Chapter 17

Farid’s lawyer called her final witness to the stand. Farid Bazzi raised his right hand, and the bailiff administered a slightly

revised oath.

“Do you swear by Allah to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

A Muslim witness was not required to swear “by Allah,” any more than Christians, Jews, or atheists were required to say “so

help me God.” It was enough to affirm to tell the truth.

“I do,” said Farid.

Jack leaned closer to his client and whispered, “Is Farid a believer?”

“He would tell you he is,” said Zahra.

To a believer in Islam, there was no more powerful incentive to telling the truth than swearing an oath by Allah. Jack had

once represented a Muslim on death row who wouldn’t have sworn by Allah to save his own life, so fearful was he of the temptation

to lie and the eternal consequences of lying under oath. It made Jack wonder if Farid also took his oath that seriously—or

if swearing by Allah was part of the courtroom theater choreographed by his lawyer to enhance his credibility.

“Good morning, Mr. Bazzi,” his lawyer began.

Direct examination of your client is one of the most difficult tasks for a trial lawyer. Leading questions were not allowed,

so the only way to control the witness was to have the client’s complete trust before he took the stand. In a case where the

Iranian government had such a vested interest, Jack wondered if Farid trusted his lawyer enough to stick to their script—or

if there might be surprises.

“Good morning,” said Farid.

“Let’s begin by telling Judge Carlton a little bit about yourself.”

As if on cue, Farid turned, looked at the judge, and started talking. Farid was a good conversationalist, and wisely, his lawyer was taking advantage of that skill to help him build a rapport with the judge. Jack took a few notes. One year of college at the University of Tehran. Dated Zahra. Broke up. Went abroad and earned a degree in entrepreneurship from the London School of Economics. Returned to Tehran and focused on the hotel and hospitality business sector.

“When did you meet Ava Bazzi?”

“I first met her while dating her older sister, Zahra. Ava was just a sixteen-year-old girl at the time. But when I came back

to Tehran from London, she was a grown woman.”

“How would you describe the moment when you met Ava as a grown woman?”

Farid paused, and Jack watched his expression carefully. It was an interesting question to ask a man who’d sat through the

testimony of his wife’s lover—assuming Asmoun had been truthful.

“I had never looked at her this way,” he said, almost wistfully. “It was like seeing her for the first time. In a way, it

was like... love at first sight.”

Zahra coughed into her fist, and it sounded more like a scoff.

“Did the two of you start dating?” asked Beech.

“Yes,” said Farid, and then he looked in Zahra’s direction for the first time. “With her sister’s blessing.”

“ Warning , not blessing,” Zahra whispered to Jack.

“How soon were you married after you started dating?” Beech asked.

“Things moved quickly. Six months.”

“You and Ava had a child?”

Farid smiled warmly. “Yes. Our daughter Yasmin is now six years old.”

“Let’s talk more about your daughter,” said Beech. “What role did you play in raising Yasmin?”

“A very active role.”

“Did you ever change her diapers as a baby?”

“Yes.”

“Feed her?”

“Yes.”

“Bathe her?”

“Yes, I did all those things. To some people in my country, it is shameful for a man to care for an infant. Ava was an excellent

mother, but we agreed that both of us should be involved.”

“As Yasmin grew older, did you continue to be active in her upbringing?”

“Absolutely. I read to her every night. I was her first soccer coach. I taught her to ice-skate and ride a bicycle.”

For Jack, it was like listening to himself talk about Righley. It went on for another ten minutes. Farid taught her to pray

and love Allah. Farid taught her to play piano. Farid knew the names of all Yasmin’s friends, her favorite color, her favorite

TV shows. At his lawyer’s request, he sang to Judge Carlton the English translation of Yasmin’s favorite children’s song:

You are the sky’s great moon,

And I’ll become a star and go around you.

Jack had to do something before the judge nominated Farid for father of the year.

“Your Honor, I object. This is all very heartwarming, but this is not a custody trial. It is a Hague proceeding in which the

issue is whether my client wrongfully removed Yasmin from her habitual place of residence in violation of Farid’s rights of

custody.”

“Judge, that’s a very disingenuous objection,” said Beech. “The mudslinging will start the minute I rest my case, as Mr. Swyteck

tries to prove that Yasmin will be in grave danger if she is returned to her father. Mr. Bazzi’s testimony will put those

allegations in the proper light.”

“I will overrule the objection,” said the judge. “But, Ms. Beech, please do tie your questions more closely to the issue this

court must ultimately decide: whether Mr. Bazzi presents a risk of physical or psychological harm to his daughter.”

“Happy to, Your Honor,” said Beech, and then she addressed her client. “Mr. Bazzi, did you ever strike, beat, hit, slap, push, shove, or spank Yasmin?”

“Never.”

“Did you subject Yasmin to physical abuse of any kind?”

“Never.”

“Did you ever threaten Yasmin with any kind of physical abuse?”

“Never.”

“Did you ever threaten her in any way?”

“No, I would never do that.”

“Did you use words or gestures to make Yasmin afraid of you?”

“No. I wanted my daughter’s love, not her fear.”

“Did you ever say anything to embarrass or humiliate her in front of others?”

“No. Yasmin was not perfect. No child is. But Ava and I corrected her privately, not in public. We were in complete agreement

on that.”

Farid’s lawyer paused and flipped to the next page of her notepad. Chapter 1, Farid the good father, had been written. On

to chapter 2, Jack presumed: Farid the victim.

“Let’s talk now about your two marriages, starting with the most recent one. We’ve already heard testimony that you dated

Zahra some years ago, before you dated Ava. Tell us how Zahra came back into your life.”

“After Ava disappeared—”

“You mean, fled the country and abandoned you?” said Beech.

“Objection,” said Jack. “Counsel is putting words in her client’s mouth.”

“Sustained. This court has not yet decided whether Ava Bazzi is alive or dead. ‘Disappeared’ seems like an appropriate word.

The witness may continue.”

Farid started over. “After Ava disappeared, I did my best to raise Yasmin alone. But I quickly realized she needed a mother.

Zahra stepped in and helped. At first, she visited as the good aunt providing support for Yasmin.”

“Did that change over time?”

“Yes. I’d say it evolved to include not just caring for Yasmin but also companionship for me.”

“Were you courting?”

“I would say she was courting me .”

Zahra grabbed Jack by the wrist. “That’s such a lie,” she said in a coarse whisper.

“I don’t want lurid details,” said Beech. “But in a general sense, what do you mean when you say Zahra was courting you?”

“I wasn’t ready to start touching another woman. Zahra exploited the fact that we had once dated to make me feel comfortable

about those things. It was Zahra who suggested we try being a couple again.”

“Who first raised the idea of marriage?”

“Zahra.”

“Who first raised the idea of Zahra adopting Yasmin?”

“Zahra. It wasn’t required under Iranian or Islamic law that Zahra adopt Yasmin, but she insisted on it.”

“Soon after the adoption was final, the three of you went to London, correct?”

“Yes. Zahra persuaded me to reapply for the UK Entrepreneur visa, take one more shot at expanding my hotel and restaurant

business outside Iran. She said it would be a fresh start to return to London as a new family.”

“Zahra fled with Yasmin the day after you landed at Heathrow, correct?”

It was an ugly fact, but Jack couldn’t object simply on the grounds that the truth was ugly.

“Yes, that’s correct,” said Farid.

“Did you feel deceived?”

“Absolutely. I felt like a fool.”

Beech adjusted her tone to be more understanding. To Jack, she sounded like a radio-show psychiatrist.

“Mr. Bazzi, what has your life been like since the day that Zahra took your daughter?”

“Hell on earth.”

“What have you done since then?”

“I stayed in the UK. I spent thousands of hours trying to locate my daughter and have her returned to me. When I wasn’t doing that, I was building my hotel business under the Entrepreneur visa program. That has been my life for more than a year.”

“If this court returns Yasmin to you, what is your plan?”

“We will settle in London. My first hotel and restaurant are already a success. In two months’ time, we can apply for British

citizenship.”

If Farid had been his client, Jack would have ended right there, keeping Farid above the controversial debate as to whether

Ava was alive or dead. But Farid was not his client.

“Finally, Mr. Bazzi, we’ve heard a lot about your first wife, Ava, in this proceeding. I want to ask you briefly about that

relationship.”

“Okay.”

“Would you describe your marriage to Ava as a happy one?”

“Yes. Especially when we lived in London.”

“Did you love Ava?”

“Yes. With all my heart.”

“Did there come a time when you stopped loving her?”

Farid hesitated. Jack sensed this might be the moment that all trial lawyers dreaded—when the client’s answer is off script,

something other than what his lawyer expected, something different from what they’d rehearsed.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

Beech did her best not to appear surprised, but Jack could read her body language. She continued. “Let me be more precise

with my question. Did you stop loving Ava after she abandoned you and your daughter?”

“Objection,” said Jack, rising. “The record does not show that Ava Bazzi abandoned anyone. Only that she is dead.”

“Actually, Mr. Swyteck, the record is inconclusive either way. Nonetheless, your objection is sustained.”

“I’ll rephrase,” said Beech. “Did you stop loving Ava after the Iranian government informed you that she fled the country,

abandoning you and Yasmin?”

Farid paused, seeming to struggle for a response. “I—it’s hard to say how I felt.”

Again, Jack was reading body language, this time both the lawyer’s and the client’s. Without a doubt, Farid was off script. Beech continued, doing her best to get him back on track. “Surely you stopped loving her after her affair with Mr. Asmoun.”

Farid blinked slowly, and then cleared his throat. “If Ava cheated on me, as Mr. Asmoun testified, I was the last to know.

In fact, I didn’t know anything about it until I found out that Mr. Asmoun was going to be a witness in this proceeding. My

feelings for Ava—”

“That’ll do,” said Beech, cutting off her own client.

Jack rose. The response had clearly taken Farid’s lawyer by surprise, and Jack wanted to hear the rest of it. “Your Honor,

I don’t think the witness has finished his answer.”

“Judge, Mr. Bazzi answered my question,” said Beech.

The judge looked down from the bench. “Mr. Bazzi, did you finish your response?”

Farid’s eyes welled. Jack noticed. The judge noticed. His lawyer glared at him, a stern warning not to say anything to lose

the case. He looked down at his hands and spoke in a sad, quiet voice.

“My feelings for Ava are complicated.”

“Thank you,” said Beech, quick to shut things down.

“Crocodile tears,” Zahra whispered to Jack.

“One last question,” said Beech.

The final question was always well rehearsed, and despite the surprises along the way, Beech was not to be denied the power

of those final words.

“Mr. Bazzi, why did you bring this action under the Hague Convention?”

He took a deep breath, then let it out. “I’m not out for revenge. I don’t have hard feelings toward Zahra or Ava. My daughter

was taken from me. I just want her back.”

“Thank you,” said Beech. “I have no further questions.”

Beech closed her notebook and returned to the table. Jack rose for cross-examination, but the judge stopped him.

“We are coming up on four thirty. Let’s call it a day and resume tomorrow morning at nine with cross-examination. The witness may step down. We are adjourned.” He brought down the gavel.

“All rise!” said the bailiff.

Jack and his client got quickly to their feet. Behind them, rows of spectators followed suit, their thumps and thuds in the

wooden bench seats echoing in an otherwise silenced courtroom. Zahra looked at Jack, as if asking for his immediate assessment

of how much damage Farid had done. Farid had done his job. Jack might even say he was a perfect witness. But that wasn’t what

his client wanted to hear.

“The judge did us a favor,” he said quietly. “I have the whole night to prepare my cross-examination.”

As Judge Carlton exited through the side door to his chambers, the rumbling of a hundred different conversations broke the

courtroom silence. The clock was ticking on Jack’s night of preparation.