California Bride Betrayed By Husband Cries Out For Help
SANTA ANA, Calif. —The Islamic Republic of Iran frowns deeply upon "acts incompatible with chastity." An unwed mother could be branded an adulteress, buried up to her chest and stoned to death. Her child, a shame to her family, could land in a government orphanage.
When she left Iran in 2005 for a new life in Southern California, it was beyond imagining that such horror could ever befall her. She was a good Muslim woman whose family had arranged for her to marry a successful businessman in America. She was 23, optimistic and sharp. He was more than a decade her senior, gentle and longing to start a family. At least, that's what they said. The only disagreement that surfaced early on was about the wedding itself: She longed for a traditional Muslim ceremony at home in Iran, but he said it was easier to get her into the U.S. on a fiancee visa.
She, and her family, believed him.
Her odyssey began in early 2004, when the first call came from Southern California. It was a relative of M's in Los Angeles. She knew a kind and decent Iranian-American man who was looking for a wife. He might be a good match for M. (Her real named is not being revealed).
They became acquainted by phone. He said family was very important to him; she said she wanted a family someday too. She said she wanted to finish her studies; he said America had wonderful universities and he'd be happy to finance the rest of her education.
A few months later, M, accompanied by her mother and another relative, met him in Dubai. Her mother gave him the Quran; he kissed it and pressed it to his forehead. Her mother was thrilled.
M was impressed. "He was very gentle and generous towards me," she says. "I thought he was so nice." At the end of the four-day visit, they were engaged.
The plan: She would come to Los Angeles on a fiancee visa and live with a relative until their traditional Islamic wedding. They would be happy, he said. He would take care of her.
One year later, she arrived in Los Angeles and moved in with relatives - excited, anxious, awestruck, homesick.
Doubts surfaced quickly. He came to visit, knocking on the back door. By the time she answered it, he was gone.
Later, he accused her of ignoring him and spending time with a younger man.
He insisted she move into his house; if she refused, he would not marry her.
She agreed, asking when they'd have their Islamic wedding. To her surprise, he said he didn't believe in God and wouldn't take part in such a ceremony.
She reminded him of his promise to her mother; he said that if she insisted on an Islamic ceremony, he wouldn't marry her.
Instead, they'd have an American ceremony. She bought a white dress.
Together, they signed it. Now, they're officially married, he said.
They had a big party, received presents, cut the wedding cake and lived as a married couple. Her visa was taken care of by the marriage, he told her.
Her papers would come in the mail.
The bed sheets must be changed every day and smell fresh, he told her. His breakfast must be on the table by the time he got out of the shower. She could not use the bathroom in the master suite.
She could not have a house key, which forced her to stay inside while he was at work. He wanted a baby right away and dragged her to doctors when she failed to conceive immediately.
She left, several times, packing her bags and returning to her relative's house. But she didn't get solace: The problems were her fault, she was told. She should learn to be obedient.
In December, he insulted her in front of his friends. She told him it hurt her feelings. After the friends left, he flew into a fury, pressing a pillow over her face and insisting she apologize. As she gasped for air, she realized he could actually kill her. The next day, she left for good.
She remembered that she had scribbled the number of an Iranian-American acquaintance in the dictionary she carried everywhere; the mosque let her make the phone call.
A series of battered women's shelters followed. He searched for her, homing in on her whereabouts. To her horror, she learned she was pregnant.
A shelter helped her apply for a domestic violence restraining order against him. Then came the next bombshell: He was not her husband, after all.
The document they signed was just a marriage license. To be legal, someone invested with the power of the state would have had to solemnize their union, sign the license and file it with the county clerk.
The next bombshell: Her visa had expired. Her "husband" had never applied for her permanent residency.
Single. Pregnant. Alone. Illegal. Homeless. Due date: Aug. 30.
All she wanted was to go home and climb into her mother's arms. Her mother said she could - if she had an abortion. She would not be welcomed home with an illegitimate child. She considered it, but then heard the baby's heartbeat. She couldn't do it.
Desperate, she called a Persian-language talk show on radio station ***N and broke down. People started reaching out to help.
Don Laffoon, a Farsi-speaking drama therapist, became her new "dad." An Iranian-American retired nurse became her new "mom."
A team of attorneys from Latham & Watkins LLP took on her case, pro bono.
The U.S. government has granted M asylum. Her son is now 5 months old.
When she left Iran in 2005 for a new life in Southern California, it was beyond imagining that such horror could ever befall her. She was a good Muslim woman whose family had arranged for her to marry a successful businessman in America. She was 23, optimistic and sharp. He was more than a decade her senior, gentle and longing to start a family. At least, that's what they said. The only disagreement that surfaced early on was about the wedding itself: She longed for a traditional Muslim ceremony at home in Iran, but he said it was easier to get her into the U.S. on a fiancee visa.
She, and her family, believed him.
Her odyssey began in early 2004, when the first call came from Southern California. It was a relative of M's in Los Angeles. She knew a kind and decent Iranian-American man who was looking for a wife. He might be a good match for M. (Her real named is not being revealed).
They became acquainted by phone. He said family was very important to him; she said she wanted a family someday too. She said she wanted to finish her studies; he said America had wonderful universities and he'd be happy to finance the rest of her education.
A few months later, M, accompanied by her mother and another relative, met him in Dubai. Her mother gave him the Quran; he kissed it and pressed it to his forehead. Her mother was thrilled.
M was impressed. "He was very gentle and generous towards me," she says. "I thought he was so nice." At the end of the four-day visit, they were engaged.
The plan: She would come to Los Angeles on a fiancee visa and live with a relative until their traditional Islamic wedding. They would be happy, he said. He would take care of her.
One year later, she arrived in Los Angeles and moved in with relatives - excited, anxious, awestruck, homesick.
Doubts surfaced quickly. He came to visit, knocking on the back door. By the time she answered it, he was gone.
Later, he accused her of ignoring him and spending time with a younger man.
He insisted she move into his house; if she refused, he would not marry her.
She agreed, asking when they'd have their Islamic wedding. To her surprise, he said he didn't believe in God and wouldn't take part in such a ceremony.
She reminded him of his promise to her mother; he said that if she insisted on an Islamic ceremony, he wouldn't marry her.
Instead, they'd have an American ceremony. She bought a white dress.
Together, they signed it. Now, they're officially married, he said.
They had a big party, received presents, cut the wedding cake and lived as a married couple. Her visa was taken care of by the marriage, he told her.
Her papers would come in the mail.
The bed sheets must be changed every day and smell fresh, he told her. His breakfast must be on the table by the time he got out of the shower. She could not use the bathroom in the master suite.
She could not have a house key, which forced her to stay inside while he was at work. He wanted a baby right away and dragged her to doctors when she failed to conceive immediately.
She left, several times, packing her bags and returning to her relative's house. But she didn't get solace: The problems were her fault, she was told. She should learn to be obedient.
In December, he insulted her in front of his friends. She told him it hurt her feelings. After the friends left, he flew into a fury, pressing a pillow over her face and insisting she apologize. As she gasped for air, she realized he could actually kill her. The next day, she left for good.
She remembered that she had scribbled the number of an Iranian-American acquaintance in the dictionary she carried everywhere; the mosque let her make the phone call.
A series of battered women's shelters followed. He searched for her, homing in on her whereabouts. To her horror, she learned she was pregnant.
A shelter helped her apply for a domestic violence restraining order against him. Then came the next bombshell: He was not her husband, after all.
The document they signed was just a marriage license. To be legal, someone invested with the power of the state would have had to solemnize their union, sign the license and file it with the county clerk.
The next bombshell: Her visa had expired. Her "husband" had never applied for her permanent residency.
Single. Pregnant. Alone. Illegal. Homeless. Due date: Aug. 30.
All she wanted was to go home and climb into her mother's arms. Her mother said she could - if she had an abortion. She would not be welcomed home with an illegitimate child. She considered it, but then heard the baby's heartbeat. She couldn't do it.
Desperate, she called a Persian-language talk show on radio station ***N and broke down. People started reaching out to help.
Don Laffoon, a Farsi-speaking drama therapist, became her new "dad." An Iranian-American retired nurse became her new "mom."
A team of attorneys from Latham & Watkins LLP took on her case, pro bono.
The U.S. government has granted M asylum. Her son is now 5 months old.
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