Chapter 23

Monday morning came too soon. The courtroom was full, and by 9:00 a.m. Jack’s first witness was sworn and seated.

“Could you please state your name for the record?” Jack asked.

Over the weekend, hours of preparation and rehearsal had gone into Zahra’s direct examination. By Sunday afternoon, she’d

finally felt comfortable telling her story in her own words without sounding like a B-rate actress reciting a lawyer’s script.

A flawless rehearsal, however, was like the perfect speech delivered to the bedroom mirror. It was no guarantee of performance

when it mattered.

“My name is Ava Bazzi,” she said.

The slip didn’t totally shock Jack, given that Zahra had been using her sister’s identity for over a year, but Judge Carlton

did a double take from the bench.

“You mean Zahra Bazzi, right?” said the judge.

A look of horror came over her face. “Yes. Zahra Bazzi. I’m so sorry. I’m a little nervous.”

If Zahra was “a little nervous,” D-Day was “a disagreement.” But Jack understood. Any woman called to testify about an abusive husband would be a nervous witness, especially with the accused abuser sitting in

the courtroom, staring her down. Jack started with easy background questions to calm her nerves, which went reasonably well,

and then gently moved into questions of substance.

“How did you hear about your sister Ava’s arrest by the morality police?”

“Farid called me,” said Zahra. “He said Ava was one of the women rounded up at the protests on Keshavarz Boulevard.”

“What else did he say?”

Zahra took a deep breath, paused, and let it out. They had only just begun to touch on matters important to the case, and

her nervousness was creeping back with a vengeance.

“I—I don’t remember everything he said.”

“Tell me what you can remember about the conversation,” said Jack.

There was another long pause. She glanced quickly in Farid’s direction and then looked away. It was Jack’s impression that

she was reluctant to put words in Farid’s mouth, even if Jack’s question was framed as benignly as her recollection of a phone

conversation.

“I can’t really remember what else Farid said. But I offered to come by and help with Yasmin.”

“Did he accept your offer?”

“Yes.”

“Did you stay overnight in the apartment with Yasmin and Farid?”

“Not at first. I would go over for a few hours, and then go back to my apartment. But then we lost contact with Ava. That’s

when I essentially moved in and started spending all my time with Yasmin.”

“And Farid?”

“Farid was there, of course. But I was there for Yasmin, as her aunt, and I slept in Yasmin’s room.”

“What did you mean when you said you ‘lost contact’ with Ava?”

“The authorities would no longer deliver our letters to her in prison. They told us nothing about her. Even our lawyer had

no information.”

“At some point, did you get any information about Ava?”

“Yes. From the mullah.”

“Imam Reza, who testified earlier in this proceeding?”

“Yes.”

“What did the imam tell you?”

“He gave us the story that the whole world has now heard—that Ava escaped, fled the country to pursue her wanton ways, and

was never coming back to her country or her family.”

“How did you react to that news?”

“I didn’t believe it.”

“How did Farid react?”

“He—he did not react well.”

“Was he angry?”

She didn’t answer. Jack pressed, but gently. “Zahra. Was Farid angry when he heard the news from Imam Reza?”

There was no verbal response, just an almost imperceptible nod of her head.

The judge spoke up. “Ms. Bazzi, you must answer in a voice that can be heard.”

She leaned closer to the microphone, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

“What, specifically, did Farid do that makes you say the news made him ‘angry’?”

Zahra stared back at Jack, her eyes conveying a mix of confusion and reluctance. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking.”

“Rephrase your question, Counselor,” the judge said.

“Yes, Your Honor,” said Jack, and then he addressed the witness. “Ms. Bazzi, did you, personally, see or hear Farid express

any kind of anger after hearing the news about Ava?”

“Yes.”

“What did you see?”

“I—I can’t remember.”

“What did you hear?”

“I don’t recall, exactly.”

Jack gave her a moment. Dr. Vestry had warned Jack that survivors of abuse do not always make effective witnesses. Even in

the privacy of a psychiatrist’s office, it is difficult or even impossible for them to describe what has happened to them.

A courtroom setting is even more difficult.

“Did you see or hear Farid direct any kind of anger toward Yasmin?”

“Toward Yasmin? No.”

Not a helpful answer, but not unexpected.

“Did you see or hear Farid direct any kind of anger toward you?”

“Yes.”

“Can you provide any details?” asked Jack.

She paused, as if searching her mind. “I don’t remember,” she said, then she caught herself. “I can’t recall at this time.”

In their prep session, Jack had reminded her to say that she couldn’t remember “at this time.” It left an opening to come back to the question later if her mind went blank on the witness stand.

“That’s all right,” said Jack. “We’ll come back to this later.”

Jack took a moment to collect his thoughts. Despite the disturbing tale of Farid’s abuse that she had shared with Jack in

his office, Zahra seemed unwilling—or afraid—to say in open court that Farid had abused her. Jack could only hope that Farid’s

abuse of Ava would be within her comfort zone—that talking about Farid’s abuse of someone else would somehow be easier for

her.

“Was Farid ever abusive in any way toward your sister Ava?”

“Yes,” said Zahra.

“Verbally or physically?”

“Verbally. He would... berate her.”

Can you give us any examples?” asked Jack.

“Farid said she was a terrible cook. That she was a messy housekeeper. Basically, he would say that she could not do any of

the things a wife is expected to do around the house. That she had no business being a homemaker—which is a very hurtful thing

to say to a mother.”

“Did Farid merely complain, or did he actually try to do something about it?”

“He... he forced her to improve.”

“Forced her? How, exactly?”

Zahra didn’t respond right away. Jack prodded.

“Zahra, please tell us how Farid forced her.”

“I can think of one thing.”

“Share it with us, please.”

She swallowed hard, then continued. “In Iran, a wife cannot get a passport or other legal documents to travel to another country

without her husband’s consent. When Farid’s Entrepreneur visa was approved by the United Kingdom, Ava assumed she would be

going with him. He told her that he would consent only if she improved her domestic skills.”

“Did Farid, in fact, withhold his consent and travel to the UK without Ava?”

“For a time.”

“How long?”

“He went to London by himself and gave Ava one month to improve. He told her if she did not improve by the time he came back,

he would divorce her. But if things were to his satisfaction in one month, he would grant his consent and allow her to come

with him to London.”

“What happened?”

“He returned, as promised. He literally walked around the apartment with a white glove to test for cleanliness. Ava prepared

a meal and served it to him.”

“Were things to his liking?”

“Apparently. He granted his consent.”

Jack was pleased; she seemed to have regained her confidence. It was worth a shot at eliciting some of the other things she’d

shared about Farid in their prep.

“Can you tell us any other ways in which Farid berated or abused Ava?”

She paused, seeming to consider his question. “No, not at this time.”

Jack could have backed away, but he tried again. “Can you recall any other examples of psychological or emotional abuse? Any

at all?”

“Not at this time.”

Jack had hit a wall, but he needed one more thing.

“You mentioned earlier that Farid berated Ava as a homemaker. Did any of these instances of verbal abuse occur in front of

Yasmin?”

Farid’s lawyer rose. “Objection to counsel’s characterization of these instances of constructive criticism as ‘abuse,’ Your

Honor.”

“That one is definitely overruled, Ms. Beech. The witness may answer.”

“Yes,” said Zahra. “It happened in front of Yasmin.”

It was the most important point, and Jack was tempted to inquire further. But he couldn’t risk the possibility that Zahra

would back away from her answer. He shifted to a line of questioning that had proven to be within Zahra’s comfort zone.

“Let’s talk a bit more about Ava’s arrest and incarceration,” said Jack. “You’re aware, of course, that your sister Ava was

one of many women swept up by the morality police during the demonstrations on Keshavarz Boulevard.”

“Yes.”

“Are you aware of any protesters who were released from prison, unharmed?”

“Yes. Dozens.”

“Did you ever discuss this with Farid?”

“Yes, in a way we did.”

“Tell me about that,” said Jack.

“Every day we got news of more prisoners being released, only to find out Ava was not among them. It was a very worrisome

time. We were alone in the apartment one night. I said something like, ‘Why Ava? With everyone else released and gone home,

why was she kept locked up in prison?’”

“Did Farid respond?”

“Yes. I wasn’t really asking him the question. But yes. He responded.”

“What did he say?”

“Farid told me that he was responsible.”

Jack paused to let the answer linger. Then he continued.

“To be clear,” said Jack. “Farid admitted to you that he was the reason the military police kept Ava locked up in prison, even after other demonstrators were released. Do I have

that right?”

“Yes.”

Jack was tempted to end his direct examination on that high note. But in their prep session, Zahra had filled Jack’s ear with examples of the ways in which Farid had abused her. He needed to give her one more chance to make it part of the record.

“Now, let’s go back to the question I asked earlier,” said Jack. “I know this is difficult, but can you please tell the court

whether Farid was ever abusive toward you?”

There was a long silence. Zahra appeared frozen on the witness stand. Jack tried some verbal encouragement.

“Either before or after your marriage, Zahra: Was Farid ever abusive toward you?”

More silence. Zahra seemed to have gone almost catatonic.

Jack continued. “Zahra, all we need from you is a one-word answer. Was Farid ever abusive toward you?”

Her voice was barely audible, but the answer was clear enough: “Yes.”

Progress. “Can you give any examples of his abuse toward you?”

Zahra fell silent. Finally, she answered. “I don’t remember.”

Jack was at a loss. At some point, the court would force him to live with her answer. I don’t remember. It proved nothing.

“Your Honor, could I have a short recess?” asked Jack.

Farid’s lawyer sprang from her seat. “Judge, taking a break so that the lawyer can coach his witness and put words in her

mouth is not proper grounds for a recess. If Mr. Swyteck is not getting the answers he wants, then it’s time to pass the witness

to me for cross-examination.”

The judge addresses the witness. “Ms. Bazzi, do you want a recess?”

Zahra looked up at the judge. “Not really.”

“Then, Mr. Swyteck, let’s wrap this up.”

Jack had taken the direct examination as far as he could. If being in the courtroom with Farid was so traumatizing that Zahra

suppressed all memories of abuse, things could only get worse if he pushed her for more. Any holes left in the case would

have to be filled by other witnesses.

“I have nothing further at this time,” said Jack.

“Very well,” said the judge. “The witness may not need a break, but I do. We are in recess for five minutes and will then

proceed with cross-examination.”

Farid’s lawyer rose. “Judge, I request that the witness be ordered not to speak to her counsel between direct and cross-examination.”

“My client has a right to speak to her lawyer,” said Jack.

“The witness testified several times that she couldn’t recall certain details,” said Beech. “If Mr. Swyteck intends to refresh

her recollection, it should be done in open court, not during the break.”

Judge Carlton grumbled. “My bladder has no patience for these last-minute motions. But seeing how this is not a criminal case

with a constitutional right to counsel, it is so ordered. Ms. Bazzi, please stay right there on the witness stand. I’ll be

back in five.”

All rose on the crack of the gavel and the bailiff’s command. As Judge Carlton stepped down from the bench, Jack’s eyes met

his client’s. She appeared frightened and confused, but she seemed to get the gist of it:

She was firmly in the hands of Farid’s lawyer.