Hasan sat on the couch in the living room, flipping through TV channels while his wife, Mariam, scrolled on her phone beside him. The sound of the popcorn machine came from the kitchen, where his mother prepared their late-night snack. Upstairs, his younger sister, Halima, was fast asleep in her room. The house was peaceful, until a thunderous knock shattered the calm.
Before anyone could react, the door burst open with a splintering crash. A flood of police officers in tactical gear stormed inside, shouting orders. Hasan shot up from the couch, his heart pounding.
"Wait! Stop!" Hasan yelled, stepping forward with his arms raised. "You can't just barge in like this! At least let the women cover themselves!"
The officers ignored him, fanning out through the house. One of them shoved past Hasan, knocking him back.
"What is this? What do you want?" Mariam demanded, clutching her hijab tighter as she stood.
From the kitchen, his mother rushed in, her face pale. "Who gave you the right to break into our home?" she shouted.
Halima, woken by the commotion, stumbled out of her room, rubbing her eyes. "Hasan? What's happening?"
One of the officers grabbed Hasan's arm. "You need to come with us for investigation."
"Investigation? For what?" Hasan snapped, trying to pull free.
Halima rushed forward. "Where are you taking him? You can't just—"
"Stay out of it, girl," an officer barked, shoving her back.
Hasan's mother lunged toward them. "Stop! You have no right!" Another officer pushed her, and she cried out as she fell to the floor.
"Mom!" Halima screamed, rushing to her side.
Mariam yelled at the officers "You savages! Look what you've done!"
Hasan's voice boomed over the chaos. "Enough! Take me if you have to, but leave my family alone!"
Just then, one of the officers raised his boot, about to step on Halima' s arm as she crouched beside her mother. Without thinking, Hasan shoved him hard, sending the man stumbling back.
The reaction was instant. Three officers tackled Hasan to the ground, batons swinging. The sickening thuds of metal against flesh filled the room as they rained down blows.
"Stop! Please, stop!" Mariam sobbed, pulling at their arms.
Halima screamed, tears streaming down her face. "You're killing him!"
Hasan's mother crawled toward them, her voice breaking. "He didn't do anything! Please, have mercy!"
After what felt like an eternity, the beating stopped. Hasan's face was bloodied, his body limp as they dragged him toward the door.
Mariam clutched his shirt, her voice raw. "Hasan! Hasan, look at me!"
One of the officers ripped her away. "Move!"
As they hauled him outside, the women collapsed together, weeping. The house was in shambles, overturned furniture, shattered glass, and the lingering stench of violence.
Mariam wiped her tears, her hands shaking as she grabbed her phone. She dialed Omar first, then Maher.
"They took Hasan," she choked out. "We need help."
Omar and Maher arrived at Hasan's house within minutes of Mariam's frantic call. The front door hung broken on its hinges, and the living room was in disarray—overturned furniture, scattered belongings, and the lingering tension of violence. Their old mother sat on the couch, clutching her prayer beads, her face streaked with tears. Halima, still trembling, wrapped a blanket around herself, while Mariam paced the room, her hands shaking as she recounted what had happened.
Maher's jaw tightened as he took in the scene. "This wasn't just an arrest—this was a raid," he muttered, his voice low with anger.
Omar knelt beside Maher's mother, he said in a gentle tone. "Auntie, did they say why they took him?"
She shook her head, her voice breaking. "Nothing. They just… destroyed everything and beat him in front of us."
Mariam turned to them, her eyes burning with desperation. "They didn't even show a warrant! They just broke in like criminals!"
Maher exhaled sharply, pulling out his phone. "I still have contacts in the department. Let me call some of my old colleagues—maybe they can tell us what's going on."
Omar nodded, dialing his uncle. "If anyone can get answers fast, it's him."
While Maher stepped aside to make his calls, Omar waited as the line rang. And rang. And rang.
There was no answer.
He cursed under his breath. "Uncle's not picking up. Maybe he's busy."
Maher returned, his expression grim. "I spoke to a few guys. They said… if Hasan's innocent, he'll be back in a few hours and that a previous officer like me shouldn't worry."
Mariam's s eyes widened. "If he's innocent? What does that mean?"
Maher hesitated. "They glorify the system, they told me that a 'former officer shouldn't worry because he knows the routine.'"
Omar frowned. "But that's exactly why you're worried "
Maher's voice dropped. "Yes. That's exactly why I am worried. I do know the routine. And if they took him like this, no warrant, no explanation, then this isn't just questioning. This is something else."
A heavy silence fell over the room. Hasan's mother covered her face with her hands, whispering prayers. Halima hugged her knees to her chest, fresh tears spilling over.
Mariam's voice was barely above a whisper. "What do we do now?"
Maher exchanged a look with Omar before answering. "We don't wait. We find out where they took him. And we get him out."
Omar nodded, determination hardening his features. "Then we move fast. Before they do something we can't undo."