Afraid of the Dark Read Online Free PDF Page A

never accused of being a member of either al-Qaeda or the Taliban, barely saved after a suicide attempt upon his arrival at Gitmo, and then locked in a cage indefinitely with no charges against him. The case completely unraveled after al-Jawar’s lawyer—Jack Swyteck, son of former Florida governor Harry Swyteck—presented long-concealed evidence that his client ‘confessed’ to sheltering al-Qaeda operatives in East Africa only after Ethiopian troops threatened and drugged him into submission. So unpersuasive was the government’s evidence against him that the judge excoriated the Justice Department in an unusually strident and hostile tone for attempting to continue his detention.’ ”
    He paused, looked up, and frowned at Jack’s reaction. “What’s wrong?”
    “Too much,” said Jack.
    Neil took another hit of sake. “All right, I’ll leave your father out of it.”
    “It’s not that. I just don’t like it.”
    “But it’s all true.”
    Jack put his chopsticks aside and leaned forward, his expression very serious. “What if he blows up a building tomorrow?”
    “Then the government should have built a stronger case to keep him locked up. That’s their job.”
    Suddenly, it was like old times. Most people thought Jack had left the Freedom Institute because he was nothing like the other lawyers: Eve, the only woman Jack had ever known to smoke a pipe; Brian, the gay surfer dude; and Neil, the ponytailed genius who had survived Woodstock. In truth, Jack considered all of them friends. They’d even shown up for his surprise fortieth birthday party. What had made Jack feel like such a misfit was the way they celebrated their victories. Forcing the government to prove its case was enough for Jack. Getting another guilty man released didn’t make him want to throw a party. Or issue a press release.
    “Al-Jawar should never have been locked up,” said Neil.
    “How do you know that?” asked Jack. “For that matter, how do you even know his name is al-Jawar?”
    “Because he told us.”
    “Yeah, in English. A language no one even knew he spoke until yesterday.”
    “Whatever his name is, he’s not guilty of anything but wearing a Casio watch,” said Neil.
    It was a reference to the fact that more than a dozen Gitmo detainees were cited for owning cheap digital watches, particularly the infamous Casio F914 watch, the type used by al-Qaeda members for bomb detonators.
    Jack selected a pod of edamame from the bowl and brushed away the excess sea salt. “It bothers me that it never came out in court that he speaks English.”
    “That wasn’t relevant. The confession they forced him to sign wasn’t written in English—or in any other language that he speaks.”
    “I don’t believe his story about being from Somalia. I think he’s American.”
    “So what?
    “He’s hiding something.”
    Neil shrugged and turned his attention back to his press release. “Al-Jawar is actually one of the lucky ones,” he said, speaking his edits aloud. “According to a report issued by Human Rights First , at least one hundred detainees in U.S. custody have died since 2002, many suffering gruesome deaths.”
    Jack was about to reel in the polemic, but a woman seated on the other side of the restaurant caught his attention. It was Sylvia Gonzalez, the Justice Department lawyer who had argued the government’s case against his client.
    “Don’t look now,” Jack started to say, but of course Neil did. He recognized Gonzalez instantly, as well as the man she was with.
    “How fitting,” Neil said, as if spitting out the bad taste in his mouth. “She’s with Sid Littleton.”
    “Who’s he?”
    “Founder and CEO of Black Ice, the go-to private military firm for the Department of Defense. Surely you’ve heard of them. They’re the independent contractors that the military hires to do things the military can’t do, like shooting unarmed Iraqi civilians.”
    It was the editorial spin of a former hippie, but