Detention Facility and they are denying our client the right to see her family. I want you to prepare a quick lawsuit and file it as soon as possible. I’ll text over the names of the defendants.” A pause as he listened to no one. “That’s right. Start with Homeland Security and ICE, then add the names of, hang on.” He pointed at the three ladies, the three ICE agents, and McIlwaine. “Seven of them, individually.” Mark looked at the other agents and said, “Any of you guys want a piece of this?” They backed away even farther. “Guess not. Do it quick, Kinsey.” Another pause. Gibson and Watson shot fearful glances at McIlwaine. The three ladies were wide-eyed and afraid to move. Back to the phone, Mark said, “Great! File it this afternoon online. Eastern District of Pennsylvania, federal court. See if you can get Judge Baxter. He’ll throw the book at them. Call me in ten minutes.”
Mark tapped his phone and put it in his pocket. He glared at McIlwaine and said, “I’m suing all of you individually for monetary damages and when I get them I’ll enroll the judgment, then I can garnish your paychecks and put liens on your homes.” He turned around and barked at Todd, “Give me those names.” Zola and Todd followed him to a row of chairs against a wall. They sat down and Mark pulled out his phone again. Holding Todd’s list, he appeared to be texting the seven names.
McIlwaine finally moved. He took a deep breath and stepped toward them. With a fake smile he said, “Look, we might be able to work out something here.”
—
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Agent Gibson led them to a small room at the back of the administration building and told them to wait. When they were alone, Todd said, “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“It worked,” Mark said with a smug grin.
Zola managed to laugh and say, “I wouldn’t want you to sue me.”
“Who needs a law license?” Mark asked.
“Well, practicing without one can get you in trouble,” Todd said.
“And you think these clowns are going to call the D.C. Bar Council and dig for information?”
Zola opened her bulky purse and pulled out a black hijab. As they watched, she draped it over her head and shoulders, tugging here and there until it was in place. “I’m supposed to wear this when in the presence of men who are not in my family,” she said properly.
“What a good little Muslim,” Todd said. “And you chose a long dress instead of those tight jeans we’ve been admiring for years.”
“What jeans? It’s the least I can do for my parents since I may not see them for a long time.”
“I think you’re cute,” Mark said.
“I am cute, just don’t say anything, okay? My father is suspicious enough.”
“You look rather virginal,” Todd said.
“Knock it off,” she said.
The door opened. Her parents and brother Bo spilled into the room. Her mother, Fanta, grabbed her and they embraced, both in tears. She hugged her father, Abdou, and Bo, and finally looked at Todd and Mark. She introduced them, described them as friends from law school, and explained they had driven her up from D.C. Mark and Todd shook hands with Bo and Abdou, but not her mother. Her father thanked them again and again, and when the moment became awkward, Mark said, “We’ll be in the hallway.”
When he and Todd left the room, the entire family was crying.
11
E arly Tuesday morning, a D.C. police boat was cruising near the inlet to the Tidal Basin on the east bank of the Potomac. An officer noticed something unusual. A closer look revealed a body, bleached white, bloated, and snagged in some undergrowth at the river’s edge, a stone’s throw from the Jefferson Memorial.
Mark was still asleep when Detective Swayze called. He described what they had found and said he had just talked to Mr. Tanner, who was back home in Martinsburg along with Gordy’s mother and the Karveys. Neither Todd nor Mark had spoken to Brenda or her father or the Tanners since
Mark tapped his phone and put it in his pocket. He glared at McIlwaine and said, “I’m suing all of you individually for monetary damages and when I get them I’ll enroll the judgment, then I can garnish your paychecks and put liens on your homes.” He turned around and barked at Todd, “Give me those names.” Zola and Todd followed him to a row of chairs against a wall. They sat down and Mark pulled out his phone again. Holding Todd’s list, he appeared to be texting the seven names.
McIlwaine finally moved. He took a deep breath and stepped toward them. With a fake smile he said, “Look, we might be able to work out something here.”
—
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Agent Gibson led them to a small room at the back of the administration building and told them to wait. When they were alone, Todd said, “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“It worked,” Mark said with a smug grin.
Zola managed to laugh and say, “I wouldn’t want you to sue me.”
“Who needs a law license?” Mark asked.
“Well, practicing without one can get you in trouble,” Todd said.
“And you think these clowns are going to call the D.C. Bar Council and dig for information?”
Zola opened her bulky purse and pulled out a black hijab. As they watched, she draped it over her head and shoulders, tugging here and there until it was in place. “I’m supposed to wear this when in the presence of men who are not in my family,” she said properly.
“What a good little Muslim,” Todd said. “And you chose a long dress instead of those tight jeans we’ve been admiring for years.”
“What jeans? It’s the least I can do for my parents since I may not see them for a long time.”
“I think you’re cute,” Mark said.
“I am cute, just don’t say anything, okay? My father is suspicious enough.”
“You look rather virginal,” Todd said.
“Knock it off,” she said.
The door opened. Her parents and brother Bo spilled into the room. Her mother, Fanta, grabbed her and they embraced, both in tears. She hugged her father, Abdou, and Bo, and finally looked at Todd and Mark. She introduced them, described them as friends from law school, and explained they had driven her up from D.C. Mark and Todd shook hands with Bo and Abdou, but not her mother. Her father thanked them again and again, and when the moment became awkward, Mark said, “We’ll be in the hallway.”
When he and Todd left the room, the entire family was crying.
11
E arly Tuesday morning, a D.C. police boat was cruising near the inlet to the Tidal Basin on the east bank of the Potomac. An officer noticed something unusual. A closer look revealed a body, bleached white, bloated, and snagged in some undergrowth at the river’s edge, a stone’s throw from the Jefferson Memorial.
Mark was still asleep when Detective Swayze called. He described what they had found and said he had just talked to Mr. Tanner, who was back home in Martinsburg along with Gordy’s mother and the Karveys. Neither Todd nor Mark had spoken to Brenda or her father or the Tanners since
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