After coming to terms with that, next I had to figure out what to do with my life. I saw a lot of people who had succumbed to substance-abuse, joined gangs, and engaged in very self-destructive behavior. Looking back, I realize how easily I could have ended up going down one of those paths. I was extremely fortunate, however, to meet some people who helped me. They saw a scared and lonely teenager, and instead of trying to take advantage of me, they embraced me and helped me deal with the hardest time of my life. They stopped me from going down the terrible road most people in here end up on. My values come from my mother and father, but the man that I am today (or at least try to be) is thanks to them. They refused to allow me to be miserable and give up on trying to better myself.
The thing which troubled me the most was that I felt everyone thought I was an evil person. It bothered me because I tried to be a good person growing up. Did my best to treat people with respect, and be there for others. It really caused me to question myself, and it was very difficult to deal with. I read a lot, and I came to realize a good Muslim is someone who has good character. And it was something I could work on and achieve. I decided to dedicate myself to improving my character, and becoming a better person, the best that I could be. Not for anyone else, but for me. Maybe I could not prove I did not kill Hae, and maybe I would spend the rest of my life in prison. But at least I could prove I was not a bad person. Not to anyone else, but to myself. I know this all probably sounds ridiculous, but it was the only thing I had to grab ahold of. So that was how I began living my life in prison.
I read any books I could find about becoming a better person. Self-help books, religious books, just about anything I could find. And it turned out to be way more complicated than I had anticipated. I would have long conversations with individuals that I had come to respect, but I never really attained the blueprint for how to better myself. But as I closely observed the people I looked up to, I began to notice the things that I respected about them. And I decided to incorporate those same characteristics into myself. One guy was someone who always greeted people first, and with a smile. And when you talked to him, he always gave you his full attention, no matter who you were. Another guy would always have the same positive demeanor, day in and day out. Another guy would always lift weights in the yard; rain, snow, or sunshine, he’d go out and exercise. One guy was never able to be baited into an argument. Even if someone was rude to him, he’d still maintain his composure and continue speaking in a calm manner. One guy seemed to know something about everything. I asked how he knew so much, and he answered very simple, “I read the paper.” He meant the newspaper, so I started reading the newspaper every single day. I mean, I could go on and on. At the same time, I witnessed the negative consequences people experienced as a result of reckless living. They served as a cautionary tale, in a way.
So ever since then, I have just tried to better myself and treat others well. Whether I interacted with guards, inmates, staff, anybody; I tried to always exhibit a positive and upright character. It was not easy, and can still be difficult at times. But it was very beneficial for me, emotionally. I began to have confidence in myself again; I felt like I had my dignity back. I did not feel like a piece of trash the world threw away anymore.
And it turned out to be my saving grace. As I look back now, I realize there were only 3 things I wanted after I was convicted: to stay close to my family, prove my innocence, and try to be accepted as a genuine person again. I have been blessed to stay close to my family (physically in Jessup), and I have been able to find a sense of self in prison. People in here know me as a stand-up guy. Guards, inmates, staff; people I have been around for almost 17 years and who have seen me every day, recognize me as someone whose word can be trusted. I try to help people if I can, and I never throw it in anyone’s face. If someone confides in me, I never break that trust. I try to always be respectful to anyone, and I make sure to be a voice of calm in potentially volatile situations. I try to maintain the ties of friendship with the people I care about, and try to be considerate to strangers.
I guess what I am trying to say is that I was able to find the peace of mind in prison that I lost at my trial. I have lived my life entirely within these walls, not dealing with the outside world. I was able to become someone people trust, and it was not based on any falsehood or manipulation. The one thing about prison that I really appreciate so much is that you really get to see who someone is. When you are around someone 24/7, 365 days a year, you get to see exactly who they are, and how they feel about you. I appreciated that so much because when I was home, I thought people cared about me. But I would come to find out they did not. And I am not saying anyone had to care about me; it was a naïve assumption on my part … So in prison, people see exactly who I am, and treat me accordingly. To have the reputation that I have over all these years is because I earned it …
People (guards, inmates, staff) express sentiments like that to me. They share with me stories about their children, families, personal things. They may be asking for advice; not because I have any particular knowledge on these subjects but because they trust I will keep their confidence. And this takes place over years. It humbles me and inspires me to be better, because I owe it to the people who feel that way about me. And I owe it to God, who helped me get to a point in my life where I no longer wonder if people think I am evil, or just some horrible person. The people in here know I am not a liar or manipulative because they have been around me for almost 17 years, and I have never exhibited those characteristics.
I have also worked hard at becoming a spiritual person. Not religious; my dad is the most religious person I know. He follows Islamic laws in a very disciplined manner. He is strict with himself, but not with others. That is one of the reasons why I respect him so much. So many people are only as religious as the number of opportunities they get to look down/chastise others. Or be harsh with others. My dad has never been like that. He has always been very kind and compassionate with others, never chastising them. I am more like my mother. She is a spiritual person, but not so much religious. She has her morals & principals, but she also has a lot of fun. She has a strong belief that we are not perfect, but if you treat people well, God will love you. And that if good comes your way, it is from Him. And that if you experience hardships, that may be a means to draw nearer to Him.
So my dad is the type that prays all the time, whereas my mom prays when she needs something. But to her, her worship is the way she treats people and tries to help others. I try to incorporate the things from them I can, and I feel as if I have arrived at a place of understanding the balance. And I can bear witness that since I have been incarcerated, God has protected me from harm and blessed me with so many good things. I feel He’s always protected me because He knows I am innocent. And I believe I earn His blessings through trying to be a good person. I am not saying that I earn all the good things in my life, or even that I earn any of them. I am just saying that I believe that if I do good, I receive good. And if I do bad, then I receive bad. I think if you ask anyone of any religion, they would pretty much say something similar. And they may have experienced the same thing. I do not know if this makes sense, but I can share with you something that may illustrate my point.
As Muslims, we are not supposed to have relationships outside of marriage. So when I arrived at prison, I decided that I was going to try and honor that particular tenet. It was fairly easy at first, because I did not communicate with anyone from outside. But I soon came to learn that living in prison does not preclude someone from having a relationship with a woman. Whether it was a woman working in the prison or from outside, I have seen many relationships occur. There are pen-pal websites, friends of friends, etc. I had several opportunities where I could have chosen to pursue something with a woman, but I always declined. I did my best to abide by that particular tenet of my faith. And then one day, I met Kandra. She had initiated contact with me, and I explained to her that as a Muslim man, I cannot have a relations
hip with a woman unless there is an intent to consider marriage. To my surprise, she expressed a shared view. We spent time becoming acquainted with each other, and then we decided to get married. We had an amazing relationship and we still care about each other a great deal, and are very close years later. She is such a beautiful and compassionate woman. To me, I feel that I respected the tenets of my faith, and God blessed me with a wonderful experience.
As far as my case, I just studied my transcript and would go to the library and read legal books. It was very hard, but I did my best. And I never really could find anything that proved my innocence. But I was confident that as long as I persisted in trying to better myself & researching my case, God would bless me with something beneficial for my appeal.
As you know, I waited 10 years to file my post-conviction petition. In Maryland, State law provides a 10-year time limit to file it, beginning from the day of sentencing. As I was sentenced June 3, 2000, I had until June 3, 2010 to file this appeal. It was filed on May 29, 2010, 4 days before the expiration date. I had my Direct Appeal, which was denied in 2003. As a matter of procedure, I could have filed my Post then, but I did not. Well, it is not that simple. My family had exhausted their savings on my trial. So there was no money to hire a lawyer. I wrote to several appellate attorneys in Baltimore City, and each price quoted was between $20-$50,000 just to read my entire case file. Obviously, I did not have any money. And the Public Defender’s office does not handle Post-convictions, they only were obligated to handle Direct Appeals. Rabia and Saad would tell me to write the mosque and ask people, but I would have rather died than do that. I never wanted to ask anyone for money. When I was arrested, I was asked to write a letter to the mosque. And I did. But other than that, I never called anyone or wrote anyone asking for anything. Even when I was a kid, I never liked asking for something. I would do it myself, or just do without. And after my trial, I never asked anyone for anything, because I did not want to be accused of manipulating anybody. My parents even offered to sell their house but I told them no.
When I told Rabia & Saad I was not going to ask anyone for anything, that was the first time we got into an argument. I explained that on one hand, if God wanted me to go home, I just had a trial and an appeal. Those did not work out, so it was probably not meant to be for me to go home at that time. I told Rabia I wanted to learn my own case and the law applying to it. I did not want to be completely unaware in court. I never wanted to feel that way ever again. And I wanted to trust in God that He would send me help when it was meant to be … Rabia told me I should re-examine the situation because I was making the wrong decision. But that was what I truly believed, and at the end of the day it was my decision, and my life. I was the one sitting in here. This was not a one-time conversation; it took place over years. I tried really hard to convey my gratitude to both Rabia and Saad for standing by me, while at the same time trying to express my reasons for waiting. I know they were coming from a place of love, but how do you handle people thinking you are not fighting for your life, when you are actually fighting for it every single day, the only way that you know … I prayed about that decision, and it was not as if I made a decision to wait the entire 10 years, day for day. I was just waiting for something to happen.
But nothing really happened for all those years, and the 10th year was approaching. I researched and researched, but was unable to find anything which proved I was innocent. It was coming close to the expiration date, and I really started to become nervous. Other than the Asia McClain alibi issue, I had not really discovered anything significant in my case. And in the last few months of 2009, I grew really worried. I had never communicated with Asia, not once since I had been arrested. We had no way of knowing where she was, or if she would ever come to court. Or even if she remembered anything from so many years ago.
Anyway, you know how the post went. Even though it was denied, I was still at peace. Upset for my family’s sake because I knew it hurt them, and for myself too. But I had peace, as I reflected on how God had taken care of me. He provided me with an opportunity, and I had to be grateful for that. I was able to testify on the witness stand in court, and was finally able to say I did not kill Hae. And if no one believed me, it did not matter. I just wanted to say it. I had a lawyer who was sincere and treated my family in a genuine way. And I was grateful for that. I do not know if Rabia remembers, but we spoke on the phone around the time I got the denial, and she asked me how I was feeling? She was concerned I may have been having a really difficult time, emotionally. But I was not, and I could try to explain why.
So all these years later, my best chance at getting my conviction overturned failed, and I realized I might never make it home. But I had 2 out of 3 things I wanted from the day after my conviction. I was still close with my family, and I had achieved some semblance of being a good person. I do not mean with the outside world. I mean in my world, in here. No one could ever take away all the work I had put in over the past 15 years. All the people in here who care about me (and whom I care about); I am still the same person to them. I can be trusted without betraying that trust, and depended upon. No one in prison has ever accused me of being manipulative or a liar, and that meant everything to me. Maybe more than anything else. And no one from the outside could accuse me of trying to manipulate them because I never dealt with anyone from the outside world anymore. I had made that deal with myself when I was a teenager, and I kept it for all these years. I never asked anyone for anything. To be honest, I never even asked Rabia. Rabia has always cared about me and supported me more than anyone other than my parents. If you re-read every letter that I wrote her, you’d be unable to find anywhere where I’m asking her to advocate for me. It was always just me letting Rabia know I was okay, like religious stuff and funny prison stories, or things like that. I just never wanted her to worry about me.
It used to drive Rabia crazy, and she even cussed me out several times. She had a lot of ideas for the media, reaching out to people, lawyers, etc. But I would always say no. I did not want Rabia to worry about me, or to have to take time away from her own family. She would leave it alone for a while, but inevitably it would come back up, and I would say no. I just wanted to wait for God. I prayed He would not just leave me in here, and as I reflected on all the situations I had witnessed in prison, I always felt His Love and Mercy. But I did not know how to convey that to her. It would really upset Rabia, and it hurt me to understand the negative impact my decisions were having on her. But I felt as if I had no other choice but to wait.
A lot of it was that I did not want to put myself at the mercy of the world. Maybe it sounds crazy, but I could never describe the pain of how it felt to believe that everyone thought I was a murderer. And not just of anyone, but the murderer of one of my closest friends. Someone who loved and trusted me. I never wanted to revisit that. Because when people say I am a manipulative, lying murderer, they are not just saying that I killed Hae. They are saying that I left her body lying in the dirt like garbage, and went about my life as if it was nothing. As if she was nothing. That I made her mother and family’s life a living hell for all those weeks they did not know where she was. And that I did not even care that her death would destroy their lives. They are saying I destroy people’s lives …
I just never wanted to go back to any of that. And without any way to prove my innocence, I was just content to live in prison. Minding my own business; I did not want anything from the outside world. I only wanted to be left alone. I would always work on my case, going to the library and continuing to keep up on cases that were overturned and see if any legal precedents applied to mine. We filed the Leave to Appeal, and I researched how I could try to get one of my issues into federal court. I was just doing my best to be grateful for what I had, and not worry about the things I did not have …
And at least I had the peace of mind that I did everything I could. I stayed out of trouble in prison, educated myself to the law & my case to where I could help my lawyer.
And I had prayed and tried really hard to become a better person. One of the worst things for me at trial was to feel helpless. I did not know what to do, or understand what was going on. But this time (at my Post), I was able to advocate for myself, in a way. I was able to come to a firm understanding with my attorney, and I spoke up for myself in court. So at the end of the day, I could at least look back and say I did everything I could, and I was grateful for that. For whatever else lay ahead, it would be what it would be. I accepted that, and it gave me peace. And I had some contentment with the circumstances of my life.
CHAPTER 8
SARAH KOENIG
And verily, with hardship, comes ease.
Holy Quran 94:6
If there was tremendous hope in the years leading up to the post-conviction appeal, the aftermath of the hearing brought a sense of depression bordering on desperation. A state prosecutor had testified that we had pressured our alibi witness, an absent witness at that, into making statements. What judge would take our word that a witness who refused to show up had written her more-than-decade-old affidavit in good faith?
It was one of the few times in over a decade that I heard a hint of despondency in Adnan’s voice. I think on some level we all knew that the chances of winning the appeal were slim to none, and the prospect of him living the remainder of his years in a supermax facility far from his family were high.
One night about a year after the hearing, in October of 2013, as we still awaited a decision from the court, I flipped through the new shows on Netflix. It was late, the dishes were done, my husband had already retired for the night, and my girls were peacefully conked out. But I couldn’t sleep.
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