“Is Fatih Mahdi a suspect?” Alex asked. It was an obvious question, but he was looking for a chance to inject himself into the conversation.
“Should he be?” Brown looked at Khalid.
“No.” Khalid insisted. He sat up straighter and leaned forward but then stopped as if catching himself. “It is not possible that Fatih would do anything to harm her.” He looked first at Detective Brown, then at Sanderson, seemingly searching for someone who believed him.
“To the best of your knowledge, is Ja’dah Mahdi a loyal follower of Mohammed?” Brown asked.
The question seemed to throw Khalid off stride. The imam looked at Alex. “I cannot answer that question without revealing my conversations with Ja’dah and Fatih,” he said tentatively.
Though Khalid’s comment had been directed at Alex, it was Sanderson who jumped on it. “You didn’t seem to be concerned about that a few minutes ago when you told us how distraught Fatih was when he talked to you.”
Khalid’s eyes widened, a deer in the headlights.
“That’s different,” Alex said. “That wasn’t a counseling situation. These other conversations apparently were.”
“Are you kidding?” Brown asked sharply. “That wasn’t counseling? Fatih Mahdi comes to the imam here and says my wife is missing and I don’t know what to do, and that’s not counseling?”
Alex tried to slide forward a little to match Brown’s aggressive posture, but the sagging couch made it difficult. “Regardless,” he said, “I’m instructing my client not to divulge any private conversations between himself and either Ja’dah Mahdi or Fatih Mahdi.”
“Let me be clear,” Brown retorted, slicing off her words. “We’re trying to find a woman who could be in grave danger, and the next twenty-four hours are critical. We believe your client has information that can help us. And now you’re saying that your client’s conversations with the very woman who is missing are somehow privileged? Don’t you think that maybe she’d be willing to waive that privilege if it might help us find her?”
“We don’t know,” Alex said. “And spiritual advisors can’t ignore the privilege based on assumptions.”
Brown shook her head and grunted her disapproval. Khalid, who had been following the argument like he would a tennis match, now looked at Alex.
“We’re invoking the privilege,” Alex said, staring down the officers. “Ask your next question.”
This time, Detective Brown measured her words. “Do you know whether Ja’dah Mahdi converted from Islam to Christianity?”
Khalid looked at Alex, waiting for permission.
“I’m not asking what anybody said to him,” Brown prompted. “I’m just asking what he knows.”
Nice try. “Would you have any reason to know this apart from your conversations with Ja’dah Mahdi or Fatih Mahdi?” Alex asked.
Khalid shook his head.
“Then he’s not answering.”
“Did you have a conversation with Fatih Mahdi about his wife converting to Christianity?” Brown asked.
“He’s not answering.”
“Did you talk to Ja’dah Mahdi about her conversion?”
“Next question.”
“Have you ever heard of Beach Bible Church?”
At this, Khalid flushed. He again turned to Alex.
“If you’ve heard about the church outside of your conversations with either Ja’dah or Fatih, you can tell them,” Alex said.
“I haven’t.”
“You’re sure?” Like Alex, Brown seemed to suspect there was more to the answer.
“Positive.”
“Do you know a man named Martin Burns?”
Before Alex could tell Khalid to restrict his answer to nonprivileged information, the imam responded. “No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what an honor killing is, Mr. Mobassar?”
He blanched. “Yes, of course.”
“Does the Qur’an support honor killings?”
At that moment, Ghaniyah Mobassar appeared around the corner, carrying a tray loaded with coffee, cups, plates, silverware, and baklava. She stood in the doorway staring vacantly around the room, some bruises still evident on her face.
Khalid stood and went to her. “This is my wife, Ghaniyah.” He motioned toward the detectives. “Detectives Brown and Sanderson are asking me a few questions about Ja’dah Mahdi.”
“I see,” Ghaniyah said softly. “I wanted to know if I could get anyone something to eat or drink.”
“No, thank you,” Sanderson said immediately. “But if you wouldn’t mind, we’d like to ask you a few questions when we finish talking to your husband.”
Ghaniyah looked confused.
“That won’t be possible,” Alex said.
“You represent her, too?” Brown asked. “Isn’t that a bit of a conflict?”
“I think we’re fine here,” Khalid said softly to Ghaniyah, then turned to the detectives. “I’ll be right back.”
Ghaniyah muttered a “nice to meet you” and left with Khalid.
Alex quickly explained about the automobile accident and the residual problems that Ghaniyah was having.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sanderson offered. When Khalid returned, Sanderson told him that he hoped Ghaniyah would make a full recovery.
“Thank you,” Khalid said.
“I think I had just asked about the Qur’an,” Brown reminded him, “and whether it supports honor killings.”
Khalid gathered his thoughts. “Murderers and terrorists use the Qur’an to justify all sorts of conduct, but honor killings are not sanctioned by the Qur’an or any of the hadiths. The prophet Mohammed, peace be upon him, said that we should treat our women with respect and kindness.”
Brown checked her notes. “Didn’t the prophet Mohammed, in the hadiths, say to women, ‘I have not seen anyone more deficient in intelligence and religion than you’? Didn’t he say that the majority of hell’s inhabitants were women?”
Khalid inched forward on the couch. The questions plainly agitated him. “Those quotes are taken out of context. Before Islam, Arabic women had no right to own property, get an education, divorce, or even be protected from the brutality of their husbands. Islam changed all of that. Mohammed himself affirmed that men and women have equal duties and responsibilities in serving Allah. ‘I will not suffer to be lost the work of any of you whether male or female. You proceed one from another.’ Those are the words of Mohammed in Sura 3 of the Qur’an.”
Detective Brown paused a moment before continuing. “Did you ever talk to Fatih about the concept of an honor killing?”
“Never,” Khalid said before Alex could tell him not to answer.
“Do you think Fatih is capable of such a thing?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
Brown gave him a skeptical look and changed gears. “Have you ever been to Sandbridge?”
“No,” Khalid said, his voice tentative.
“Have you ever rented a house in Sandbridge or considered renting a house in Sandbridge?”
“No.”
“Did you have anything to do with the disappearance of Ja’dah Mahdi?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Do you have any idea where she might be?”
To this question, Alex detected the slightest bit of hesitation. “No.”
“Are you willing to take a polygraph exam if we think it might be helpful?”
Alex didn’t give his client a chance to answer that one. “No, he’s not.”
25
The media soon caught wind of the story, and Alex followed the developments on the local news channels. At 4:00, Alex watched Virginia Beach Police Chief Moses Stargell appear before a bank of microphones for a hastily called press conference. The chief was a big bear of a man, universally admired for his quick wit and street savvy. Today, he looked uncharacteristically glum.
The chief reported the following facts: Ja’dah Mahdi had not been heard from or seen since she left her home at approximately 7 p.m. Saturday. Using phone records and cell tower information, the police had determined that Ja’dah had sent text messages from the Sandbridge area late Saturday evening. Ja’dah had no apparent connections with Sandbridge-no friends or acquaintances who lived there.