Authors: Randy Singer
97
Kayden Dendy had arrived at court early enough to stake out the location he wanted—outside aisle, last row. The windchill that morning had been in the thirties, so he’d left the Harley at home in the garage. Because he was coming to court, he wore a tie and leather jacket. One of his personal rules was that he only wore a real sport coat when he was arguing a case himself.
Alex and Shannon had done as they had promised. In exchange for Kayden’s help the prior night, they had agreed to nonsuit Ghaniyah’s case. Kayden’s client would be happy; his work here was done. But Kayden was a trial lawyer. And he could never resist some good fireworks. He’d known that Alex intended to call Ghaniyah Mobassar to the stand. That would be interesting enough by itself. But he also had a pretty good idea about who the second witness might be.
That one would be worth waiting for.
Kayden sent a few text messages on his BlackBerry and listened as Alex fired questions at his former client.
* * *
Alex felt like he had stepped through the looking glass this morning and walked into the courtroom of the bizarre.
Alex in Wonderland
—grilling a woman who had been his own client a few short hours before. Ghaniyah followed his every move, her bloodshot eyes broadcasting a mixture of confusion and distrust.
“Do you know what a pen register is?” Alex asked.
Ghaniyah shook her head. Judge Rosenthal reminded her that she needed to answer the question verbally.
“No.”
“You know that Detective Brown and the other officers confiscated all of the computers at your home during their search, right?”
“Yes, I was there.”
“And you know that they examined the hard drives from those computers to look at all the Internet sites you visited?”
“That is what you have told me. Yes.”
“But did you know that under the Patriot Act, the federal government can also monitor the ISP address for your home network and see what Internet sites you visited even if you used a computer that was not seized in the search?”
Alex thought he detected a microsecond of panic flash across Ghaniyah’s face. But if he did, her calm and vacant demeanor quickly returned.
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“A pen register is a listing of all Internet sites visited by
any computer
that used your home wireless router. Do you understand that?”
“Objection,” Taj Deegan said, her voice expressing annoyance.
“On what basis?” Rosenthal inquired.
“For starters, Mr. Madison is testifying, not asking questions. Plus, there’s absolutely no foundation for this line of questioning.”
“I have Detective Brown under subpoena, Your Honor. I intend to put her on the stand later this morning and have her authenticate the pen register for the Mobassar household. I would like to question the witness subject to linking that up later.”
Rosenthal looked at Deegan again. “Any objection to that?”
Deegan was now in a tight spot. If she objected, she might not be able to introduce the same evidence herself. After all, this was supposed to help her case. “Subject to that stipulation, I’ll withdraw my objection.”
Alex walked back to his counsel table and tried to avoid eye contact with Khalid. When Alex had extracted a promise of trust earlier that morning, he knew his client hadn’t anticipated
this
.
He picked up a document from the table and handed a copy to Taj Deegan. He passed the original to the witness and kept a copy for himself.
“I’ll represent to you that this is a pen register for all the Web sites accessed through your wireless Internet router in the sixty days prior to your automobile accident. I want to ask you some questions about the highlighted entries.”
Ghaniyah studied the document and furrowed her brow. She looked up at Alex as if he had turned into a snake. “Okay,” she said guardedly.
“Alex,” Khalid whispered. Alex ignored his client and took a step closer to the witness.
“On June third of this year, you had an automobile accident in which your vehicle hit a tree. Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“A few weeks later, you filed a lawsuit claiming that a Country-Fresh, Inc. tractor trailer had run you off the road and that you had suffered a brain injury. Is that right?”
A flash of anger crossed Ghaniyah’s face. “Of course. You represented me in that lawsuit and encouraged me to file it.”
Alex turned to the court. This next statement would be addressed to the court but was actually for the benefit of the jury. “Judge, that’s the lawsuit we dismissed without prejudice earlier this morning.”
“I’m aware of that,” Rosenthal said sharply.
Alex turned back to the witness. “Only last night, I came into possession of this pen register. Have you seen it before?”
“Objection! Please tell Mr. Madison to stop testifying and just ask questions.”
Rosenthal leaned forward and glowered at Alex. “She’s right, Counsel. Just ask the witness your questions.”
“Okay,” Alex said good-naturedly. “Do you see how this pen register has a list of Web sites along with the date and time each one was visited?”
Ghaniyah pretended to study the document. Alex knew she was probably buying time to figure out what to say. “It appears that way.”
“All of the ones I’ve highlighted were visited in the sixty days before your accident. Is that right?”
Ghaniyah took her time and scanned both pages. “That is correct.”
Alex twisted his face and thought. The jury eyed him with confused looks. He knew they were struggling to piece this together. “Did your brain injury show up on CT scans or MRIs?” Alex asked.
“No. But a neuropsychologist confirmed it.”
“Were we able to find any other witness who confirmed that the accident happened the way you described it?”
“No.”
“Here’s what I don’t understand,” Alex said. “Why would somebody in your home be visiting Web sites about brain injuries in the two months
prior
to your accident?”
Ghaniyah stared at him for the longest time. “I have no idea why anyone would do so. My husband spends more time on the computer than I do, but I can assure you that this was not him or me.”
“Does anybody else live with you?”
“No.”
“Did somebody from your mosque have an accident and suffer brain damage in the sixty days prior to your accident?”
“No.”
“Do you know
anybody
who suffered brain damage at that time?”
“No.”
Alex cocked his head and looked at the jury, as if he had just discovered a great mystery. Perhaps the next witness could help them straighten it out.
“No further questions,” Alex said.
Taj Deegan stood. “I don’t have any questions, Judge. It seems that Mr. Madison has already asked all of mine.”
Alex glanced over at Fatih Mahdi. Alex had purposely decided not to object to Mahdi remaining in the courtroom even though Alex intended to call him next. He wanted Mahdi to hear every word of Ghaniyah Mobassar’s examination.
“Next witness?”
“The defense would like to recall Fatih Mahdi,” Alex announced. He turned to where Fatih was sitting. “I see that he’s right here in the courtroom, and we would request that I be allowed to examine the witness before we take a break.”
Rosenthal gave Alex a look of contempt. Alex could guess what the judge was thinking. It was one thing for a hotshot young lawyer like Alex to push the rules of evidence a little when he examined witnesses. It was another thing altogether to interfere with the judge’s sacred smoking breaks.
“How long do you intend to take?” Rosenthal asked.
“Ten minutes max,” Alex promised. “If I’m not done in ten minutes, you can cut me off mid-sentence.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Rosenthal said. “Mr. Mahdi, please take the stand.”
98
Hassan saw a few empty spots along the wall halfway up the right side of the courtroom. He grabbed his briefcase and moved there as Fatih Mahdi took the stand. Hassan was enjoying an unusual sense of clarity and peace in these last few minutes of his life. It seemed like the world had slowed down and he could now peer into other men’s souls.
Mahdi settled into place, his square jaw thrust out in defiance. Hassan thought Mahdi knew what was coming. Allah would be honored. The judge, on the other hand, was self-absorbed, oblivious to the danger right under his nose. Alex Madison, like a snake, slithered into the well of the courtroom for his final examination.
Soon all of his words would be meaningless.
* * *
“Did Ghaniyah Mobassar ever embrace her husband’s reformist views?” Alex asked the witness.
Mahdi was in combat mode this time, his face etched in a scowl. He gave Alex a look that made it clear the infidel was not worthy of his time. “To my knowledge, she adhered to a more orthodox view of the faith.”
“Would you call her a true believer?”
“It makes no difference what I would call her. Allah will be the sole judge.”
“So you were married to a woman who had embraced Christianity, and Ghaniyah Mobassar was married to a man who had rejected orthodox Islam. Is that right?”
Mahdi looked at Taj Deegan, but no objection was forthcoming. “That is correct, but I see no relevance to this case.”
“Maybe this next question will help you,” Alex said. He took a few steps, eyes on the floor as he framed the question. “Do you love her?”
Mahdi feigned indignation. “Ghaniyah Mobassar?”
“Yes, Ghaniyah Mobassar. The woman you had an affair with years ago. Do you still love her?”
Taj Deegan started to stand for an objection, but Judge Rosenthal looked at her and gave a small shake of the head. Deegan sat down, and the witness stared at Alex in defiance. Alex was determined to wait him out.
“No. I have always appreciated her commitment to the Muslim faith, but I do not love her. It is insulting for you to even ask these questions.”
Now Alex was getting someplace. Mahdi’s face was flushed with anger. Rage bubbled just below the surface.
“Did you conspire with Ghaniyah Mobassar to kill your wife and frame her husband for the crime?”
“Objection!”
“That’s a lie!” Mahdi snapped. He looked at the judge. “Why do you allow him to insult me without so much as a shred of evidence?”
The veins in Rosenthal’s neck pulsed at the rebuke. He didn’t like it when witnesses called him out. “Objection overruled. Answer the question.”
“It’s a lie.”
“Isn’t it true that you ordered the honor killing of your own wife, Ja’dah Mahdi?” Alex asked, his voice tinged with disgust.
“Another lie,” Mahdi hissed.
“And after researching the Patriot Act, did you not tell Ghaniyah Mobassar to send text messages from her husband’s phone to the killer’s phone so that Khalid Mobassar would be blamed?”
“Absolutely not,” Mahdi said. The answer did not surprise Alex, but he was startled to hear his own client interject.
“She would never do that,” Khalid Mobassar blurted out, loud enough for Alex to hear. Alex glanced over his shoulder and saw Shannon put a hand on their client’s arm.
To the witness, Alex said, “And didn’t you tell Ghaniyah to obtain her husband’s password for the mosque’s financial accounts and do a search on his office computer for Sandbridge rental listings?”
“You have a vivid imagination,” Mahdi said. “But none of this is true.” The witness had regained his composure. He attempted to brush off the questions as if they were nothing more than the ravings of a lunatic.
“And then you and Ghaniyah decided that she should fake an injury so she would never be suspected?”
Mahdi smiled and gave a little chuckle. “You are truly mad,” he said. “Ghaniyah Mobassar is going to run her car into a tree so that she won’t be suspected?”
“You don’t trust Ghaniyah to navigate the in-depth police interviews without a crutch, so you concoct a plan that will minimize her interrogation. And if she forgets something or gets mixed up, you can blame it on the brain damage.”
“Objection! That’s a speech, not a question.”
“Is it true?” Alex asked, without waiting for Rosenthal’s ruling.
“It is
ludicrous
,” Mahdi sneered. “Where do you come up with such things?”
“I’ll show you.” Alex walked to his counsel table, and Shannon handed him a packet of documents. Before he could turn back to the witness, Khalid grabbed Alex’s arm and pulled him closer.
“You’ve got to stop,” Khalid whispered, his voice desperate. “I don’t want another word said about Ghaniyah. I don’t care if I go to jail.”
Alex nodded. He looked into his client’s desperate eyes and reminded himself that the highest duty of a lawyer was defending an innocent man . . . even when that man wanted no defense. “No more questions about Ghaniyah,” he promised Khalid. “But I’ve got to finish my job.”
99
Hassan had heard enough. While Alex Madison retrieved something from his counsel table, Hassan locked eyes with Fatih Mahdi. He knew Allah had brought him here for this very moment.
Mahdi stared back at him, his face composed and confident. Alex was back in the well, holding some papers and asking another question, but Mahdi ignored him, looking directly at Hassan. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he nodded.
Hassan walked toward the back of the courtroom and approached the lone deputy stationed there. Hassan showed the deputy his bar card and leaned in so his voice wouldn’t be heard by others. “Excuse me. I’m representing Mr. Mahdi. A minute ago I was standing against the wall on the right side of the courtroom.” Hassan pointed to the place where he had been a few seconds earlier. “A man who had been there earlier left a briefcase and exited the courtroom after my client took the stand. Can you come check it out?”
The deputy looked around the back of the courtroom and nodded. He followed Hassan toward the briefcase as the testimony continued.
* * *
“Were you here when I questioned Ghaniyah Mobassar about her pen register?” Alex asked.
“You know I was,” Mahdi said. “I was sitting in the second row.”
Alex hadn’t had time to subpoena the pen register associated with Mahdi’s wireless router between the time of Kayden Dendy’s visit last night and the start of court this morning. But that small detail wouldn’t stop him. Instead, Alex glanced down at the documents he had retrieved from his table and hoped Mahdi would remember his testimony earlier in the case when Alex had used other documents to discredit him. Sometimes, you just had to bluff it.
“The authorities confiscated your computers and hard drive when they conducted a search of your property. Isn’t that right?”
“That’s correct.”
“And they didn’t find anything on those hard drives that was suspicious. True?”
“Of course not. I had nothing to hide.”
“But now you know that under the Patriot Act, there are also records kept of every Web site visited by any computer hooked up to your home’s network. Do you understand that?”
“That is what you said in court this morning. I have no independent knowledge as to whether it’s true.”
Mahdi was being cagey, but Alex could see the calculating look in his eyes. Alex took a step closer to the witness, but not close enough so that Mahdi could see the writing on the documents. “Would you care to explain to the jury why you were looking at Web sites about brain injuries in the sixty days
prior
to Ghaniyah Mobassar’s accident?”
The witness stared at Alex for a long time without answering.
“Mr. Mahdi?” Rosenthal prompted.
“I do not know. Perhaps your client came to my house and used his laptop.”
“That’s the best you can do?”
This brought Deegan to her feet. “Your Honor, he’s badgering the witness.”
* * *
Hassan pointed out the briefcase, and the deputy looked it over. When the deputy bent down to get a closer look, Hassan made his move. He slammed his knee into the deputy’s face, crushing the man’s nose. At almost the same moment, he brought his elbow down hard on the back of the deputy’s neck. The crack of bone told Hassan he had landed the perfect blow. In less than a second, he had the deputy’s revolver in his hand and whirled to face the infidels, feet spread wide in a combat stance.
A few spectators screamed. Somebody yelled, “Gun!” as Hassan squeezed off his first two shots in rapid succession. Though there was chaos in the courtroom, the world moved in slow motion for Hassan, presenting itself in vivid Technicolor—the vibrant hues of his childhood dreams.
He winged one of the deputies with his first bullet and put the second bullet into the neck of the other deputy at the front of the courtroom. The man crumpled to the floor in a lifeless heap. In the same motion, Hassan swung the gun toward Khalid Mobassar and his legal team, sitting ducks in a shooting gallery.
The noise in the courtroom became the din of his childhood battles, the sound of paradise calling. He was astride his horse, his nerves calm as he took aim at the infidels: Taj Deegan, Alex Madison, Khalid Mobassar, and Shannon Reese. He had a bullet for every one of them. His own bullet would come from the deputies who would eventually enter the courtroom to provide reinforcements.