Chapter 3

... All he said to me was, "It's time."

It's time...

Those two 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 exited the cell. He grabbed me by the arm and briskly walked me through a series of corridors to where I had begun my incarceration. I was told to strip, shower and shave what little beard I had after which my street clothes were handed to me. They'd been cleaned and my torn shirt been replaced with a new one.

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. Clenching 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 had 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 soon to 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 were indicators that this was an unusual trial. 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 an all black abaya 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, brilliant blue 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 of 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. It's ironic that she's the first Iranian I've seen with blue eyes.

"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 a.m. 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 volition to stand on her own. She'd stopped crying but she now stared blankly into space as if cataleptic.

After Narisa was seated, the court was called back to order after 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 denied!" the judge ruled with a bang of his gavel. "Ignorance is no excuse of the law. 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 its laws?"

"Yes, your honor," I answered, "my passport does so 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 naked, virginal body?" 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. I was not the one to defile her person, your honor. I saw a girl defiled by a group of men by forcibly stripping her naked in public then assaulting her with stones."

"Well," he taunted, "if you felt this girl was being defiled, why did you aid in her defilement by accosting her, lying on and grinding yourself upon her. And another thing, 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."

"Hmmm." 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 in the forehead 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 years 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 and for the sexual assault and defilement of a virginal Muslim girl."

I stood with my jaw locked tight, fighting back the tears and stood erect and motionless with my cuffed hands clinched 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 parent's 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, or 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 relished 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 offered.

"Yes, your holiness," she replied. "I accept the leniency of the court and its 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 of 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 mens' hearts. If you will make a taped, public and heartfelt acknowledgment 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 shaking 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 his or her 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."