Randy Singer: Fatal Convictions

“Alex,” Khalid whispered. Alex ignored his client and took a step closer to the witness.

“On June third of this year, you had an automobile accident in which your vehicle hit a tree. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“A few weeks later, you filed a lawsuit claiming that a Country-Fresh, Inc. tractor trailer had run you off the road and that you had suffered a brain injury. Is that right?”

A flash of anger crossed Ghaniyah’s face. “Of course. You represented me in that lawsuit and encouraged me to file it.”

Alex turned to the court. This next statement would be addressed to the court but was actually for the benefit of the jury. “Judge, that’s the lawsuit we dismissed without prejudice earlier this morning.”

“I’m aware of that,” Rosenthal said sharply.

Alex turned back to the witness. “Only last night, I came into possession of this pen register. Have you seen it before?”

“Objection! Please tell Mr. Madison to stop testifying and just ask questions.”

Rosenthal leaned forward and glowered at Alex. “She’s right, Counsel. Just ask the witness your questions.”

“Okay,” Alex said good-naturedly. “Do you see how this pen register has a list of Web sites along with the date and time each one was visited?”

Ghaniyah pretended to study the document. Alex knew she was probably buying time to figure out what to say. “It appears that way.”

“All of the ones I’ve highlighted were visited in the sixty days before your accident. Is that right?”

Ghaniyah took her time and scanned both pages. “That is correct.”

Alex twisted his face and thought. The jury eyed him with confused looks. He knew they were struggling to piece this together. “Did your brain injury show up on CT scans or MRIs?” Alex asked.

“No. But a neuropsychologist confirmed it.”

“Were we able to find any other witness who confirmed that the accident happened the way you described it?”

“No.”

“Here’s what I don’t understand,” Alex said. “Why would somebody in your home be visiting Web sites about brain injuries in the two months prior to your accident?”

Ghaniyah stared at him for the longest time. “I have no idea why anyone would do so. My husband spends more time on the computer than I do, but I can assure you that this was not him or me.”

“Does anybody else live with you?”

“No.”

“Did somebody from your mosque have an accident and suffer brain damage in the sixty days prior to your accident?”

“No.”

“Do you know anybody who suffered brain damage at that time?”

“No.”

Alex cocked his head and looked at the jury, as if he had just discovered a great mystery. Perhaps the next witness could help them straighten it out.

“No further questions,” Alex said.

Taj Deegan stood. “I don’t have any questions, Judge. It seems that Mr. Madison has already asked all of mine.”

Alex glanced over at Fatih Mahdi. Alex had purposely decided not to object to Mahdi remaining in the courtroom even though Alex intended to call him next. He wanted Mahdi to hear every word of Ghaniyah Mobassar’s examination.

“Next witness?”

“The defense would like to recall Fatih Mahdi,” Alex announced. He turned to where Fatih was sitting. “I see that he’s right here in the courtroom, and we would request that I be allowed to examine the witness before we take a break.”

Rosenthal gave Alex a look of contempt. Alex could guess what the judge was thinking. It was one thing for a hotshot young lawyer like Alex to push the rules of evidence a little when he examined witnesses. It was another thing altogether to interfere with the judge’s sacred smoking breaks.

“How long do you intend to take?” Rosenthal asked.

“Ten minutes max,” Alex promised. “If I’m not done in ten minutes, you can cut me off mid-sentence.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Rosenthal said. “Mr. Mahdi, please take the stand.”

Hassan saw a few empty spots along the wall halfway up the right side of the courtroom. He grabbed his briefcase and moved there as Fatih Mahdi took the stand. Hassan was enjoying an unusual sense of clarity and peace in these last few minutes of his life. It seemed like the world had slowed down and he could now peer into other men’s souls.

Mahdi settled into place, his square jaw thrust out in defiance. Hassan thought Mahdi knew what was coming. Allah would be honored. The judge, on the other hand, was self-absorbed, oblivious to the danger right under his nose. Alex Madison, like a snake, slithered into the well of the courtroom for his final examination.

Soon all of his words would be meaningless.***

“Did Ghaniyah Mobassar ever embrace her husband’s reformist views?” Alex asked the witness.

Mahdi was in combat mode this time, his face etched in a scowl. He gave Alex a look that made it clear the infidel was not worthy of his time. “To my knowledge, she adhered to a more orthodox view of the faith.”

“Would you call her a true believer?”

“It makes no difference what I would call her. Allah will be the sole judge.”

“So you were married to a woman who had embraced Christianity, and Ghaniyah Mobassar was married to a man who had rejected orthodox Islam. Is that right?”

Mahdi looked at Taj Deegan, but no objection was forthcoming. “That is correct, but I see no relevance to this case.”

“Maybe this next question will help you,” Alex said. He took a few steps, eyes on the floor as he framed the question. “Do you love her?”

Mahdi feigned indignation. “Ghaniyah Mobassar?”

“Yes, Ghaniyah Mobassar. The woman you had an affair with years ago. Do you still love her?”

Taj Deegan started to stand for an objection, but Judge Rosenthal looked at her and gave a small shake of the head. Deegan sat down, and the witness stared at Alex in defiance. Alex was determined to wait him out.

“No. I have always appreciated her commitment to the Muslim faith, but I do not love her. It is insulting for you to even ask these questions.”

Now Alex was getting someplace. Mahdi’s face was flushed with anger. Rage bubbled just below the surface.

“Did you conspire with Ghaniyah Mobassar to kill your wife and frame her husband for the crime?”

“Objection!”

“That’s a lie!” Mahdi snapped. He looked at the judge. “Why do you allow him to insult me without so much as a shred of evidence?”

The veins in Rosenthal’s neck pulsed at the rebuke. He didn’t like it when witnesses called him out. “Objection overruled. Answer the question.”

“It’s a lie.”

“Isn’t it true that you ordered the honor killing of your own wife, Ja’dah Mahdi?” Alex asked, his voice tinged with disgust.

“Another lie,” Mahdi hissed.

“And after researching the Patriot Act, did you not tell Ghaniyah Mobassar to send text messages from her husband’s phone to the killer’s phone so that Khalid Mobassar would be blamed?”

“Absolutely not,” Mahdi said. The answer did not surprise Alex, but he was startled to hear his own client interject.

“She would never do that,” Khalid Mobassar blurted out, loud enough for Alex to hear. Alex glanced over his shoulder and saw Shannon put a hand on their client’s arm.

To the witness, Alex said, “And didn’t you tell Ghaniyah to obtain her husband’s password for the mosque’s financial accounts and do a search on his office computer for Sandbridge rental listings?”

“You have a vivid imagination,” Mahdi said. “But none of this is true.” The witness had regained his composure. He attempted to brush off the questions as if they were nothing more than the ravings of a lunatic.