Page 98 of Grave Danger
Jack rose. “Your Honor, I would point out another ‘first.’ It is probably the first time any judge in this division has been asked to enforce a foreign custody order after a federal judge has ruled that returning the child to the father would put that child at grave risk of serious physical or psychological harm.”
“Yes, I was going to ask Ms. Beech about that. Counsel?”
“Judge, an action under the Hague Convention has a narrow focus: Was the child improperly abducted from her habitual place of residence? The Hague Convention, however, does not override the authority of the child’s home country to determine custody. Under the Uniform Child Custody Jurisdiction and Enforcement Act—which has been enacted by every state in the United States, including Florida—a state court must enforce a custody order issued by the home country.”
“Excuse me,” said Jack. “Ms. Beech left off an important limitation. The state court must enforce the orderunlessthe child custody law of that foreign country violates fundamental principles of human rights.”
The judge raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you intend to prove, Mr. Swyteck?”
“If we have to, Your Honor.”
“Well, I must say, I admire your determination. Last week you tried to prove that the Iranian regime was lying to the world about the death of Ava Bazzi. This week, you intend to prove that the entire family law system of Iran violates human rights.”
His opposing counsel could barely contain her laughter.
“With all due respect, it’s simpler than that,” said Jack. “It violates basic common sense and all principles of decency to return Yasmin Bazzi to her father after a federal judge has decided that doing so would put her in grave danger.”
“That’s not the issue,” said Beech.
“All right, enough,” the judge said. “I have nine dissolutions of marriage, five name changes, and three motions to modify child support—and that’s all before lunch. I don’t have time for this now. But I will put this on a fast track. A slot just opened on my calendar this Friday. Ms. Beech, you can present your case to enforce the custody order then. Mr. Swyteck, be prepared to present any challenge at that time. We’re adjourned. Next case.”
“Cruz v. Cruz,” the clerk announced, and a new set of lawyers elbowed Jack and his opposing counsel out of the way and took their seats at the table.
Jack and Zahra made their way to the rear exit.
“Why did she put our case on a fast track?” Zahra asked.
Jack had the same question. Compared to the hallowed halls of the federal courthouse, the state court family division was a legal meat grinder. Thousands upon thousands of cases worked through the overtaxed system, from simple uncontested divorces to hotly contested domestic violence cases and emergency restraining orders. Many cases got bogged down in the glut for years.
“She didn’t say why,” said Jack. “But it does seem odd that an entire day this week suddenly became available on her calendar. Family division judges in Miami are some of the busiest judges in America.”
“Then what’s going on here? What’s the rush?”
The gallery was filled with lawyers and clients waiting for their turn before the judge. Jack waited until he and Zahra were out the door and in the lobby before responding.
“For some reason, Judge Carpenter has given your case priority status.”
“Why, Jack? If you can explain this to me, I have a right to know.”
Jack’s knowledge of the US government’s negotiations with the Iranians was limited to what Andie told him. But whatever they were negotiating, it seemed to Jack that the State Department was being forced to make one concession after another. For the Iranians, it apparently wasn’t enough that the State Department tried to shut down Jack’s efforts to prove in federal court that Ava Bazzi was murdered by the Tehran morality police. It wasn’t enough that the State Department created a classified dossier with documented support for the Iranian government’s claim that Ava fled Tehran and was still alive. Even after all that, the Iranian government wanted Ava’s child removed from the United States and returned to the father in Iran—as quickly as possible. Jack could think of only one reason. He didn’t know for sure, but he suspected that someone was making another concession to the Iranian government.
“It could have something to do with the State Department,” he said.
“You think the State Department got to the judge?”
“I’m not saying that.”
“But you’re thinking it.”
Jack pushed the call button for the elevator. “All I’m saying is that our opposition extends beyond these courthouse walls.”
Andie stopped by the Cuban coffee shop for a 2:00 p.m. jolt of espresso. She was deep in thought, coffee in hand, when she turned away from the cashier to find the man behind her right in her face.
“Whoa!” she said, startled.
“Did I scare you?”
She’d nearly spilled her coffee, but she quickly recognized him as the CIA agent—Hartfield—who had tracked her down outside Bayfront Park.