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Authors: Randy Singer
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as if the person with brain damage wasn’t even in the room.
When Khalid returned, he apologized and seemed distracted. “Where do we sign?” he asked, without reading another word.
Alex showed him and soon had the signatures of both Khalid and Ghaniyah. “Is her signature in this condition valid?” Khalid asked.
“I’m not sure,” Alex admitted. “But that’s why we had you sign it too.”
Khalid seemed ready to wrap up the meeting. He thanked Alex and Shannon, told Ghaniyah that he would see the guests to the door, and stepped outside with the two lawyers.
“She says she’s fine,” Khalid explained. “And I think that one of Allah’s blessings in all of this is that Ghaniyah doesn’t know how badly injured she is.” Khalid paused and appeared uncertain about how much of his private life he should reveal. “Sometimes, when she gets dressed, she puts her blouse on backward.” He looked down, as if he was a little ashamed of talking about his wife behind her back. “She can’t remember the simple things in the morning. One thing she can remember, but not two things in sequence. I have to tell her—brush your teeth . . . brush your hair . . . take a shower.
“Her personality . . . she used to be so . . .” He struggled to find the word. “So forceful . . . in a good way. Opinionated. Outgoing. It’s like somebody took that woman and replaced her with someone I don’t know.”
Khalid looked from Alex to Shannon and back to Alex. “I know you can’t fix all that . . . but I just wanted you to understand that . . . well, I don’t know what to do.”
“We understand,” Shannon said. “And I can promise you that we’re going to do everything in our power to get her as much help as possible from this case.”
“Thank you,” Khalid said.
It struck Alex that the man might know how to speak multiple languages and how to cope with the political chaos of a country like Lebanon. But when it came to living with a spouse who had a brain injury, Khalid was in uncharted waters.
“And, Mr. Madison,” Khalid said to Alex, looking his new lawyer directly in the eye, “I might appreciate a few of those prayers after all.”
16
Alex headed straight home after his meeting with the Mobassars and didn’t feel the least bit guilty about it. Shannon would undoubtedly head back to the office, but Alex had long ago stopped trying to keep up with her. He wanted to get in an hour or two of surfing before it got too late. He assuaged his conscience by reminding himself that he had landed a big new case today and could always bill a few hours at his home computer later if he got inspired.
Right after he changed into a pair of board shorts and a ratty T-shirt, his BlackBerry started vibrating. He was ready to hit ignore but checked the caller ID first. Shannon.
“Please tell me you’re not back at the office,” Alex said.
“I like this guy,” Shannon answered, ignoring Alex’s statement. She had perfected that part of her job. “Have you Googled Khalid?”
He hadn’t, of course. But why would he need to with the obsessive Shannon Reese for a partner? “What’d you find?” Alex asked.
“Interesting stuff. He lost a son who was working in a refugee camp when the Israelis bombed Lebanon in 1996 as part of Operation Grapes of Wrath. For a while he became an outspoken supporter of Hezbollah. But eighteen months later, he lost his second son during a suicide bombing mission in southern Israel.
“And here’s the really intriguing thing: instead of fueling Khalid’s hate for the Israelis, this somehow mellowed him. He became a leading voice for an Islamic reformation and an outspoken opponent of those who preached violence and jihad. He came to the U.S. on a teaching visa about five years ago and started the mosque in Norfolk.”
Alex was delighted to see Shannon’s growing enthusiasm for the case. But most of this information seemed irrelevant. “And this helps us how?” Alex
When Khalid returned, he apologized and seemed distracted. “Where do we sign?” he asked, without reading another word.
Alex showed him and soon had the signatures of both Khalid and Ghaniyah. “Is her signature in this condition valid?” Khalid asked.
“I’m not sure,” Alex admitted. “But that’s why we had you sign it too.”
Khalid seemed ready to wrap up the meeting. He thanked Alex and Shannon, told Ghaniyah that he would see the guests to the door, and stepped outside with the two lawyers.
“She says she’s fine,” Khalid explained. “And I think that one of Allah’s blessings in all of this is that Ghaniyah doesn’t know how badly injured she is.” Khalid paused and appeared uncertain about how much of his private life he should reveal. “Sometimes, when she gets dressed, she puts her blouse on backward.” He looked down, as if he was a little ashamed of talking about his wife behind her back. “She can’t remember the simple things in the morning. One thing she can remember, but not two things in sequence. I have to tell her—brush your teeth . . . brush your hair . . . take a shower.
“Her personality . . . she used to be so . . .” He struggled to find the word. “So forceful . . . in a good way. Opinionated. Outgoing. It’s like somebody took that woman and replaced her with someone I don’t know.”
Khalid looked from Alex to Shannon and back to Alex. “I know you can’t fix all that . . . but I just wanted you to understand that . . . well, I don’t know what to do.”
“We understand,” Shannon said. “And I can promise you that we’re going to do everything in our power to get her as much help as possible from this case.”
“Thank you,” Khalid said.
It struck Alex that the man might know how to speak multiple languages and how to cope with the political chaos of a country like Lebanon. But when it came to living with a spouse who had a brain injury, Khalid was in uncharted waters.
“And, Mr. Madison,” Khalid said to Alex, looking his new lawyer directly in the eye, “I might appreciate a few of those prayers after all.”
16
Alex headed straight home after his meeting with the Mobassars and didn’t feel the least bit guilty about it. Shannon would undoubtedly head back to the office, but Alex had long ago stopped trying to keep up with her. He wanted to get in an hour or two of surfing before it got too late. He assuaged his conscience by reminding himself that he had landed a big new case today and could always bill a few hours at his home computer later if he got inspired.
Right after he changed into a pair of board shorts and a ratty T-shirt, his BlackBerry started vibrating. He was ready to hit ignore but checked the caller ID first. Shannon.
“Please tell me you’re not back at the office,” Alex said.
“I like this guy,” Shannon answered, ignoring Alex’s statement. She had perfected that part of her job. “Have you Googled Khalid?”
He hadn’t, of course. But why would he need to with the obsessive Shannon Reese for a partner? “What’d you find?” Alex asked.
“Interesting stuff. He lost a son who was working in a refugee camp when the Israelis bombed Lebanon in 1996 as part of Operation Grapes of Wrath. For a while he became an outspoken supporter of Hezbollah. But eighteen months later, he lost his second son during a suicide bombing mission in southern Israel.
“And here’s the really intriguing thing: instead of fueling Khalid’s hate for the Israelis, this somehow mellowed him. He became a leading voice for an Islamic reformation and an outspoken opponent of those who preached violence and jihad. He came to the U.S. on a teaching visa about five years ago and started the mosque in Norfolk.”
Alex was delighted to see Shannon’s growing enthusiasm for the case. But most of this information seemed irrelevant. “And this helps us how?” Alex
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