Chapter 6

Jack and Zahra’s first court appearance was Monday morning. Their troubles began on the courthouse steps. Dozens of demonstrators

had gathered outside the Miami federal courthouse to protest the Iranian government’s human rights abuses.

“Women, life, freedom!” they chanted in unison, the English translation of the Iranian rallying cry. Both men and women were

among the demonstrators, but the women were more vocal. Some used megaphones. Others brandished posters that read where is ava bazzi ?

Jack’s advice to his client had been more like a firm warning: turning the case of Farid Bazzi v. Zahra Bazzi into a media circus about Ava Bazzi was not in the best interest of a six-year-old child. Over the weekend, he had ignored

all inquiries from reporters, avoided social media, and done nothing to stimulate media interest. It was to no avail. Interest

was both national and international. News vans were lined up on the street, one after another. Camera crews and reporters

followed Jack and his client through the crowd, up the granite steps, and through the whomp-whomp of the revolving entrance doors. Cameras were not allowed in the federal courthouse, but reporters continued to pepper Jack

and his client with questions all the way to the elevator.

Zahra, is your sister alive or dead?

Why did you use Ava’s name?

What have you told your niece?

The elevator doors closed, shutting out the commotion. They rode in silence for a moment, but Jack had to ask the obvious

question.

“Was this your doing?” he asked. “The protests. The media.”

Zahra seemed surprised by his question. “You do realize that this is not just about Ava, don’t you?”

“Obviously, it’s also about you.”

“No, no, no. Jack, hundreds of people, mostly women, were killed or disappeared during the hijab protests. Less than a handful

of those murders got international attention. This lawsuit is a chance to shine a spotlight on the regime’s crimes against

its own people. Against humanity.”

Jack felt like his eyes had finally opened. “So, when those demonstrators ask, ‘Where is Ava Bazzi,’ they are asking—”

“They’re asking, Where is my niece? Where is my sister? Where is my daughter?”

The case had been assigned to US district judge Samuel Carlton, one of the more senior judges, a grandfather many times over.

A crowd had already gathered outside his courtroom on the eighth floor, which indicated to Jack that all public seating in

the gallery was taken.

The judge’s bailiff stopped Jack and Zahra the moment they stepped out of the elevator. “Judge Carlton would like to see the

lawyers in his chambers,” she said.

Jack was there for a pretrial conference, which judges normally held in the courtroom, open to the public. Jack wondered if

it was his opposing counsel who had requested that this one take place behind closed doors. He and Zahra followed the bailiff

around the corner to the secure entrance to Judge Carlton’s chambers. The bailiff entered the security code on the keypad,

unlocked the heavy door, and led Jack and Zahra inside. Zahra was directed to a small office near the library and told to

wait there. The bailiff led Jack to the larger office at the end of the hallway, where Judge Carlton was seated behind his

desk. He was wearing his black judicial robe, and the court reporter was present, even though they were not in the courtroom.

“Come in, Mr. Swyteck,” said the judge.

Jack’s opposing counsel was standing before the judge’s desk but slightly to the right of center. Heather Beech was one of

the top family lawyers in Miami, a woman who’d made a name for herself defending only men in divorce proceedings. Even in

heels, she was barely five feet tall, but she’d slain many a giant in her spectacular career.

Jack approached the judge’s desk and stood slightly to the left, leaving a comfortable distance between himself and Beech.

“Most federal judges have no experience in family law,” said Judge Carlton. “I, on the other hand, was in the family division

for five years as a state court judge. One thing I learned right off the bat is that some things are better addressed to the

lawyers, without the husband and wife clawing at each other. Make sense?”

The lawyers agreed.

“I also don’t like to admonish lawyers in front of their clients.” He was looking at Jack, which required a response of some

kind.

“Admonish for what, Your Honor?” asked Jack.

“I am directing my remarks to both sides,” the judge said—but still he was looking only at Jack. “If you or your client alerted

the media and encouraged demonstrations outside the courthouse in hopes that anti-Iranian government sentiment would sway

the outcome of this proceeding under the Hague Convention, you’ve made a bad mistake. And it will backfire.”

Jack waited for the admonition to go both ways, but that seemed to be the end of it.

“Your Honor, it is my firm commitment to try this case in your courtroom, not in the court of public opinion.”

“Mm-hmm,” the judge responded.

Smelling blood, Farid’s counsel was quick to take advantage of the judge’s obvious displeasure with Jack.

“Judge, I didn’t want to start this proceeding by attacking my opposing counsel, but there is something I feel compelled to

bring to the court’s attention.”

“Yes, what is it?”

“I understand that Mr. Swyteck has hired an ex-con by the name of Theo Knight to act as his client’s bodyguard.”

It was a cheap shot, and Jack resented it. “Judge, Mr. Knight is not an ‘ex-con.’ He spent four years on death row for a crime

he didn’t commit.”

“I’m not here to split hairs,” said Beech. “Over the weekend, Mr. Knight had an improper confrontation with my client, during which he physically threatened Mr. Bazzi.”

Jack shot his opposing counsel a look of incredulity. “What?”

The judge’s gaze fixed on Jack. “Is it true that this Mr. Theo Knight is acting as your client’s bodyguard?”

“Yes, Your Honor. And with good reason. I was assaulted outside my office ten minutes after my first meeting with my client,

and I feared my client might be next.”

“Assaulted? Did you report this to the police?” asked the judge.

“No, Your Honor. My client didn’t want to escalate matters and asked me not to.”

Beech chuckled. “Judge, even if this unreported ‘assault’ on Mr. Swyteck actually happened, that doesn’t justify hiring a

thug like Theo Knight to retaliate against my client.”

The judge threw up his hands. “All right, both of you. I don’t take allegations of physical assault against lawyers or litigants

lightly. But it only reinforces my original point. This proceeding will be resolved on the merits, not driven by sensational

headlines and public demonstrations. Am I understood?”

“Yes,” the lawyers said in unison, but Jack sensed that he was the principal target of the judge’s ire. Beech apparently had

the same impression, and she acted on it.

“Your Honor, my fear is that the longer this case drags on, the worse these external distractions will become. I would like

to propose a way to streamline matters.”

“I’m listening,” said the judge.

“We all agree that a mother accused of abducting her child has a limited number of defenses under the Hague Convention,” said

Beech.

“Yes, agreed,” said Jack. “And we intend to prove them.”

“Not so fast,” said Beech. “I think we can also agree that none of those defenses applies if Zahra Bazzi was never the lawful

wife of Farid Bazzi.”

“Judge, my client has a certified copy of the marriage certificate,” said Jack.

“That certificate is worthless,” said Beech. “We can prove that Mr. Bazzi was induced to marry Zahra Bazzi under false and

fraudulent pretenses, which renders the marriage void.”

“What pretenses?” asked the judge.

“We will prove that Ms. Bazzi planned this abduction from the very beginning. She married Mr. Bazzi as part of a premeditated

plan to become his wife, to become Yasmin’s adoptive mother with rights of custody, and then to flee the country with Mr.

Bazzi’s daughter. This was all a fraud.”

“How do you intend to prove it?” the judge asked.

“That’s the beauty of my proposal, Judge. If the court proceeds in the usual fashion, we will surely hear days and days of

testimony about Ms. Bazzi’s supposed defenses under the Hague Convention. It will be a tsunami of baseless accusations of

physical and psychological abuse. Or, the court can accept my proposal and wrap this up in one day with one witness who has

agreed to appear by videoconference from Iran.”

“Who is your one witness?”

She glanced at Jack smugly, then back at the judge. “The imam who performed the wedding ceremony.”

“Judge, we object,” said Jack.

“On what ground?”

“For one, any communications Ms. Bazzi may have had with her imam are protected by the ecclesiastical privilege. That privilege

is well established in the Judeo-Christian tradition, but it is no less applicable to communications between Muslims and their

imams.”

“Judge, the imam’s testimony will not be based on confidential communications. It will be based on indisputable facts.”

“We still object,” said Jack. “My client has the right to put up evidence in support of her defense and create a record.”

“I’m aware of everyone’s rights,” the judge said. “But I remind you that this court has great flexibility in deciding how to conduct proceedings under the Hague Convention. This is not a traditional trial governed by rules of evidence and procedure.”

“These are ambush tactics,” said Jack. “Even if the ecclesiastical privilege does not apply, my objection is grounded in simple

fairness.”

“There’s nothing inherently unfair about streamlining this proceeding so that each side can address a single issue that is

dispositive of the case,” the judge said.

Jack did not back down. “Ms. Beech has raised a new issue that was not included in Mr. Bazzi’s petition, and it involves a

new witness. I need adequate time to prepare.”

“I’ll allow everyone adequate time,” said the judge. “Ms. Beech, how soon can you be ready to proceed?”

“We’re ready to start today, Judge.”

“Judge—”

“Don’t get excited, Mr. Swyteck. We’re not starting today.”

“Thank you,” said Jack.

“My ruling is as follows,” the judge said, as if speaking from the bench. “Day one of testimony and evidence will be limited

to a single issue: whether Zahra Bazzi induced Farid Bazzi to marry under false pretenses and solely for the purpose of establishing

custody rights as Yasmin’s adoptive parent. Mr. Swyteck, how much time do you need to prepare?”

“I’d like a week, Your Honor.”

“You can have a day. I will see you all in my courtroom tomorrow morning at nine a.m.”

“Tomorrow?” said Jack.

“Better than today, Mr. Swyteck.”

There was no bang of the gavel, but it was clear enough that the session had ended.

“Thank you, Your Honor,” said Beech.

Jack said nothing. The judicial assistant opened the door, and Jack was the first to leave the room. He wasn’t angry. He was

simply in a rush to speak with his client.

And then with Theo.