The Last Judgment (39 page)

“The Arab people—the Muslim Arabs?”

“Yes. To preach the gospel to them…which is fine by us. We are a gospel-preaching, missionary-supporting church, you understand…and so that wasn't really the problem…it just was that he hit us with this—no discussion—just out of the blue.”

“And some of your church people, they said that Mr. Amahn was talking and acting as if he believed he was a kind of messiah for his Arab people?”

Will was on his feet.

“Objection. Hearsay.”

“As you know,” Judge Mustafa noted with a smile, “the rules of evidence adopted for this tribunal are not the American rules of law. They are international in origin. We respect American law, but it is not the last word—nor even the first word here, for that matter. Hearsay can be admitted here unless there is a substantial prejudice—”

“The prejudice is severe,” Will countered, “because this is the linchpin of the prosecution's case—that Gilead Amahn believed in his own spiritual messiahship and thus knowingly served as a kind of religious guru for the Knights of the Temple Mount. If they are going to try to prove his criminal intent through this ‘messiah' theory, then let them call witnesses directly.”

“Oh, we will,” Zayed said, rising confidently. “Perhaps the American lawyer has not read our pretrial list of witnesses. We will call a witness who will testify to that exact fact, which is why there is no real prejudice in our bringing this out indirectly through hearsay now. What harm can it cause? How can you honored judges possibly be misled by this testimony?”

Will looked to the panel, and noticed Judge Lee Kwong-ju nodding in agreement.

Judge Mustafa wasted no further time and overruled the objection. And he accompanied it with a look that was universal in any language. Will got the message. If he continued objecting, it would be at his own peril.

Ralph Wyman was shaking his head, as if he didn't want to answer.

The prosecutor asked the question again.

“Some of the folks in the church…a few of them…they said that…that Gilead acted like he had some kind of messiah complex—but I sure didn't ever see it. And I just want to say for the record here, for what it's worth, I never saw anything in his behavior or his walk with the Lord that in any way indicated he would ever hurt a single person…he was just not a violent person…he was as gentle as a dove.”

Zayed moved that the tribunal strike the last part of Wyman's answer, and Judge Mustafa ordered it stricken. The prosecution rested.

Will Chambers' examination would be succinct.

“Does the New Testament speak of prophetic gifts—‘Christ gave some to be prophets'—that's what it says of the gifting of the church of Jesus Christ?”

“Yes. It certainly does.”

“And there is some difference of opinion among Bible-believing, born-again Christians about what that means, is there not?”

“Yes. That's true, Mr. Chambers.”

“So when Gilead said he was called to fulfill a prophetic role, you didn't believe that he was necessarily departing from the doctrine of the Christian faith?”

“No, sir. I did not.”

“Did Gilead preach on a few Sundays when you were away on church business—like at a pastor's conference, for instance?”

“Yes. He did.”

“Were his messages recorded?”

“They were.”

“Did you review them on your return?”

“I sure did.”

“Anything objectionable about his teaching or preaching?”

“None whatsoever.”

“Nothing bizarre or unbiblical?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Did he ever preach violence or the condoning of violence?”

“Just the opposite. One of his messages was on the Beatitudes—‘Blessed are the peacemakers.' ”

Will sat down. Samir Zayed strode up to the podium with two pieces of paper in his hand.

“You had Mr. Amahn's Bible preaching recorded, didn't you?”

“Yes. I already said that.”

“And won't you tell our esteemed judges why that was? Was it because a Mr. and Mrs…” and with that Zayed glanced down
at one of the papers, “because a Mr. and Mrs. Cornwalls and a Mr. Goodie, from your church, said they suspected Hassan Gilead Amahn of believing some things that were not the truth from God—and so you decided to record his preaching to check him out for yourself?”

“What you are reading is probably from our church minutes that got subpoenaed. And of course, we objected to having to produce that…”

Then the pastor turned to the judges.

“We thought that the First Amendment of the U.S. Constitution, which protects the free exercise of religion of everybody, including churches—we thought that should mean that the government doesn't have the right to make a church open up its private board of elders meetings for everybody to look at—”

“Mr. Pastor Wyman,” Judge Mustafa broke in, with a measure of irritation in his voice, “please don't lecture this tribunal. Attorney Chambers already filed arguments making the very same point you just made…and this tribunal has rejected those arguments. Please try to remember, sir—you're not in West Virginia now.”

The look the witness in the booth gave the chief judge made it clear to everyone, that he was painfully aware of that last fact.

Prosecutor Zayed then pulled out the second piece of paper he had in front of him.

“And in another meeting of your church elders board,” the prosecutor said, “several people said that Hassan Gilead Amahn seemed to be pretending to be some kind of ‘special agent of God' rather than a regular preacher, is that right?”

“Well, that's what the minutes say…but that's not what the discussion was really about—”

But before the witness could continue, Zayed cut him off and sat down.

Will Chambers rose for recross-examination.

“The real discussion,” Will said, “reflected in those minutes had to do with what, Pastor?”

“Had to do with the fact they thought Gilead was acting too autonomous…didn't check in enough with the board of elders. It had nothing to do with their believing that Gilead thought he was some kind of messiah. There is only one true Messiah, one mediator between God and man, as Scripture says, and that's the Lord Jesus Christ! And I'm sure Gilead is in agreement with that.”

“Amen,” Gilead said quietly from his seat at the counsel table.

Will sat down.

But Samir Zayed jumped up and walked quickly back to the podium for his final examination.

“Your church minutes say this, do they not Mr. Wyman—‘Gilead Amahn seems to be acting as if he reports directly to God only. He's acting like he has the role of a prophet or special apostle, but only Christ Himself was able to account directly to God without a structure of church authority. Does Gilead think he's equal to the authority of Christ?' The minutes of your own church say that, correct?”

Pastor Wyman's eyes were searching. Then they found Gilead Amahn. After a few seconds, he answered.

“They do say that. One of the deacons was making that point. And it got written down. But sir, I know what I remember about that meeting…and it was different than what that piece of paper makes it appear.”

The prosecutor smiled. He lifted the copy of the church minutes high over his head.

“You choose your own mind about this rather than
what is written?”

“I guess I do.”

“Do you have your Bible with you, Pastor Wyman?”

The pastor smiled, retrieved his pocket Bible out of his suit-coat, and held it up.

Then Samir Zayed went in for the kidney punch.

“Now will you tell this tribunal, Pastor Wyman, do you believe, more, what is in your mind—or do you believe the Bible,
that which is written?”

“If I can clarify one thing, you're a little bit confused on something…comparing church minutes to the Word of—”

“Answer, please, the question that I put to you!” Zayed exclaimed.

“You know what my answer is going to be—”

“Answer the question now.”

“Of course,” the witness said with exasperation, “I believe the written record, the written Word of God.”

“That which is written?”

“Yes. What is written.”

As Wyman slowly and awkwardly made his way out of the booth, Will understood something.

It had of course dawned on him, from the very beginning, that this criminal trial would inevitably and slowly constrict—like a powerful gravitational force, imploding to the core issue of what Gilead believed about himself, about his calling, and about God.

Will wondered how far it would go—the extent to which the public prosecutor would attempt to have those theological issues swallow this criminal case whole—like some massive, constricting anaconda consuming it in a slow and merciless digestion.

As the next prosecution witness mounted the stand inside the enclosure, Will knew he was about to find out.

57

“W
HEN THE ACCUSED
, H
ASSAN
G
ILEAD
A
MAHN
, appeared at the Islamic Conference in Virginia, America, what did he do?”

“He stood at the microphone on the floor of the hall and proceeded to insult all of those of us present—to hurl violent statements.”

“What violent insults did he cast upon you personally?”

“That I have led millions of Muslims astray. He accused me of idolatry…that I was a teacher of false religion…that I was vain, and of a fleshly mind…that Jesus would judge me and all those who follow the heavenly religion of Islam…and that when Jesus returns—and he was yelling and screaming this—there would be judgment in store for us.”

“Did the accused say when this judgment was coming?”

“He screamed at me, and at all of the clerics of Islam, that Jesus' coming was very, very soon—as if it were just around the corner. That judgment was about to begin.”

“What happened then as a result of the insulting, disruptive behavior of the accused?”

“A riot broke out, caused by the violent rantings of the accused, this Hassan Gilead Amahn, and many people were injured, and many were very upset. It was a terrible thing.”

Will Chambers rose to object. He had anticipated that the prosecution, in calling Sheikh Mudahmid, a mufti of Islamic terrorists, would use him to describe the Islamic Center riot. Thus
they could paint Gilead as an agitator, a provoker of violence, and a hater of Islam.

“I move to strike the sheikh's last answer. Mr. Amahn was tried in a court of the Commonwealth of Virginia regarding that incident. He was found not guilty of any wrongdoing and declared innocent of provoking a public disturbance. Thus, the judgment of that court constitutes ‘collateral estoppel' and precludes the issue from being retried.”

Judge Lee Kwong-ju motioned to the chief judge, asking permission to engage defense counsel.

“For that doctrine to apply,” Lee inquired, “there must be a common identity of issues and parties—here, comparing your opponent in Virginia in that case to your opponent here. That is true?”

“That is true, Your Honor,” Will replied. “And I would suggest that the Commonwealth Attorney's office sought in that case—very aggressively, I might add—to prove my client guilty. The same motivation Mr. Zayed has in this case.”

“But different crimes?”

“Yes.”

“And different jurisdictions—one, a state court within a given nation—and here, an international court reviewing international crimes against humanity. Do you not agree?”

“True, but the underlying intent of the prosecution,” Will continued to press, “is the same in both cases—to show that the accused, Mr. Amahn, provoked violence—”

“I believe we can accept the reciting of facts from this witness without being bound by the Virginia judgment in the other case,” Judge Lee said matter-of-factly.

Judge Mustafa nodded vigorously. “Motion to strike is denied. Your objection is—
again—
overruled, Mr. Chambers.”

“One last question,” the prosecutor Zayed said. “Within just a few weeks of the statements of the accused, threatening judgment against Muslims, what terrible thing happened?”

Sheikh Mudahmid leaned forward in his chair. He stroked his long beard, carefully considering the question.

“Within just weeks of the accused…threatening Islam with judgment and destruction…the sacred site of the Noble Sanctuary, our holy mosques and the Dome of the Rock—our Muslim people—were blown up, destroyed, in a bloody act of vengeance by Mr. Hassan Gilead Amahn and his infidel followers, these Knights of the Temple Mount.”