"Ma'am, in light of your past record as an armed militant in the conflict in Lebanon, I fear that Canada cannot accept you as a conventional refugee," said Judge Marshall Lemieux, speaking for the International Refugee Board of Citizenship & Immigration Canada. Salome Zankoul closed her eyes, hard. These dastardly, smug fools in robes have no idea what life is like outside this frozen wasteland, Salome thought angrily.
"Listen up, you got no idea what it was like in Beirut, with the Muslims turning against us, we Maronite Christians had to defend ourselves," Salome shouted, to the consternation of the others present in court. Besides her sat her attorney, Marcus Dixon, looking very handsome in a stylish dark gray suit under his dark courtly robes. Dixon's face remained quite somber, and almost expressionless.
"Ma'am, please remember that this is a court of law, and we in Canada tend to follow the rules of courtroom decorum," Judge Lemieux said, fixing his steely blue-eyed gaze on Salome, who looked right back at him. She simply refused to back down. Clearing his throat somewhat loudly, Dixon gently laid his hand on Salome's wrist, and the young Lebanese woman shot him a wuthering look.
"Your Honor, I apologize for my client, please understand that she's been through a lot, having lived the horrors of war, and her plight as a refugee, wandering through Lebanon and Syria and finally booking a flight to Canada from Greece, it's more horrendous than anything we can imagine, please consider these facts," Dixon said, rising for effect.
The Judge looked at Dixon, this tall, dark-skinned, handsome black man who was so passionately defending a young foreign woman. Salome looked at her attorney as well, evidently just as stunned by his words and impassioned plea as the Judge was. This man seems like he actually gives a damn about me, Salome thought, somewhat wistfully.
"Duly noted, counselor," Judge Lemieux said softly, and both lawyer and defendant exchanged a confused look. Salome exhaled sharply while Dixon began to steeple his fingers, something he often did when he was angry or disturbed. I wonder what this old man is thinking right this minute, Dixon thought sourly.
Dixon looked at Salome, flashing her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He couldn't even begin to fathom all the things that she'd been through. Dixon's early years in the City of Halifax, Nova Scotia, one of the most racist places in all of Canada, hadn't been easy. The province of Nova Scotia was considered the Mississippi of Canada, and with good reason.
Dixon's father Luther emigrated to the City of Halifax, Nova Scotia, in the summer 1969. While working construction there, Dixon met Gilda Buchanan, a lovely blonde-haired young white woman whom he found himself smitten with. Luther Dixon and Gilda Buchanan fell in love, and got married, over the vehement opposition of Gilda's parents. They bought a lovely townhouse in the town of Preston, Nova Scotia, and settled there.
Dixon remembered his parents telling him of the hateful words they heard from racist white men who saw them walking around Halifax together. Dixon and his older sister Leanne attended an almost all-black school in the environs of Preston, and with good reason. Interracial relationships are frowned upon in Nova Scotia, especially when involving a black man and a white woman. This was true in the late 1970s, and as far as Dixon was concerned, it still holds true today.
As prejudiced as a lot of folks in Nova Scotia could be, Dixon couldn't imagine having his neighbors turn against him over questions of religion, rather than race or skin color. When Salome told him of her Muslim neighbors, families whose sons and daughters were once her playmates, turn against her and her parents, Dixon was absolutely horrified. What kind of a maddened nation allows itself to be torn apart like this? Dixon wondered.
"In Lebanon, people put religion ahead of patriotism and national unity, the Lebanese Muslims sided with the Syrians and others against Lebanese Christians, and of course, my people and I had to defend ourselves," Salome said softly, tears brimming in her eyes. They'd been talking about the case and the situation in the Republic of Lebanon, a few days before the hearing, and out of the blue, Salome shared something deeply personal with Dixon.
"Salome, I can't imagine what you went through," Dixon said evenly, and Salome shrugged, shaking her head sadly. This suit-wearing lad knows nothing about life and probably not enough about the law, Salome thought bitterly. She did note, however, that Dixon appeared perplexed, so at the very least he was taking her case seriously.
Dixon was quite shaken by the things that Salome had endured during the Lebanese Civil War. The young attorney found himself at a loss of words after that revelation. Aside from a few incidents with some 'good ole-boy" types back in Halifax, Dixon led a fairly regular life. Ah, the boring life of a small-town brother in the Big City, Dixon thought, both wryly amused and annoyed.
Marcus Dixon attended Dalhousie University, graduating with a Bachelor's degree in Criminology in the Spring of 1986. In 1989, Dixon graduated from the prestigious McGill University Faculty of Law. He remained in the City of Montreal, Quebec, to practice law. One of his first cases was the defense of Salome Zankoul, a beautiful fiery former Lebanese Christian freedom fighter turned unconventional refugee...
