“Yes, the situation was terrible. You should see all the country information we put into the case file. How Pakistan at the time was one of the worst places for journalists. The stats are awful. But your mother was not the one targeted. We tried to get statements from family and colleagues, but it went nowhere. There never was a legitimate threat against her.”

I give the desk a hard kick. “I was there! It was really scary!”

Lidia angles her head, surprised. “You remember?”

I stop kicking. Do I remember? I hear the sound of a gate, scraping. Hakim, the chowkidar, his face folded with fear. Abu’s scooter, bumping down with a hiss. Something wrong with the tires. I rub my eyes. There’s nothing more. Just that blank box where we put our old life.

“Something,” I say. “Maybe a gate?”

She sits up, taut. “Yes?”

A wriggling sensation in my stomach. I swallow. A taste of strawberry. But then another blank hole. “That time was such a blur.”

“You were young. Besides, there was also how your mother dressed for the hearing.”

“Oh my God, isn’t that completely sexist?”

“I told her. Dress down. No makeup. Maybe wear a plain sweaterdress. Look…innocent. When it came time for her to appear, she looked proud. She thought it was an interview for a job. They wanted her humble. And your mother isn’t humble.”

“My mother didn’t look grateful enough.”

She nods.

I hunch in my chair. “That is so messed up.”

“You should have heard the government lawyers. They pressed her on everything, to prove that she was privileged. How she had a servant, part time. How she was educated. How her family was well-to-do.”

“Family!” I spat the word.

“Look, it was a lousy outcome. We were assigned a judge with an eighty percent turndown rate. We immediately applied for an appeal. We got an extension. And then…” Lidia trails off, eyes glistening.

The noise outside, in the office, swells up. “We had an election. Your mother was unlucky.”

We’re supposed to be lucky. I’m supposed to be lucky. “That’s it?” I ask.

“I’m afraid so.”

“But that’s unfair!”

“Everything has changed under this administration,” she continues. “Some days I don’t know what is up, what’s down. The rules keep changing. I’ve got long-term clients in detention. I’ve got grandmothers put on airplanes without saying goodbye. People with job offers unable to get here. Every day it’s another story. Your mother’s story is just one of them.”