http://news.independent.co.uk/world/asia/story.jsp?story=492014I made a friend in Pakistan. I nicknamed him "Captain" because of his authority; I couldn't tell if it came naturally to him or was the result of decades spent in the Pakistani army. But when my husband, Danny Pearl, was kidnapped in Karachi two years ago, Captain became the second most important man in my life. He told me: "I will bring your Danny home." It took another four weeks for us to find out what had happened to my husband.
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On the first anniversary of Danny's kidnapping, 23 January 2003, Captain and I sat on the top floor of the World Financial Centre, right across from Ground Zero. I took him with me to meet Danny's bosses at the Wall Street Journal. Captain was the behind-the-scenes man, the one who had donated his time and his efforts. The hero.
We wanted to know why the Journal had not sent anyone to court to represent Danny as the Pakistani authorities began prosecutions for his kidnapping and murder. One of those on trial included Omar Said Sheikh, who had confessed to masterminding the operation. It was Omar who had lured Danny into a trap, pretending he was the disciple of a source Danny was trying to interview. Ever since I had left Pakistan the year before I had been trying to persuade the Journal to send someone. "We were advised not to send a white American to a Pakistani court," Journal chiefs told us.
Not only had the paper not sent a white American, it had sent no one. The trial was held in a tiny, windowless "court" in the prison where the men were being held. Transparency sounded like wishful thinking. I had ended up paying a Pakistani lawyer a very large sum to represent Danny, and the Journal eventually reimbursed me a small fraction of his fees.
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In May 2002, a lawyer for Dow Jones (the parent company of the Wall Street Journal) levelled with me. It was during Omar's trial, and as I tried to follow its proceedings I persisted in asking what the Journal was doing. They did not hire a lawyer in Pakistan and there was no transparency in any of the proceedings.
"It is your case, not ours," the lawyer eventually told me. I hung up. The moment that followed, when I looked at myself, too pregnant to go to Pakistan and represent Danny on my own, was one of the loneliest I've ever had. Months later, I wrote the Journal a letter.
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been sitting here for long minutes trying to think how to word what I think of the men in charge of the WSJ and all of it is unprintable but this = slugs, the human slimy kind. (an apology to real slugs who don't hurt anyone and leave silvery trails)