Fatal Convictions

64

fifteen years earlier beirut, lebanon

Hassan Ibn Talib was a teenager at a Hezbollah training camp when he first held an AK-47. He had been in training for three weeks before the leaders handed him and the other recruits their very own assault rifles. The adrenaline pumped through Hassan’s body as he smelled the steel and oil. The gun felt cold and hard in his hands.

The leaders showed the boys how to load the gun, how to fire it, and how to care for it. After what seemed like an interminable amount of time, they allowed each of the young recruits to fire at some cardboard targets shaped like human silhouettes.

When Hassan’s turn came, he knelt down, placed his finger on the trigger, and pulled. At first, he fired tentatively, slowly. Few targets fell. But then he started firing faster, one blast after another, and the targets began to drop. His heart started beating quicker. He pulled again and again, faster and faster. Shell casings flew to the ground as Hassan blew through an entire magazine of bullets. The steel became hot in his hands, and the roar of the gun rang in his head.

When he stopped firing, the silence seemed deafening. Somehow, Hassan knew that things would never again be the same. He had started this day as a boy. Now he was a man. The gun had a mystical power unlike anything Hassan had ever felt.

He was born for this.

He looked at his leader, a man who rarely smiled. The man was grinning now.

“Very good, my son. Soon you will be ready.”