She told how, as a young girl, she had questioned her father about many aspects of Islam, especially the subjugation of women. Her father, according to Nara, had explained that Mohammed, peace be upon him, had actually advanced the cause of women in his society. Mohammed’s first convert was a woman. He treated his wives with kindness and respect-unusual in his culture. Nara’s father had encouraged her to speak out against the abuse of women by fundamentalist Muslims and to point out that those practices were wholly inconsistent with the teachings of the Prophet.
It was incomprehensible, Nara argued, that this man had ordered an honor killing.
Nara also talked about losing her brothers-one to an Israeli rocket while he worked for a humanitarian mission, the other when he sought to retaliate. Her father’s interview on Hezbollah television after Omar’s death was not the end of the matter. When his second son, Ahmed, had died, Khalid had gone into the kind of deep mourning that could cause someone to reevaluate his deeply held convictions. He emerged with a firm belief that jihad was not the way. He became a reformer, speaking out against the radicals. That was why Old Dominion University had asked him to come teach. After a few years of teaching, her father had decided to dedicate himself full-time to the growing mosque where he now served as the lead imam.
The interviews came off far better than Alex expected. For the first time, he felt a small shift in momentum. He picked up his BlackBerry to call Shannon. He made a note to feature Nara at the trial.
Even Shannon admitted that Nara had handled herself with great poise. But Shannon also had a sense of foreboding. She had just gotten off the phone with Khalid. “Nara is flying to New York in the morning for some in-studio interviews,” Shannon said. “I strongly cautioned against it, but in Khalid’s words, his daughter is ‘somewhat strong-willed.’”
“You worry too much,” Alex said. “She’ll be fine.”***
When Hassan Ibn Talib awoke from the nightmare, his skin was clammy with sweat. The dream had never ended like this before. There were the usual scenes of fighting-Hassan riding headlong into throngs of enemy soldiers. But this time, he had killed only a few when the arrow struck him and a spear knocked him from his horse. The ground was not yet red with blood. He felt no pain, but neither did he feel the exhilaration of a raging battle. Once again, he appeared humbly before the throne of Allah.
His bad deeds, as usual, were weighing down the left-hand side of the scales. But this time, as Allah squeezed out a few drops of blood on the right side, the scales didn’t move. Allah looked angrily at Hassan, shaking his head.
“Is this it?” he bellowed. “I spared your life all those years for this?”
Allah’s rage stunned Hassan into silence. He trembled before the throne, ashamed to the core of his soul that he had not done more.
Before Allah could pronounce judgment, Hassan awoke. The nightmare vaporized, but the feeling in the pit of his stomach remained.
“Is this it?” Allah had demanded.
I must work harder, Hassan decided.
I must do more.
41
Alex watched Nara run the gauntlet of morning shows while he got ready for work. He felt a little guilty about not being there with her, but he doubted he could have added much to the conversation. Nara’s story was a family story, told through the eyes of an adoring daughter. A lawyer on the set would only emphasize that Nara’s father was not just a wonderful Islamic reformer but had also been charged with ordering the beheading of a young woman. And the prosecutors had the text message to prove it.
Nara appeared to grow more comfortable with each interview, though Alex could see the weariness in her eyes. He needed to get to the office, but CBS was teasing its interview “right after the break,” so Alex fixed a bowl of Frosted Mini-Wheats and waited. He gave himself ten more minutes before he absolutely had to get going. There was plenty of work waiting for him, including preparation for the preliminary hearing.
The CBS interview began by following the same script as the others-a few tough questions about Khalid’s ties to Hezbollah followed by a chance for Nara to tell her story. But just before the interview concluded, the host headed in a different direction.
“Tell me about the doctrine of al toqiah. Am I even saying that right?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Nara said, her manner unflappable. “Al toqiah is a belief held by some Muslims that it’s okay to use deception in order to advance the cause of Allah. The lies will be forgiven if Allah’s cause is advanced and his will is done.”
“Does your father believe in the doctrine of al toqiah?” The host asked the question pleasantly enough, but the implications were devastating. Could it be that all this reform rhetoric coming from Khalid was merely a way for him to enter this country? Was Khalid really a radical supporter of Hezbollah merely masquerading as a moderate?
Nara’s hesitation surprised Alex. She began by repeating the question. “Does my father believe in al toqiah?” She turned her head a little to the side. “My father has never spoken in support of this doctrine, to my knowledge. But most religions, while they condemn lying, also recognize that there are sometimes bigger issues at play. For example, in the Jewish and Christian traditions, there is the story of Rahab and how she lied to protect the Jewish spies. She was commended for it, not chastised. Sort of like sacrificing the lesser good for the greater good.”
“Some would call that the end justifying the means,” the host countered.
“If you’re suggesting that my father has somehow engaged in a thirteen-year deception just to gain people’s trust so that he could then commit these heinous acts, you are mistaken. He became a reformer while living in Lebanon, long before he considered coming to the United States.”
But Nara’s indignation did not entirely assuage Alex’s concerns. He hoped Taj Deegan wasn’t watching. She may have just discovered a wonderful tool for cross-examination.
Al toqiah. Lying for the cause of Allah. Deegan could use it to cast doubt on everything Khalid and Nara said.
Even Alex found himself considering Khalid’s statements in a whole new light.
42
Jonesy Maxwell had been in charge of maintenance at Grace Coastal Church in Los Angeles for as long as anyone could remember. He’d seen the good times and the bad. Lately, with the installation of a friendly young pastor who also had a decent dose of humility, the Lord had chosen to bless.
Grace Coastal was overwhelmingly white and suburban, and Jonesy was from the inner city, but the church members accepted him as a brother. He sensed it was almost a point of pride for the congregation- Look, we have black members too! So Jonesy played his part, sitting in the first or second row, raising his hands and singing loudly during the worship time, tossing a few amens toward the pastor during the stronger moments of the sermon.
The amens had been flying fast and furious yesterday because the church had baptized a total of thirteen new converts during three separate worship services. Jonesy was especially fired up when a young woman from a prominent Muslim family walked boldly through the waters of baptism. “She risks persecution and alienation from her family for her decision to follow Christ,” the pastor had said. “Now, what’s holding you back?”
Yes, sir, yesterday had been Grace Coastal Church at its absolute finest.
On Monday morning, Jonesy had to contend with the earthier part of being a church janitor. There would be bulletins and papers left in the pews, bathrooms to clean, and if he had time, a lawn to mow. Jonesy had intended to start work at eight, but his knees were acting up, and he couldn’t drag his tired body to the building before nine.