Posted on 02/11/2005 10:54:09 AM PST by freeholland
"Excuse me, Miss, but here in my hand I have a warrant for your arrest," said a middle-aged man with a few days' growth of beard. "Please do not make any noise as you walk calmly to the Mercedes parked at the corner."
When the man approached me, I had just left a bookstore. It crossed my mind to resist, but I thought better of it.
In the car, I was flanked by two broad-shouldered men in black jackets. The man with the arrest warrant drove up Enqelab Avenue and waved the arrest warrant to assure me they were not kidnappers. "We are from the judiciary branch, and everything will be done within the framework of Islamic law,"
I was led to a cell, and a heavy, solid metal door was closed and locked. The cell was about 12 feet by 12 feet, with a small sink. The walls were blank, a recently painted cream color. Two gray blankets were folded on the floor. The ceiling was barred. Guards peeped in through a hole in the door every 20 minutes or so. I curled myself in a blanket. I had been expected home at noon. What do they want from me?
(Excerpt) Read more at latimes.com ...
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