He said, "It was a demon. Momentary weakness. Please. It was not my fault."

Adem turned to the driver. "What…why? What did they do?"

The driver crossed his arms, leaned down and spoke low. "The girl, she accuses this man of raping her. He is a friend of her father. But the court says she allowed the situation to occur. She was alone with him in a car."

"How is that possible? She caused her own rape? Was she not dressed?"

That got Adem the stink eye from the driver. "Does not matter."

"Sure, it matters. How can it not matter?"

Jibriil nudged Adem. "It's just how it is. That's the law."

The driver nodded. "The law."

The driver pointed to a young man in the crowd. Grim-looking. Hard grip on a stone. "That is one of her brothers. Her father is here too."

Adem was about to say more, but Jibriil nudged him again, eyebrows knotted. Like, what are you doing? Stop asking questions.

The driver said, "God's law. We can't question it. We just have to fulfill it."

Another man on the edge of the crowd stood out. Wearing a white koofiyad on his head, with dark sunglasses, and a shawl over the shoulders of his western suit. Gray. White button-up shirt, no tie. Men stared at him with outright love. Crowded close. The man had a peaceful look on his face.

The driver nodded in his direction. Wouldn't point. Told Adem, "The Imam. He was the judge who ruled on this case."

His hands together, fingers clasped. He wouldn't get them dirty with a stone. That wasn't his place. But everything happened on his schedule, his word. The man with the bullhorn was paying close attention to the soft-spoken man, whose voice was lost in the rustling.