Disclaimers: I own nothing.
I'm still pregnant, so you get another chapter. :-)
Edited to add: trigger warning for describing child sexual abuse. It's not too graphic, and it's not going to get worse than this in future chapters, I promise.
To the reviewer who commented about surrogacy: I'm sure it can be a great thing, and I'm not opposed to it personally, but surrogacy is actually illegal in the country I live in. The government was recently forced by the EU courts to give nationality to twins born abroad via a surrogate, and it's a huge debate here right now. Again, my view of it isn't totally negative, and I have also met people for whom it's worked well, but there is an element of 'paying for body parts' to it that can easily lead to exploitation, and even in the US (where I'm from), the laws vary a lot from state to state. I just think that two women who work with exploited women, who see a lot of unwanted/abused children, and who are very aware of its potential legal and ethical pitfalls probably wouldn't be into surrogacy as an option. Just my take. Besides, I have other plans for them. :-)
Alex had just settled into her office and pulled out her legal pad when she heard a knock on the door, and stood to welcome a tall, dark-eyed woman with long, curly hair.
"Ms. Habib, please, come in," Alex said, holding out her hand to shake. She pulled out a chair and returned to her own to sit down. "Thank you so much for meeting with me so soon. How was your trip back to New York?"
The woman nodded. "The trip was fine, thank you. And please, call me Rym."
"And you can call me Alex. My colleague, Casey Novak, will be here in a few minutes. She's the lead attorney on this case, but I'm assisting because I have contacts in the State Department, and quite frankly, this one might go bad. And of course, you know Sarah, one of our interns who gave us your contact information and thought you might be able to help with the interpretation."
"I understand the girl speaks Yemeni dialect?"
Alex nodded. "As far as we can tell. Now, we should go over the case, but I do need to go over these confidentiality documents. I did get your information from INS and run a quick background check, so you are cleared to work here if you agree. Otherwise, I would have had to wait to get your fingerprints, get you bonded, run you through the FBI database… it would have taken a few weeks, and quite frankly, this girl doesn't have time for that."
She pushed a few papers across the table. "This document says you agree to respect the confidentiality of all cases you work on, and it outlines the state and federal criminal and civil penalties if you violate this clause. And this document outlines your qualifications and the process for becoming court certified, which hopefully we'll be able to get done before this even goes to trial. We'll record all interviews and prepare transcripts, and for now, everything will be reviewed by another translator/interpreter until we can get you approved. As I explained, this girl is very shy and seems to be frightened of men, which is why we haven't been able to interview her yet. Do you have any questions?"
Rym shook her head and signed the two documents, just as Casey knocked on the door and entered, carrying a tray with three coffees. She handed one to Alex and set the tray down on the table.
"Casey Novak. Nice to meet you, Ms. Habib. I brought you a black coffee, and we've got milk and sugar so you can fix it how you like it. I figure it's the least we can do for having you come in here on a Saturday."
"We were just going over the paperwork, and I'm about to give her the SVU spiel," Alex explained. "Have you talked to Munch and Stabler? Maybe you should brief her on the case since you're more up-to-date than I am."
Alex took a sip of her coffee and folded her hands, leaning across her desk. She straightened her legal pad and put the cap back on her Mont Blanc pen as she searched for the right way to begin, then made eye contact.
"I'm not sure if Sarah's told you anything about what we do here or what this case is about," she said carefully.
"I only know what you told me on the phone. She didn't mention any details," Rym replied.
"This is the Special Victims' Unit. We deal primarily with cases involving rape, sexual assault, and child abuse." Alex watched carefully for a reaction, and when there was none forthcoming, she continued. "This particular case involves an 11-year-old girl who was the victim of an acid attack about two weeks ago. She's the daughter of a Yemeni member of the OPEC committee at the UN. Normally, this would be an assault charge and not a case of child abuse; however, SVU was called in because hospital tests showed she was 26 weeks pregnant and a victim of female genital mutilation."
Rym shook her head and covered her mouth with her hand. "How horrible," she murmured.
"Officially, there's no rape case yet and we're working only on the acid attack. We can compel her father to bring her in because she's a witness and he's not a suspect." Alex continued. "Unofficially, we need to establish a few facts so we can investigate a case of rape or ongoing sexual abuse. Most importantly, we need to find out if she was in New York when the mutilation or the rape happened, so we know whether we even have jurisdiction over those crimes. If we do, we need to make her feel safe enough so she can name her abuser. Because she is mostly confined to her home and surrounded by UN committee members, we have to be very careful about investigating the charges fully before we level an accusation or remove her from her home. I like my job, and accusing diplomats of sexual abuse is a good way for me to lose it."
"Here's where you come in. We need to know as much as we can about the acid attack, clearly, but we're also interested in the abuse. The detectives are still working on the timeline, and assuming it's someone in one of the father's committees, we'll also have to wait for the State Department to advise us on whether the abuser can be charged or whether he'll have diplomatic immunity. Our job - and especially your job - will be to put this girl at ease, and to try to get her talking in as much detail as possible about what's been done to her. We need clinical details, and you can't put words into her mouth or provide her with vocabulary she doesn't have. If we get this right, we'll have enough for a warrant for the perp's DNA to match it to the baby's, and we won't even need her testimony. If we screw it up, the warrant gets thrown out, we all lose our jobs and get sued, she goes back to her abuser, and the perp takes off to the desert to abuse another young girl. Do you have any questions so far?"
Rym shook her head, but appeared overwhelmed.
"Don't worry," Casey reassured her, reaching out to touch her arm. "We'll ask all the questions. Your role is to translate what we say, and what she says, as precisely as you can. If we need clarification on something, we'll ask for it."
"Are all the cases you work on like this?" Rym asked quietly. "I can't imagine what this poor little girl has been through."
"This is shaping up to be a particularly brutal case," Casey admitted. "But all of our cases include some element of sexual assault."
"Do not emote for this girl," Alex said firmly, seeing that Rym was distressed by the description of what had happened to her. "We're going to ask her to tell us things that are painful, and probably shameful to her, and the most important thing we can do is make sure she's as comfortable as possible. If you're uncomfortable or emotional, she's going to be able to feel that and she'll react to it and shut down."
"It's normal for you to have strong feelings during the case," Casey reassured her, and Alex nodded in agreement. "I cried almost every day when I started working SVU, but if you need to react to something, please excuse yourself and don't do it in front of the girl."
Alex pointed to the door at the back of her office. "There's a private bathroom here if you need it. We're not telling you to not be affected - it means you're human - just telling you not to be a martyr. Can you handle that?"
"I think so," Rym replied.
"Great," Alex said, smiling at her reassuringly. "I'm sure you'll do fine. And thank you, by the way, for doing this."
—
They had agreed to meet Elliot and Munch at the DA's office slightly nicer conference rooms rather than at the precinct. While they agreed that technically, a detective should be interviewing Safa, Olivia's absence meant that no other women were available. Getting Safa's victim statement was more important.
"Detectives," Alex greeted them outside of the observation room. "Good afternoon. This is Ms. Habib, who will be interpreting for us with Safa. Ms. Habib, detectives John Munch and Elliot Stabler, Mr. Mohamed al-Masri, and his daughter Safa."
"Alex, Casey," Munch said, smiling warmly at them, and reaching out his hand. "Ms. Habib, a pleasure to meet you."
"Counselors," Stabler said coolly, giving Alex the side-eye as hands were shaken all around.
"You didn't need to bring in an interpreter," Mr. al-Masri stated. "I could translate for my daughter."
"It's standard procedure to have an independent interpreter to make sure everything is admissible in court when we go to trial. I'm sure you understand," Alex explained.
"And we'd like to talk to you at the same time about a few incidents of anti-Muslim hate crimes that seem to be going on in your neighborhood. Since you have connections in the community, we're hoping you'll be able to piece together some recent events," Munch said.
"I would prefer to stay with my daughter. She is not comfortable around strangers," Mr. al-Masri stated.
"We need to interview you separately. Standard procedure," Casey said.
"She's a minor and I have a right to be with her," Mr. al-Masri replied. His tone was even, but his nose flared in anger.
"Actually, that's only true if she were a suspect in a crime, which she's not. Since she's a witness, we're not required to allow a guardian to be present during the interview." Alex said calmly, opening the door to the children's interview room. "We appreciate your cooperation. Detectives, we'll let you know when we're done."
Safa fidgeted a bit as they went into the room, and chose a seat on the couch next to Alex. She had been shy and reserved, her eyes downcast when they had been in the hall, but she smiled at Alex and looked directly at her, ignoring the two other women. "Alesk," she said, hugging the surprised attorney. "Keifa hal Ooleeveeya?"
Alex smiled, understanding before the interpreter spoke. Channel Olivia, she thought to herself, as she often did before an interview with a shy witness. She knew the girl was shy, and she had no idea whether or not she'd be able to express herself and explain what happened to her, at barely 12 years old. Putting her at ease, like Olivia could do effortlessly, would hopefully help her explain what happened. "Olivia's fine," she replied. "She's still recovering from surgery so she couldn't come today. How is your face?"
Alex reached up tentatively, asking for permission to pull her hijab aside to look at the scar forming along her hairline. Safa looked away in shame, and Alex winced at the healing blisters, which looked painful. "Looks like it's healing. Can you tell us anything more about what happened? You're not in trouble, and anything you say here stays between us."
Safa looked at the other two women, trying to decide whether she could trust them. "Sometimes I get up early to go visit Mrs. Hassan. She runs the bakery around the corner from our house, and I like to go when I can get warm bread and cookies in the morning."
"Do you talk to her at all?" Alex asked.
Safa looked away, as though embarrassed.
"You're not in trouble for anything, Safa," Alex reassured her.
"Sometimes she'll make me mint tea or Turkish coffee. She was helping me learn some words in English and she wanted to give me lessons."
"You've never taken English lessons since you've been in New York?"
Safa shook her head. "I'm not really allowed to go out. But sometimes Miriam has me go to the store to get milk and eggs, or to Mrs. Hassan's to get bread."
"Who's Miriam?" Alex asked. They hadn't mentioned a Miriam before.
"She's my older sister. She's 16, I think. She gives me chores to do at the house."
"She's your father's biological daughter? Or is she adopted too?"
"I don't know. She was there when I was adopted. She's not very nice to me, especially lately. She doesn't like that it takes me too long to do chores. She went away for a few days and came back sick, so she made me go to the store that morning."
"Did you see the men who attacked you? Can you remember anything about them?"
Safa shook her head. "I didn't see them, but they didn't use funny words, so I think they were from Yemen too. They were young, but I didn't see their faces. I'm sorry."
"It's okay. Can you tell us exactly what they said to you?"
"They just yelled 'American whore!' but I don't know what that means. They didn't say anything else."
"Okay. And you don't know if you've seen them around before, at the bakery or at the store?"
"No," Safa said. "I don't think so."
Alex paused and offered Safa some more water before she asked her next question. "Safa, can you tell me about the scar between your legs?" she asked gently.
Safa looked away in embarrassment. "The scar is from when I was made a woman," she explained quietly. "When I was 7, my mother took me to a lady to cut off my man parts and make me so I could get married, and so my husband would know I was a virgin."
"What do you mean?"
Safa looked down at the ground as tears came to her eyes. "You know," she said softly.
Alex leaned in and touched her arm. "Can you explain it to me anyway? You don't have to be embarrassed; we're all girls here."
"She just told me I was dirty and she had to make me clean so I could get married later, and that I should be happy to become a woman. She said it wasn't going to hurt and that I shouldn't cry, but I couldn't help it. There were other girls there and they were crying, but I didn't know why. Three women held me down and I thought I was going to die. But she said it would help me get a good dowry when I got married."
"Safa, has anyone ever touched your scar, besides Dr. Logan?"
"I'm not supposed to tell," she whispered.
"It's okay. You won't get in trouble." Alex whispered back. "Whatever you say here stays between us girls."
"He was supposed to wait until I was old enough."
"Who was?"
"Mr. al-Masri. He said he was adopting me and he would marry me when I was 14 because I would be old enough then. My father had a wedding and was very happy because he got a lot of sheep and goats and he knew I would come to New York. Mr. al-Masri promised I would just have to do some chores but that I wouldn't have to be his wife yet, but once we got away from my family, he…"
Alex held out a box of tissues as Safa began to cry. "How old were you when he brought you to New York?"
"I was almost 10. We got married after my mother died, but we stayed near my family for a few months. He said he 'adopted' me and that he was my father since my father and his new wife couldn't take care of me. I was there when he told my father that we wouldn't have our 'wedding night' until I turned 14. Until then I was supposed to just say he was my father and I had to obey him."
"And what happened after you got to New York?"
"Nothing, at first. He just made me help Miriam with the chores. Then when I turned 10, he came into my room at night, and he told me that I had to be his wife. He felt my scar with his fingers and he made me take off my clothes. It hurt a lot. Then he got under the covers and laid on top of me, and he pressed something between my legs. I kept my eyes closed so I couldn't see."
"Then what happened?"
"I was crying because it hurt, and I told him he wasn't supposed to touch me until I was 14. He told me he was my husband and I had to obey him or he would divorce me and I'd be all alone in New York and dishonor my family. He kept trying to put the hard thing between my legs until he got something sticky on me. He did it every night, and then after 3 nights he said I was still a virgin, and he took out a little knife and made a cut in my scar, and put himself inside of me. I know he's my husband and he's supposed to do these things, but it hurts every time."
"Safa, has anyone else ever touched your scar?"
Safa looked horrified. "No! I'm not an adulterer."
"And have you ever left New York since you got here?"
Safa shook her head.
"Safa, listen to me. In New York, men are not allowed to have wives who are 10 years old, or 11 years old, or 14 years old. And it's my job, and Olivia's job, and Casey's job to help little girls who are being hurt. And we're going to do everything we can to stop him from hurting you, okay?"
Safa sniffled, and Alex handed her another tissue.
"He's my husband. You can't stop him from doing anything to me. It's my duty as his wife."
"Safa, look at me," Alex said, and the girl looked up, her eyes puffy, from Rym to Alex. "Trust me, okay?"
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