Fatal Convictions (32 page)

87

Alex’s team shared lunch at a nearby Mexican restaurant, and Alex had to use every ounce of restraint to keep it from becoming a premature celebration. Shannon and Ramona had been in court to see Alex’s masterful cross-examination of Fatih Mahdi. As a potential witness, Nara had been sequestered but was now getting the blow-by-blow.

Technically, Nara was still a potential witness and should not have been hearing about Mahdi’s testimony. But Alex wasn’t worried. He had already decided that it wouldn’t be necessary for Nara to take the stand now. Why take unnecessary chances? They had already created reasonable doubt.

So Alex half-smiled as Shannon and Ramona recounted the more interesting parts of Mahdi’s testimony and described the look on his face when Alex had plunked the transcripts of his telephone calls in front of him.

“Let’s not give him a big head,” Ramona said, referring to her grandson. “We’ve still got a long way to go.”

“Yeah, this case is far from over,” Alex said. In truth, he was enjoying the accolades. He was especially pleased that Nara was hearing all this.

After lunch, Alex invited Nara to ride back to the courthouse with him, while Shannon hitched a ride with Ramona. He wanted a few minutes alone with Nara so he could talk to her about not testifying.

“This isn’t about protecting you from Hezbollah,” Alex said. “Even if your safety weren’t a factor, I wouldn’t call you as a witness. Not after Mahdi’s testimony. You don’t take chances when you’re winning.”

Nara had a lot of questions, but she eventually seemed satisfied with Alex’s advice. “Does this mean I can watch the trial now?” she asked.

Alex had already considered this. He expected Taj Deegan to rest her case that same afternoon. He would then give his opening statement, and it would be better now than it would have been at the start of the case. He definitely wanted Nara there to hear it.

“I don’t see why not,” Alex said.

Nara reached over and put a hand on Alex’s forearm. “I’m glad you’re my father’s lawyer.”

* * *

Rosenthal was noted for long lunch breaks, but on Friday he set a record. The lunch recess had begun at 12:30, and the judge didn’t appear on the bench until 2:15. He made no excuses for being late. But then again, he was the judge. Everyone knew that judges were
never
late.

“Ms. Deegan, your next witness,” Rosenthal said.

“The commonwealth would like to recall Fatih Mahdi.”

Alex felt a stab of anxiety. He liked the way Mahdi’s testimony had ended before lunch. Taj Deegan was up to something.

Mahdi walked into the well of the courtroom with downcast eyes. “Your prior affirmation still applies,” Judge Rosenthal reminded him, “under penalties of perjury.”

“Yes, Your Honor.” Mahdi climbed into the stand again and hunkered forward. He looked like he had been waterboarded over the break.

Taj Deegan positioned herself in the center of the courtroom and interlaced her fingers. She pondered the wall just above the judge and then looked at the witness. “Mr. Mahdi, you testified earlier as to why you stopped criticizing Mr. Mobassar’s reforms about six months before your wife died. Do you recall that testimony?”

“Yes, I do.”

“You said that you decided your friendship was more important than opposing Mr. Mobassar’s reforms. Do you recall that?”

Alex stood. “I object, Judge. She’s just rephrasing his testimony.”

“I’ll allow it,” Rosenthal said. The way he said it made Alex think that the judge knew something Alex didn’t.

“I think I said that I didn’t want to lose our friendship
or my wife
,” Mahdi said.

“You’re right; I stand corrected,” Taj said calmly. “But, Mr. Mahdi, are those the only reasons you stopped opposing Mr. Mobassar?”

The witness shifted in his seat and glanced at Taj Deegan. He looked back down and studied his hands. “No. Those were not the only reasons.”

“Please explain to the jury what happened six months before your wife died that caused you to stop criticizing Mr. Mobassar.”

Mahdi looked at the jury. He inhaled and blew out a breath. “I had a meeting with Mr. Mobassar. It was when the rift in the mosque was growing severe and our disagreement was very intense. Mr. Mobassar urged me to support him as my religious leader in the mosque. He said we were like brothers and that brothers should not treat each other this way.”

“Is that all he said?” Deegan prompted.

“No. He told me that we had been through a lot together and that he had protected me in the past in ways I did not know. He told me . . .” Mahdi paused and frowned. After a few seconds, he found the courage to continue. “When I was a young man, around twenty years old or so, Lebanon was in the middle of its civil war. I had nothing but contempt and hatred for the Christians. I was a warrior for Allah.

“During that war, Khalid Mobassar’s wife lost a brother. The Christian Phalange killed him and disemboweled him. I was furious and wanted revenge. Ghaniyah was in mourning and equally furious. But Khalid reacted differently. He wanted to work through diplomatic solutions and broker an end to the violence. He called it ‘pointless bloodshed.’ It put great strains on his marriage.”

Mahdi looked at Khalid Mobassar, and Alex felt his own heart in his throat. The same witness who had been despised by the jury this morning was now in some type of confessional mode. And the jury was hanging on his every word.

“Khalid’s wife turned to me in her pain and anger. I was young, not yet married. I slept with her.”

The revelation caused a few gasps and a buzz of excited murmuring in the courtroom. Judge Rosenthal rapped the gavel. “Silence!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Alex tried to gauge the impact on his client. Khalid looked stunned, staring at the witness, his gaze vacant. Then he looked down at the table.

“Did you think that Khalid Mobassar knew about this?” Taj Deegan asked.

“No, I didn’t. Not until that meeting six months before Ja’dah died. During that meeting, he told me that he had protected me in the past in ways I would never know. He said—”

“So the record is clear,” Taj interrupted, “tell us who you’re referring to when you say ‘he.’”

“Khalid Mobassar, the defendant.”

“Thank you. Please continue.”

Fatih hesitated for a second while he recaptured his train of thought. “Mr. Mobassar told me that he knew about my affair with Ghaniyah. He said that he had kept it to himself all these years out of his great respect for our friendship and his desire to stay married to his wife.”

“That’s a lie,” Khalid whispered to Alex. He had a hand on Alex’s elbow. “This whole thing is a lie. Ghaniyah would never do that.”

Alex held up a hand. He needed to hear the testimony.

“What did you do?” Taj asked.

“I was stunned. I did not deny the affair and I did not admit it. I thanked him for his friendship. We embraced. I told him that I considered him closer than a brother. I told him that he was a better man than I was. I left with a deep appreciation for the pain he must have felt at such betrayal and at his nobility for keeping this to himself.”

“That’s not true,” Khalid whispered. “None of it.”

“Is that why you stopped criticizing Khalid’s teaching at the mosque?” Taj asked.

Fatih nodded. “Yes, it is. I realized that our friendship was more important. I realized that he could have destroyed my reputation but chose not to. I decided the least I could do was stop attacking his.”

Taj Deegan appeared to be thinking about this for a few seconds, but Alex knew she was just letting the information sink in. In five minutes of testimony, the entire complexion of the case had changed. For Alex, the lunchtime celebration suddenly seemed like a distant memory.

“Why did you really go to Khalid Mobassar for advice when you discovered that your wife had left the Muslim faith?”

“Because I knew he had dealt with his own wife’s unfaithfulness. My situation wasn’t exactly the same, but it wasn’t completely different either. I felt rejected and humiliated. I thought Khalid could help me work through those issues. Instead, I believe he saw it as an opportunity to exact revenge and advance his agenda.”

Alex leaped to his feet. “Objection! That’s just raw speculation.”

“The jury will disregard the last part of the witness’s answer,” Judge Rosenthal ruled.

“Mr. Madison and Ms. Reese have been asking several different witnesses whether they have any idea as to why Khalid Mobassar would send text messages ordering an honor killing from his own phone. Do you have any information about that?”

Alex was up again. “Objection. That calls for speculation too.”

“It might,” Judge Rosenthal conceded, “but Ms. Deegan is correct. You’ve been asking the same question throughout the case. Objection overruled.”

Mahdi glanced toward Khalid Mobassar, then turned back to Taj Deegan. “Mr. Mobassar knew that I was ashamed of what I had done in 1980 and didn’t want it made public. He probably believed that I would never tell police that I had a meeting with him to discuss my concerns about Ja’dah.”

Alex stood again, hands spread.
This is ridiculous.
“Judge, that’s pure speculation. How can he possibly know what my client was thinking?”

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, please disregard the witness’s answer. He can only testify as to facts within his own personal knowledge.”

Alex sat down but knew it was a hollow victory. The jury was thinking the same thoughts that Fatih Mahdi had just expressed.

“Why didn’t you tell the jury about this during your testimony this morning?” Deegan asked. She obviously knew that Alex would hammer that issue on cross-examination, so she wanted to put it on the table first.

“I hoped it would not be necessary. I am deeply ashamed of what I have done. But after my testimony this morning, I realized that the man who ordered my wife’s death might go free if I didn’t come forward and tell the truth.”

“No further questions,” Taj Deegan said.

88

“Did it take you all lunch to think that up, or did it come to you right away?” Alex asked as he rose to his feet.

“It is the truth,” Mahdi said. His gaze was level, his voice steady.

“Very convenient for you that it’s a truth hard to verify. I mean, it just so happens that the only two people who were part of these conversations were you and my client—your word against his.”

“Your client’s wife can confirm or deny this,” Mahdi said.

“When did you divorce your first wife?” Alex asked.

“In 1989.”

“So you divorced your first wife for unfaithfulness nine years after you had slept with another man’s wife?”

“I divorced her because she wanted to leave. I was simply fulfilling her wishes.”

“Let’s see—you didn’t tell the truth the first time you testified, you cheated with another man’s wife, you lied about loving your second wife, and now you expect the jury to take your word that these alleged conversations with my client took place?”

“I did love Ja’dah. What I did with Ghaniyah was wrong. Why would I make something up that is so publicly humiliating?”

“Perhaps because your hatred for Khalid Mobassar consumes you and trumps everything else,” Alex shot back.

“Objection!”

“Sustained.” Rosenthal glared at the witness. “You are to answer Mr. Madison’s questions, not ask your own.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“I have nothing further for this witness,” Alex said.

Taj Deegan stood behind her counsel table. “The commonwealth first learned about Mr. Mahdi’s affair over the lunch break. When we did, we had the sheriff’s deputy serve a subpoena on Mrs. Mobassar, requiring her immediate attendance in court. We would request a brief recess until she arrives.”

Alex felt like he had just been run over with a bus. Ghaniyah was coming to testify? If she confirmed the affair, there was a good chance the jury would believe everything else Mahdi had just told them.

“Court will stand in recess until Mrs. Mobassar arrives,” Judge Rosenthal said. “And I’m instructing both sides not to have any contact with her prior to the time she takes the stand.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Taj Deegan and Alex said in unison.

89

Ghaniyah Mobassar took the stand looking nervous and frazzled. She wore the long, flowing robes of the traditional hijab Alex had seen her wear around the house, complete with a matching head scarf. Her eyes were wide with confusion and distrust.

She stole a glance toward Khalid, and he gave her a reassuring look as Taj Deegan began her questioning.

“Please state your name for the record.”

“Ghaniyah Mobassar.”

“Please slide a little closer to the mic,” Judge Rosenthal said.

Ghaniyah inched closer. “Ghaniyah Mobassar,” she repeated. This time everyone in the courtroom could hear.

“Are you the wife of the defendant, Khalid Mobassar?”

“Yes.”

“Mrs. Mobassar, I am sorry that I have to ask you this next question, but it has become an issue in the case. Did you have an affair with Fatih Mahdi shortly after your brother died in the Lebanese civil war in 1980?”

Ghaniyah stared at Taj Deegan as if she couldn’t believe that the prosecutor had the gall to ask. It felt like the entire courtroom inhaled and held its collective breath. Ghaniyah didn’t utter a word.

“Mrs. Mobassar, you need to answer the question,” Deegan prompted.

Alex wanted to bail her out, but he couldn’t. After a thirty-minute argument in the judge’s chambers, with Alex claiming that Ghaniyah shouldn’t take the stand because of her brain injury, Rosenthal had personally called Ghaniyah’s neuropsychiatrist. After a brief phone conversation, he denied Alex’s motion.

Ghaniyah shook her head. “I will
not
answer the question,” she said indignantly.

You just did,
Alex thought.

Judge Rosenthal leaned toward the witness. “Mrs. Mobassar, I know this is uncomfortable, but you have no choice. You are instructed to answer the question.”

Ghaniyah looked longingly toward Khalid and then turned to face Taj Deegan. She stared at the prosecutor as if she wanted to gouge Deegan’s eyes out. “I have always been faithful to my husband.”

Alex exhaled. To his surprise, the prosecution’s strategy had backfired. The jury may not believe Ghaniyah because she had been so hesitant to answer. But her testimony could not have been more clear.

Yet Taj Deegan did not seem deterred. She took a few steps closer to the witness. “Mr. Mahdi claims that Ahmed was his child. Do you deny this?”

“Objection!” Alex called out. “Mr. Mahdi gave no such testimony.”

“Counsel is right,” Judge Rosenthal said to Deegan. “I don’t remember any such testimony.”

“He said it to me,” Taj Deegan responded. “I didn’t want to make that fact public if I could help it.”

“He didn’t testify to it,” Rosenthal said. “So rephrase the question.”

Alex turned to Khalid, who looked like a ghost, his face reflecting betrayal and utter defeat. Alex needed to reassure him somehow. But what could he say? How much more would Khalid have to endure?

“Mrs. Mobassar, I understand that this is hard for you, but it is important that you tell the truth,” Deegan said. “Your son Ahmed was killed on a bombing mission inside Israel in 1996. Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“And the authorities had to use DNA to identify him. Is that also true?”

Ghaniyah looked pained, her voice cracking and barely audible. “Yes, that’s true.”

“I want you to know that if I must, I will ask Judge Rosenthal to suspend this trial so that we might obtain those DNA results. But first, I want to ask you the question one more time—is Fatih Mahdi the father of Ahmed Mobassar?”

Ghaniyah’s facial expression went from contempt to shame. For an interminably long time, she didn’t answer. Then she blinked back the tears and rubbed her eyes. Hardly moving her lips, in a barely audible voice, she said, “Yes, Fatih Mahdi is Ahmed’s father.”

The revelation created a stir in the courtroom, and the judge banged his gavel. Ghaniyah gave Khalid a despondent look. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed.

Alex suddenly remembered that Nara was also in the courtroom, and he turned to look at her. She was sliding past the others in her row, trying to get to the aisle, tears filling her eyes. He watched as she walked down the aisle and out of the courtroom without once looking back.

“Thank you, Mrs. Mobassar,” Taj Deegan said. “I’m sorry this has been so difficult. I have no further questions.”

Alex put his arm on his client’s shoulder. The imam looked like he was in shock. “Did you know this?” Alex whispered.

Khalid just shook his head. The man’s eyes were wet, and he refused to look at his wife. The pain on his face was not something he could manufacture.

Alex didn’t bother to stand. He wanted the jury to look at him and see his client sitting next to him in obvious distress. He kept his tone low and understanding as he began his questions. “Had you ever mentioned this to your husband?”

Ghaniyah looked down at her folded hands. “No.”

“Did you have any reason to think that your husband knew about this affair?”

“No. It was something that happened in the distant past. I was angry because Khalid did not seem to care about my brother’s death. I made decisions that I still regret.”

Alex looked at Ghaniyah and felt nothing but sympathy. Regardless of how this trial ended, her relationship with Khalid would never be the same.

“No further questions.”