yes, Jim, I’m here,” Stephanie Miller replied, the camera now switching to her. She was still standing on the courthouse steps, her agitation readily apparent. Behind her was a scene of sheer pandemonium, with people scampering randomly in every direction. She blurted, “Jim, we don’t know much yet, but as you can see behind me, Lincoln, Nebraska is now in a state of total confusion. The FBI convoy carrying Patience Walker was attacked about eight blocks from the courthouse just a couple of minutes ago. There has been sporadic gunfire, much of it appearing to be semi-automatic weapons. There goes another burst of gunfire! Did you hear that, Jim?”

  “Yes,” Jim replied. “Sounds like a war zone, Stephanie.”

  “Yes, Jim, and moments ago, just before we came on the air, we heard a tremendous explosion coming from the same direction as the gunfire. Wait a minute…” and at this she glanced off-camera, clearly listening to someone. Then she said to the person off-camera, “What did you say?” Then she turned back to the camera, exclaiming, “Oh, my God. Jim, it appears that the vehicle that was carrying world famous icon Patience Walker has been blown up in a vicious attack by unknown assailants here in downtown Lincoln. I have no other information at this time, but I will find out more as this shocking story unfolds. Back to you, Jim.”

  Brandt slumped down in his seat and, unable to take in the enormity of it all, he remained glued to the television in a vain attempt to ascertain more.

  That Same Morning

  Frank spoke into his microphone from the hotel room, saying, “What’s going on? We hear gunfire, Joe.” He listened for a moment and, leaning towards Patience, he said, “Yo
u and Brandt were right, Patience. They laid a trap for us. Good thing we sent out a decoy from the hotel.”

  “Anybody hurt?” Patience asked with concern.

  “I’m not sure yet. We should know shortly.”

  Frank dialed a number and waited for a voice on the other end. “Hello,” the person said.

  “Hey, it’s Frank. I’m sure you know what’s going on here. I just wanted you to know, she’s okay. They attacked the decoy convoy. We’re still in the hotel.”

  Brandt replied, “Oh, God! Thanks, Frank. Oh, that’s great news. I know you must be busy, but please tell her we’re all pulling for her. Thanks again, Frank,” and at this he hung up.

  “Who was that?” Patience queried.

  “The federal prosecutor,” Frank lied. “I figured he’d want to know.”

  “Oh, right,” Patience responded with feigned interest.

  It was all over in a half hour, as federal officers rapidly contained and arrested the attackers who were not killed. Two federal agents were killed and three were injured. Five attackers were killed, four injured, and six others were taken into custody.

  Lincoln - The Following Day

  Sitting in his hotel room, Brandt was again glued to the television as the latest newscast unfolded.

  Onscreen, Jim Sanders announced, “For those of you who have just tuned in, we are going back to Lincoln, Nebraska, where a vicious attack by fifteen assailants reported to be associates of Hakeem Al-Wadi attacked an FBI convoy yesterday. Seven persons were killed and seven more were injured in the attack. It was at first reported that the entourage was transporting Patience Walker, the star witness for the prosecution, and that she had been killed in the attack. As a result, the trial was delayed indefinitely.

  “However, it was revealed a short time later that the FBI convoy was a decoy, and that Miss Walker was not in harm’s way. The trial is therefore set to move forward at nine A.M. this morning.”

  A Short Time Later

  Patience peered from the black sedan as it pulled up in front of the courthouse and, the enormous crowd surging forward, she sensed that this was the long-awaited moment.

  Patience now posited, “Tell me your men swept all the surrounding buildings for snipers, Frank.”

  “Yes, all clear. Let’s get into the courthouse while we know it’s safe. Come on, Patience.” At this Frank stepped out of the vehicle, signaling the agents to draw as near as possible. Suddenly, an enormous black fountain of hair could be seen to rise above the heads of the crowd as a second person emerged from the vehicle.

  Somewhere in the crowd, a single voice yelled out, “There she is!” Immediately, a thousand people surged forward, each one attempting to get a close-up view of the world-famous Patience Walker. Camera’s clicked, reporters held up microphones, people reached out, all attempting to capture this uniquely historic moment in some small way. For the first time in this long and sad saga, a live image of Patience was beamed across the world.

  The throng continued to surge, pressing forward as the agents transported Patience within their protective grasp up the steps and into the courthouse. Once inside, Frank yelled into Patience’s ear above the crowd noise, “Okay, Patience, the worst is over. It’ll get easier from here.” She was immediately escorted down a hallway and into a room normally used for sequestering juries. There they settled in to await Patience’s call to testify.

  The Courtroom - A Short Time Later

  “All rise,” the bailiff announced to everyone within the courtroom. All rose, a door opened, and the judge strode to her dais, whereupon she picked up her gavel and, banging it upon the podium, she announced, “Court is in session. You may be seated. I believe that the prosecution has the floor.”

  “Your honor, the prosecution calls Patience Walker as our next witness,” the lead prosecutor announced. A loud buzz immediately breaking out within the courtroom, the judge slammed her gavel down yet again, commanding, “Quiet in the courtroom, please.” At this the noise died down somewhat, the judge further announcing, “Bailiff, please bring the witness forward.”

  The bailiff replied, “Yes, your honor,” thenceforth departing the courtroom. Returning moments later, he led Patience into the courtroom. A collective gasp arose from the audience and, at the sight of her, Hakeem Al-Wadi snarled maliciously and rose halfway out of his seat. His lawyer immediately pushed him back down within his seat, obviously hoping that this transgression had gone unnoticed.

  The bailiff ushered Patience to the witness box, motioning for her to stand within the box. The judge frowned at Patience’s coiffure, but said nothing. Once again, she pounded her gavel, repeating, “Quiet, please!”

  The bailiff asked Patience to raise her right hand, subsequently querying, “Do you solemnly promise that the testimony that you are about to give is the whole truth and nothing but the truth?”

  “I do,” Patience said.

  “Be seated,” the bailiff replied, subsequently withdrawing to his appointed seat.

  The judge now turned to Patience and instructed, “Miss Walker, you are a witness for the prosecution in the kidnapping trial of Mr. Hakeem Al-Wadi. Do you understand, and are you here to testify of your own free will?”

  “Yes and yes, your honor,” Patience replied concisely, a slight tremor lacing her voice. Thus far she had avoided looking in the direction of the defense table.

  Glancing in the direction of the prosecution table, the judge announced, “Mr. Dalton, you may proceed with the witness.”

  A towering man rose from his seat and approached Patience. Appearing to be a bit young for such an important assignment, he nonetheless displayed ample self-confidence, announcing, “Now, Miss Walker, I am going to ask you a few simple questions to begin with, just to establish a timeline. Okay?”

  “Yes,” Patience replied.

  “Where were you on the morning of February 20, 1997?”

  “I was here in Lincoln,” she replied.

  “And what were you doing that day, Miss Walker?”

  “Well, first I went to see my mother, who was in the hospital. Then I went to campus at NSU for classes, and around six P.M. I went to the International Festival in the campus auditorium.”

  “What is the International Festival, Miss Walker?”

  “It is an annual event put on by students to celebrate international activities on the NSU campus.”

  “And what did you do at that event, Miss Walker?”

  “I was a performer.”

  “What sort of performer, Miss Walker?”

  “I was supposed to represent a woman from the Middle East in traditional dress.”

  “And exactly what were you dressed in?”

  “I wore a full black berka, including a headdress, so that only my eyes were visible.”

  “Thank you, Miss Walker. Now, could you tell us in your own words what happened that night?”

  “Well, the festival was quite a success, lasting well past ten P.M. I was with a friend, and eventually a man came up and talked to the two of us.”

  “And what did this man look like?”

  “He was about six feet tall, and he was clearly Middle Eastern.”

  “And what happened then, Miss Walker?”

  “He offered me a glass of punch.”

  “And what did you do?”

  “I drank a little bit of it.”

  “Is it possible that he drugged you, Miss Walker?”

  At this the lead defense lawyer jumped up, exclaiming, “Objection, your honor, that question requires a subjective conclusion by the witness.”

  “Objection sustained. Move on please, Mr. Dalton.”

  Dalton turned to the judge, saying, “Question withdrawn, your honor.” He then turned back to Patience, inquiring, “What happened next, Miss Walker?”

  “I don’t know, because I don’t remember anything else,” she replied.

  “Please explain.”

  “I must have p
assed out, because when I awoke, I was on an airplane.”

  “You say passed out. Had you been drinking, Miss Walker.”

  “No, not at all,” she replied.

  “I see,” he observed, “Now, tell us what you observed when you came to within the aircraft.”

  “It was a private plane, a jet, I am quite certain. And there were three men in the cabin. All three were Middle Eastern, and one of them was the gentleman I met at the International Festival. One of them was dressed in all-white middle eastern clothing, including a white headdress with a sash.”

  “Would you mind looking around the courtroom for me? Do you see any of those three men within this courtroom?”

  At this Patience peered in the direction of the defense table for the first time. Hakeem Al-Wadi was sitting there, slouched back nonchalantly in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, just staring at the fingernails on one hand. “Yes, that’s one of them right there, Mr. Dalton.”

  “Your honor, let the record show that Miss Walker is pointing to the defendant, Hakeem Al-Wadi. Now, Miss Walker, what else transpired that night?”

  Patience continued with her well-rehearsed description, saying, “Mr. Al-Wadi asked me to sign a piece of paper. He said it was the document authorizing an operation for my mother. The other guy gave me something to drink, and I lost consciousness right after that.”

  “And where were you when you woke up, Miss Walker?”

  “I was lying on a big table, trussed up like an animal in Las Vegas.”

  “How do you know all of this?”

  “I know because I escaped a couple of hours later!”

  “Thank you, Miss Walker. Now what happened next, when you woke up on the table?”

  “Well, there was a woman there. Her name was Bernice, and she showed me my hair in a mirror. She explained that she had done it up for me, but she didn’t explain why. Then Mr. Al-Wadi came in, and he talked to me for a few minutes. He told me that I had signed a contract, and that I had agreed to deliver some package. I tried to tell him that I had been kidnapped, but he said that I was just confused. Then he left, and a few minutes later I was taken to the Lido Hotel. Oh, and they gave me a double shot of whiskey just before we departed.”

  “And what happened next, Miss Walker?”

  “Well, I was told to put on the berka, and then they gave me a package to deliver, to Room 403 in the Lido Hotel. The lead guy’s name was Wassim, I remember. We waited for a few minutes outside the hotel, and then he instructed me to go inside and deliver the package. He told me to come straight back to the van when I had completed the delivery.”

  “And what happened then?”

  “I went inside the hotel and I went down the elevator to the third basement. From there I threw the package in a stairwell, and then I ran like hell.”

  “Was that what you were instructed to do?”

  “No, sir!”

  “Then why did you do that, Miss Walker?”

  “Because I could tell that there was a bomb inside.”

  “Objection, your honor,” the defense lawyer submitted, “Calls for a subjective conclusion.”

  At this, Mr. Dalton countered, “Your honor, I believe that my client can contribute more than an opinion on this issue.”

  “I will allow it,” the judge ruled, adding, “Please proceed, Miss Walker.”

  “I could feel the package vibrating intermittently. So I knew there was something electronic inside, thereby obviating my initial assumption that it was drugs.”

  “Thank you, Miss Walker. Now, did you perhaps leave something out of your testimony? Perhaps when you first entered the hotel?”

  “Sorry, yes, as a matter of fact, I did. On entering the hotel lobby, I glanced about and, seeing a security camera, I blinked the letters S.O.S. with my eyes.”

  At this, Mr. Dalton inquired, “And why did you do that?”

  “I was hoping someone in security would understand my message.”

  “So I take it you did not enter the hotel voluntarily, is that right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now, just a few more questions, Miss Walker. What happened after you left the hotel?”

  “I raced down the street to escape what I thought would be an explosion and, unfortunately for me, Wassim was waiting curbside. I was captured and transported back to the office.”

  “Okay, thank you, Miss Walker. Now, what happened next?”

  “Well, Wassim and the other guy, I think his name was Navid, the two of them dragged me back into the office, at which point they stripped me and tossed me on the sofa. Mr. Al-Wadi and Bernice came in, and I heard him say to Wassim, that he was going to rape me and then torture me. Mr. Al-Wadi then told Wassim to give me something to keep me sedated, and Wassim brought a glass over to me.

  “While he wasn’t looking I dumped it on the floor behind the sofa. They thought I was out cold. So Wassim, Navid and Bernice left, and I was left alone with Mr. Al-Wadi. He came over to the sofa, and while he wasn’t looking I stuck my finger down my throat and threw up on him. He turned to clean himself off, at which point I struck him across the face with a marble ashtray that was on the table.”

  At this, Mr. Al-Wadi leapt from his seat, screaming in a rage, “That bitch knocked my eye out!” and so saying, he grabbed his right eye and jerked the glass eye out of the socket. He then hurled it at her as hard as he possibly could. The projectile flew across the courtroom, narrowly missing Patience and, striking the wall behind her, it shattered into pieces.

  He screamed vehemently, “How do you like that, you bitch!” and he glared at her in disgust. He then slowly turned toward the jury and, staring at them with his lone remaining eye, he announced implacably, “Oh, don’t worry about that. I have another glass eye. I can afford it, you know.”

  Absolutely frozen in silence, the entire courtroom now awaited his next utterance. Waving his hand dismissively at Patience, he exclaimed, “That bitch, she drove me crazy! Fifteen goddamned years I’ve been looking for her! Nobody crosses Hakeem Al-Wadi and gets away with it. But that ugly bitch, she’s been the bane of my existence for fifteen years! And yesterday we damned near got her!”

  Staring defiantly at Patience with his single remaining eye, he sneered at her as if looks could kill, then spat out derisively to the judge, “How do you like that, your honor!” Finally reseating himself, he waved his hand dismissively at the entire proceeding. The silence in the courtroom now stretched out momentarily, not a single person capable of so much as blinking an eye.

  Having for some reason refrained from attempting to halt Al-Wadi’s outburst, the judge finally broke the silence, announcing calmly, “Mr. Simmons, please restrain your client from further such outbursts,” and turning toward the jury, she announced, “I believe that, under the circumstances, we shall have a short recess. Bailiff, please return Miss Walker to the witness waiting room. Guard, please return the defendant to the prisoner’s waiting room. I will see counselors for the prosecution and the defense in my quarters in five minutes, please.” She then struck her podium with her gavel, rose, and exited the room.

  An immediate uproar exploded within, one and all rushing for exits, everyone intent on being the first to inform anyone and everyone what had just transpired within the courtroom.

  Frank, who was waiting for Patience when she returned to the witness waiting room, inquired nervously, “What happened?”

  “I’m not sure,” she responded, but at that very moment Mr. Dalton rushed in and, grasping Patience in a resolute embrace, he commenced jumping up and down gleefully.

  “Yeeha!” he exclaimed manically, “You nailed that asshole, Miss Walker! He’s going down for sure! He’s never going to see another free day for the rest of his life! He’s done!”

  A Short Time Later

  Still glued to the television, Brandt was scrutinizing CBN. Suddenly, he heard Jim Walker announce, “And now this breaking news from Lincoln.
Yesterday, it appeared that Patience Walker might have been assassinated in an attack in downtown Lincoln, but Miss Walker somehow managed to escape danger. This morning Miss Walker took the stand for the prosecution in the kidnapping trial of billionaire Hakeem Al-Wadi.

  “Now, in a bizarre turn of events, we are told that Al-Wadi, one of the richest persons in the world, has just plea bargained, pleading guilty to kidnapping in the fifteen-year-old case of the now world-famous Patience. Sources tell us that Al-Wadi has agreed to serve a twenty-year prison term. These same sources tell us that with time off for good behavior he could be released in as little as nine years.

  “Readers will recall that Al-Wadi was previously indicted for murder in 2002, but the charge was subsequently dropped when the prime witness disappeared. Al-Wadi was indicted a second time in 2006, this time for tax evasion. That charge was also dropped when federal prosecutors were unable to produce verifiable evidence of Al-Wadi’s wealth. Sources that wish to remain unnamed have indicated that the bulk of Al-Wadi’s wealth is off shore in the Cayman Islands, where he had been known to vacation frequently. Stay tuned for further word on this rapidly developing story.”

  San Quentin Federal Prison - April 5

  The cell door opened and, Hakeem Al-Wadi sauntering within, he took little notice of the recumbent figure on the upper bunk. He surveyed the small chamber that was to be his home for the next nine years, give or take, then strolled over to the bunk. Surreptitiously punching the man on the upper bunk in the back, and noticing that his target did not move, he exclaimed, “Hey! Hey, you. Wake up!”

  At this, the man in the upper bunk moved just a tiny bit. After a few seconds, he rolled over and, facing Hakeem, he mumbled sullenly, “What do you want?”

  “I am Hakeem Al-Wadi,” he said. “I think I like your bunk. You can have the lower one.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” the man replied without interest and, rolling over, he ignored the veiled threat.

  “Perhaps you’ve heard of me,” Hakeem said menacingly.

  “Perhaps you’ve heard of me, too,” the man answered nonchalantly, still facing the wall.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Mamoud, Mamoud Al-Hasawi,” the man responded.

  “No, no, I can’t say as I do know you. I knew an Al-Hasawi once, a long time ago. Navid. Yeah, Navid Al-Hasawi, he used to work for me.”

  Still facing the wall as if he couldn’t care less, the man inquired, “Yeah? What happened to him?”

  “Nothing. He died. Son-of-a-bitch crossed me. Seems to happen to lots of people that cross Hakeem Al-Wadi. They found him in the desert a couple of years later. He was pretty chewed up by wild animals by then,” and Al-Wadi pronounced this last with discernible malice.

  At this, the man rolled over and, stepping down from the bunk, he rose to his full six-and-a-half-foot height and murmured, “Navid, Navid Al-Hasawi…let me see…seems like I knew a Navid Al-Hasawi once. Oh yeah, he was my brother.”

  Pasadena - April 7

  Brandt had been released from federal protection immediately after the trial, there being no further perceived threat to his life. Of course, Patience had been another matter. She had remained in protective custody. Federal authorities continued to assume her life was in danger. As long as Al-Wadi was alive, his associates might well come after her. Thus, she would necessarily have to remain in protective custody indefinitely.

  Under the circumstances, Brandt had returned to Pasadena the following day without having seen Patience. In keeping with policy, he had no idea where she was, and furthermore, he had no idea whether he would ever see her again.

  Thus, it was that he was sitting on his sofa watching the news and drinking a cup of coffee when a special report came on CBN. The television screen focused on Jim Walker, who announced, “Word has just come to us that Hakeem Al-Wadi, the billionaire crime boss who pled guilty to the kidnapping of the iconic Patience Walker earlier this week, has suffered a massive heart attack and died in prison only two days after his arrival at San Quentin Federal Prison.

  “Al-Wadi had been set to serve a twenty-year sentence for the now infamous kidnapping of Miss Walker in 1997. For those who are not aware, Miss Walker is the namesake of the world-wide women’s protection organization Restoring Patience, and the source of the iconic image known as ‘The Watusi’. For obvious reasons, Miss Walker has been forced to remain in hiding ever since the kidnapping fifteen years ago. Perhaps now Miss Walker will be able to come forth from her long-imposed exile, so that the world may see and hear her remarkable story firsthand.

  “Stay tuned as this, the most remarkable story of our time, continues to unfold. I’m Jim Walker, and you’re watching CBN.”