Fatal Convictions

56

The problem with any high-profile case was that sooner or later all the excitement and attention degenerated into hard work. Alex and Shannon spent the two months after the preliminary hearing interviewing witnesses, reviewing documents, and working on a motion to suppress key parts of the prosecution’s evidence.

In addition, Alex obtained court approval to take the videotaped de bene esse deposition of Hamza Walid in Beirut, Lebanon, that could be used at the trial. Alex arranged the deposition through a Beirut lawyer named Nijad Abadi. Though Abadi would not let Alex speak with Walid directly, Abadi did say that he thought the deposition would be worth Alex’s time. He also insisted that Alex not take the deposition until just before trial, in case the parties worked out a plea bargain that might make the deposition unnecessary. Alex hoped Walid would be able to provide the missing details linking Fatih Mahdi with both the Islamic Brotherhood and Hezbollah.

Shannon spent large chunks of her time trying to move Ghaniyah’s personal-injury case forward despite the strident opposition of two defense attorneys, one hired to represent Country-Fresh, Inc., the company that owned the produce truck identified by Shannon, and a second hired to represent the driver.

The company’s lawyer, a cranky, old-school practitioner named Mack Strobel, was a plaintiff lawyer’s worst nightmare. Mack never agreed to anything. He fought every motion and defended every deposition tooth and nail. He was especially condescending and combative with young lawyers and saved his greatest disdain for young women. The first time Shannon met him, during a court hearing over one of the many objections Mack had filed to her discovery requests, he treated her as if she had just graduated from elementary school. Even when she won the hearing, it didn’t seem to put a dent in his superiority complex.

The other defense lawyer, a young buck named Kayden Dendy, was the antithesis of Strobel. Kayden landed the case because he and the truck driver were in the same motorcycle club. At the first deposition, Kayden showed up about ten minutes late, riding a hopped-up Harley with bagger exhaust pipes that Shannon could hear from inside the building. When he strolled into the conference room wearing his leather jacket, Mack Strobel couldn’t resist a snide comment.

“Is this a deposition or a biker’s convention?” Strobel asked.

Dendy stared at Strobel, a dumbfounded look on his face. Then he formed his mouth into a small circle. “Oh… I get it! You’re making a joke!” He gave a fake chuckle. “A good one, too, Mack. And they said you didn’t have a sense of humor. That you were just some nasty old coot.”

“Sit down and shut up,” Mack Strobel said. “You’ve already kept us waiting ten minutes.”

Just for spite, Dendy stood for the first half hour of the deposition.

About the only thing that Mack Strobel and Kayden Dendy had in common was a shared belief that Shannon didn’t have a case. They denied that a Country-Fresh truck had anything to do with the accident even after Shannon deposed the truck driver and was able to place him on North Landing Road at the time of Ghaniyah’s accident. They denied that Ghaniyah was seriously hurt, emphasizing the lack of “verifiable damage” on the MRI or CT scan. And they turned every deposition into a battle of wills.

The most contentious deposition was the day Ghaniyah’s neuropsychiatrist testified. Based on his evaluation, he had little doubt that Ghaniyah had suffered diffuse axonal injury to the orbital frontal cortex and the anterior temporal lobes, causing noticeable changes in her social behavior, emotional status, decision-making skills, and executive functions. Strobel and the expert battled back and forth for hours, throwing around terms that were largely unfamiliar to Shannon. When he concluded, Mack Strobel had a self-satisfied grin on his face, as if he had just Perry Masoned the witness and forced a tearful admission on the stand.

Dendy followed up with a cross-examination that was more down-to-earth. He emphasized that Ghaniyah’s symptoms were all subjective and that the imaging tests designed to show structural damage didn’t reveal any. “Isn’t this pretty much the same as a football player who suffers a mild concussion?” Dendy asked.

“It’s more serious than that,” the doctor said. “I’m seeing more long-term effects.”

“Based on what Mrs. Mobassar tells you, right?”

“In part. But also based on my own clinical evaluation.”

“Which, again, is based on how well Mrs. Mobassar does on the questions you ask her.”

“Of course. That’s the way all neuropsychological exams work.”

Following the expert’s deposition, Strobel subpoenaed all of Ghaniyah’s medical records, even those that had nothing to do with her traumatic brain injury. He also tried to get the Mobassars’ financial records, on the theory that maybe they were in so much financial difficulty that Ghaniyah was faking the accident. At the hearing on this issue, which Shannon won, she was indignant beyond words.

“Fake the injury?” she had asked, looking first at Strobel and then back to the judge. “Is he seriously claiming that Ghaniyah Mobassar ran her car into a tree so that she could fake a traumatic brain injury? That’s like putting a loaded revolver in your mouth and pulling the trigger to fake a suicide.”

“She’s got a good point,” Kayden Dendy mumbled.

The judge sent Strobel away empty-handed. At least somebody in the case was using a little common sense.***

While Shannon battled the lawyers on the civil case, Alex dug in on the criminal matter. He studied the financial records of the Islamic Learning Center, attempting to decipher if there was any connection with Hezbollah. He questioned members of the mosque about Fatih Mahdi: What were his views on the role of women? What kind of temper did he have? What kind of marital problems with Ja’dah? What about his first wife?

Alex found himself craving his opportunities to work on the case with Nara. One hot Friday afternoon they sat in a conference room, reviewing documents and chatting about things unrelated to the case.

“You’re a surfer, right?” Nara asked.

Alex looked up from the document he was reading. “Yeah.”

“Ever do any stand-up paddleboarding?”

Alex was surprised she even knew about paddleboarding. “I’ve tried it a few times.”

“I used to do it in Beirut,” Nara said matter-of-factly. “The Mediterranean waves aren’t huge-so they’re perfect for paddleboarding. One day, I went paddleboarding in the morning and snow skiing in the mountains that same afternoon.”

Alex didn’t quite know what to make of this. He had grown to appreciate Nara and had even learned to relish their occasional-okay, make that frequent-disagreements. Iron sharpens iron, and all that. But he had never seen her without makeup and her hair done just right, dressed for the office. She seemed like the furthest thing from a surfer he could possibly imagine.

“I could get my hands on a couple of paddleboards,” Alex suggested. He owned a surfboard, not a paddleboard. But he could rent them if he had to.

Nara perked up at the suggestion. “That might be fun. I’m starting to feel pretty cooped up with my parents.”

They scheduled a time to meet the next day. And Alex started formulating a plan. Paddleboarding in the early afternoon. After that, maybe he’d rent a couple of Jet Skis so they could ride together and have dinner at Chick’s.

Khalid’s case had been wearing on Alex, his nerves becoming increasingly frazzled as he thought about everything he needed to get done. But that day, he left the conference room feeling ten pounds lighter.

Paddleboarding with the imam’s daughter. Go figure.