Reprisal Read Free Page A

to a trial, and I can command you to have one.”
    “You have a right to a trial.”
    “I want a jury trial with a new lawyer.”
    “You’ll get your trial,” she shouted at him.
    “I did it.”
    Zehra’s words caught in her throat. “You killed the Somali?”
    “It was necessary.”
    She stammered, “Well … I could talk to the prosecutor about a deal …”
    “Do not talk to them.”
    Zehra’d never had a defendant admit guilt but still demand a trial. What’s wrong with this idiot? She shoved her chair back and stood. “I’ve had it. I’m out of here.”
    “I know that I have a right to represent myself.”
    Zehra felt the anger rising in her until a thought struck her—she might be able to get out of the case. If he insisted on defending himself, she could be relieved of representing him.
    She started to stuff the papers into her briefcase, not worrying about the order. The room felt small, stuffy. She wished she were drinking a cup of tea and working with her garden plants.
    El-Amin stood and leaned toward her. He smelled of onions. Through gritted teeth, his said, “I will not have anything to do with you. I will be disgraced.” His eyes shone with fury. “You do not wear hijab , you have bare legs. It is not of the law of Allah.”
    Zehra snapped. She jammed her finger into his face. “Listen you jerk, I’d be happy to never talk to you again. And don’t tell me about the law of Allah. I know it better than you do.” She stopped for a moment. “Have you ever read the Qur’an yourself or do you let others interpret it for you?” Her shouts bounced off the close walls.
    “A woman cannot understand the words from the Prophet like a man.”
    Zehra felt her face flush hot with anger. Sweat stood out on her forehead. She knew better than to argue with him, but she hated all that he said. She stood but didn’t trust her legs to support her. “Get out of my way,” she yelled at him.
    “No woman talks to me like that.” He reached for the chair, gripped the edges, and started to lift it.
    The silence in the room crackled with tension. Zehra heard the lights above humming. Thick air dulled any outside sounds. The chair scraped across the floor.
    Zehra watched his eyes. Knew it was time and slammed the red panic button with her fist.
    El-Amin had the chair off the ground. He twisted his shoulders to get better leverage. She could hear him grunt as he strained to swing it toward her.
    Zehra backed into the corner. The block walls felt surprisingly cool. She had her arms up. Clanking sounds echoed around the room. El-Amin swore something in Arabic.
    Two deputies burst through the door and clamped their arms over El-Amin’s shoulders. The chair clattered to the floor. One deputy seemed to enjoy the opportunity and twisted El-Amin’s arm behind him until Zehra heard something crunch. El-Amin screamed and dropped to the floor. He stomped on El-Amin’s back.
    Another deputy arrived and helped the first two drag her client outside the interview room. “You okay, Zehra?” he asked her. “Sorry… we didn’t see anything until you hit the button. I … I’m so sorry.”
    She waved her hand at him. “Don’t worry, Jack. I gotta get out of here.” She stumbled back to the elevator and rode up to civilization above. Her blouse was drenched, and Zehra longed to get out of the sticky clothing.
    She burst through the doors outside and felt the comforting smell of fresh air. Closing her eyes, she let the sun’s warmth penetrate her wet face. Tangled thoughts flew through her brain. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before.
    Even though El-Amin said he was guilty, her reading of the file told her there was a good chance he was innocent. Why would he want a trial? Zehra shook out her damp hair as if to shake off the creepy feeling he left with her.
    That’s not to mention the way guys like El-Amin had hijacked Islam in a perverted way to serve their violent ends. That infuriated her.
    She