Randy Singer - Fatal Convictions

“Your client’s wife can confirm or deny this,” Mahdi said.

“When did you divorce your first wife?” Alex asked.

“In 1989.”

“So you divorced your first wife for unfaithfulness nine years after you had slept with another man’s wife?”

“I divorced her because she wanted to leave. I was simply fulfilling her wishes.”

“Let’s see-you didn’t tell the truth the first time you testified, you cheated with another man’s wife, you lied about loving your second wife, and now you expect the jury to take your word that these alleged conversations with my client took place?”

“I did love Ja’dah. What I did with Ghaniyah was wrong. Why would I make something up that is so publicly humiliating?”

“Perhaps because your hatred for Khalid Mobassar consumes you and trumps everything else,” Alex shot back.

“Objection!”

“Sustained.” Rosenthal glared at the witness. “You are to answer Mr. Madison’s questions, not ask your own.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“I have nothing further for this witness,” Alex said.

Taj Deegan stood behind her counsel table. “The commonwealth first learned about Mr. Mahdi’s affair over the lunch break. When we did, we had the sheriff’s deputy serve a subpoena on Mrs. Mobassar, requiring her immediate attendance in court. We would request a brief recess until she arrives.”

Alex felt like he had just been run over with a bus. Ghaniyah was coming to testify? If she confirmed the affair, there was a good chance the jury would believe everything else Mahdi had just told them.

“Court will stand in recess until Mrs. Mobassar arrives,” Judge Rosenthal said. “And I’m instructing both sides not to have any contact with her prior to the time she takes the stand.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Taj Deegan and Alex said in unison.

Ghaniyah Mobassar took the stand looking nervous and frazzled. She wore the long, flowing robes of the traditional hijab Alex had seen her wear around the house, complete with a matching head scarf. Her eyes were wide with confusion and distrust.

She stole a glance toward Khalid, and he gave her a reassuring look as Taj Deegan began her questioning.

“Please state your name for the record.”

“Ghaniyah Mobassar.”

“Please slide a little closer to the mic,” Judge Rosenthal said.

Ghaniyah inched closer. “Ghaniyah Mobassar,” she repeated. This time everyone in the courtroom could hear.

“Are you the wife of the defendant, Khalid Mobassar?”

“Yes.”

“Mrs. Mobassar, I am sorry that I have to ask you this next question, but it has become an issue in the case. Did you have an affair with Fatih Mahdi shortly after your brother died in the Lebanese civil war in 1980?”

Ghaniyah stared at Taj Deegan as if she couldn’t believe that the prosecutor had the gall to ask. It felt like the entire courtroom inhaled and held its collective breath. Ghaniyah didn’t utter a word.

“Mrs. Mobassar, you need to answer the question,” Deegan prompted.

Alex wanted to bail her out, but he couldn’t. After a thirty-minute argument in the judge’s chambers, with Alex claiming that Ghaniyah shouldn’t take the stand because of her brain injury, Rosenthal had personally called Ghaniyah’s neuropsychiatrist. After a brief phone conversation, he denied Alex’s motion.

Ghaniyah shook her head. “I will not answer the question,” she said indignantly.

You just did, Alex thought.

Judge Rosenthal leaned toward the witness. “Mrs. Mobassar, I know this is uncomfortable, but you have no choice. You are instructed to answer the question.”

Ghaniyah looked longingly toward Khalid and then turned to face Taj Deegan. She stared at the prosecutor as if she wanted to gouge Deegan’s eyes out. “I have always been faithful to my husband.”

Alex exhaled. To his surprise, the prosecution’s strategy had backfired. The jury may not believe Ghaniyah because she had been so hesitant to answer. But her testimony could not have been more clear.

Yet Taj Deegan did not seem deterred. She took a few steps closer to the witness. “Mr. Mahdi claims that Ahmed was his child. Do you deny this?”

“Objection!” Alex called out. “Mr. Mahdi gave no such testimony.”

“Counsel is right,” Judge Rosenthal said to Deegan. “I don’t remember any such testimony.”

“He said it to me,” Taj Deegan responded. “I didn’t want to make that fact public if I could help it.”

“He didn’t testify to it,” Rosenthal said. “So rephrase the question.”

Alex turned to Khalid, who looked like a ghost, his face reflecting betrayal and utter defeat. Alex needed to reassure him somehow. But what could he say? How much more would Khalid have to endure?

“Mrs. Mobassar, I understand that this is hard for you, but it is important that you tell the truth,” Deegan said. “Your son Ahmed was killed on a bombing mission inside Israel in 1996. Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“And the authorities had to use DNA to identify him. Is that also true?”

Ghaniyah looked pained, her voice cracking and barely audible. “Yes, that’s true.”

“I want you to know that if I must, I will ask Judge Rosenthal to suspend this trial so that we might obtain those DNA results. But first, I want to ask you the question one more time-is Fatih Mahdi the father of Ahmed Mobassar?”

Ghaniyah’s facial expression went from contempt to shame. For an interminably long time, she didn’t answer. Then she blinked back the tears and rubbed her eyes. Hardly moving her lips, in a barely audible voice, she said, “Yes, Fatih Mahdi is Ahmed’s father.”

The revelation created a stir in the courtroom, and the judge banged his gavel. Ghaniyah gave Khalid a despondent look. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed.

Alex suddenly remembered that Nara was also in the courtroom, and he turned to look at her. She was sliding past the others in her row, trying to get to the aisle, tears filling her eyes. He watched as she walked down the aisle and out of the courtroom without once looking back.

“Thank you, Mrs. Mobassar,” Taj Deegan said. “I’m sorry this has been so difficult. I have no further questions.”

Alex put his arm on his client’s shoulder. The imam looked like he was in shock. “Did you know this?” Alex whispered.

Khalid just shook his head. The man’s eyes were wet, and he refused to look at his wife. The pain on his face was not something he could manufacture.

Alex didn’t bother to stand. He wanted the jury to look at him and see his client sitting next to him in obvious distress. He kept his tone low and understanding as he began his questions. “Had you ever mentioned this to your husband?”

Ghaniyah looked down at her folded hands. “No.”

“Did you have any reason to think that your husband knew about this affair?”

“No. It was something that happened in the distant past. I was angry because Khalid did not seem to care about my brother’s death. I made decisions that I still regret.”

Alex looked at Ghaniyah and felt nothing but sympathy. Regardless of how this trial ended, her relationship with Khalid would never be the same.

“No further questions.”

Taj Deegan rested her case, and for the second time, Alex was confronted with giving an opening statement that suddenly seemed irrelevant. This time he had no choice.

He stood and faced the jury, clutching his legal pad. He followed his notes and summarized the evidence in favor of Khalid Mobassar. But the question on everyone’s mind had now shifted. How does the affair fit into this puzzle? Alex felt like everyone had the same sense of the matter he did-the key to the mystery was right in front of them but somehow just out of reach.