“I understand. I’ll get right there. Thank you for your patience.” I was happy to put in as much background as I could. But now it was time to move on. “Sir, did you know the victim? Agent Nazir?”
“I did not know him personally. But I had heard others speak of him.”
“Others such as whom?”
“Omar, for one. And of course my sister, Mina.”
“What was the general tenor of these remarks?”
“They were aware that his agents watched them, and PACT, which would make anyone uneasy.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a string of beads. “But for two people who had been extensively interrogated and abused . . . the feeling would be much more powerful. They were fearful. In an all-consuming way. So much so that it almost made it impossible to function. I tried to help, but there was so little I could do.”
“How did you try to help?”
“Talking to them. Encouraging Omar to explore his legal options.”
And now, at last, our first meeting made sense. “Like filing a civil lawsuit.”
“Exactly. Something proper. We’d had too much violence in our lives. This is supposedly a nation governed by laws.”
“Omar testified that when he was interrogated, Agent Nazir wanted information about you.”
“So I have heard. I do not think Nazir actually believed that I was a terrorist. I think it is possible he opposed the political ambitions of PACT. I think he disliked anyone who knew the details of his past, especially those like my sister who had been subjected to his brutality firsthand.”
“But he singled you out.”
“The CIA attempted to persuade me to continue my scientific work for them after I came to the US. Unlike Yasmin, I refused. That may have made certain people in the government suspicious. Or simply angry.”
“Did you know about the press conference given by Agent Nazir?”
“Indeed. We were all most interested in what he would say.”
“Did you attend?”
“I did.”
“Did you see anyone there you knew?”
“Yes. I saw Omar—just before the shot rang out.”
“Did he have a gun?”
“Yes.”
“Did he fire the gun?”
Abdullah looked straight at the jury. “He did not.”
“How can you be certain?”
“Because I was watching him when I heard the shot. I was approaching to greet him. He did not withdraw his gun until after we heard the gunshot. He probably thought he needed to defend himself, but only a few seconds after he withdrew the gun, someone tackled him. Knocked him to the ground. Then more people piled on top, wrestling Omar to the pavement. They shouted for the police, yelling that they had the killer.”
“Did they?”
“They most certainly did not. As I said, Omar did not even have his gun in his hand until after the shot was fired.”
“You’re certain of that.”
“Completely.”
“What did you do next?”
“I am afraid I left the scene quickly. I feared this was not a safe place for someone of my ethnic background. Too often police officers needing a suspect will grab anyone readily available.”
“Do you know who killed Nazir?”
“I do not. But it seemed to me that the shot came from the other side of the gathering. In the area of the oil derrick at the end of the south plaza.”
The salient point here is that it was a good long way from where the cops found Omar.
And now we got to the rough patch. But better it came voluntarily than was dragged out by Thrillkill. “Did you tell the police what you saw and heard?”
His head bowed. “No.” His fingers kneaded the beads. “I am ashamed to say that I did not.”
“Why?”
He pointed to himself. “You see how I look. You see how I dress. I saw several police officers, and bystanders, eyeing me suspiciously simply because I am of Arabic descent. I did not wish to get involved. I—” He stuttered, then fell silent. “I was afraid.”
“If you were innocent, the police shouldn’t be a threat.”
His head rose. “Because in the US, the innocent are never wrongfully convicted?”
I didn’t bother replying.
He continued. “Because in the US, race never plays a role in convictions? You know as well as I do that non-Caucasians are convicted at a grossly higher rate than white people. What if they decided I was the killer? What if the CIA decided I was a person of interest?”
“Did they have any reason to suspect you?”
“I was in the area. I have an Arabic name. I am Muslim. Omar was arrested on little else. I am stopped every time I board an airplane. People move away from me, refuse to sit with me. The CIA was already interested in me. This could easily be the excuse they needed to detain me for twenty-one days.”
I played the devil’s advocate. “Surely, if you’re innocent, there’s no reason to be afraid of questioning.”
“Your CIA tortured hundreds of people during the Bush administration and lied about it to Congress. They later admitted many people of my faith were held by mistake, but those people were still subjected to interrogation and torture for weeks. Your government lied about NSA surveillance of private communications, the so-called PRISM program. Once the lies become too frequent, who will trust you? All it would take is for someone to suggest a national security risk, and I could be held indefinitely for years. And subjected to your ‘enhanced interrogation techniques.’ At my age . . . I would not survive it. As so many others have not survived it.”
“So you remained quiet.”
“To my shame, yes. I did. I disappeared to a cabin near Grand Lake, where I thought I could not be located. Until your investigator found me.”
“Why are you speaking now?”
He averted his eyes. “Your colleague convinced me that I had a duty to Omar. And to Allah. He is a spiritual man, your investigator. He opened my eyes.”
I think Loving also threated to bust CIA heads if they came after him, but I was content to leave that part out. “Thank you, sir. No more questions.”
58
Judge Santino gave us a ten-minute break before the cross-examination began. I read through Christina’s notes and read my own, trying to anticipate Thrillkill’s line of attack. I was deep in the trial lawyer’s zone when I felt a soft touch on my shoulder.
“Mr. Kincaid.”
I recognized the voice. Mina Ali, Abdullah’s sister. And standing just a step behind, their brother, Kir.
She understood I didn’t have much time and didn’t waste any. “You know what that man will try to do to Abdullah.”
“He will try to discredit my witness. That’s more or less the point of cross-examination.”
“He will try to insinuate that Abdullah is a terrorist.”
I nodded sadly. “You’re probably right.”
Her lips tightened, reminding me of when she told her story in my office, back when this case first began. “What do you intend to do about it?”
“I can object to anything inappropriate, but I can’t stop Thrillkill from talking.”
“He will damn my brother with false lies and half-truths.”
“You’re likely correct, but I can’t prevent it.”
My words only made her angrier. “Do you see the man sitting in the rear of the courtroom? The ginger man with the ill-fitting suit?”
I took a quick look.
“I have seen him before,” she continued. “He works for the CIA.”
I shrugged. “I suppose he has as much right to be here—”
“Are you blind? They have set my brother up. Thrillkill will force lies from Abdullah’s throat, and then that jackal will seize him before he leaves the courtroom.”
“Unless your brother confesses to a criminal act—”
“They do not need a confession!” Her voice was loud enough to attract attention. “The merest suspicion is enoug
h to detain someone for weeks.”
“She’s right about that,” I heard Oz murmur.
“I understand your concern,” I said, hoping to calm her. “But there’s not a thing I can do about it.”
Mina threw up her hands. Kir stepped forward. “You call this a justice system,” the young man said. “And yet there is no justice anywhere to be found.”
“I think that’s extreme.”
“All the power is in the hands of Nazir and people like him. Until the power is evenly distributed, justice will not return. No one will be safe.”
Another time, this might have led to a fascinating discussion, but I simply didn’t have the time, and I was worried Santino might reappear and hear some of this anti-American diatribe. Christina cut in an asked them to speak to her outside. I knew she wouldn’t let them back into the courtroom till they got a grip on their emotions.
Thrillkill knew as well as I did the importance of the evidence the jury had just heard. He’d put on a good case, but he had no eyewitnesses. Now I did. And juries generally think eyewitness testimony is the most reliable, though it is actually among the least reliable, because people’s eyes and memories play tricks on them. Given his political sympathies, Abdullah’s testimony could be called into question. But even a questionable eyewitness was better than none.
“First of all,” Thrillkill said calmly, “I’d like to clear up a few matters regarding your background. At one time, you worked for the Iraqi army. True?”
“Yes. Military service was required.”
“So you worked for the army.”
“As a scientist.”
“Working on a weapon.”
“No. A sustainable energy project.”
“With potential military applications.”
“All research has potential military applications. That has been true since the wheel was turned into a chariot.”
“Did you work on any other weapons projects?”
He hesitated just a fraction. “Yes.”
“Such as.”
“I was occasionally asked to assist with conventional weaponry. Duplicating it. Making it more effective.”
“You made bombs.”
Abdullah looked downward. “I am sorry to say that I did.”
“You want to trash the CIA for doing its job, but the truth is you were out there helping Iraq kill people.”
“I did as I was instructed by my superiors. Until I was able to extricate myself from the situation.” He fidgeted, shifting his weight from one side to the other.
“How long did you work for the Iraqi army, you and Yasmin?”
“About two years.”
“And in that time, approximately how many bombs did you construct?”
Abdullah kneaded his hands. “I have no way of knowing that.”
“How many American boys died as a result of the bombs you made?”
“Objection,” I said, though I knew perfectly well Thrillkill had already made his point.
“Sustained,” the judge intoned.
“I’ll rephrase.” Thrillkill smiled. “Would you be willing to admit that your work resulted in the deaths of some American soldiers?”
“As I recall, the American conquest of Iraq only took about a month.”
“But fighting continued.”
“Yes, even after the so-called mission was accomplished, there were skirmishes. But the Iraqi army was disbanded. A move that had devastating consequences to the infrastructure of our country.”
“Could some of your weapons have made their way to Afghanistan? Or the Taliban? Or ISIS?”
“I have no way of knowing this.”
“I think you have blood on your hands, sir. Your work proves exactly why everything the CIA did was necessary, and why they were right to take an interest in you and your activities.”
“Objection,” I said. “Is this a cross-examination or a Republican after-dinner speech?”
The judge almost smiled. “The objection is sustained.”
Thrillkill was not deterred. “You were pals with Osama bin Laden, weren’t you?”
“I would not say we were pals.”
“You worked on the same side.”
“He never worked for the Iraqi army.”
“You both fought against the United States.”
“No, sir,” Abdullah said, his voice rising. “I only fought to stay alive. As did most of my kinsmen.”
“But you will admit that you knew the man.”
“A long time before. In Afghanistan.”
“You had friends in common.”
“Not that I’m aware.”
“But it’s possible.”
“Objection,” I said. “Mr. Thrillkill has made his point, such as it is. He was always anxious when he thought I strayed from the case. But he hasn’t even mentioned the murder yet.”
The judge nodded. “Let’s have testimony that relates to the homicide.”
Thrillkill nodded politely. “Did you approve of the death of Agent Nazir?”
“Omar did not kill Agent Nazir.”
“You’re not answering my question.”
“I will never approve of murder. I believe it is a crime against Allah.”
“Really?” Thrillkill pulled a face. “I thought you folks all believed that if you murdered for a good reason you went to heaven and got serviced by those sexy virgins.”
“Objection!”
The judge tilted his head. “This one is not entirely irrelevant. I’ll allow it. Please answer the question.”
Abdullah’s irritation was plain. “The particular passage of the Koran which you are grossly misquoting applies to a holy war. Not an assassination.”
“So flying planes into the World Trade Center—was that a holy war or an assassination?”
“Objection!”
“Overruled. The witness will answer.”
Abdullah complied, though it was clear he had no desire to do so. “In my opinion, it was neither. It was simply an act of terrorism. And I have never heard of any deity that rewards terrorism.”
“But isn’t that what the men who flew the planes believed?”
“I don’t know. I never met any of them.”
“Isn’t it true that in your faith—”
“Objection,” I said, as forcefully as possible. “Are we having a debate on comparative religions now? I thought we were going to talk about the murder.”
“That objection is sustained.” The judge gave Thrillkill a stern look. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I do, Your Honor. I thank you for granting me this leniency.” In other words, he’d already done his best to discredit the witness by playing on prejudice, implying that Abdullah was a terrorist based on little more than his nation of birth and his religion. “Let me ask you a different question. Since Omar is your friend, and you approve of his work—you don’t want to see him die, do you?”
“Of course not. I don’t want to see anyone die.”
“And, in fact, you might be willing to do whatever was necessary to help him out of a tight spot, wouldn’t you?”
“If you are implying that I am lying, I must tell you that I am not.”
“You lied to the homicide investigators, didn’t you?”
“I do not know what you are talking about.”
“They asked for eyewitnesses to come forward. You did not come forward.”
“That is hardly the same as lying.”
“Some would say it’s exactly the same. You kept quiet for a lengthy period of time, then suddenly appeared at trial at the last possible moment to bail out your friend. Can you see where that might look more than just a little suspicious?”
“Objection,” I said. “That’s not really even a question. More like the prosecutor is practicing his closing argument.”
“Sustained.”
“Let me rephrase. You testified that you didn’t come forward earlier because you feared retaliation.”
“Yes.�
��
“From the CIA.”
“Or any other American law enforcement or intelligence agency.”
“But you’re talking now. To help your friend.”
“To prevent a gross miscarriage of justice.”
“And you expect us to believe that the man caught with a gun in his hand didn’t kill Agent Nazir.”
“I know that he did not. The gun was not in his hand when the killing shot rang out. From somewhere else.”
“You’re the only one who heard that mystery handgun fire.”
“Actually, to me, it sounded more like a shotgun.”
“That no one else heard. We’ve had a lot of different reports from different witnesses. But no one mentioned the oil rig. Nor did we find any other potential suspects.”
“Did you look? My impression is that you grabbed the obvious suspect and never investigated further.”
“You think you know more about that gunshot than anyone else there?”
Abdullah struggled to remain calm. “I have perhaps more experience with gunfire and combat situations that most Oklahomans.”
Thrillkill let out a thin smile. “No one else heard a sniper in the oil derrick.”
“Did you ask?”
“Motion to strike the nonresponsive reply.”
“Granted.”
Thrillkill hesitated. He had probably done everything he could do with this witness. But I suspected he wanted to go out with more of a bang. If he was going to bury the eyewitness and eradicate all doubt, he needed more oomph.
“You say you have experience with battle situations and the sound of gunfire.”
“Sadly, that is true.”
“Are you familiar with ballistics?”
Abdullah bowed his head. “It is not my main field of inquiry, but ballistics is a science. And I am a scientist.”
“Are you aware that the ballistics evidence shows conclusively that the bullet came from the defendant’s gun? The gun you yourself admit he had on his person at the time of the murder?”
“I have heard of this. I have not seen the report. Or the bullet.”
“Do you have any reason to question the report?”
“Objection,” I said. “He’s not here to testify about ballistics.”
Thrillkill shrugged. “He’s a scientist, as he keeps insisting.”
I tried a different tack. “This is outside the scope of direct.”
Justice Returns (Ben Kincaid series Book 19) Page 30