“What other things did you believe you had discovered that the Druze had not? Anything about the time of the appearing of the messiah—the reincarnation of the Caliph al-Hakim?”
“Louis and Yossin had figured out when he would appear—and it was sooner than the Druze had counted on.”
“And their calculation would mean that this so-called messiah, the reincarnation of the Caliph al-Hakim, was supposed to appear when?” Zayed asked.
“Earlier this year—just before the bombings took place,” Magnit replied.
“Now, we will get back later to the timing of this so-called appearing,” the prosecutor noted, “but tell this honorable tribunal—tell us, what were the signs to be of the coming of this last prophesied Caliph, according to what the Knights believed?”
“Well, first, he had to be, like, an Arab, and from Cairo, and have a Shiite Muslim background but with a Christian mother—because that was all stuff that was true of Caliph al-Hakim.”
“And further,” Zayed probed, getting excited, “where was the site he was to appear?”
Scott Magnit knew the importance of this series of questions and answers. So he took his time, first taking a sip of water from the glass next to his seat.
“In Cairo, Egypt. That’s where the original Caliph disappeared, ascending directly to God in the year 1021.”
“Now,” Zayed lowered his voice almost to a whisper, bending toward the microphone at the podium, “tell us this—did someone actually appear in Cairo, Egypt, earlier this year, preaching publicly the coming of the new kingdom of God—someone who arrived at the exact time predicted by the calculations of the Knights of the Temple Mount, and who fulfilled all the prophesies about the new Caliph al-Hakim, the supposed messiah?”
This was Magnit’s moment. He knew it. He nodded slowly, turning to the three judges in their red robes behind the wall of glass. Then he offered his answer.
“Yeah—Mr. Hassan Gilead Amahn there, he arrived in Cairo right on the money. And he seemed to fulfill every one of those things—from Cairo originally…a Shiite Muslim background…mother a Christian…the whole nine yards. It was like, you know, a home run, bases loaded.”
“But Mr. Magnit,” Zayed allowed a tinge of skepticism to creep into his voice, “was this information about the reincarnated Caliph—the exact date of his predicted arrival, his required background, the fact he was to make a dramatic appearance in Cairo and not somewhere else—was this kept a secret, or was it allowed to be leaked to the public?”
“Well, not exactly leaked to the public,” Magnit said, bobbing his head a little from side to side. “It was supposed to be kept a really tight secret among just a few of us in the inner circle.”
“Who?”
“Louis Lorraine…and then Yossin, of course, and his dad, Omar, knew about it too but he died…and then there was me. That was it.”
“How many followers did the Knights have on the day of the bombings?”
“Couple dozen regulars and maybe a hundred hangers-on.”
“Were they ever told the details of the anticipated appearing of the Caliph?”
“Not really…not the particulars…just real general stuff. See, this stuff was what they called the ‘esoteric mysteries.’ They were to belong only to a small group that went through the initiation and hung in there for a long time and could be trusted. That sort of thing. The small inner circle.”
“So,” Zayed said, his voice building now, “you were to have kept these details very secret?”
Magnit paused and looked down.
“Yeah. I was.”
“Did you?”
Again, Magnit looked down dramatically, then turned to address the tribunal directly.
“Not really.”
“How many others did you tell?”
“Just one person.”
“And who was that?”
Magnit took a deep breath, then exhaled. And then he replied.
“Hassan Gilead Amahn. The accused right over there.”
Will Chambers had his attention laser-beamed on the faces of the judges. Mustafa was alternately nodding and shaking his head vigorously. Judge Verdexler had his head leaning a little against his hand, which was supported by an elbow on the bench, but he was entirely unmoving, transfixed by the testimony.
Judge Lee had no expression, but his eyes were flitting from Scott Magnit to Gilead Amahn at the defense table, then back to Magnit in the booth.
“And when did you share this information with the accused?”
“The year before the bombing. In Jerusalem. The Knights would hold these Bible studies…sort of religious discussions…to get new members. And the accused, Mr. Amahn over there, he showed up last year. Talked some. Seemed friendly. We took a break during the Bible-study meeting and I introduced myself. We talked a little.”
“How did you get on the subject of the coming Caliph—the supposed messiah of the Knights of the Temple Mount?”
“Well, he’s the one…Gilead Amahn…he sort of brought it up. He says to me, ‘You know He’s coming again.’ I say to him, ‘Oh yeah?’ Amahn says, ‘Yeah, the Messiah is on His way here…to the Middle East. We need to get ready. The signs are coming together.’ And I’m thinking, Maybe he’s in the know…maybe we ought to think about him to be part of the circle…”
“So, what did you tell him at that point in the discussion?”
“I’m sorry…what was the question?” Magnit was shifting a little in his chair.
“What did you tell him?”
“Well, about the details…”
“Which ones?”
“About, you know, all of the stuff we just talked about—the appearing of the Caliph and all that…”
“Did you tell him about how the Knights had calculated the date, and what the date was?”
“Yeah.”
Will rose to his feet, straining not to overreact, but objecting to the “clear attempt of the prosecution to lead this very critical witness down the primrose path—”
Mustafa shook his head.
“And what primrose path would that be?” he asked with an amused smile. “We do not have many primroses here in the Middle East, Mr. Chambers. I am sure Barrister Newhouse would tell you that they have many of that species where he comes from, but not over here in the desert…”
Judge Verdexler smiled and leaned back in his chair.
“Leading and suggestive questioning,” Will said tersely, “is never permissible in the prosecution’s direct examination of a witness. But it’s particularly outrageous in the examination of a witness like this—someone so integral to the prosecution’s theory.”
Mustafa smiled and glanced over at Samir Zayed.
“Mr. Public Prosecutor, try to let the witness answer the questions himself—in his own way. Let’s hear what he has to say.”
Zayed bowed slightly and resumed his questions, but with little correction.
“So, you told Mr. Amahn when, this year, the supposed Caliph-messiah was to appear?”
“Yes.”
“And where? In Cairo?”
“Yeah, that too.”
“And what of the personal characteristics of the Caliph…did you also tell him these?”
“Well, sure. I didn’t think in a million years he had that kind of background. Shiite Muslim, Christian mother, born in Cairo. I mean, what were the odds of that? Like one in a zillion?”
“Did you tell Mr. Lorraine or Mr. Khalid you had shared that information with Mr. Amahn?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“They would have got really teed off at me. It was secret stuff. Not for public consumption.”
“In retrospect, have you now concluded anything about how Hassan Gilead Amahn used that information?”
Scott Magnit squinted and half-tilted his head, scrunching up his face at the question.
So Zayed repeated the question again, this time much slower, and emphasized the words ‘used that information.�
��
“Oh, right,” Magnit said, the lightbulb going on. “Yeah. I think that Mr. Amahn there just…you know, like, took the information I gave him that I wasn’t supposed to, and then he just made sure he was in Cairo at the right time to make it look like he was the reincarnation of the Caliph…”
Will objected to the answer as “improper opinion evidence, and commenting on the state of mind of the accused.”
This time Judge Verdexler asked permission to weigh in.
“Counsel,” he said, “opinion evidence, even under the federal rules in the United States, can come in from a lay witness like Mr. Magnit, as long as it is reasonably based on the perception of the witness.”
“But what perception is being conjured here?” Will asked, his voice strained with frustration. “Mr. Magnit wasn’t in Cairo when Mr. Amahn arrived there. This is unabashed, wild speculation on the part of this witness.”
“And what is your theory, Mr. Chambers,” Verdexler snapped back, “your alternative as to why the accused showed up in Cairo when he did? That he really was the reincarnation of the Caliph al-Hakim come back from the dead after a thousand years? Is that what you are planning to argue?”
Mustafa and Verdexler were both chuckling.
“Not at all,” Will said in a controlled but impassioned tone, “rather, that Gilead Amahn’s arrival in Cairo just happened to coincide with the wild calculations of a small religious cult—and that this witness, Scott Magnit, is fabricating his story. Lying to this tribunal.”
There was a momentary hush in the courtroom. Then Verdexler responded in a calm but pointed fashion.
“You are free to conduct your defense any way you want,” the Belgian judge said, speaking slowly enough to ensure that the translators were getting it to Will, “but you have a very high hill to climb in order to prove that theory,” he concluded. Judge Mustafa nodded along with him.
Lee Kwong-ju was simply staring at the defense attorney.
Zayed, empowered by the last interchange between the bench and Will Chambers, brought his direct examination to a close by asking Scott Magnit whether Gilead Amahn attended any “inner circle” meetings in the weeks just prior to the bombings.
“Yes. Many.”
“Meetings where you, and Mr. Lorraine, and Mr. Khalid, were actually planning the bombing of the Temple Mount?”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“What was your understanding,” Zayed asked with an air of triumph in his voice, “of what Mr. Amahn’s role would be on the day of the bombings?”
With only a moment’s hesitation, Magnit answered.
“He was to give the signal—in his preaching down along the streets of the Old City—when the bombs were to be detonated.”
“And did he?”
“Oh yeah,” Scott Magnit replied, “he did. He sure did.”
60
“SCOTT, I WANT YOU TO LOOK at these documents,” Will Chambers said, handing several marked exhibits to the armed bailiff, who in turn slipped them in to the witness through a small tray mounted in the glass booth. Will was now homing in on the specifics of the several statements given by Magnit to the Palestinians following his arrest.
“Look at your first statement, given to the Palestinian Authority police on day two of your arrest. Here is all you say about Gilead Amahn:
Hassan Gilead Amahn was at a Bible study held by the Knights of the Temple Mount last year. I met him then. On the day of the bombings, Mr. Amahn was on the streets of the Old City of Jerusalem. He was preaching to a crowd of people. At a certain point, when Mr. Amahn spoke about the Temple Mount in his preaching, then Yossin Ali Khalid gave the signal to Louis Lorraine, who went to his vehicle to detonate a bomb. And Khalid ran to his vehicle to do the same. I got a cab driver, one of our group, who got Mr. Amahn into his cab and was to drive him around, in a hurry, to the walls of the Old City that face the Mount of Olives. At the point where the “Golden Gate” was located, the bricked-over wall was to be blown up, and Mr. Amahn was supposed to be told to run in through the opening, just like the Messiah.
“And that is the sum total of everything you said at that point, about Gilead Amahn, isn’t it?”
“That’s what this paper says. Right.”
“But in the rest of that twenty-two-page statement, you give a detailed account of your own involvement in the plot to destroy the Muslim structures on the Mount, right?”
“Well…yeah. I said I was involved.”
“You confessed to knowing about the bombs…about the detonation devices in the two vehicles…to knowing that Lorraine would set one explosion off and Khalid the other. That you met with them and planned all of it out in advance. You admitted that in this statement given on day two after your arrest. Correct?”
“Yeah. I said I did—”
“But tell me, where in this twenty-two-page statement do you ever say that Hassan Gilead Amahn was involved in the planning of the bombing—or even that he knew about the plan to explode the Temple Mount?”
The witness fumbled through the multipaged exhibit in his lap.
“Take your time,” Will said.
After several minutes of deafening silence Magnit spoke up.
“I guess I never said anything like that in this statement.”
“So, let’s go to the second statement you gave to the Palestinian police,” Will said, his voice rising slightly now. “Day four of being in police custody. Earlier that day you were injured. After you get hurt, suddenly you decide to sign a second confession. Now that injury—it must have happened while the police were right next to you. You said you were going down some stairs, right?”
“Yeah. Down a stairway. Stone stairs.”
“A couple of Palestinian police next to you—obviously—because they would not have allowed you to walk around freely. Correct?”
“I think there were three of the Palestinian cops with me.”
“And—what was it—you tripped on a loose shoelace and tumbled down the stairs?”
“I can’t remember all the details. I hit my head. Sort of blacked out.”
“You can’t remember whether it was a loose shoelace that you tripped on?”
“I’m a little fuzzy on the whole falling-down deal.”
“I thought a few minutes ago you said you tripped because you were wearing jail slippers. I have it right here in my notes. Didn’t you say that in your testimony?”
Samir Zayed rose quickly and objected that Will was “pestering Mr. Magnit. Harassing the prosecution’s witness.” The prosecutor had one hand behind his back and was gesturing athletically toward Will Chambers with the other.
Judge Mustafa was nodding in agreement, but Judge Lee was raising his hand discreetly, motioning to be heard. Mustafa nodded in his direction, and the Korean spoke up.
“The purpose of cross-examination is to put the prosecution’s case to the test. Challenge the credibility of the witness—test memory. The defense should be given some leeway, I think.”
Mustafa and Lee both looked at Judge Verdexler, who was between them. Verdexler glanced over at Scott Magnit in the booth. And then at Will. Then he gave a kind of reluctant shrug in agreement with Judge Lee’s position.
“Mr. Chambers,” Mustafa warned, “be careful not to harass the witness. This tribunal will not tolerate that. But…you may proceed with your question.”
Will asked that the last question be reread to the witness. Behind the one-way wall of dark glass at the back of the courtroom, the English-speaking translator repeated the question. Magnit listened in his earphones and then looked up at Will.
“I’m not sure how it happened.”
“That wasn’t my question. I was asking, do you agree that a few minutes ago you said you fell because of the jail slippers you were wearing?”
“Maybe I did.”
“But now you don’t know why you fell?”
“Not really. I said I can’t really remember.”
“So—you don’t recall whethe
r it was a loose shoelace…or the jail slippers…or maybe being pushed by the police officers down the stairs—”
Zayed leaped up and waved his arms frantically.
“This cannot be allowed! The defense attorney is asking illegal and improper questions—attacking the honesty and legality of the Palestinian police. This is nothing but a dirty political trick to slander the Palestinian Authority, and I object!”
Mustafa was not inclined to listen to argument or comments from the other judges.
“I have warned you, Mr. Chambers—and these appear to be nothing but unfounded and wild accusations concealed as cross-examination questions.”
Will waved a photograph in front of him, then motioned for the bailiff to take it to the witness booth.
“Please, Your Honor, before you rule on this,” he countered quickly, “I’ve handed what has already been marked and stipulated into evidence as a photograph taken by the International Red Cross when they paid an unannounced visit to the jail facility shortly after Mr. Magnit’s injury. Let the witness look at it and see if it will refresh his memory.”
Judge Lee was nodding but Mustafa was not convinced.
Judge Verdexler’s brow was wrinkled. Then he broke his silence.
“Your Honors, I think refreshing the witness’s memory is appropriate—given his own testimony that he can’t fully recall the incident.” Mustafa slowly yielded and permitted the witness to view the photo.
“Look at the photo,” Will continued, “blackened eye…what seems to be a broken nose…cut lip…and bruising on—well, the photo seems to show bruising on both sides of your face—isn’t that correct?”
Magnit was staring at the photo. Now his face had the look of barely camouflaged internal misery.
“How were you able to fall down the stairs and beat up both sides of your face?”
Magnit was unresponsive in his quiet torment.
“No answer to that?”
Magnit shook his head.
“Let the record reflect,” Will announced, “that the witness has no answer.”
“And also on this photo,” Will’s voice now quickened, driving home the point, “a red streak across your cheek—as if someone had whipped your face with a belt or a rope—you do see that?”
The Last Judgment Page 30