It was 8:30 a.m. on Tuesday, August 29, 2023, when I arrived at the Itai al-Baroud Criminal Court. I walked with confident strides, trusting in God’s judgment before the trial session, firmly convinced that the defendant was wronged and that God would not forsake the wronged.

In front of the courtroom door, with guards standing to its right and left, I met the defendant, who was accompanied by two of his friends. I noticed anxiety in his eyes, even though I had repeatedly reassured him that his case was looking good.
She asked him to leave his phone and bag behind, to take off his belt and watch, and to leave them with his friend—in preparation for entering the cage, where such personal belongings are not allowed.

He took all those things off—or at least I think he was taking them off—and with every item he removed from his body, he shed a bit of his freedom, and his anxiety grew.

We entered through the courthouse door, and I had barely taken two steps when I was startled to hear him calling me from behind; the courthouse guard had stopped him to ask why he was entering. I replied to the guard:
“Didn’t you see him take off his belt and leave his phone and belongings right in front of you?! Let him through—he’s a defendant!”
We entered the criminal courtroom together; there was no other lawyer there besides me, and there was no one else…