The Terrorist Next Door: Prison Sentence: 1, #2

By Coach De Bruyns

After Fatima's arrest, the battle against the legal system begins. Discover what Fatima's life in prison is like and how she deals with some of the challenges she faces. Meanwhile, on the outside, things get a bit rough as the family struggle to come to terms with how events have unfolded.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Coach De Bruyns
• Release date: Mar 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223835561

Coach De Bruyns

Coach De Bruyns is a South African writer and blogger whose focus is on helping men integrate their masculinity within themselves and within the world at large. He graduated in the field of Religion Studies and has also worked extensively in establishing several businesses. In addition to his academic and business life, he is actively engaged in physical training. He is a university lecturer that specialises in teaching English as a Foreign Language. He has two wives and ten children.

Book preview

Introduction

Blue and red lights flashing. Sirens blaring in the background. Fatima sighs as she sits at the back of a black SUV. Exhausted, she closes her eyes and says to herself, Ya Allah, deliver me from this, forgive us, have mercy on us, and grant us to reunite in Paradise. Her mind drifted to her children and she started to smile. Feeling gratitude in her heart that she had witnessed her daughter’s marriage, she continued to talk to God, Ya Allah, protect my children and their children and grant them to be be good Muslims. Then she started to think about her husband, Ali, and continued to pray, grant my husband contentment and satisfaction, and a good wife who will look after him. Fatima didn’t think that she would likely get out of this situation, but she was hopeful nevertheless. Then she fell into a deep sleep and started to dream.

Special agent Jane Bennet and special agent George Harris were seated in front. George was driving as part of a convey. This was a high security detail only used for the most badass criminals involving crimes against the State. Jane and George were joking around. They’d been working together for the past ten years nailing Muslim terrorists as part of the Homeland security team. Today was a day of celebration for them, as they added another terrorist to their long list of notoriously dangerous Moslems. George started, You do know that she might walk, we don’t actually have any evidence linking her to a crime... Jane responded half jokingly, They always break in prison, you know that. We’ve never really needed to have evidence. They’ll force a confession. She’s in the bag. George continued, But what if she’s actually innocent? Jane smiled, No chance of that. We know she’s dedicated to Islam, that makes her the enemy right? George put his hand on Jane’s naked knee and lifted up her skirt while moving his hand up her thigh, Shall we celebrate tonight? Jane looked at him directly in the eye, Is your wife out on business again? George smirked and then smiled, Will we be going to your place or should I book us a hotel? Jane replied, Let’s just go to my place. I have things to do in the morning.

Fatima slept blissfully at the back of the SUV dreaming about her childhood. When she was four years old her mother taught her how to read the Qur’an. On this one occasion, Fatima had taken the Qur’an off the shelf while no one was looking and started to read it by herself. Her Mum walked in and smiled, Maashaa Allah, my daughter is so dedicated. Fatima had read the Qur’an so much that by the time she was six years old she had practically memorised it. Her father, Umar, would buy her a gift each and every time she completed the entire Qur’an. He would continue to do that right up until she got married. He’d come home and say, Did you finish read the Qur’an this month? He knew that she always finished the entire Our’an every month so he always brought her a small gift. Sometimes he’d bring her a pen, or a book. He used to say, Fatima, it’s sometimes good to just take a break. I got you a fiction book. Dutifully Fatima read every book her Dad bought her even though she was never much interested in fiction. It wasn’t so much that her Dad’s choice in books were interesting, but rather it was just the mere fact that her Dad had gotten it for her. While seeing her six year old self reading the Qur’an the verses started to jump off the page and swirl into a whirl pool around her. She looked up at it in amazement. Then she heard a voice recite the verses as it jumped off the pages. Do not say about those who have died in the path of Allah, DEAD, rather know that they are alive, but you do not perceive it.

Suddenly the car came to a holt. Fatima woke up from her slumber. She peered out through the heavily tinted window. She couldn’t see much. It was dark outside and there were lots of lights on the adjacent building. The door opened, and the lady pulled her by the arm. Let’s go. Fatima complied without saying a word. They walked her into a dark grey building where two armed guards stood with assault riffles and vests. Both guards were clad in black and nodded as Fatima and the two agents entered through the glass door. The floor was glossed over cement and the walls were painted a dull grey. Clearly they didn’t receive many visitors here. There were steel chairs on either side against the walls on the left and right, and a big reception desk behind which a clerk stood. Agent George flashed his badge without saying anything. The clerk simply nodded and proceeded to make a call. After a brief moment he pointed to a door on his right which he opened by pressing a button on his desk. The three disappeared through the almost invisible door, which looked just like the wall but was now half open.

Special agent Harris and Bennet, it’s nice to see you again. You guys are doing an outstanding job. I didn’t think I’d see you so soon, said Captain Jonathan Blake. He was a tall imposing man with a large muscular frame and a bald head. He was as black as they come, almost purple in fact, with shinny perfect white teeth and cunning brown eyes. The two agents looked like dwarfs next to the Captain, and although Jane was already in her early forties, she looked like she was twenty five. She lived a relatively disciplined life which alternated between work, gym and spy novels. She had not been in any long-term relationship since her marriage ended in divorce roughly eight years ago when her husband, a former FBI agent discovered that she was having an affair with George. Jane, who wasn’t much interested in complications, felt that being side chick to George was probably better than being in a relationship that would demand much of her precious time. George, on the other hand, didn’t have much of a relationship with his wife, who was a high level executive of an NGO that focused on housing the homeless and finding employment for them. George’s two children who were already in college did not need much supervision and only visited home during special occasions. In his early fifties, George was no longer much interested in sowing his wild oats and was pretty settled having both a wife and a mistress. Besides, George was not all that good looking: a short guy of five foot four, with a partly grey head of curly hair and a pot belly. With his sharp black eyes, thick black eyebrows that were almost joined together at the centre, and his stubble of a beard, George almost looked middle eastern. However, what he lacked in looks he made up in charisma and infectious charm.

Captain you’re too kind. We are just doing our jobs, George smiled as he shook the Captain’s hand. Jane, proceeded to shake the Captain’s hand afterwards and the two passed a knowing glance. Everyone knew that Jane was George’s lover, but no one bothered to mention it. The fact is the two of them closed so many cases that their personal issues were worth overlooking. Besides, having an affair wasn’t illegal. Fatima stood there in her civilian clothes with her hands and feet cuffed. She had on a white Hijab, a blue jeans, sneakers and a long blue shirt that went all the way down to her thighs. The Captain glanced at her for a few seconds and then signalled to the guards to take her. Two female guards came and took Fatima to a private room where they un-cuffed her and handed her an orange jump suit with the numbers 6786 on the back. Before the guards left the room they asked Fatima to spread her legs and to put her hands on the table. One of the guards ran her hands through Fatima’s hair, asked her to open her mouth and examined her ears. The other guard proceeded to pat Fatima down covering every inch of her body. Then they left her to change.

Fatima looked at the orange jump suit, proceeded to take off her clothes, folded it neatly and placed it on the table. Then she stepped into the jump suit, which turned out to be a perfect fit. She then proceeded to put her Hijab back on. The guards re-entered the room just as she had done so. One of the guards looked at her and said, Lady, you are going to prison, not to mosque. You can’t wear that thing on your head. Take it off. Fatima looked surprised, But it’s my religion. This is America. The other guard started to laugh. Not in here. Then she stopped laughing, and attempted