Confessions of a Serial Alibi (15 page)

Walking into the courtroom alone was one of the most alienating feelings that I have ever felt in my life. As I walked in and began to look for Gary, I could sense everyone’s eyes on me. Scratch that. I could
see
that everyone was looking at me. I’ve been the center of attention before, but never in my life has it ever felt as intense as it was that day. As I made my way to the front of the courtroom I could tell that everybody was sizing me up. Everything from my red lipstick to the way I walked down the aisle was up for evaluation. As I looked around I could see that the courtroom had been basically split into thirds.

The far right third was comprised of Adnan’s family and supporters. The middle third was full of Hae’s and the far right third of the crowd consisted of the media and various spectators. I found my way to Gary and waited for the court session to begin. As everyone continued to be seated the back door to the far left of the courtroom opened and out of it appeared a female guard. Right behind her walked a shackled Adnan Syed. I tried not to look at him but the temptation was way too strong. I had not seen Adnan since he was a seventeen-year-old boy and now he was a thirty-five-year-old man. It was hard to tell if his time in prison had been kind to his face. The majority of the lower portion of his face was covered in a big dark beard. On the top was a blue and white crocheted kufi (hat). He definitely didn’t look like he did in high school. He was much bigger and a little scary. Not in the “murderer way” kind of scary, but the “I’ve been in prison for sixteen years” kind of scary. Also, his face was quite blank and emotionless. I imagine that given the circumstances his expression should have been expected. In that moment, I can remember wondering if he had been instructed not to smile, or if he had been instructed not to look at me, because Lord knows he didn’t even dare. Not to say that I minded either, it actually was a comfort. Definitely a strange feeling but way less strange than the possibility of locking eyes with him.

Even though I never made eye contact with him, I did make out the presence of his big “dairy cow eyes,” only to me they weren’t so “mooie.” Sadder and filled with solace is a better description for his eyes that day. They made me wonder what was going on in his mind. What was he thinking? One can only imagine. As I continued to inspect his person, I couldn’t help but notice that he was shackled and chained in four point restraints. Around his waist went a thick stainless steel chain and there looked to be a large padlock on the side. The way they had him shackled, his arms were not capable of extending and it looked as if they were almost crossed. The forced posture looked very uncomfortable and I can remember saying to Gary, “Geez, is that really necessary?”

In any case, he continued to approach with two guards, one female and the other a man. As they got closer to the defense team seating area, Gary tapped me on the shoulder and advised me to take a step back. Apparently there are a lot of unspoken rules when in court. One of which is don’t let the defendant walk, stand or look anywhere near a witness, especially a potential alibi witness. From what I understand that was already an issue at trial. As Adnan positioned himself next to Justin Brown and Chris Nieto, the Honorable Judge Martin P. Welch appeared from his quarters and called the court into session. As I found myself mentally clinging to Gary for dear life I was then told by the judge that I could approach the witness stand. I did so, then took a seat and before I knew it my attraction in the freak show was set to begin.

There’s no other way to say this. For me personally, testifying in this case was a royal bitch. I loathed almost every part of it. To start, the courtroom temperature was very inconsistent. One day it was warm enough to be considered a large sweat lodge, the next day I found myself testifying wearing Judge Welch’s overcoat. In addition, the witness seating area is completely awkward and uncomfortable. The place where you sit down to testify consists of a little desk and chair at the front of the courtroom. To my left was Judge Welch and to my right were Adnan, Justin Brown and Chris Nieto. To the left of those three sat Vignarajah and his crew. So basically if you speak facing forward during your testimony, you’re not directly facing anyone. In order to address the attorneys, you have to posture yourself slightly turned to the (right) side. I assume that perhaps in the case of a jury trial, you’d be looking straight ahead. In my case, all I had were a couple of empty rows of seats and a large projector screen.

The other thing about the seating that sucks is the speaking podium is secured to the floor. Not that I would anticipate moving the podium, but you’d think the chair would be slightly more accommodating. Nope! There’s no scooting yourself closer to the podium because the chair is bolted in place to the floor. Whoever designed that aspect of the courtroom esthetics needs to be fired. The third thing that royally takes the cake is that the podium microphone stem is so short that it’s practically non-existent. I testified for over six damn hours and the entire damn time I was forced to sit on the edge of that uncomfortable chair just to be effectively heard by that stupid microphone. As you can see, just thinking about it now makes me mad. Imagine sitting on the edge of a chair with no back support for over six hours. That would be killer for anyone. Try doing it when you’re a couple months pregnant and have a little one stomping on your bladder and other internal organs the whole time. Yeah, not fun.

My Testimony

Before I get into my testimony, let me preface it by saying that this is my best recollection of the events. Not all of the quotes will be verbatim. I know they should be but that’s next to impossible without the actual court transcripts (which I don’t have). My memory is fairly good, but not that good! Needless to say, I’m going to try and touch on everything that was said, but again, that’s pretty impossible given the amount of content to cover. I’m going to do my best to give as much detail as I can recall. Due to the way in which I was questioned, I can’t guarantee that all of my versions will be in the same exact order it happened in court. Also, some things may not be addressed at all because they have already been addressed in other parts of this book. If you feel like my depiction of my testimony is not fulfilling enough for you, you are more that welcome to go purchase the court transcripts.

First up was the Syed defense team. Justin Brown stood up and asked me my name, to which I replied “Asia Chapman.” He then asked if I had formerly been known as Asia McClain and if he could refer to me as Asia McClain for the duration of the hearing. Any time I hear “formerly known as” I automatically want to say Prince, but I digress. Although I wanted to say no, I obliged anyway to avoid making things more difficult. I’ve been married for almost seven years and I by no stretch of the imagination am anything close to the girl I was when I got married. Being a wife and mother has forced me to grow in ways that I could have only imagined and for that I love the name Asia Chapman. So when people refer to me as Asia McClain, I get it; however, there is a part of me that rejects that notion.

At any rate, Brown then began to ask me about my activities on January 13th, 1999. I explained to him my typical day and why January 13th was different. Then Brown placed an image of my 1999 cooperative education hall pass on the projector screen and asked me to read the time off the pass. “10:40 AM,” I said. He asked me to oblige him by reading the dates on the pass. “November 10th, 1998 through May 21st, 1999,” I responded.

As we moved on, I explained to him the circumstance that led me to engage in a fifteen- to twenty-minute conversation with Syed and what I took away from that chance encounter. I was informed later that the mere mention of this interaction made Adnan cry. Brown then asked about my perception of the Woodlawn campus and whether I considered the Public Library to be on the school grounds. “Oh, yeah!” I replied. To everyone that attended Woodlawn, if you were at the library, you were still at school. Hell, if you were at the diner or 7-11 across the street, for all intents and purposes you were still at school! Well, I guess I can’t say
everyone
because Vignarajah graduated from Woodlawn the year prior to our freshman year in 1995. According to public opinion, he obviously doesn’t consider the library as part of the high school campus, but I digress again.

Anyhow, I described as best I could the revelation about speaking to Syed on the very same day that Hae Min Lee had gone missing. In turn he asked whom I thought I told that information to and then about visiting the Syed family shortly thereafter. I was asked what prompted me to write to Syed in the first place and why I wrote 2:15-8 PM in parentheses in my first letter. I responded by saying that Adnan’s family had indicated to me that he was having trouble recalling all of his actions on January 13th, 1999. I assumed that by writing to him perhaps I could jog his memory about the fifteen to twenty minutes of our library encounter. I also assumed that if he could remember that time period, perhaps it would lead to the memory of his other activities and possibly the recollection of other potential witnesses. Perhaps that could help him narrow the gap between the end of the school day until the time he visited his mosque (2:15-8 PM).

To me that explanation seemed like it should have explained my motivations, but for what I could only assume was for the clarity of the court, Brown asked if I could have been offering to provide Adnan with a false alibi. Of course I answered this with a resounding “No.” Then came the part I most hated. Brown asked me to read aloud and explain the contents of my letters to Syed back in 1999. Normally reading aloud is not something that I disdain so much. In fact, I read Dr. Seuss aloud to my children quite often and I rather enjoy it. This however was very different. Reading aloud letters that you wrote when you were only seventeen years old is pretty embarrassing. I may as well have read my old diary entries. Worst yet was having to stop practically line by line in order to describe the intention and sentiment behind every phrase. Although a necessary evil, it felt like public torture. Ever since the letters have been made available on the Internet (thanks to Sarah and the SERIAL team—by the way, thanks) they have been the topic of much scrutiny and conversation. People from all over the world have not only read the letters but have expressed their own interpretations of their words. People have analyzed and argued over the most minute and asinine details, while all together forgetting that they are the work of a seventeen-year-old girl. Personally I’m insulted that I didn’t get more flack over the clip-art. Nonetheless, I guess it was only a matter of time before I was asked to explain the letters myself. So there I was sitting before a crowd of strangers, trying to put myself back into the shoes of my seventeen-year-old self. Eventually that passed and Brown began to ask me more details about my interaction with Rabia Chaudry on March 25th, 2000. He wanted to know how I had come to write and sign the affidavit, and more specifically if I had felt pressured to do so. I of course responded by telling him my full account of the experience and stating that I was indeed not pressured to write or sign anything. All of my testimony up to this point was neither especially exciting to me, nor was it unexpected. Ever since I decided to come forward I was under the impression that I would eventually be asked these questions in a court of law.

What followed next was my favorite part of my testimony because it was my opportunity to give a full account of my phone conversation with Kevin Urick, a story that hardly anyone had yet to hear. The minute Brown started down the path of describing the pretenses of my phone call to Urick, I perked up. I explained the situation of the private investigator reaching out to me through my husband. I described the methods in which I came to speak to Kevin Urick on the phone. I described the contents of my conversation with Urick and then provided the contemporaneous notes that I had taken during that conversation back in 2010 (mic drop). Mr. Brown then placed the notes on the projector screen for the entire courtroom to see and it was as if a silent gasp could be felt within the room. That was a good moment. In any case, I can’t recall if it was an actual objection but Vignarajah stood up and addressed Judge Welch: “Excuse me, Judge, do we know if these exhibits are the originals or if they are copies of the original documents?” (He was talking about my hall pass and the Urick notes). I felt my face forcefully hide a scowl and an eye roll.

Before Brown could even respond I chimed in, “I actually brought the originals, your Honor. They’re actually in my purse in the hallway with my husband.” I knew what Vignarajah was trying to say and I knew exactly what he was about to attempt: he was going to argue that the documents could not be accepted because they were copies of the ones in my purse. The reason that they were copies is because I was apprehensive about giving up the originals. As I told the court that day, I keep everything. Well, not everything, I’m not a hoarder. I am, however, very smart and can be very premeditated at times when it comes to saving keepsakes. To me the notes and my hall pass are extensions of my memories. As I’ve discussed before, I don’t like to let go of my memories. Nevertheless, I sent Gary out into the hallway to retrieve the originals and bitterly turned them over to the court, all the while knowing the chances of ever owning those documents again is slim to none. What followed next was more testimony about my call to prosecutor Kevin Urick. Brown asked if I was aware of the length of my conversation with Urick. I responded with something like, “thirty-four minutes.” He then questioned how I knew this be true and I responded that my phone records had been retrieved from my wireless provider and that I had gone through every unknown phone number dialed on April 11th until I found the one in connection to Kevin Urick.

After that segment Brown began to get into more personal questions like why I chose to get a lawyer before re-involving myself in this hearing. I told the court that it was because I wanted the truth to be heard and didn’t want to be directly working with the defense or the prosecution. I don’t think I mentioned this in court, but it was also because I wanted a layer of protection against misinformation and misguidance. Brown then asked if I had been subpoenaed to which I said, “Yes.” Then he asked whether I would have participated in these proceedings without the issuance of a subpoena and I replied, “Yes.” Then he asked me why that was the case, and I answered that the information within the SERIAL podcast had placed a great weight on my heart, and that I felt in order for justice to be achieved, that it was my belief that all the viable information needed to be presented to the court. Simply put, that coming forward was the right thing to do.