Fatal Convictions

36

Like millions of other Muslim Americans, Hassan watched Khalid Mobassar’s khutbah on cable television. Afterward, the talking heads sliced and diced each word and debated Mobassar’s guilt or innocence. Most were cynical, postulating that he had used the national spotlight to influence future jurors. They pointed out that he would probably not take the stand in his own defense and that the media coverage of today’s events gave him the chance to “testify” without being cross-examined.

Representatives of various Muslim groups took the other side, chastising the media for its rush to judgment. It was a classic case of racial and religious stereotyping, they said.

To Hassan, it was all empty rhetoric. Americans believed in talk, like some collective national therapy. It was another weakness of the Great Satan, and Hassan turned off his television before he was drawn into its mindless addiction. They wanted to talk? He would give them something to talk about.

His orders came, as he expected they might, nearly four hours later. This time, they came via e-mail from a temporary address that could never be traced. There was a young woman in California, the daughter of a prominent leader in an LA mosque, who had strayed from the faith. She’d had the audacity to get baptized in front of a large congregation in a suburban Christian church.

Hassan was instructed to show no mercy. There would be no opportunity for the woman to renounce her newfound faith. She must die in a way that would send terror into the hearts of the weak-kneed American public.

Hassan was also told to begin surveillance on Taj Deegan, the single mother who would lead the prosecution team against Khalid Mobassar, and to investigate the jury selection process for the city of Virginia Beach. He should be prepared to act as soon as the jurors were selected for Khalid’s trial. The Americans celebrated the transparency and openness of their judicial system. What the Americans saw as a great strength, Hassan Ibn Talib would be prepared to exploit as a great weakness.***

It had been a long time since Alex had stayed home on a Friday night. But that’s exactly what he was doing tonight. He flicked from one TV channel to the next, watching the endless loop of coverage on what the media called “the Sandbridge Honor Killings.” He sat with his legs extended in front of him resting on a stool, his computer in his lap. Against his better judgment, he scrolled through the comments to the story about Khalid in the Tidewater Times. They were overwhelmingly negative and, for the most part, emotional rants by anonymous commenters. “Muslims like beheadings. Once he’s found guilty, this man should be beheaded on the Virginia Beach boardwalk.” Other commenters used symbols to replace certain letters so that the foul language wouldn’t get flagged by the automatic filter. A few took shots at Alex and Shannon. “Typical lawyer scumbags. They’ll say anything this guy wants them to so they can make money from his wife’s car accident.”

One of the comments took specific aim at Alex’s church. “And this guy calls himself a pastor?” The same comment gave the phone number for the church and a list of deacons for people to call so they could urge the church to fire Alex.

There was a thread of race-baiting in the comments as well. “This country is being overrun by radical Arabs. We need to cut out this cancer NOW!!”

Reading the comments, Alex felt like somebody had tied him to a runaway train and was dragging him down the tracks. He had done nothing to bring this on. But every word printed about him or his firm would stay on the Internet forever. Khalid’s story would eventually give way to other stories, and the American public would move on. But when someone Googled the name Alexander Madison, the first page to pop up would show his representation of an accused Muslim murderer.

He normally didn’t care that much about what people thought. In fact, he had a way of intentionally antagonizing people just to get a reaction. But the magnitude and lopsidedness of this criticism were overwhelming even for him. Alex was a young professional with his entire career in front of him. Now he would be forever defined as an attorney who had represented a client accused of beheading an innocent young woman.

He hated to leave Shannon alone on the case. He had tried everything possible to talk her out of it. But the more he pressed her, the more she dug in her heels. His partner was determined to drive off a cliff. Alex’s only choice was whether or not he would be riding in the passenger seat.

In a way, they had been down this road before. Shannon had stayed with her emotionally abusive boyfriend long after Alex begged her to break it off. He knew that eventually the relationship would crash and burn or escalate into real physical abuse. His role would be to help pick up the pieces.

He admired her spunk, but this time she was in way over her head. This time, the pieces might be damaged beyond repair.