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Narisa
By: C. Stanton Leman
Chapter 3
…All he said to me was, "It's time."
It's time…
Those words had such a tone of foreboding and doom. Just the way
he said it seemed to fuel my suspicions that I was being led to the
hangman. With a deep sigh of resignation, I slowly rose and left
the cell. He grabbed me by the arm and briskly walked me through a
series of corridors to where I'd begun my incarceration. I was told to
strip, shower and shave what little beard I had and my street clothes
were handed to me. They'd been cleaned.
After completing my ablutions and dressing, I had shackles placed
on my ankles connected with a chain about two feet long limiting my
stride. My hands were handcuffed in front of me then I was led
outside and put into a waiting vehicle where we left for the location
of my trial.
On the way to court, I began to feel hopelessness slip in and
began to
cry. Clinching my jaw and squeezing my eyes shut tightly as I fought
to regain my composure. I swallowed hard and resolved not to give
my accusers the satisfaction of seeing me fall apart.
I gave a silent, ironic chuckle to myself thinking that if I was
to have
a lawyer, he'd never even visited me to formulate my defense: some
defense! It seemed the verdict was already in…
Well, there's nothing I can do about it now, just steel myself and
accept it.
When we pulled up to the building of justice, there was a noisy
throng of people outside the courthouse all abuzz, seemingly waiting
for the infidel to be tried. I was led into an anteroom next to the
actual courtroom from a side door and was instructed to sit and wait
to be called.
I could hear many people talking in the other room, but couldn't
make out anything being said. I heard a gavel drop three times, the
door opened up and a uniformed guard took me by the arm to escort
me into the courtroom.
In the front of the courtroom, sat a panel of three mullahs with
the
presiding judge in the center and I assumed a clerk and court
reporter sat adjacent to the bench. The trial judge I was to soon find
out was also the prosecutor. I learned (and experienced) that Iran
has what's called an inquisitional type of justice system.
As I was led to my place, I saw my parents, our guides, my
friends,
Rafi and his father behind where I was to sit. I even saw Doe Eyes as
she sat a few seats behind Omar crying. My mother was sobbing as
quietly as she could, but it could be heard easily over the murmurs of
the audience. My dad had tears in his eyes as he saw me shackled
and led into the courtroom. In the front row of the gallery I saw my
assailants sitting smugly with arms across their chests.
My lawyer immediately introduced himself as Samir Bashira. He
hurriedly told me that he felt something was up and this didn't
appear to be a normal trial. The mood of the court and the unheard
of presence of officials from the Special Clerical Court were also in
attendance. Shaking his head, he said in a low voice, "This could be
bad - very, very bad."
His English was good and Samir said that he'd translate for me as
quickly as he could so that I was fully aware of what was going on
and could answer when directed to.
The trial judge banged his gavel three times again, and all eyes
followed his to the opposite side of the room as a side door slowly
opened. The crowd gasped as a woman dressed in traditional garb
led a small, young girl towards the table next to me on my left. I
recognized her as the girl I'd tried to save by the cut on her forehead
above her left eye. It had been closed with several stitches and she
was dressed in all black traditional dress and hajib and was
handcuffed in the front as I was.
Our eyes met for the first time as she approached the table. She
stood about four feet nine or so, very slender build (from my
recollection of her nude form that fateful day) with large, dark brown
eyes. She was weeping and the tears rolled down her cheeks as she
silently walked to her seat. Even through her tears and our fleeting
glance, I saw a glimmer of a smile of appreciation directed at me for
my efforts. Her face was symmetrical with high cheekbones, a small
mouth with pink lips and a small, straight nose. Even in painful
distress she was absolutely lovely. From looking at her, I raised my
estimation of her age to about eleven, maybe twelve.
As soon as I saw her, my heart was overwhelmed with joy that she
was alive but that feeling was soon replaced with an ominous feeling
of dread. I knew they were going to torment each of us as the other
was tried, convicted and sentenced.
My lawyer leaned over and said, "They will try you both
together.
This isn't normally done and it's probably the work of the Special
Clerical Court. The world is watching this case and its outcome.
Somehow word got out that an American is being charged with a
capital offense. It is rumored that a plot was averted to frame the girl
to destroy her father and they didn't anticipate a foreigner
intervening. I will help you all I can, but things look very, very
bad."
I turned to him and said in an almost sardonic tone, "You've
already
said that once."
He just looked at me and shrugged.
They did get the story out! I wonder if Hasan had anything
to do
with it?
The courtroom was abuzz with the murmurings of the spectators for
several minutes as the mullahs shuffled papers between them. Once
ready, the trial judge banged his gavel three times and said in Farsi,
"Quite! This court will now come to order. We are here to prosecute
these two accused for their crimes against Islam and the state."
"Narisa Assad, step forward." ordered the judge.
The young girl stood with her escort and proceeded to slowly walk
towards the bench and stopped, standing about four feet in front of
the quorum.
Narisa… now I knew her name.
"You have been charged," the prosecutor/judge began,
"with
offending the public morality and committing acts incompatible with
public chastity. How do you plead?"
"Not guilty, your holiness." Narisa answered meekly.
"On July twelfth," he continued, "were you not
standing outside an
open doorway on a public street, in full view of the public displaying
yourself like a prostitute peddling her wares?"
"No your holiness," she answered. "I was outside
the doorway
looking for my brother who was coming to take me home. I was not
displaying myself."
"Was an adult with you, watching with you for your
brother?" the
Judge asked.
"No your holiness," Narisa responded. "I stepped
outside to check
and see if he was approaching."
"So," he said as if having already proven his case,
"you were standing
outside an open doorway, near the street, alone, in full view of
anyone walking down the street as a prostitute would show herself to
be available to any man on the street."
"But I wasn't displaying myself, I was just looking for my
brother!"
Narisa pleaded.
"Enough!" He shouted, "By your own admission you
were standing
alone by the edge of a public street in full view of the public — is this
not the truth?"
"Yes your holiness," she replied, "I was standing
by the roadside
outside my friend's door looking for my brother."
"By your own testimony," he said with finality,
"you have convicted
yourself and we find you guilty of the charges of prostitution and acts
incompatible with public chastity. You are hereby sentenced to
fifteen lashes and death by hanging as is prescribed under Islamic
law."
Being held steady by her female escort, Narisa let out a heart-
rending cry, started shaking and lost control of her bladder. As the
puddle of wetness formed and widened around her feet, her knees
buckled but she was caught and held fast by the matron. Narisa
began sobbing and pleading, "Repentance, please I beg
repentance!"
Pointing to the floor, "Your actions today only confirm what
you
have convicted yourself to be." mocked the judge. "Only a
prostitute
would relieve herself in such a public display."
I vowed not to let them see me cry, but the humiliation of the
scene
before me was too much to bear and I began to cry as I covered my
face with my hands. Even a district police chief's daughter received
no mercy here today. It seemed that dirty politics and corruption
would cost Narisa her life. I knew then that my parent's reputation
would be of no help to me and I would meet the same fate as the girl
I'd tried to save.
"On the twentieth of July, three days hence," the judge
said as he
finished, "at six AM you will be hanged in the public square until you
are dead."
The women in the courtroom wailed as if all were her mother. The
matron had to practically drag Narisa back to her seat like a limp rag
doll because she didn't have the ability to stand on her own. She'd
stopped crying but she now stared blankly into space as if catatonic.
After Narisa was seated, the court was called back to order and
the floor
was cleaned. The prosecutor/judge shuffled some papers as he
whispered to the other two mullahs. When he was ready to begin
again, he banged his gavel three times and called my name (or what I
understood to be my name).
I wiped my eyes and with a composing sniffle, slowly stood erect
and
moved to stand where Narisa had stood in front of the bench with
my lawyer. He stared at me with a venomous, evil look and said,
"You are charged with obstructing officers of the Islamic Republic of
Iran, while discharging their duties in accordance with Islamic law
and interfering in the internal affairs of our sovereign nation. You
are also charged with grievous sexual assault and defilement of a
virginal, unmarried Muslim girl by lying upon and touching her
nakedness as a man would with his wife bringing shame upon her
and her family. How do you plead?"
Samir raised his hand and objected saying, "I must object
your
holiness. My client is a citizen of the United States and has no
knowledge of Islamic law or the workings of the police in our
country. It was not his intention to sexually assault or defile this
young girl only to protect her, as would a fireman or a policeman in
an emergency. As to the charges of obstruction, my client didn't
know those men were officers of the court."
"Objection overruled!" the judge ruled with a bang of
his gavel.
"Ignorance of the law is no excuse. If a blind man touches an
electrical wire and knows nothing of electricity, does he not still get
electrocuted?"
"Joshua Williams," the judge said directing his stare at
me, "In your
American passport, does it not say to acquaint oneself with the laws
of the countries you visit? And doesn't it also state that while you are
in a foreign country you are subject to their laws?"
"Yes, your honor," I answered. "My passport does
caution its
citizens."
"How do you plead?" he asked leaning forward on his
elbows.
"Not guilty. I stopped a murder your honor, not an
arrest." I
answered. "I did not sexually assault the girl, I only shielded her
from further injury."
"Do you know for an unequivocal fact that she was being
murdered?
Do you have any factual evidence of this perceived murder in
progress to make such an accusation?" the judge goaded me.
"I have no concrete proof that she was being murdered, but it
looked
like she was being stoned to death, your honor." I answered.
"Was she breathing when you laid upon her naked body and
grabbed
her by her bare, uncovered shoulders and writhed upon her?" he
asked sarcastically.
"I did not writhe upon her, your honor and yes, she was
breathing."
"So," he said like he was springing the trap, "in
your expert opinion,
knowing Islamic law and justice, she was being murdered and you
were assisting this country by preventing a crime, is that correct?
Does the court understand this to be your testimony?"
"In my own humble opinion your honor," I qualified,
"not from any
expert knowledge of Islamic law. I truly believed in my heart that her
life was in mortal danger."
"Well," he taunted, "the girl you defiled is
sitting right here in the
courtroom. Did she not walk into this courtroom unaided and under
her own power? Does she appear to have any broken bones or life
threatening injuries that can be seen?"
"No your honor, she doesn't;" I agreed, "but she
does have a gash on
her forehead that required stitches and if I hadn't shielded her body
and taken the majority of the blows intended for her, she might not
be sitting here today."
"Hmm." he muttered looking at some papers, "The
evidence shows
that she received her head injury as a result of you pouncing on top
of her and the bruises unseen under her clothing are a result of you
grinding her body into the ground as you lasciviously moved on top
of her."
"Someone must have been mistaken," I replied. "Her
head wound
was a result of being struck with a rock. I committed no lascivious
acts or movements upon her your honor."
"Enough!" he said gruffly. "You offer no proof for
your suppositions
and your defense is contrived yet you admit to laying upon and
holding a naked virginal Muslim girl by her bare shoulders. Did you
or did you not lie upon a naked Muslim girl and hold her by her bare
shoulders? Answer yes or no."
"Yes I did." I admitted.
"And did you or did you not interfere with the officers of
this court
based on the immature, unknowledgeable and fabricated mental
ramblings of a fourteen-year-old boy without any substantial
evidence as a basis for your defense? Yes or no."
"Yes I did, your honor. I believed with all my heart her life
was in
mortal danger."
"By your own admission," he said victoriously, "you
have convicted
yourself of the charges against you. You have just openly admitted to
lying upon a naked girl in public while holding her by her bare
shoulders and interfering with officers of the court in the course of
their duties. You are hereby sentenced to ten tears in prison and
thirty lashes for obstruction of justice and interfering in the internal
affairs of the Islamic Republic of Iran. After your prison term is
served, you shall be hanged until you are dead for crimes against
public morality for the sexual assault and defilement of a Muslim
virgin girl."
I stood with my jaw locked tight, fighting back the tears and
stood
erect and motionless with my cuffed hands clenched tightly together
in front of me as the verdict sunk in. Throughout the courtroom
could be heard my mother's deep guttural cry "Oh my God no! Please
have mercy on him!"
I glanced around the courtroom and caught my parents’ painful,
shocked gaze. I saw the pained expressions on the faces of my
friends, Narisa's family and spectators in attendance. I looked at our
assailants who sat with leering, victorious grins. I then turned and
looked over at Narisa and she had her head down, hands over her
face sobbing. I took a deep sigh and turned to look the judge squarely
in the eye as the corner of his tight, pursed lips just perceptibly
curled upward.
I remained standing erect, not knowing what to do: should I turn
and return to my seat, should I remain standing here, will I be led
away to serve my prison term while Narisa is led to her death? My
mind was in total shutdown.
In the background I could hear the room filled with the painful
cries
and tears of Narisa, my parents, our friends and sympathetic
citizens. The judge just seemed to let this wailing continue and relish
in his victory as he looked around the courtroom.
~~~
The presiding mullah: our prosecutor, judge and jury banged his
gavel numerous times to quell the mournful cries of those present
and although the crying subsided it didn't stop completely.
He began, what I thought was his summation.
"Today, all present in this courtroom have borne witness to
the
conviction of those guilty of crimes against morality and chastity, of
sexual assault and interference in the internal affairs of our country.
They have been fairly tried and convicted by their own admissions
and have been sentenced to the fullest extent of Islamic law."
He paused for effect and continued, "But as we all know,
Allah, all
power and glory unto Him, is a great and merciful God. Being true
believers of the faith, the execution of justice in Iran can also praise
Him by being merciful."
As I listened to the word "merciful," my blank mind
snapped back to
reality thinking that our lives might yet possibly be spared.
"As a result of the interference by a foreign national into
the internal
affairs of our Republic and one of the accused is relative to an
esteemed officer of the court, the Special Clerical Court has taken it
upon itself and considered this case in conjunction with the
Revolutionary Court using the holy precepts of Shana (Islamic law)
as their guide."
"Will the convicted prostitute Narisa Assad, step forward and
stand
before the court."
We glanced at each other momentarily as she stood and moved to
stand before the bench and came to a stop next to me about three
feet to my left. The judge began to speak.
"Narisa Assad, you have been convicted of prostitution and
crimes
incompatible with public chastity. You have begged for repentance
and will now be given an opportunity to repent. This court will grant
you leniency, with conditions, if your act of repentance is deemed to
be genuine and accepted. Do you now accept these conditions,
regardless of what they may be to receive clemency?" He revealed.
"Yes, your holiness," she replied, "I accept the
leniency of the court
and it's conditions and am thankful for the opportunity to repent."
The judge nodded for her to proceed.
Narisa's body visibly relaxed and she fell to her knees with her
head
bowed to the floor and began sobbing out her prayer, "Oh please
merciful and loving Allah, I beseech you, please hear the heartfelt
pleas of this wretched sinner's supplications. Forgive me my sins,
cleanse me of shame and grant forgiveness to your humble servant.
All praise, honor and glory is yours oh merciful Allah, Spare the life
You have so graciously given me and I shall praise and worship thy
name all the days of my life."
Narisa remained on the floor sitting with her legs under her and
her
head bowed forward touching the floor in front of her sobbing.
The judge banged his gavel once and ordered, "Stand woman,
your
heartfelt repentance has been heard which this court believes to be
sincere. Just remember the words of your supplication and fulfill
them all the days of your life.
"Joshua Williams," he said as he turned and looked at
me, "You have
been convicted with interfering in the internal affairs of the Islamic
Republic of Iran and defiling an Iranian Muslim woman. Allah
extends His mercy to all the creatures of the earth, including infidels
so that His presence is known in all men's hearts. If you will make a
taped, public and heartfelt acknowledgement of your crimes, stating
the fairness of your treatment and trial and profess genuine remorse
for wrongdoing, you too will be granted leniency with certain
conditions. Do you now accept the clemency of this court and its
conditions regardless of what they may be? Do you wish to make
your profession of guilt and remorse at this time?"
I stood silent for a few moments thinking this wasn't the end of
it,
there had to be a catch: something more he was holding back. What
real choice did I have? I was facing ten years in prison only to be
hanged.
I looked at Samir and he was nodding his head begging me to
accept.
I started to look back at my parents but the judge stopped me saying,
"Stop! In this country, you are considered an adult man. Make your
decision and make it alone with the conviction of a man without any
outside influence. Let your decision be yours and yours alone."
I took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and replied, "I accept
the
promise of this court for clemency with all its conditions. By
accepting the good faith offer of leniency by this court, I am willing
to now make a public statement and profess my guilt and remorse
for my crimes."
There were murmurs and whispers from the gallery as a video
camera was set up behind the bench to record me full face while I
made my taped confession. While this was taking place, I thought
about what I'd say. I remembered taped confessions shown of TV of
downed American pilots or captured soldiers and civilians in Muslim
countries. Most of us in the west took them for what they were:
coerced statements made only to save one's life. It didn't matter if
what was said was heartfelt or not. The world knows that a person
will make such statements to preserve their life.
When they were ready, the judge nodded for me to begin.
"I, Joshua Williams, a citizen of the Unites States of
America, have
committed and been convicted of interfering in the internal affairs of
the Islamic Republic of Iran and defiling and shaming a female
Iranian citizen and her family by a fair and just court under Islamic
principles. In return for the fair treatment during my detention and
trial along with leniency promised by this court, I wish to express my
heartfelt sorrow for my crimes and I ask for the court's forgiveness
along with that of the girl, her family and also of the people of
Iran."
When I was finished, there was silence throughout the entire
courtroom. The judge waved his hand and the camera was turned
off.
"Now for your fates, according to all the conditions both of
you have
agreed to," the judge said solemnly.
Narisa and I stood facing forward and I think we were both waiting
for the hammer to drop.
"Under Islamic law," The judge began, "there is
only one means to
absolve the defilement and shame inflicted on a virgin and her family
by the perpetrator and one and only one by which that shame may be
absolved."
He leaned forward with his hands on the bench and continued,
"Narisa Assad, the absolution of your shame that you've brought
upon yourself, that same shame you prayed fervently for Allah to
forgive can only be removed by one means.
"Joshua Williams," He continued as he looked at me,
"That same
shameful act of defilement that you seek forgiveness and absolution
for from her, her family and this court can only be obtained by a man
resolved to do what's right and just to show his repentant desire to
restore that girl's dignity. You have lain upon her nakedness as a
husband would and touched her bare body. The only fitting and right
way to remove her shame is for you to marry the prostitute you have
committed fornication with."
Immediately one of our assailants stood and shouted, I must
protest! Under no circumstances according to Islamic law is a
Muslim woman allowed to marry an infidel!
While this man was shouting, Narisa and I looked at each other in
total shock, disbelieving what we'd just heard.
The judge sat back in his chair, picked up several pages and while
putting on his glasses responded to the man's objection.
"In considering this unique case by the Special Clerical
Court, they
have considered and rendered a decision, based on the special
circumstances of this particular case using strict interpretation of
Islamic law."
Interrupting his explanation to read from his notes, he continued.
"The marriage of a Christian man and a Muslim woman although not
specifically forbidden verbatim in Holy Scripture, that omission in
the Qu'ran has been interpreted to be deemed undesirable and thus
not allowed. Now we have to remember that in this case, the Muslim
woman in question is a convicted prostitute and not a moral, upright
and chaste believer of the faith and as such has no rights or
protection under the law. Let us concentrate on the verses in
question to understand the high court's decision."
He looked at his papers continuing, "The Qu'ran states in Al-
Baqarah 2:221, 'And give not them (Muslim women) in marriage
until the idolaters believe.' And again in Al-Mumtahinah 60:10,
"They (Muslim women) are not lawful to them (the disbelievers) nor
are they (the disbeliever) lawful to them.' A closer look at these
verses taken in context, specifically relate to idolaters of a
polytheistic religion. It has been accepted proper interpretation of
the Qu'ran by scholars that there are some aspects of Jewish and
Christian beliefs that are polytheistic in nature. The usage of the
term "Mushrik" in the Qu'ran is a polytheistic person who
ascribes
partners and equals to the one True God. It is for this reason that the
Qu'ran, even though it has referred to some Jewish and Christian
beliefs which according the concept of Taweed, amount to
polytheism, the Qu'ran has mentioned Jews and Christians as a
distinct and separate group from polytheists. This fact should be
clear according to scripture in Al-Baqarah 2:105, Aal Imraan 3:67,
Surah Al-Taubah 9:1-33 and Al-Bayyinah 98:1."
"The decisions and rulings by the Special Clerical Court are
irrevocable and final," the judge admonished the gallery.
Taking his glasses off and setting the papers on the bench before
him
he looked at both of us and said, "To grant the redemption and
absolution for the sins both of you have confessed to, to remove your
shame, do you both agree to marry, here, in this courtroom today as
one of your conditions for clemency?"
Narisa stood silently waiting for me to answer while I stood
stoically
in shock at what I was being asked to commit to hit home. All within
a matter of moment's thoughts raced through my head. I'm fourteen
for God's sakes! How can I marry a ten or twelve-year-old girl?
How? If any of the other conditions means prison, how can I
support or protect her: will Mom and Dad be able to? Will this just
delay her death once again if I'm jailed and unable to care for her?
Will we be able to leave and go to the U.S. to live our lives? If I said
no, we'll both lose our lives. Somehow, by my instinctive move to
protect her I had somehow joined our fates and lives forever. Here
was that ripple in the pond of our combined histories: hers, our
families and mine—and ours as husband and wife!
I calmed myself and began to conclude that this whole trial: this
show of publicly convicting us and sentencing us to death was all a
charade to get us to be partners to their scheme to sweep this whole
thing under the rug. The Iranian government didn't want any part of
this or the backlash it would produce and wanted it to be over and
done with. We marry and live, albeit convicted criminals and
probably go home while they save face with the world all in the name
of fair and merciful Islamic justice. I didn't see any way out except to
receive what I'd prayed for: acceptance to whatever fate God had in
store for me.
At fourteen, I was about to take a bride.
The judge cocked an eyebrow at me as if to say, "Well?"
"Is she agrees, I will marry Narisa Assad and cherish her as
my wife."
I stated with conviction.
Narisa relaxed as if she were holding her breath waiting for my
decision.
"And you Narisa Assad," the judge asked. "Will you
consent to marry
your defiler?"
She didn't answer but gave a perceptible single nod.
"Your honor?" I asked humbly.
"You may speak," He replied.
"How old is my intended bride?" I asked.
He nodded to Narisa and she looked at me and smiled meekly then
replied, "I am thirteen years and one month."
As I leaned down and heard Samir's translation, I nodded and gave
a
sigh of relief. At least she was just a year younger than I. He
quickly
added, "I will walk you through the ceremony. Just repeat what I say,
okay?"
I nodded in agreement
The judge looked over the gallery and ordered, "All unmarried
girls
and women are hereby ordered to leave the courtroom and bring her
mother forward."
(Iranian wedding custom is that an unmarried girl should only hear
the ceremony for the first time at her own wedding.)
Samir told me that the judge will ask both of us three times if we
take
each other as husband and wife. “The bride will remain silent twice
but you are to answer. She will declare her intentions on the third
request. This indicates that you seek her and that she has
considered
and married of her own free will before consenting.”
I think I've got the jist…
After the courtroom had been emptied of all unmarried females and
Narisa's mom stood next to her daughter, the judge said, "Let's
begin."
After several readings from the Qu'ran, he asked, "Do you
Joshua
Williams seek the hand of Narisa Assad in marriage?"
"Yes, I wish to marry her."
"And you, Narisa Assad, do you wish to be joined to Joshua
Williams as his wife?"
Narisa's mother replied, "The bride is thinking."
"Again," the judge asked, "do you Joshua Williams
seek the hand of
Narisa Assad in marriage?"
"I do seek her hand in marriage."
"And you Narisa Assad, do you wish to be joined in marriage
to
Joshua Williams as his wife?"
"I'm sorry, you holiness, she has gone to pick flowers."
her mother
replied (Note: this is a traditional response).
Pick flowers???
"Again, Joshua Williams do you seek the hand in marriage of
Narisa
Assad as you wife?"
"I do seek the hand of Narisa Assad as my wife."
"For the last time Narisa Assad, do you wish to be joined in
marriage
to Joshua Williams as his wife?"
Narisa began to speak and said, "Your honor, I stand before
this
court and declare my intentions. Being of legal age and the only
virgin daughter of Nazir Assad, I have given myself in marriage to
Joshua Williams (although it sounded differently) of my own free
will."
Samir told me that my next response has to be verbatim: "I
have
accepted her as my wife."
"What of a dower?" Someone abruptly shouted from the
gallery.
"This woman is a convicted prostitute and isn't entitled to a
dower."
The judge responded striking his gavel on the bench.
He then looked at me and asked, "Do you Joshua Williams
accept
Narisa Assad as your wife?"
I answered, "I have accepted Narisa Assad as my wife."
"I now pronounce you husband and wife. What God has joined
together let no man put asunder. Come forward and sign the
Nikaahnaama (marriage license)"
How convenient: he just happened to have it with him!
Like that, I was a married "man". After Narisa and I
signed the
document and the three witnessing mullahs signed, we returned to
our positions before the bench.
"Now for the last condition of your clemency," the judge
said,
"Joshua Williams, do you vow to allow your wife the right to practice
her Muslim faith all the days of her life, allowing her to fulfill her
plea of repentance and agree to permit her to raise your children in
the precepts of Islam?"
"I do,"
"Now…" he added.
What now? There's more?
"To the issue of punishment and your final fate," he
revealed.
Now the hammer really is about to drop!
"Narisa Assad," The judge said commandingly, "You
will be given
fifteen lashes and have the rest of your sentence commuted then set
free to reside in your husband's house. Joshua Williams, you will
receive thirty lashes and the rest of your sentence commuted then set
free to your temporary residence. This court will expedite and
provide all the necessary documents and a passport for you to take
your wife and return to the Unites States, neither of you to ever
return. You will be permitted to go to the Swiss embassy to obtain
permission and travel documents from your government for your
wife to be admitted to your homeland to reside in your house. If the
U.S. government refuses entry to your legal wife, her sentence of
death with be commuted to life imprisonment."
He banged his gavel once and ordered, "Take the prisoners
away and
administer their sentence!"
"Wait your honor!" I quickly interjected.
"Do you wish to confess another crime?" He asked sarcastically.
"If it please the court your honor," I asked, "May
I receive my wife's
fifteen lashes in her place?"
"Why do you insist on taking her punishment for a second
time?" He
asked surprised.
I raised my cuffed hands pleadingly and looking at my bride said,
"Isn't it the duty of a husband to cherish and protect his wife from
injury or harm?"
Narisa covered her mouth with her cuffed hands and started to cry
openly.
He just stared at me with anger. He probably thought I was doing
it
to make a fool of him and look like the better man.
"So be it!" he retorted in a huff, "Release the
woman, take the
prisoner away and give him forty-five lashes with the cane! This trial
has been concluded!"
With that, he banged his gavel once with authority and the quorum
rose and exited the room.
I was then led through the door I entered and taken downstairs to
a
room in the basement that had rings embedded in the wall about six
feet high off the ground. I was told to remove my shirt and my hands
were bound to the rings and my caning began.
THWACK!
THWACK!
THWACK!
I think I lost count around ten. I could hear the whistle of the
cane
swing through the air before impact. When the cane landed, I felt a
sharp, searing, burning sensation on my back. I just thought to float
out of my body and let it happen.
When it was over and my hands were unbound, I slumped to the
floor in agony. My whole back felt as if it was on fire and I could feel
the coolness of the air against the wetness on my skin. Whether it
was blood or sweat, I wasn't sure and didn't really care: I'd survived
and it was now over!
I sat on the floor for several minutes to muster the strength to
stand
when the man tossed me my shirt. I slowly rose to my feet and
gingerly put my shirt back on. He then led me back upstairs the way
we came, opened the side door to the courthouse and pushed me out
the door that I'd entered through hours ago. Disoriented, I walked by
memory back the way I was driven in and standing on the
courthouse steps were my parents, in-laws, our guides and my
friends, and with my mother's arm around her, stood my lovely
thirteen-year-old bride.
When my parents saw me turn the corner, they wanted to rush to me
but I held my hand up motioning for them to stop. I didn't
particularly feel like getting mauled or hugged, I just wanted this
ordeal to just come to an end quietly.
When I stood in front of my father, his tears flowed as he gently
hugged me around the neck and kissed my cheek. I winced in pain
and Mom just stood on tiptoes taking my face in her hands and
kissed me tenderly on the lips. I looked at my trembling wife and
smiled softly. Her tears were falling down her cheeks and she smiled
at me timidly. Still smiling, I ran my forefinger over the closed gash on
her forehead with a feather touch and smiled at her as if to tell her,
"It's okay. You're safe now."
I think she understood because she took my hands in hers, brought
them to her lips and gently kissed them.
Now
I
was crying!
I looked to the side and saw what I thought were Narisa's family.
I
recognized a smiling Rafi, his tearful, smiling father and the very tiny
woman crying in court as Narisa's mom. No wonder Narisa's so
small: she's no bigger than her mother!
My mother made the introductions as I shook my father-in-law's
hand and did the same to Narisa's mother. Rafi had a cheese-eating
grin on his face and said, "Hey brother, you still suck at
football!"
Hasan touched my arm and quipped, "I guess Doe Eyes will have
to
stay married to Omar, huh"
We three guys just laughed. Everyone else just looked as if to say
"Huh?"
"Why don't we all go back to our house," Mom announced,
"We can
get better acquainted there where it's more comfortable."
Nazir, my father-in-law, said that it wasn't possible. He
discreetly
pointed down the street and we saw a parked car with two men
sitting inside.
"We're being watched," Nazir revealed. "I will
contact you tomorrow
about Narisa's documents."
Sadly, we agreed it was probably best if we parted ways: no sense
in
tempting fate twice. Nazir handed Dad a sheaf of papers then her
family took turns kissing Narisa farewell. Nazir then turned with his
wife and son to leave.
It was a tight squeeze in the minivan with Narisa, my parents and
our guides, but Narisa sat quietly as I sat on the floor next to her. I
could smell the faint odor of urine on her clothes as we drove and I
got a spine tingling shudder as I remembered all too well the sounds
of those words, "You are hereby sentenced to death…" I
just rested
my head against her knee silently all the way home.
On the ride home, feeling the jostles of bumps and turns I tried
to
picture our future together. What was to become of us? Is it possible
for this pretty, tiny wisp of a girl and I to have a real, happy
marriage or would it simply be our vehicle out of here only to be
annulled back in the States? Do I want to be her husband? Does she
want to be my wife? What of our futures? School? Careers? In her
culture it's normal for a girl her age to be married, take care of a
husband and possibly kids but not me: this is all so foreign and
disconcerting.
I sort of chuckled out loud when I thought, Hell, I've never
even felt
a bare boob: what am I going to do with a wife lying in bed with
me? I don't have a freaking clue??
Mom asked with a smile when she heard my laugh, "What?"
I just smiled back and said, "Nothing. Just thinking is
all."
I smiled inwardly at another thought: My dream of seeing Cindy
Molten nekkid is history. God! I'm even starting to think like a
married man! Jeez.
Once home, I sort of rolled to my side and out the side door and
waited for everyone to get out. Narisa and I stood by the front steps
waiting for everyone to exit the vehicle. Holding Narisa's tiny hand, I
gave it a gentle squeeze as we started inside and she smiled shyly and
gently squeezed back. I looked down the street and there were our
"observers."
Once inside, Narisa and I sat on the sofa with Mom next to her.
Dad
sat in the armchair while our guides pulled the chairs from the
dining room. Hasan volunteered to be the official interpreter.
I was having what I'd describe as flashbacks of the events of the
trial
and asked my Dad, "What really happened today?"
Looking down for a moment shaking his head he looked up at us and
began, "Nazir explained that this whole ordeal was a plot by Haseem
Hussein to take over his job as district police chief. Hussein thought
that if he could kill Narisa under the pretext of prostitution, shaming
her name and her family's, Nazir would lose his job and be
imprisoned. What Hussein didn't count on was a foreign national
intervening and causing an international incident. When it was
learned that an American citizen was arrested for interfering in
Iran's internal affairs, the Special Clerical Court investigated and
unveiled the plot. They had to save face with the pretense of
administering an appropriate and harsh sentence yet preventing an
American from being executed. The Judicial Council held Nazir in
high esteem because they sought to protect his reputation and
Narisa's life while saving the life of two world-renowned professors'
son."
"Crazy!" Hasan said shaking my head in disbelief.
"Mom, what happened to you and Dad after I was
arrested?"
"We were confined to the apartment until today," Mom
answered,
"then we were permitted to attend the trial. With today's verdict and
the instructions regarding your fate, they were discreetly telling us
that we are free to travel with our escorts to take care of any
necessary arrangements to take Narisa with us back to the States."
Turning to Narisa Mom asked, "How do you feel about going to
America?"
Narisa looked down at her hands on her knees and began to cry,
"What's the matter Narisa?" I asked as I gently took her
hand.
"Will they arrest me as a prostitute?"
I chuckled, which make her look at me like I was daft. I smiled at
her
and answered, "If you're a prostitute then I'm Ayatollah
Khomeini!"
I humorously answered that question.
Dad touched my arm and asked, "How do you feel about being a
husband with a wife, Son?"
Narisa looked at me with curiosity when she heard the translated
question. I looked at her and said, "Responsible: responsible for this
whole ordeal, responsible for probably ruining your careers and now
I feel responsible for Narisa."
"You haven't ruined our careers." Mom sloughed it off
with a slap on
my arm. "You did the right thing, Josh. You saved a girl's life and
her
father's reputation. But I never want to go through that again! When
I heard you being sentenced to death, a part of me died when I
thought that you'd be killed."
Grabbing Narisa's hand with a smile she said "We're a family
now
and we'll get on with our lives and go after our dreams, right,
Daughter?"
Narisa smiled and nodded as she peered at me somewhat uncertainly.
"Great!" Mom exclaimed as she slapped her knees with her
hands,
"Now, after all of us have had our death sentences commuted, how
about something to eat? I've suddenly regained my appetite!"
"Do you feel like going out to eat?" my dad asked.
"Going to prison for four days," I joked, "and
being caned takes a lot
of energy. I'm famished, but I'm too sore to go out. I think Narisa
and I would just rather spend some quiet time here at home away
from the public."
Hasan translated, Narisa nodded agreement then he and the others
stood then politely said goodnight and left. Mom took off her hajib
and looked at Narisa. Narisa timidly looked at all of us and slowly
removed hers also.
Mom explained to Narisa that she and Dad spoke fluent Farsi but
that I didn't. Either one of them would automatically translate for
her but when we were alone, we'd have to find our own way to
communicate. We both looked at each other and blushed.
With her hair was fully on display, I just shook my head in wonder
at
her luxurious, thick, curly blue-black mane: even dirty, her hair was
beautiful!
When I reached up my hand, she timidly pulled away momentarily
then let me touch it. I slowly combed my fingers through her tresses
and said, "I'd just love to brush your hair."
When she heard Mom's translation she blushed six shades of red,
covered her face with her hands and silently nodded approval.
To ease her embarrassment Mom said, "Well Daughter, shall we
make our husbands some dinner?"
Narisa nodded with a smile and the two women rose for the kitchen.
I told Dad that I was going attempt to take a hot shower to relieve
some of this tension and pain. He patted my knee and said, "Go
ahead, Son. I'm just going to watch the women of the family for a
while."
The hot shower felt great even with the terrible pain of the water
hitting my striped back but it was worth it. I felt more relaxed and
refreshed as I dressed for dinner.
The meal was a simple one of lamb, rice with some tomatoes but it
tasted as good as a restaurant prime rib to me. It was about 9 when
we'd gotten the table cleared and dinner dishes finished. We
sat in the living room talking for a few minutes when Dad said, "I
think we've all had a long, emotionally exhausting day, especially you
two. Maybe it's best we retire and begin tomorrow by going to the
Swiss embassy to make arrangements for Narisa to go back with us;
we only have two weeks before our scheduled flight leaves for
Washington."
Narisa and I looked at each other and she suddenly had a look of
apprehension. I think I understood that maybe she thought that now
was the time of her deflowering. I slowly stood and smiled gently
down at her as she looked up at me with a child-like vulnerability. I
held out my hand and she sat silent and motionless for several
seconds looking at my hand. She then looked at me and managed a
slight smile as her eyes filled with tears and gently laid her tiny hand
in mine.
I took a very slow step back pulling her hand with me and she
slowly
stood and looked up at me as a tear spilled over her bottom eyelid
and trickled down her cheek. I gently pulled her to me in a comforting
embrace and she laid her head on my
chest with her hands on my
waist. I whispered to her,
"Sushhhhh, everything's okay"
I think she understood "Okay" because she perceptibly
nodded against
my chest.
Mom said to Dad, "Steven, don't you think…"
"Quiet Marie," Dad cut her off, "they have to work
this out at some
point, might as well be sooner rather than later."
I put my arm around her tiny shoulders and slowly walked her to our
bedroom.
Edited by Morgan
Continued in Chapter 5…
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