The Dangers of Islam: The Imam

Chapter 1

     Nedim felt numb as he watched the news. His wife and children stared silently as the news reporter darted past debris and tried showing as much caked blood as possible. The reporter seemed too eager to show the destruction at Princess Dome Theme Park, one of America's national treasures. Nedim had taken his daughter, Lejla, to the park only last month. The park was named after the world famous "Princess" series. There was a Princess Scientist, a Princess Doctor, even a Princess Astronaut. Nedim had found that girls ten and younger enjoyed the series since it reinforced the concept that a girl can become anything she wants to. That was precisely why Lejla enjoyed it with her favorite princess being Princess President. It was said to be heaven on Earth for kids. 

     Now, as he continued to watch the news, all he saw was death and destruction. The news reporter pointed at a bloody shoe belonging to a child no older than three or four. There was a type of morbid excitement behind the man's eyes, as if knowing that this would get him extreme ratings. 

     "They're wrong. Dad, they're wrong," Damir, Nedim's eldest son, growled before standing up angrily.

     "Damir," Nedim's wife, Lana, whispered, trying to calm the older teen down. 

     "No, Mom! They're lying! Uncle Dawood would never harm anyone!" Damir argued angrily. 

     "Damir, calm down," Nedim commanded. He could see the raw hatred behind his son's eyes and realized that it frightened him a bit. He didn't want his son to succumb to violence, to anger. He had seen too many teens fall victim to their inner demons in the quest for justice. He couldn't allow that to happen to his children. 

     "Dad, you're not even doing anything. This just happened and they already know that it was Uncle Dawood? Uncle Dawood killed 5,000 people at the park with bombs and gunfire? Does that logistically make any sense to any of you?" Damir asked in disbelief. 

      "I know, Damir. I know, but you can't get worked up like this. This won't help Dawood in any way," Nedim explained before placing his hand on his son's shoulder.

     The thirteen year old Bosnian American frowned before looking at his father. There was a distress in his grey eyes that Nedim understood very well. Dawood was family, to Nedim. He had known the young father for nearly six to seven years. He was a good person, an active member of the Muslim community, and a decorated active duty soldier. There was no way, in Nedim's mind, that Dawood could have committed the worst terrorist attack in history on American soil. Dawood loved his country and had apprehended terrorists and extremists both at home and abroad. How could they immediately say that it was Dawood?

     "Dad, you have to do something," Emir, Nedim's middle child and youngest son, called out as he stood up. He was two years younger than Damir, but had the same fire behind his eyes. 

     "What can I do?" Nedim asked and shook his head.

     "You're the imam! You're the only one that can tell everyone that Uncle Dawood couldn't do this!" Damir yelled, not understanding his father's self-doubt. 

      "Damir, watch your tone. That's not how I raised you," Lana scolded. The woman glanced at her husband and could see a whirlwind of emotion behind his eyes. He was a kind man, a gentle man who avoided conflict whenever possible. She couldn't imagine what was going through his head as one of their most respected members of the Muslim community was blamed for terrorism. 

     "Mom, you guys don't understand. I don't care what people say to us. I know that Uncle Dawood can handle himself and everything, but what about Khadijah? She's five. They're saying that her dad is a terrorist. What about her?" Damir whispered in sorrow.

     Khadijah was Dawood's five year old daughter. She was a bright creature, intelligent beyond her years, and could always be found at the mosque helping around. Whenever someone new came to the mosque, they usually ran into Khadijah first before any of the adults. Nedim ran his hands over his face as he thought of the little girl. He hadn't even thought of her until now. What kind of man was he? She called him "uncle." She thought of him as her father's brother and he hadn't thought of her until now? Nedim's eyes widened as he thought of the little girl.

     "What? What's wrong, Nedim?" Lana asked in concern.

     "Dawood took Khadijah to the park. That's why he was there. He told me he received free tickets to the park by an anonymous donor for veterans and active duty military members. He asked if I wanted to come with them since he had an extra pair of tickets. Khadijah is there, Lana. That little girl is in the middle of all of that death," Nedim whispered in horror.