Chapter 33

Jack and Zahra were back in court on Wednesday, but not before Judge Carlton. This time, it was Florida state court, family

law division.

The Lawson E. Thomas Courthouse was just a few blocks from the federal courthouse, but in every other respect, it was worlds

away. Federal judges had the lifetime presidential appointment and all the prestige that came with it, but family division

judges were in the trenches every day dealing with family matters—dissolutions of marriage, child custody and support, adoptions,

paternity, and domestic violence. Jack had never appeared before a judge in the family division. It gave him a sinking feeling

in the pit of his stomach to think that, had things gone differently in counseling, Jack’s first appearance before Judge Lauren

Carpenter could have been as a party, not a lawyer.

Jack shook off that thought. Zahra was his only concern. He’d heard good things about Judge Carpenter. She had more than a

decade of experience, though Jack doubted that she’d ever presided over a case quite like this one.

“Counsel, I’ve handled a number of cases involving the enforcement of custody orders issued by courts in another country,”

she said from the bench. “Canada. Mexico. Brazil. I think I even had one from Australia. But I must admit, this is the first

one from Iran.”

Jack rose. “Your Honor, I would point out another ‘first.’ It is probably the first time any judge in this division has been

asked to enforce a foreign custody order after a federal judge has ruled that returning the child to the father would put

that child at grave risk of serious physical or psychological harm.”

“Yes, I was going to ask Ms. Beech about that. Counsel?”

“Judge, an action under the Hague Convention has a narrow focus: Was the child improperly abducted from her habitual place of residence? The Hague Convention, however, does not override the authority of the child’s home country to determine custody. Under the Uniform Child Custody Jurisdiction and Enforcement Act—which has been enacted by every state in the United States, including Florida—a state court must enforce a custody order issued by the home country.”

“Excuse me,” said Jack. “Ms. Beech left off an important limitation. The state court must enforce the order unless the child custody law of that foreign country violates fundamental principles of human rights.”

The judge raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you intend to prove, Mr. Swyteck?”

“If we have to, Your Honor.”

“Well, I must say, I admire your determination. Last week you tried to prove that the Iranian regime was lying to the world

about the death of Ava Bazzi. This week, you intend to prove that the entire family law system of Iran violates human rights.”

His opposing counsel could barely contain her laughter.

“With all due respect, it’s simpler than that,” said Jack. “It violates basic common sense and all principles of decency to

return Yasmin Bazzi to her father after a federal judge has decided that doing so would put her in grave danger.”

“That’s not the issue,” said Beech.

“All right, enough,” the judge said. “I have nine dissolutions of marriage, five name changes, and three motions to modify

child support—and that’s all before lunch. I don’t have time for this now. But I will put this on a fast track. A slot just

opened on my calendar this Friday. Ms. Beech, you can present your case to enforce the custody order then. Mr. Swyteck, be

prepared to present any challenge at that time. We’re adjourned. Next case.”

“ Cruz v. Cruz ,” the clerk announced, and a new set of lawyers elbowed Jack and his opposing counsel out of the way and took their seats

at the table.

Jack and Zahra made their way to the rear exit.

“Why did she put our case on a fast track?” Zahra asked.

Jack had the same question. Compared to the hallowed halls of the federal courthouse, the state court family division was

a legal meat grinder. Thousands upon thousands of cases worked through the overtaxed system, from simple uncontested divorces

to hotly contested domestic violence cases and emergency restraining orders. Many cases got bogged down in the glut for years.

“She didn’t say why,” said Jack. “But it does seem odd that an entire day this week suddenly became available on her calendar.

Family division judges in Miami are some of the busiest judges in America.”

“Then what’s going on here? What’s the rush?”

The gallery was filled with lawyers and clients waiting for their turn before the judge. Jack waited until he and Zahra were

out the door and in the lobby before responding.

“For some reason, Judge Carpenter has given your case priority status.”

“ Why , Jack? If you can explain this to me, I have a right to know.”

Jack’s knowledge of the US government’s negotiations with the Iranians was limited to what Andie told him. But whatever they

were negotiating, it seemed to Jack that the State Department was being forced to make one concession after another. For the

Iranians, it apparently wasn’t enough that the State Department tried to shut down Jack’s efforts to prove in federal court

that Ava Bazzi was murdered by the Tehran morality police. It wasn’t enough that the State Department created a classified

dossier with documented support for the Iranian government’s claim that Ava fled Tehran and was still alive. Even after all

that, the Iranian government wanted Ava’s child removed from the United States and returned to the father in Iran—as quickly

as possible. Jack could think of only one reason. He didn’t know for sure, but he suspected that someone was making another

concession to the Iranian government.

“It could have something to do with the State Department,” he said.

“You think the State Department got to the judge?”

“I’m not saying that.”

“But you’re thinking it.”

Jack pushed the call button for the elevator. “All I’m saying is that our opposition extends beyond these courthouse walls.”

Andie stopped by the Cuban coffee shop for a 2:00 p.m. jolt of espresso. She was deep in thought, coffee in hand, when she

turned away from the cashier to find the man behind her right in her face.

“Whoa!” she said, startled.

“Did I scare you?”

She’d nearly spilled her coffee, but she quickly recognized him as the CIA agent—Hartfield—who had tracked her down outside

Bayfront Park.

“Yes, you did,” said Andie. “I fully appreciate who you work for, okay? But do you really have to make these sudden appearances

out of nowhere like the ghost of King Hamlet?”

“Please, sit with me,” he said.

He was polite enough, but Andie knew it was more of a direction than an invitation. She followed him to an open table by the

window, where they sat opposite one another.

“I see your husband is at it again,” Hartfield said.

“At what again?”

“Doing his best to sour relations between the US and Iran at a tender moment in our negotiations.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“My intelligence from this morning’s court hearing is that now he intends to prove that the entire family law system in Iran

is a violation of basic human rights.”

“I’m sure that’s an overstatement.”

“The judge said it.”

Andie drank from her demitasse. “This doesn’t concern me.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Agent Henning. That was quite a stroke of genius you and your husband came up with in the

Hague proceeding.”

Andie was truly confused. “I really don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Jack needed to prove that Ava Bazzi is dead. I told you our concerns about trying to prove that she was murdered by the morality police. On a dime, Jack pivots: Farid did it.”

Hartfield was only confirming her suspicions. “And voilà, my promotion came through.”

He smiled wryly. “I have no comment on that. Except to say that as the newest member of the FBI’s international corruption

squad, you will of course be interacting with various agencies that have international reach, including mine. Jack’s latest

position seriously undermines my confidence in your ability to do that.”

“Are you threatening to rescind my promotion if he doesn’t change his position?”

“No, of course not. I’m merely pointing out that in every squad, there are career-advancing assignments, and there are dead-end

assignments. I want you to have a rewarding experience.”

Andie quelled her anger. “Your concern is noted. But this conversation is over.”

“I’m trying to help you,” he said.

“I don’t want your help. I want what Jack wants.”

“Which is what?”

“The truth.”

Hartfield chuckled. “That’s cute.”

“Not one bit of the story about Ava that was presented through Yasmin in the courtroom was in the classified dossier that

the State Department shared with me. There was nothing in the dossier about Ava having fled domestic violence. And there was

nothing about her role in a secret ‘network’ of messengers, which I just heard about from Farid.”

“No dossier tells the complete story. Especially one that isn’t designated Top Secret.”

“All I know is this. The dossier doesn’t line up with what Judge Carlton has determined are the real facts, or what Farid

now claims are the real facts. It makes me wonder.”

“Wonder what?”

“Whether the things that you and the State Department have told me about the hostage negotiations—and the hostage—line up with the real facts.”

Andie rose and started away from the table, but Hartfield stopped her.

“Be smart about this, Agent Henning.”

“I’m a lot of things. But stupid is not one of them.”

Andie grabbed her cup and headed for the door.