by David Hearne
The night was still punctuated with thunder rumbling above, and streaks of lightning raking the sky. The steady downpour of rain soaked the cast of wounded and dead, in this horrific tragedy. It was a night of bearing witness to fleeing souls, the termination of glimmering hopes, and the anguished sting of friends departed. Many souls retired that tragic night. The blowing winds, and the sirens of the ambulances seemed to morph into a soul piercing lament that even the rumbling thunder could not hide.
When the medics spotted the Senator’s battered body, it still hung over the hood of the car. She was breathing, but unconscious. It was obvious that this woman with a cross dangling from a gold chain around her neck, was not a Muslim. The medic was about to leave this infidel, but had to fight his religious beliefs because he heard Qusay Hussein shouting at him to save the Senator. He hoped Allah would be merciful on him because he knew the wrath of Qusay Hussein was far more imminent. He knew what the Koran says about infidels ‘The unbelievers among the People of the Book and the pagans shall burn forever in the fire of Hell. They are the vilest of all creatures.’ But he clearly understood that Qusay Hussein wanted the infidel (the vilest of all creatures) to live, and it was his job now to save lives and not help to fulfill prophecy. And most of all, he knew that his life was contingent upon the survival of this unbeliever.
As the medics lifted the Senator onto the stretcher, an injured Qusay Hussein hobbled over to them ranting of the importance of saving this woman’s life. With Qusay’s prompting, they quickly moved the unconscious body to a waiting ambulance and loaded it on board. Qusay pushed aside a medic and entered the ambulance along with his wounded bodyguard.
As the doors slammed closed, the ambulance instantaneously roared onto the road. Onlookers rushed about to clear the path of the wailing sirens and flashing lights. Qusay looked down on the Senator and could see her tortured breathing.
With the wail of the siren seeping into her dulled mind, she drifted further into her memories and the world inside her tormented dreams. Her mind started to replay the sights and sounds of the last few hours. Like a mist-filled dream, the visions of the day drifted through her consciousness playing deep inside her brain. She recalled the chartered jet flying low over the barren Iraqi landscape, which was spotted by twisted hulks of deserted cars, trucks, and military vehicles. She had never been to Iraq before this important clandestine trip. Like a movie, her mind replayed the views she had enjoyed earlier that morning as she flew over the Iraqi border from Syria. She could see again the rugged view of the terrain below. This region was sparsely inhabited by pastoral nomads and was covered with a wide, stony plain scattered with rare sandy stretches. Wadis or watercourses crisscrossed the terrain. This land was so desolate and uninviting, that according to many Iraqis, even a rattlesnake felt lonely living there. The sirens of the ambulance metamorphosed into the hiss from the jet of the air conditioning above her seat in the small-chartered jet. She looked out the window of her mind and could see the Iraq desert below brimming with rubble. She envisioned she was flying, over a huge rubbish dump that the two wars and endless poverty had created. For miles upon miles, the land below was scattered with junk and collapsed buildings from the wars fought on this desert.
Thunder rattled again and its reverberations echoed through her sleeping mind. Her dreams grew darker and she envisioned, she was at home in Houston at a park and groups of people were gathered in a circle jeering at a woman who was buried in the ground up to her waist. Her mind swooped in closer to the woman buried to her waist. Terror ripped through her mind. She saw herself as that woman. Kat wanted to help her, to shield her, but all she could do was helplessly view this horrific scene. She saw the crowd push a man who was stumbling and pleading into the circle. She heard the taunting shrieks of the crowd yelling at him to cast the first stone. Her eyes filled with terror as she recognized this man as her husband, Ira. She was locked in her nightmare and could not hide from its horror. She saw herself pleading for mercy. But her pleas, just excited the boisterous leering crowd even more, and their frenzy of yelling became louder and completely drowned out her voice. Her eyes were full of terror and tears streaked from them. The men and women were yelling at her “Fornicator”, “Whore”, and “Adulterer.”
A prophet appeared and faced the crowd announcing that no stone should be thrown that should kill with a first or second blow, or so small as a pebble as to do no injury to the condemned. He smiled, blessed the crowd and moved back towards the circle’s edge. Reaching it, he turned towards Kat and his face suddenly mutated grotesquely into the face of Sorat. For a long moment, he stood there smiling smugly at Kat, and then his booming voice rang out and commanded his dominions to commence the stoning. Like humans void of soul or mind, they jeered and yelled as they went about selecting their most jagged stones. Kat’s husband faded from her view. Then suddenly the first stone smashed into her, splitting open the skin on her left breast. She heard herself shriek in pain. As the stones mutilated her, her screams and the crowd’s jeers were drowned out by the hideous sounds of Sorat laughing uncontrollably and his booming voice yelling, “God is great.” Another stone smashed into her head from the back, as the crowd grew bolder and louder with yells and shouts. Men rushed to the edge of the circle and spat at her as they heaved their stones at her face. A fist size rock smashed into the back of her head spraying blood across the ground and exciting the crowd even more. The blood made them bolder and their yells and shouts intensified. Now her face was pulverized from the stoning. The blood soaked her hair and splattered on the ground all around her. A spray of blood and spit now accompanied her cries of pain. Both her eyes had been ruptured and her teeth smashed. Thick dark blood oozed from her broken jaw. Her left breast was totally stripped of its flesh, and its nipple hung solely from a piece of skin. Blood streamed down her chest making glistening red spots on the ground. The gore pleased Sorat, and he gleefully watched the proceedings to ensure that no one used a stone of the wrong size.
In Kat’s dream, she saw a vision of herself raising her head and pleading for mercy from the thunderous crowd around her. A large woman, with a string of spittle flying from her mouth screeched, “God is great,” as an answer to Kat’s plea. Then the woman followed her chant, with a large stone violently hurled at Kat’s fractured skull. The impact jerked her head backward and this woman who looked like Kat fell silent. Her agony had finally ceased. She had found her peace. The crowd was still in a frenzy and continued to stone and spit at her, until Sorat transformed himself back into the image of a holy prophet and told them to stop. He blessed them and thanked them for doing Allah’s bidding and they all shouted, “God is great.”
The roar of their chanting got louder as her mind reeled from this vision from hell and her breathing strained. She made guttural sounds, and the medic adjusted the oxygen flow of the resuscitator. The ambulance was only a few miles from Ibn Sina Hospital. The same hospital used by Saddam Hussein. The oxygen seemed to calm her mind and the scene of horror and the maddening chanting drifted away.
Her agitation seemed to subside in the solitude of the new dreams that formed in her brain.
The ambulance sped down the street escorted by Iraqi police vehicles blasting the way towards the hospital.
The driver was expressionless, focusing only on his life and death task of driving. The wind had been so strong that it would shake the ambulance as it sped down the road and in some places along the road it had toppled trees.
Like the churning clouds outside, Kat’s brain was swirling with new memories invading her consciousness. Memories of her husband, daughter and her three cats flickered like a family slide show in the theater in her head. All of it was so real that at some times she could even hear their voices as they wished her well. She took warmth from these sights, and they seemed to calm her soul. Her family was the foundation of her life. Most of the time she had led an idyllic American dream existence. But today, her life was hallucinations and dreams. Darkness full of voice
s, some real and some not. The shadows of this ceaseless night morphed into all she had seen and known. While she lay still and peaceful, flashes of demons and angels rattled her consciousness with confusing memories that were like umbilical tendrils hooked to the world outside her mind. But she stayed locked in its solitary, alone, somewhere between life and death.
The ambulances rushed into the docking bay at the hospital. The wailing sirens died as the ambulance doors abruptly slammed open. All around there were rushing people, the craze of a loud and chaotic emergency.
The ambulance crew lowered the Senator’s stretcher gently to the ground. Now the horror of her condition was painfully obvious. She was covered in blood from a multitude of cuts and lacerations. The medics had put a neck brace on her. She was barely breathing on her own. A sickly pale pallor had consumed her face, and she looked near dead. A rushing mass of doctors, nurses and Fedayeens moved towards the stretcher containing the Senator, who was escorted by the medics and Qusay Hussein.
* * * *
I did not know this entire story on the morning of January 25 2004, when Senator Laforge was scheduled to hold her meeting at our town hall. Since then much of the mysteries unfolded as Tom, Vince and myself sorted through the events since the meeting with Senator Laforge at our class reunion in 2002.
Allah’s Messenger said: There is a remedy for every malady, and when the remedy is applied to the disease it is cured with the permission of Allah, the Exalted and Glorious.
Part FOUR
After the Accident
We had not envisioned that the street would be so packed with vehicles so early in the morning. On the north end of Main Street, we finally spotted a parking place cut into the snow bank. Ironically it was about the same distance to the town hall as it would have been from our home. The Town Hall was a three or four minute walk from this location. As I backed into the parking space, the crunching sound of snow almost blocked out a special radio news update. With the engine still running, we sat in total silence listening to every spoken word. I sucked in a lung full of air and tried to contain my emotions. It was more grim news. The announcer confirmed that one of the bodies found in the bus was Senator Laforge’s husband. Stacie’s eyes filled with tears, and she started sobbing. The announcer stated that Ira, the Senator’s husband had been shot four times; three in the head and once in his back. Most likely, he had died instantly. I reached over to console Stacie. She really had not known Ira well, but having spent the previous evening with them, made this much more personal.
This was our first encounter with losing a friend to murder. A whole array of emotions was descending upon me. I felt anger, helplessness, grief and at the same time unbelieving that such a horrible act could have happened to someone I had come to know and been so involved with for the last year and a half.
Ira’s murder made life feel inconsequential. The world continued on its unshaken path complete with falling snow and people walking, chatting and laughing and unmoved or unaware of the Grim Reaper’s early morning visit.
The cold tears on Stacie’s cheek moistened my face bringing on a panoply of overpowering emotions. I felt grief, and a sense of loss at the realization of life’s fragility.
Stacie wiped her tears away trying to control herself, and I bit my lip hard to control my tears.
Stacie asked in a near whisper, “What should we do now?”
I just sat there quietly at first and then told her, “We should still go to the town hall and see what if anything is happening there. Maybe we will hear something more about Kat. I hate it when they spoon feed us the news.”
She dabbed her eyes and I tried to dry her face off, so the tears would not freeze on her cheeks. We slid out of the car and walked in silence towards the Town Hall. As we approached it, neighbors cheerfully greeted us probably unaware of the latest news. I spotted Tom Hestler so we walked over to him and asked if he had heard that Ira was murdered.
Tom’s shocked look, answered the question.
Stacie reached out, hugged him and shed a few more tears. Tom asked me what had happened, so I went over the previous reports. The cold and the snow seemed trifle now as we discussed Ira’s murder, worried about Kat and tried to make some sense of what was happening.
Tom reminded us of how less than two years ago, Ira stood by Kat as she recovered from her accident in a Baghdad Iraqi hospital. For both of them, it had been a truly tenuous period. When that accident was first reported, it devastated and depressed me. We had all worked so hard to make her secret trip to Iraq a political success, and then that terrible accident seemed to destroy all we had worked towards. There was no escape from hearing about it either. The headlines of every media outlet in the world trumpeted the accident or assassination attempt. CNN, FOX, MSNBC, CBS and ABC were constantly reporting, “Breaking news of the injured American Senator from Texas recovering in an Iraqi Hospital.”
Reuters had been the first to report the incident of the Senator’s automobile accident in Baghdad, but with very few facts. “Senator Laforge injured in Iraq.” Screamed the headlines that morning.
After the accident, Ira kept us all well informed of Kat’s medical status. In fact, the morning after the incident, he held an impromptu news briefing at their home in Houston. Outside their home, hundreds of people waited around for more than four hours to hear Ira’s briefing. The weather in Texas had been very wet the previous few days. So wet that the President had declared parts of Texas a disaster area due to the flooding from the torrential rains. But luckily, that morning of November 6, it was clear, dry and warm. Kat’s supporters did not have to brave the rain, only the press Corps that milled about jockeying and bullying for the best positions in front.
The news briefing had been promised for 10 AM (CST) and precisely at that time Ira’s front door opened and two of the Senator’s aides ushered him to a make shift podium. He looked terribly distraught, but maintained control of himself as he welcomed the reporters and his wife’s many supporters.
Ira stood there, gazing out at all of them and started reading from his prepared statement:
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I am here to give you as much information as we know about my wife’s current situation. Yesterday, my wife Senator Laforge was admitted to Ibn Sina Hospital in Baghdad, Iraq suffering from a concussion, broken arm and various other injuries. Her caring physician, Dr. al-Janabi, said my wife would remain hospitalized for a few more days. He added however, that my wife was out of danger and would continue to improve.”
A cheer went up from the crowd and people started chanting, “Get well Kat.”
Ira waited for the noise to subside and then continued with this briefing.
“Thank you for your concern and love for my wife. Let me continue. I was told that in her current medical condition, she is also showing signs of elevated blood pressure and treatment is being done at Ibn Sina Hospital to avoid any bleeding complications.”
“The Senator has undergone what was described as an extensive examination of her multiple injuries, and will have to remain immobile for some days. They want to insure that the gains made so far in her recovery continue. The Senator will receive limited visitations to allow needed rest and a faster recovery. She is currently on medication and will undergo treatment at the hospital as she continues to recuperate. The doctors are very optimistic about her complete recovery.”
Another roar of approval forced Ira to stop and wait for quiet.
Ira waived his hands for quiet and then said, “I want to quickly dispel any notion that my wife is dead or is a prisoner in Iraq. As many of you have already heard, this was not just a simple car accident. It seems, from the preliminary examination of the wreckage, that this was an attempted assassination of Mr. Qusay Hussein or of my wife. A bomb was apparently placed in the limousine that both my wife and Mr. Hussein were riding in. Numerous men were brutally killed in this attack, but my wife, Qusay Hussein and a few others were spared death.”
Tears welled
up in Ira’s eyes, and he paused for a moment to recover his composure.
“Excuse me!” he continued, “But our priority now, besides the quick recovery of my wife, is to exert the utmost efforts to identify the person or group responsible for this attempt on my wife’s life. Senior officers from the Fedayeen headquarters in Baghdad, Iraq spent hours examining the scene and assured us that there would be no cover up. Although some reports have been aired by Al-Jazeera News that this attempted assassination was the work of a splinter faction of Kurds, no opposition groups have made claim to this attack. The spokesman from Qusay Hussein’s office also has denied that there is any proof of the Kurd’s involvement in this attack. Essentially we do not know at this time who is responsible for this terrible incident. Any new revelations as to the perpetrator of this horrible act will be reported to you as it unfolds.”
Ira paused for a moment and looked out at the forest of cameras staring at him and then locked his eyes on his wife’s adoring supporters and said.
“I know all of you are wondering why my wife was in Iraq? Her trip was kept as a total secret, so no one could jeopardize it. She had hoped as a Presidential candidate to establish some sort of trust and good will between Saddam Hussein and herself. With this trust she felt she could mold a peace plan that would prevent hundreds of our men and women from dying in the deserts and streets of Iraq.”