Scene 1 — Outside the Sessions Court, 9:20 a.m.
The compound was already crowded. News vans lined the curb, cables snaked across the pavement, and microphones bloomed like metal flowers along the barricades. Posters reading "Justice for Sara" fluttered in the morning breeze. A police cordon kept the press at bay.
Inspector Haroon stepped from a police SUV, checking his watch: 9:20 a.m. At his nod, SHO Jibran Aziz and two constables opened the rear door. Sara emerged, a light dupatta framing a face that was pale but steady. Beside her, her elder brother Noman carried a small bottle of water and a folded shawl, his jaw set with quiet resolve.
Haroon (softly): "Straight to the witness room. No stops."
Noman: "We'll follow your lead, Inspector."
They moved through the corridor, past the low thrum of voices, the rustle of files, the scent of paper and old varnish. DSP Farooq awaited near the stairs, a file tucked under his arm.
Farooq (to Haroon): "Forensic officers confirmed chain-of-custody last night. Media's on fire, but no leaks from our side."
Haroon: "Good. Keep the outer ring tight. After the hearing, we exit by the east gate."
Sara adjusted her dupatta, stealing a breath. Noman touched her shoulder lightly.
Noman (low, reassuring): "Main yahan hoon. You're not alone."
She nodded; they kept walking.
---
Scene 2 — The Courtroom Fills, 9:55 a.m.
Benches creaked as people shuffled in. The dock stood to the left: Najma, Qamar, Asif, Bilal—hands cuffed, eyes ringed with sleeplessness. A stenographer tested her keys; the bailiff cleared his throat. The prosecutor, Advocate Yasir, arranged neatly tabbed exhibits; the defense team—two senior lawyers and a junior—whispered among themselves.
Sara and Noman entered with a lady constable and sat on the witness bench. Sara's fingers twisted the corner of her dupatta; Noman unclenched them gently.
Noman (whispering): "Bas sach bolna—jaisa pehle kaha tha."
Sara: "Ji."
At 10:01 a.m., Judge Ikramullah Hamidi took the bench. Everyone stood.
Bailiff: "All rise. Court is in session."
Judge Ikramullah: "Be seated."
He scanned the docket. "State versus Najma, Qamar, Asif, and Bilal. Seven days' physical remand completed. The court will proceed with examination, cross, and closing submissions." He looked over his glasses. "Prosecution?"
Advocate Yasir (rising): "My Lord."
---
Scene 3 — Questions that Cut, 10:07 a.m.
Yasir approached the stand where Najma had been produced for testimony. She met his gaze, chin lifted with brittle defiance.
Advocate Yasir: "Najma, during remand you made statements implicating yourself and the co-accused. Today I will ask simple, direct questions. You will answer yes or no unless I ask otherwise. Do you understand?"
Najma (dryly): "Yes."
Advocate Yasir: "Did you orchestrate the abduction of Sara?"
A beat. The defense lawyer stirred. Najma's lips parted, closed.
Defense Counsel (leaping up): "Objection, leading, My Lord!"
Judge Ikramullah: "Overruled. The witness has been cautioned. Answer."
Najma (low): "…Yes."
A hush fell. Pens scratched.
Advocate Yasir: "Did you instruct Qamar to 'manage' the pickup on the day she left college?"
Najma: "Yes."
Advocate Yasir: "Were Asif and Bilal your support on logistics and transport?"
Najma (eyes flicking to them): "Yes."
Advocate Yasir (placing a photo): "Is this the address where she was confined first night?"
Najma stared at the photograph—a pale wall, a metal bed, a battered doorframe.
Najma (barely audible): "Yes."
Advocate Yasir: "Did you profit monetarily from this crime?"
Silence stretched. Najma's throat worked.
Najma (finally): "Yes."
A ripple moved across the gallery. One of the reporters exhaled audibly; the bailiff shot him a glare.
Advocate Yasir (gentle but firm): "Did you or your co-accused physically harm or allow harm to come to Sara?"
Defense Counsel: "Objection!"
Judge Ikramullah: "Answer the question."
Najma blinked hard. When she spoke, the words were blunt, colorless.
Najma: "Yes."
Across the dock, Qamar's posture shrank. Asif stared at the floor. Bilal's eyes glazed with tears.
---
Scene 4 — The Domino Falls, 10:32 a.m.
Yasir turned to Qamar.
Advocate Yasir: "You heard Najma's answers. Do you deny your role now?"
Qamar (hoarse): "No."
Advocate Yasir: "Did you force the victim into the vehicle?"
Qamar: "Yes."
Advocate Yasir: "Do you accept responsibility for your part in the confinement and the acts that followed?"
Qamar (after a long pause): "Yes."
Haroon's pen halted mid-note. He glanced toward Sara; her lips were pressed thin, but her gaze was steady.
Advocate Yasir (to Bilal): "Bilal, you assisted in transport. Did you do so knowing a crime was underway?"
Bilal (tears spilling): "I… I knew. Yes."
Advocate Yasir (to Asif): "Asif?"
Asif (voice flat): "Yes. I helped."
Yasir nodded, nothing triumphant in the gesture—only grim acknowledgment.
Advocate Yasir: "My Lord, the accused have confirmed their roles. The prosecution asks the court to take judicial notice of their sworn admissions and align them with the forensic evidence on file."
Judge Ikramullah: "So noted. The court will also hear from the victim for identification and affirmation."
---
Scene 5 — Sara's Voice, 11:05 a.m.
Sara stood on trembling legs. Noman let go of her hand, but his palm hovered as if still holding her up. The lady constable guided Sara to the stand; the oath was administered.
Advocate Yasir (softening): "Sara, do you recognize the persons seated in the dock?"
She looked—first at Najma, then at Qamar, then Asif and Bilal. Her breath shivered, but when she spoke, the clarity surprised even her.
Sara: "Yes. They are the ones."
Advocate Yasir: "Did these individuals abduct you?"
Sara: "Yes."
Advocate Yasir: "Did they mistreat you?"
She swallowed. The room leaned in.
Sara: "Yes."
Advocate Yasir: "Have you given these identifications before to the police?"
Sara: "Yes, I did."
Advocate Yasir: "Do you stand by them today?"
Sara: "I do."
The defense counsel rose only to ask perfunctory, almost hopeless questions—time stamps, lighting, duress. Sara answered with the same calm detail she had practiced with the investigating team. When the defense tried insinuation, Judge Ikramullah cut it off.
Judge Ikramullah (stern): "Counsel, mind your line. The court will not allow revictimization."
Sara stepped down. She exhaled shakily. When she reached the bench, Noman clasped her hands with both of his, eyes shining.
Noman (whisper): "Shabash. I'm proud of you."
She smiled, the first true smile in days.
---
Scene 6 — Lunch Recess, 12:35 p.m.
The gavel tapped. "Court will recess for lunch. Proceedings resume at 2:00 p.m."
Outside, the corridor erupted into motion: files snapped shut, lawyers drifted into tight clusters, and reporters craned for quotes. Police formed a moving wall around Sara and Noman.
Reporter (calling): "Madam, one statement—just a line for the nation?"
Noman (firm, protective): "No comments."
Haroon (to the escort detail): "Canteen room, back entrance. Ten minutes only."
In a quiet side room, a constable placed a tray—two cups of tea, a plate of plain biscuits. Sara stood by the window, hands wrapped around the cup for warmth she didn't need.
Noman: "How are you holding up?"
Sara: "Light. Like something heavy moved away."
Noman: "After today, we go home. We'll put the pieces back, one day at a time."
Haroon (stepping in): "Eat a little. Keep your strength."
She obeyed, nibbling a biscuit. Haroon's phone buzzed—DSP Farooq.
Farooq (on call): "Media speculating on sentencing. Keep them sealed. We speak only after orders."
Haroon: "Understood."
He ended the call, looked at the siblings—the stubborn line of Noman's jaw, the brave steadiness in Sara's eyes—and felt the old oath tighten in his chest: protect and pursue the truth, no matter the rank of the guilty.
---
Scene 7 — Closing Arguments, 2:03 p.m.
The courtroom reconvened. The air felt taut, expectant.
Advocate Yasir (for the State):
"My Lord, the facts today are clean. The accused have confessed to their roles in abduction, unlawful confinement, and gross sexual assault. The victim's identification is unwavering; forensic evidence—prints, trace chemicals—corroborates their presence and acts. The State submits that the gravity of these crimes—against the body, dignity, and security of a young citizen—demands the maximum penalties contemplated by law. This will signal to society that predators who turn girls into statistics will meet justice in open court."
He paused, letting the words settle.
Defense Counsel (for the Accused):
"My Lord, the confessions, while significant, came from individuals under extreme psychological stress. They are first offenders, driven by poverty and manipulation by unseen masterminds. We plead for leniency—concurrent sentences, consideration for the fact they have spared the court a prolonged trial through acceptance of guilt."
Advocate Yasir (rebuttal, measured):
"Poverty does not excuse predation. Their 'acceptance' arrived only when evidence cornered them. The victim will carry this ordeal for life; justice must be proportionate."
Judge Ikramullah: "Submissions recorded."
He withdrew to chambers with the file. The room buzzed, then quieted, as minutes lengthened: five, ten, twenty. Outside the windows, late winter light in Islamabad tilted toward gold.
---
Scene 8 — The Judgment, 3:01 p.m.
The judge returned, robe whispering, expression grave.
Judge Ikramullah (reading):
"This court has weighed confessions made in open court, the victim's credible testimony, and corroborating forensic material. The offenses established include abduction, wrongful confinement, rape, criminal conspiracy, and trafficking facilitation. The law's mandate is clear."
He looked at each accused in turn.
Judge Ikramullah:
"Najma—you conceived, coordinated, and profited from a system that commodified human beings. For criminal conspiracy and trafficking-related offenses, combined with your role in the victim's abuse, you are sentenced to imprisonment for life and fines as specified.
Qamar—for abduction, wrongful confinement, and rape, this court sentences you to twenty-five years' rigorous imprisonment, plus fines.
Asif—for aiding and abetting abduction, conspiracy, and participation in the assault, this court sentences you to twenty-five years' rigorous imprisonment, plus fines.
Bilal—for transport and facilitation constituting conspiracy and participation in the abuse, this court sentences you to twenty-five years' rigorous imprisonment, plus fines.
These sentences shall run consecutively where applicable. The court further directs the police to continue investigating the broader criminal network referenced during proceedings and to place witnesses under appropriate protection. Orders be issued accordingly."
He lifted the gavel, struck wood. "Court is adjourned."
For a heartbeat, there was perfect stillness—then sound crashed back: a sob from the back row, a flurry of reporter whispers, the rattling clink of chains as the bailiff moved the convicts. Najma's shoulders drooped, a hollow resignation settling in; Qamar shut his eyes as if bracing for an ocean; Asif stared at his feet; Bilal wept openly.
---
Scene 9 — Relief, 3:10 p.m.
Sara didn't move at first; her body seemed to be listening for something else, some aftershock. When none came, she exhaled, a long trembling breath that seemed to pour months of fear out of her.
Sara (a whisper): "It's over."
Noman (pulling her into a tight hug): "It's over. Allah ka shukr."
His chin rested on her head; her hands fisted in his shirt, as if anchoring herself. Haroon stood a step away, giving the moment its space. When Noman looked up, their eyes met.
Haroon (quiet): "You both stood firm. Not many can."
Noman: "We stood because you and your team didn't bend."
A faint, grateful smile touched Haroon's mouth. DSP Farooq joined them, signing a last paper for the court clerk.
Farooq: "Escort to the vehicle. East gate."
The four moved together, bracketed by constables. Through the corridor, the press surged, then was checked.
Reporter: "Inspector, a word on the verdict?"
Haroon (without stopping): "The court has spoken. That is our word."
Outside, the air felt new. Sunlight lay warm across the steps. The police SUV door opened; Sara climbed in, Noman after her.
Haroon (leaning in): "Two officers will remain outside your house this week. If you see anything—anyone unusual—call me first, then the station."
Noman: "We will."
Sara (soft): "Thank you."
Haroon stepped back; the door shut. The SUV pulled away into afternoon traffic, and a chapter of terror receded in the rearview.
---
Scene 10 — Homecoming, 4:02 p.m.
The gate creaked; the familiar squeal somehow sounded kinder. Inside, the small sitting room held the fragrance of cardamom and furniture polish. Noman set Sara's shawl on the sofa, then headed to the kitchen.
Noman (calling): "Tea?"
Sara (from the doorway): "Please."
He returned with two cups. They sat, knees nearly touching, cups warming their hands.
Noman: "How do you feel right now? Truly."
Sara (thinking): "As if I can breathe without counting how many breaths I have left."
He nodded, swallowing emotion. On the TV, a news ticker scrolled: "Historic Ruling—Court Hands Life Imprisonment to Trafficking Orchestrator, 25 Years to Accomplices." Their names flashed below. Sara glanced away.
Sara: "Can we switch it off for today?"
Noman: "Of course."
He clicked the remote. Silence filled the room, gentle and whole.
Sara (quiet): "Bhai… thank you for never leaving."
Noman (meeting her eyes): "I promised after Ammi and Abbu… I would protect you from anything bad. I meant it then; I mean it now; I will mean it always."
Tears lifted into her eyes, but they were clean, like rain.
A knock at the gate—two constables taking their shift positions. Noman signed the log; Sara watched from the window, then drew the curtain, a small satisfied movement that felt like reclaiming the house.
Sara (returning to the sofa): "Tomorrow I want to buy fresh flowers for the living room. And… maybe visit Amana Superstore. Just to walk the aisles. To feel normal again."
Noman (smiling): "Done. We'll go in the afternoon. And we'll pick up your favorite biscuits."
Sara: "The coconut ones."
Noman: "Of course."
They sat a while longer, not speaking, letting the quiet nurse them. Outside, the call of a kite drifted, a bike bell rang, life went on—unremarkable, precious.
---
Scene 11 — Debrief, 5:15 p.m. (Police Headquarters)
Back at the station, Haroon and DSP Farooq met in the conference room. Files lay stacked like small cities of paper.
Farooq: "We secured the win today. But Najma's earlier statements—political names, the secretary—those threads remain."
Haroon: "We proceed the same way we did here—method, not noise. Witness protection stays active. And we keep our unit tight. Najma warned about uniforms on Zafar's payroll."
Farooq: "I'll loop in internal affairs with a narrow circle. No paper trail beyond need-to-know."
Haroon (nodding): "Good."
He closed Sara's file gently, as if it were something living and tired. For tonight, justice had form—orders read aloud, sentences measured in years and fines and iron doors. Tomorrow, the investigation would reach again into darker rooms.
Haroon (under his breath): "One layer at a time."
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Scene 12 — Nightfall, 9:10 p.m. (Sara & Noman)
Dinner dishes clinked softly in the sink. Sara wiped the table, folded the cloth, and opened a window. Cool air wandered in.
Noman (from the doorway): "Ready for bed?"
Sara (smiling): "Ready to sleep without nightmares."
They checked the gate lock together—a ritual that suddenly felt less like fear and more like care. As lights dimmed, the house breathed a different kind of silence: safe, ordinary, earned.
In the dark, Sara whispered a prayer for the nameless girls who might yet be found, and for the policemen who would go looking. Noman listened, then added his own—quiet, stubborn, protective.
On a desk across town, Haroon's phone buzzed with a new lead—numbers crossing borders, a name half-erased. He saved it with a label: Zafar Thread—Pursue.
But that was tomorrow's battle.
Tonight, at last, the verdict held.
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End of Chapter 71.