Chapter 13

Judge Carlton adjourned the hearing for a long lunch break, so Jack and Zahra returned to his office to prepare for the afternoon

session. Jack’s longtime assistant met him at the door and followed him to his desk. Bonnie was affectionately known as “the

Roadrunner” for the way she kicked into high gear in times of crisis, and she was in full crisis mode.

“Jack, I’m so sorry I let you head off to court unprepared for today’s witness. I didn’t pull a single exhibit for you to

use.”

“Bonnie, there’s no one better than you. But not even Clarence Darrow could have anticipated that a witness we’ve never heard

of would appear by videoconference from Iran and claim to be Ava Bazzi’s lover.”

“Maybe so,” she said as she laid a folder on his desk. “But I pulled together a witness file on Mr. Asmoun. The whole timeline

is here with supporting documents, starting with the date Ava and Farid got married, the day Yasmin was born, the date they

moved to London. I was even able to track down the exact date of their return flight to Tehran: two months before Ava was

arrested. It’s everything you’ll need—just in case you have to cross-examine Mr. Asmoun again.”

Jack wasn’t sure why Bonnie thought all that information was relevant to Mr. Asmoun, but it was beside the point.

“Thank you, Bonnie. But there’s zero chance Mr. Asmoun will reappear as a witness.”

She was openly disappointed, as if truly wishing to redeem herself for something that wasn’t the least bit her fault.

“I’ll keep this file at my desk,” she said, “if you need it. Lunch is in the kitchen. Zahra’s waiting for you.”

Jack thanked her and went to the kitchen. He took a seat at the table, across from his client, and unwrapped his sandwich. Zahra didn’t touch her kale salad. She was too nervous to eat.

“You certainly made that witness look like a liar,” said Zahra. “I hope you know it is all a lie. Ava would never have cheated on Farid.”

“She loved him?”

“No. She would have been terrified to cheat on him.”

It was an interesting point, and it made Jack realize that his opposing counsel was indeed clever. Beech wasn’t just pandering

to the Iranian government by painting Ava as an adulteress. She was preempting Zahra’s testimony that Farid was an abuser.

Your Honor, if Farid really was violent, wouldn’t his first wife have been too afraid to cheat on him?

“Do you think that witness truly is being threatened by the regime?” asked Zahra.

“It’s the most logical explanation until we hear another one,” said Jack. “He did say he had a younger sister. She could be

in some kind of trouble over the protests, and this is his chance to make things good for her.”

Zahra poked at her salad, but she didn’t eat. “Have we heard the last about Ava?” she asked.

“If it were up to Farid’s lawyer, I would say yes.”

“Do you really think Farid’s legal strategy is controlled by the regime?”

“Not controlled. Beech wouldn’t risk her law license over this. But clearly Beech is advancing the Iranian government’s propaganda

about Ava. There’s a quid pro quo that we don’t know about. The regime could be paying Farid’s legal bills or promising him

some kind of help down the road if the judge rules against him.”

The kitchen suddenly shook with the sound of crashing glass in the other room. Zahra screamed. Jack instinctively searched

for some form of protection, but the only thing readily available was his prized autographed Carl Yastrzemski baseball bat.

“Sorry, Yaz,” he said as he grabbed it from the display shelf. He told Zahra to stay put and ran into the reception area.

His assistant was coming down the stairs, having heard the crash from the second floor.

“Stay right there, Bonnie!” said Jack.

She froze. Jack stood in the doorway and assessed the damage. The lobby area had once been a living room, and the huge picture

window overlooking the front porch was shattered. What remained of the tempered glass was in pellet-sized pieces, strewn across

the Persian rug and surrounding wood floor, glistening like diamonds in the streaming sunlight. Lying on the rug in the middle

of the room was a metal pipe about the size of a relay race baton.

“Somebody threw a pipe?” said Bonnie, utter disbelief in her voice.

“Did you see anything from upstairs?” Jack asked.

“No,” she said, her voice quaking. “I just heard an awful crash.”

Jack stepped carefully across the room, the glass pellets crackling beneath the leather soles of his shoes. He noticed handwriting

along the side of the pipe. It was in black marker or maybe black paint pen, and it ran from one end of the pipe to the other

along the smooth cylinder, framed by the piping thread at each end. Jack lowered himself into a squat and read the message:

“Final warning,” the top line read, and then on the next line: “Stop trying to prove Ava is dead.”

The message continued onto a third line. Jack took a pen from his pocket and rolled the pipe a half turn so he could read

the rest. It was a signature of sorts:

Someone Who Knows.

Jack inserted the same pen into the opening on the right and stood the pipe on end. Stuffed inside was a clear plastic baggie

that had been compressed to about the size of a golf ball for a tight fit. Using the pen, Jack dragged the baggie from inside

the pipe. With the release of compression, it blossomed on its own inertia, and as the clear plastic unfolded, the baggie

revealed its contents.

“Bonnie, call the police,” said Jack.

Zahra entered the room from the kitchen. “What is it, Jack?” she asked.

“Someone’s wedding ring,” he said.

Bonnie raced back up the stairs and dialed the police.

Jack stayed where he was, afraid to even guess who that “someone” might be.

The afternoon session began at 2:00 p.m., but not in the courtroom. Counsel and their clients were in Judge Carlton’s chambers.

Jack had notified the judge and his opposing counsel within minutes of the arrival of the police at his office. The Miami-Dade

Crime Scene Investigation Unit collected the pipe, the message, and the plastic baggie in sealed evidence bags. The judge

summoned counsel and both parties to his chambers for a session that was closed to the public. Detective Charlene O’Hara from

the CSI Unit was with them. The pipe and plastic baggie, each marked by an evidence tag, rested on a felt pad on Judge Carlton’s

desktop. Beside them, also tagged, was the ring.

Judge Carlton started the session with the necessary legal formalities.

“Ms. Beech, for the record, I understand that your client has consented to make an identification of the ring.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Very well,” said the judge. “Mr. Bazzi, please step forward.”

Farid rose from his chair, stopped before the judge’s desk, and looked down at the evidence on display.

“Mr. Bazzi, do you recognize the ring in front of you?” the judge asked.

“Yes, Your Honor.”

It was the first time Jack had heard Farid’s voice—unless it was Farid who had jumped him outside his office. His voice here,

compared to the muffled mouth full of cotton, didn’t move the needle on that question.

“How do you recognize this ring?” asked the judge.

Farid stared at the ring for what, to Jack, seemed like a very long time. Finally, he spoke in a solemn voice. “It belongs

to my wife. It is her wedding ring.”

“By ‘wife,’ do you mean Zahra Bazzi or Ava Bazzi?” the judge asked.

“Ava,” said Farid. “Our rings matched. White-gold rope band. They were heirlooms from my grandparents. This is Ava’s ring.”

The judge directed Farid back to his seat. Then he addressed the lawyers.

“Counsel, I understand that each of you believes this ring is relevant to the question of whether Ava Bazzi is dead or alive, but you have polar-opposite views as to how it may be relevant. Mr. Swyteck, what is your position?”

“The ring needs to be considered together with the message on the pipe,” said Jack. “It’s all one threat, and the point is

to stop us from proving the tragic truth. This threat came from ‘someone who knows’ Ava Bazzi is dead.”

“The exact opposite is true,” said Beech. “The ring and the message came from someone who knows she’s alive. The obvious point

is to stop Mr. Swyteck from perpetrating a complete fraud on this court.”

“May I respond?” asked Jack.

“No,” the judge said. “The bottom line is that none of us knows who came into possession of Ava Bazzi’s ring after she disappeared,

who wrote the message on the pipe, or who threw the pipe through Mr. Swyteck’s window.”

Jack tried another angle. “Judge, I would submit that, more likely than not, the ring came from whoever is responsible for

Ava Bazzi’s death.”

“I can’t agree,” said the judge. “A woman who abandoned her family and fled the country has no more need for her wedding ring

than a deceased woman. My ruling is that the ring has no probative value as to whether Ava Bazzi is alive or dead. I will

not consider it as evidence in this proceeding.”

Neither lawyer showed any reaction other than to accept the ruling.

“At this time, I’d like to have a word with just counsel,” said the judge. “I would ask petitioner and respondent to wait

outside my office with my judicial assistant.”

Jack noted the fear in his client’s eyes. “Judge, as we will prove later in this hearing, my client is in grave danger of

physical and psychological harm. I would therefore request that she be allowed her own space in a separate room.”

“That’s fine,” said the judge.

The judicial assistant entered, and as she led Zahra and Farid out to their respective waiting rooms, Beech whispered so only

Jack could hear:

“Well played, Swyteck.”

It spoke volumes about his opposition, who seemed to think this was all a game, and it made Jack’s skin crawl. The door closed,

and the lawyers were alone with the judge.

“Counsel, we are all in agreement that if Ava Bazzi is alive, Zahra Bazzi’s adoption of Yasmin was invalid and the case is

over. But, Ms. Beech, how many more witnesses do you intend to call to prove that Ava Bazzi is alive?”

“One, at most, Your Honor.”

“I’m going to hold you to that. We need to move this along. Am I clear?”

Beech looked unhappy, but her tone was respectful. “Yes, Judge.”

“I have one more thing to say,” said the judge. “Based on what I’ve heard so far, it’s impossible to know if that pipe was

thrown through Mr. Swyteck’s window by ‘someone who knows’ Ava Bazzi is alive, ‘someone who knows’ she’s dead but wants the

rest of the world to think she’s alive, or some nutjob who doesn’t know anything and simply wants his fifteen minutes of fame.

I’m expressing no view on the matter. But I offer this advice to both of you.”

Judge Carlton paused to look at each of them as individuals, not as opposing counsel, his expression one of concern. “For

the sake of your own families, please, be careful. Both of you.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” they said in unison.

“The hearing will resume at three o’clock,” said the judge. “I’ll see you in my courtroom then.”

Jack nodded with appreciation, and the lawyers stepped out to catch up with their clients.