by Terry Keys
Marty whispered in Sally’s ear, “I think we should, you know, get outta here. Don’t you think?”
The three of them left the park and went to a nondescript building that Sally sometimes used for interviews with people who didn’t want to be seen.
She took a recording device from her bag and set it on the table. Then she took out a pen and paper.
Dari and Marty sat down at the table across from her.
“So, Dari, can you begin by telling me what started all of this? I don’t want to ask you a bunch of strange questions. I just want you to talk. Okay?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“Good. Then it’s settled. Marty and I will sit back and let you talk about whatever your heart desires.”
Dari stared at the floor, and tears formed in her eyes.
Marty took her face in his hands. “What’s wrong, Dari?”
“I miss my family.”
Sally dug around in her purse and found a package of tissues. She handed one to Dari.
Marty’s phone buzzed. Again, he ignored it.
“Listen, if it’s too soon, I understand. We can always do this another day,” Sally said, hoping Dari wouldn’t take her up on it.
“No, I’ll be fine. Everyone needs to know. I want everyone to know about the monsters that are out there.”
“Okay, dear. You can talk whenever you’re ready,” Sally said.
“My name is Dari Patel. I am fifteen years old. My whole life I have grown up watching men with guns walk up and down my street. Sometimes the men are American, and other times the men are from my country. At no time are the men there to protect me, I have learned. The Americans only come to our country for the oil. If they think you are a bad person, they will shoot you like an animal. My brother was only thirteen when they shot him, thinking he was a bad person looking to cause them harm.
My father was a good man, but when my brother was shot, he became very angry. He wanted someone to answer for shooting my brother, but no one from America would listen. They told him maybe he should move his family to somewhere safer. But how could this be possible? We were very poor people. My father could only get work sometimes. The only people who would listen were not good people. People my father told us to avoid. Bad men. But we learned that the men from my country, the same men who went down my street with guns, were also angry that my brother was killed. They told my father to join them for revenge against the Americans. My mother did not want this, but my father was angry. How else could he protect my other brothers and the rest of our family with no weapons and no training? El Printo was the name of the man who took my father in. He loved my father. He gave us money to live. He gave us money for schooling and clothes and food.
After many months, my father began to rethink his relationship with El Printo. He and my mother fought about it every night. He wanted to get out. I could hear him and my mother fight about it. My father felt like he had nowhere to turn. The Americans didn’t care, and El Printo only wanted to use my father for his own benefit. This is what I have come to learn. No one cares about the poor people of my country. Not even our own countrymen. Only the oil in the ground. We are forgotten. Bombs fall down on our village, and yet no one cares. I am here to change that. Everyone will remember me. Everyone will know Dari the little brown girl.”
Sally was speechless. She was right. This was the story. This little girl was about to earn Sally every award she’d ever dreamed of winning and more.
“Dari, I am sorry. That is quite the story you have,” Sally said.
“I told you this was the real deal, Sally,” Marty said.
“My father left us about a month ago. We had no food. No money. We had no one to turn to. I fear he is dead. No one turns their back on El Printo—no one. I do not know why my father left. El Printo sent men to my house. I watched as they raped my mother. They killed my grandmother. They shot her and my brothers. They only kept me alive for their pleasure. If I could have gotten a gun or a rope, I would have killed myself to stop the pain.”
Dari dropped her face into her hands. Marty placed a hand on her shoulder but said nothing. He signaled to Sally to wrap it up.
“I think we’ve heard enough for today, Dari,” Sally said as she gathered up her things.
Dari snapped up in her seat. “No. I want you to hear it all. I want the world to know it all.”
“Are you sure?” Marty asked. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. You don’t have to get it all out today.”
Dari glared at Marty, who threw his hands up. Sally turned her recorder back on.
“After the men came to my house and killed my family, they took me with them. I was starved and beaten. Men raped me every day. They made me do things to them. They cursed my father’s name. I want to kill every one of them. But Allah has revenge. It is not mine. So I no longer hate them. I am just glad that I was able to escape.”
“This is an amazing story, Dari. You are truly an amazing girl. The entire world will know about you, about your family. They will not be forgotten. I can promise you that,” Sally said.
“Thank you,” Dari said.
“I think I have enough here to start writing my piece. Marty, can I have a word with you please?” Sally motioned for him to step outside the room.
“This story is unbelievable,” Sally said once they were out of earshot. “You do realize that this is going to make national headlines, right?”
Marty nodded. “That’s why I called you. I wanted this to get the attention it deserves. And maybe that sister of yours can finally get off your case, huh?”
“Oh, she’s definitely going to hear about this. I may bring her in on it before my story hits the airwaves just so she can sit back and watch it all unfold.”
“Well, she is pro women’s rights and all. I’m sure she’d love to meet Wadj . . . I mean Dari.”
“Huh?” Sally said looking confused.
“Dari. Sorry. Got another kid I’m tracking down for an upcoming story. Don’t mind me. I can’t remember a damn thing these days.”
“Yes, I will no doubt be setting up a meeting with Dari and my sister. She’d love to hear about a tough little girl who pulled herself up by her own boot straps.”
Marty stepped back toward the door. “Hey, one more thing, Marty. Do you happen to know how Dari escaped? I mean, she didn’t really go into any details about it,” Sally said.
“Not sure. I didn’t really ask. Just a miracle that she did, you know?”
Sally smiled and said nothing.
“Let me know when she can meet the president. I’m sure that would be a great honor for Dari. Good PR for the pres too,” Marty said, heading back into the room with Dari.
Chapter 45
Sally took off across town, heading straight for her home office. She texted her sister. “Know you’re busy but got someone you have to meet.”
It took twenty minutes, but she finally responded with an “Okay.”
Sally grabbed her laptop, plugged it in, and started banging away at the keys. What would she call this piece? She was going to make this her magnum opus.
The Last Woman Standing? A Woman’s Struggle? Fight for Justice? That was it—well, for now it would do. Fight for Justice - The Story of Dari. Then she realized she didn’t have a last name for Dari. Way to go, big-time journalist.
She texted Marty and asked for Dari’s last name. He sent it, along with a link to a video he wanted her to watch.
Sally knew she didn’t have time but clicked on the video file and waited for it to upload. She could see a young girl on her knees, crying. She watched in horror as the man in the video slapped the girl to the ground. When the girl lifted her head, she recognized her– Dari. Oh God. Sally burned with even more anger. She stopped the video. She couldn’t bear to watch this girl get raped.
She hammered away on the keyboard. An hour into her story, she heard her phone buzzing. She was way too focused right now, so the call would have to wait. A minute later, her house
phone rang. She let the machine pick up.
“Sal, it’s me, Jackie. I know you’re there. Pick up the phone.”
Sally ran over and grabbed the phone before her sister hung up.
“Hey, sorry. I’m working on this ginormous story and . . . what’s up?”
“So who’s this mystery person I have to meet? I’m kinda in the middle of an international situation right now.”
“I know and this could help. There’s this girl. She escaped from some real bad Islamic guys over in the Middle East. She’d been beaten, raped . . . a real tough girl. Pretty too, but underneath it all I know she’s sweet. You could smile in front of some cameras, show everyone that we can work together. I don’t know. Maybe it’s silly.”
“No, that may not be a bad idea, Sal. Right now that’s exactly what we need. To build some goddamn bridges between us. Where’s this girl at now?”
“She’s safe. With a friend. A call away.”
“Okay. I’ll get everything cleared. Dinner tonight at—”
“1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Yes, everyone knows the address, Jackie. Not to mention I’ve been there a time or two.”
“Funny. We’ll do a short presser, take a few pictures. You know the spiel.”
Sally hung up the phone and breathed a sigh of relief. Not one wisecrack. Not one backhanded compliment. Her sister must really be stressed right now.
She texted Marty and told him the plan. Jackie wasn’t fond of Marty, so Sally would meet Dari and him back at the park. From there, she’d leave with Dari. They’d have to fill Marty in on the details later that evening. No way Jackie would get a clearance for Marty Wolfe.
Sally wrote for another hour, almost completing the rough draft. Aww, what the hell? She thought. Why not spend thirty more minutes and finish? Then she could get it over to the editor to review and clean up. The world needed to see this now!
While it was on her mind, she texted Charles, her editor, and told him that no one—absolutely no one—was to get a peek at the article until it hit the shelves the next day. And she wanted this to truly be special, so it needed to be online only and a midday release. She didn’t want it getting caught up in the regular newspaper’s stories or the usual morning headlines. It still had to be edited and turned in soon to make the deadline for tomorrow. Charles was a real pro. He could do it. He’d done it a million times before. She followed up that text with an email too.
She showered, took out her White House-dinners-only dress, and threw it on. Twenty minutes later, she was back on the park bench waiting for Marty.
As the two finally came into view, Sally was impressed that Marty’d found a dress for the girl and managed to help get her cleaned up.
“Wow. You are a very beautiful young lady,” Sally said.
“Thank you. But my beauty has been a curse. It has made men want to—”
Sally put an arm around the girl. “Those days are over. And don’t you ever apologize for being beautiful or make what those monsters did to you in any way your fault.”
Dari nodded but said nothing.
“Let me carry that for you,” Sally said, tugging at Dari’s backpack. The girl quickly pulled away.
“Sorry,” Sally said. “Thought you would be more comfortable with it off.”
Marty put a hand up. “It’s okay, Sally. That’s literally all the girl has. She’s kind of protective of it.”
Marty’s phone buzzed and then rang.
“I’m sorry, Dari. I understand. Our valuables are important to us.” Then she turned to Marty. “You’ve been quite the popular man today, haven’t you?”
He nodded but said nothing.
Dari took a step toward Sally. “No, I’m sorry. I know you are here to help me. There’s a picture of my family and a few other things. I don’t have much.”
“Please stop apologizing. The world should be apologizing to you,” Sally said. “Marty, we’ll meet up with you later, okay?”
Marty gave her a thumbs-up, said goodbye to Dari, and headed away from them.
Sally reached out her hand to Dari. “Shall we?”
Chapter 46
As I walked into HPD headquarters, I sent my oldest daughter, Hilary, a text. She replied, asking if she could call me. I beat her to the punch.
“What’s up, Hil?”
“Stop it, Dad.”
“Stop what?”
“Trying to be, you know, cool.”
“Despite what you might think, I am pretty cool, if I do say so myself. I’m about to step into a meeting dear. What’s up?”
“Mom is driving me insane, Dad.”
“What do you mean?”
“When’s the last time you talked to her?”
“Been a few hours. I’m kinda—”
“No, Dad, I mean really talked to her. Like, she’s seriously freaking out. She keeps saying we’re going to have a nuclear war or something. You’re going to catch these guys, aren’t you?”
I swallowed hard and tried to find the right words.
“Dad?” I could hear the strain in her voice.
“Yes, I’m going to catch them. Listen, I’ll call your mother soon. I gotta run. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
I made my way down to the conference room where Khalid, Mullinski, DeLuca, and Rael were waiting on me. I let myself in.
“Khalid, have you been able to follow that money trail on our dentists to anything meaningful?” I said, taking my seat.
He shook his head.
I turned my attention to Rael. “You gave us a real good start on intel about God’s Warriors, Rael. But there are some who, quite frankly, feel like you may be holding something back. Is there anything more that you can tell us?”
Rael opened his mouth to talk, but before he could get a word out, Mullinski cut him off. “Hell, Porter, don’t bullshit with him. There are many of us, myself included, who think he’s still helping his buddies out in some way by being here.”
Rael glared at Mullinski. “Listen to me. By coming here I have risked not only my life but the lives of my family. I have told this to you before. The men that I left behind are not true Muslims, and they no longer represent me. They no longer represent what I want for my sons.”
We all looked at each other. It felt wrong on so many levels that no one had told him the fate of his family. On the flip side, it did feel like I was protecting him from a truth that no man wanted to know.
Mullinski shook his head. “Sounds good, but why didn’t you think about that before you—”
“Enough of the moral superiority bullshit. He’s here now, and we could use the help, you know,” DeLuca said.
“No, it’s okay, Detective. Sadly, I expect this type of treatment from Americans, because I am a Middle Eastern man. Even in my own country, Americans assumed I was guilty of some wrongdoing.”
“Most of you are guilty of something,” Mullinski muttered.
“This man is not the minority. He represents how most Americans feel,” Rael added.
“No, he doesn’t,” I finally said. “There are millions of good, hardworking Muslim men and women. We all know there are also a handful of extremists who are making it bad for everyone. As with any racially charged stereotype, the negative far outweighs the positive. I need you to dig really deep, Rael, and think about any details you may have forgotten before. We are on the verge of what would be a catastrophic war here.”
“I will think about it, Detective, but I am not withholding anything from you with intent. I believe I have given you even more than you bargained for,” he said, looking at me in obvious reference to the cell phone.
I nodded.
“To your earlier question, you do not know what it’s like to live in a war-torn, impoverished nation. Here in America you have many opportunities that most of you take for granted. You have free access to news and the freedom to say whatever you like. Your children have the opportunity to be doctors and lawyers or even ball players. In my country, none of tho
se opportunities exist. What will my sons become? My daughter? My full-time job is making sure we stay alive from day to day. Jobs do not exist. Chances to attend university only exist if you are born rich. When you are not, you have zero chance to improve your life. Most will not even make it into adulthood. What you tell your children about a future is not the same message that I can offer mine. My family needs to eat, and I need to offer them protection. These men offered me both. What other choice did I have? What other choice would you have? These men know this, and they prey on people like me. I am no fool. I know they only use me to further their agenda. But again, sir, I do not have the options that you do.”
“Rael, please. Do not feel the need to explain your position. I need you to focus all your energy on details that may help us catch these guys.”
“Sadly, the picture he paints is all too real,” Khalid said. “My parents had saved a little money. Every dime of it was used to send me away for a better life, while they live—”
I put a hand on his shoulder. “We all have to do better, Khalid. Mankind has to do better. If we want a future for our kids and their kids, something has to change.”
“I have helped you as much as I can, Detective. My family is all I care about. I have risked my life coming here in hopes that one day soon they may have a real chance.”
Rael had done some bad things and had gotten mixed up with the wrong people. But deep down inside, I empathized with the man. It seemed he, like so many in war-torn countries, was stuck between a rock and hard place.
“I believe that Allah is in control, and his will shall be done.”
Mullinski shook his head again. “You sound like these damn Bible-thumpers we got over here. Tell me, Mr. Rael, all that’s happened to you and your family, that’s all Allah’s will? And if so, why the hell would you or anyone else accept that? Hell, if I’m going to pray to someone, let it be somebody who wants me to be the rich and wealthy one. Why the hell am I going to thank him for letting me be born in a shithole? Don’t make much sense to me.”
“You will never understand,” Rael said.
“You’re right. I don’t thank people for giving me the raw end of a deal,” Mullinski said, shoving back from the table.