as if waiting for her to speak.
“Good morning, Mr. Yasin. My name is Judith Cochrane. I am told you speak excellent English, is my information correct?”
The prisoner said nothing, but Cochrane could tell he understood her. She’d worked almost exclusively with those whose native language was other than her own, and she had no trouble discerning either recognition or befuddlement. She continued, “I am an attorney for the Progressive Constitution Initiative. U.S. Attorney General Michael Brannigan has decided that your case will be handled in U.S. District Court for the Western District of Virginia. The AG’s office will be preparing the prosecution against you, and my organization has been retained to provide you with your defense. Do you understand me so far?”
She waited a moment for a response, but the man known as Prisoner 09341-000 just stared back at her.
“We can expect this to be a lengthy process, certainly over a year in duration, likely closer to two years. Before that can even begin, there are several preliminary steps we need to—”
“I would like to speak with someone from Amnesty International about my illegal imprisonment.”
Cochrane nodded sympathetically but said, “I am afraid I am not in a position to make that happen. I assure you that I
The Emir just repeated himself. “I would like to speak with someone from Amnesty International about my illegal imprisonment.”
“Sir, you are lucky that you are speaking to anyone at all.”
“I would like to speak to someone from Amnesty International about mynot abcare”
Cochrane sighed. “Mr. Yasin. I know your playbook. One of your manuals was picked up by American Special Forces soldiers in Kandahar a few years ago. It laid out, in minute detail, instructions for dealing with capture and captivity.
“I knew you would ask for a representative of Amnesty International. I am not with Amnesty International, true, but I am with an organization that will be much more beneficial to you in the long run.”
Yasin stared at her for a long moment, holding the receiver to his ear. Then he spoke again, altering the script. “You have given that speech before.”
“Indeed. I have represented many men and one or two women that the United States has labeled enemy combatants. Every last one of you has read that manual. You may be the first person I’ve spoken to who likely wrote some of the manual.” She smiled when she said this.
Yasin did not respond.
Cochrane continued, “I understand how you must feel. Don’t talk for now. Just listen to what I have to say. The President of the United States and the attorney general have personally spoken with the director of the Bureau of Prisons to stress how important it is that you have confidential conversations with your legal team.”
“My… my
“Your legal team. Myself, and other attorneys from PCI, that is the Progressive Constitution Initiative, who you will meet in the coming months.”
The Emir did not speak.
“I’m sorry. Are you having trouble understanding me? Should I arrange for a translator?”
The Emir understood the woman perfectly. It wasn’t the English language that was slowing down his portion of the conversation, it was, rather, his astonishment that the Americans were, after all this time, going to put him on trial. He stared at the fat woman with the short gray hair. She looked to him like a man, a very ugly man who dressed in women’s clothing.
He smiled at her slowly. Saif Rahman Yasin had long known that it was only the fool’s luck of geography that the United States of America had survived two-hundred-plus years on this earth. If these imbeciles had their nation lifted out of their hemisphere and dropped into the center of the Middle East, with their childlike acquiescence to those who would do them harm, they would not survive a single year.
“Miss, are you saying that there is no one listening to what we say?”
“No one, Mr. Yasin.”
The Emir shook his head and grunted. “Preposterous.”
“I assure you, you can speak freely with me.”
“That would be insane.”
“We have a Constitution that allows you some rights, Mr. Yasin. It’s what makes my country great. Unfortunately, the climate in my country is against people of color, people of other races and religious beliefs. For this reason, you are not afforded all the benefits of our Constitution. But still… you get some. You have the right to confidential meetings with your legal counsel.”
He saw now that she was telling the truth. And he fought back a smile.
“Very well,” he said. “What would you like to talk about?”
“Today, only the conditions of your confinement. The warden and the FBI team in charge of your custody have shown me the Special Administrative Measures that you are under. They tell me that when you arrived here all your rules were explained to you.”
The Emir said, “It was worse in the other places.”
Cochrane raised a small wrinkled hand. “Okay, now is probably a good time to go through some of our ground rules. I can go into more detail when we actually begin working on your case, but for now I will just say that I am not allowed to record any detail of your capture or detainment before you arrived here at ADX Florence three months ago. In fact, I am required to inform you that you are not allowed to tell me about anything that happened before you were transferred into federal custody from”—she chose her next words carefully—“from where you came from before.”
“I am not allowed?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Yasin shook his head slowly, incredulously. “And what will my punishment be if I violate that arrangement?” He winked at the woman in front of him. “Will they put me in jail?”
Judith Cochrane laughed. Quickly she caught herself. “I can understand that this is a unique situation. The government is making this up as they go along. They are having some… growing pains in deciding how to handle your situation. They have a track record of trying so-called enemy combatants in federal court, though, and I can assure you my organization will hold the attorney general’s office to high standards during your trial.”
“ADX Florence? Is that what this place is called?”
“Yes. I’m sorry; I should have known that was not clear to you. You are in a federal prison in Colorado. Anyway… tell me about your treatment here.”
He held her gaze as he said, “My treatment here is better than my treatment at the other places.”
Cochrane gave another sympathetic nod, a gesture she’d made a million times in her long career of defending the indefensible. “I’m sorry, Mr. Yasin. That part of your ordeal will never be a part of our discussions.”
“And why is that?”
“We had to agree to this condition in order to be allowed access to you. Your time in U.S. custody is divided, and the dividing line is the moment you came here, the moment you entered the federal system. Everything before that, I assume, involved the U.S. military and intelligence community, and that will not be part of your defense. If we force this issue at all, the Department of Justice will just remand you back to military custody and you will be sent to Guantanamo Bay, and God knows what will happen to you there.”
The Emir thought this over for a few moments and then said, “Very well.”
“Now, then. How often are you allowed to bathe?”
“To… bathe?”
“Yes. I need to know about your hygiene. Whether or not your physical needs are being met. The bathroom
