Page 32 of Counting Backwards

“No,” I corrected him. “Dr. Choudry is the doctor from the women’s health clinic, a man.”

Dustin repeated my words in Spanish, and Jacinta looked back at me.

“Dr. Choudryes una mujer. Lamisma.”

I turned wide-eyed to Dustin, assuming Jacinta must be confused.

“She’s talking about the same doctor. Dr. Choudry,” Dustin said.

“But...” I couldn’t continue. I was struck dumb trying to process this new piece of information. It had never crossed my mind that the doctor might possibly be a woman. I had just assumed from the beginning that Choudry was a man, but now as I mentally replayed my meetings with Denise and Isobel, I couldn’t remember them ever specifying one way or the other. How on earth could a woman be butchering other women in the ways that had been described?

“Dr. Choudry is a woman?” I asked again, feeling stupefied by what sounded like the ultimate betrayal.

“Sí,” Jacinta answered.

Stunned, I found myself at a loss for what to ask next. So many questions were suddenly swirling through my mind, making so much noise I couldn’t actually hear my thoughts at all.

But then Jacinta began talking to Dustin, saying something new. He glanced at me as she continued to speak at length, but he didn’t interpret. After the revelation about Dr. Choudry, I was almost glad for the reprieve, a moment to pause instead of having to process any additional sucker punches. But as Jacinta’s comments began to stretch into something of a monologue, I found myself growing frustrated. After two minutes dragged out to four or five, I finally gave Dustin’s foot a little kick under the table.

“Hey,” I said, trying to remind them both I was still there.

Dustin held up his finger, instructing me to wait, and it was all I could do not to smack his finger back down.

Finally, he turned back to me, his eyes wider than I’d ever seen them.

“They’re sterilizing the women,” he said, his voice thick, like he had something stuck in his throat.

I sighed. “Yes, that’s why we’re here. To find out about it.”

“No.” Dustin shook his head. “I mean, I knew you mentioned medical abuse, but this... You never said anything like this. How can that be happening?” He ran a hand through his hair and let out a long breath.

I knew it was hard to believe. Here we were in 2022, and women were being sterilized against their will. I still couldn’t parse out what would be motivating the doctor, the guards, the government, to let this happen. Was it because the women were foreigners? People of color? Less educated? Or was it a scam involving money from insurance payments? Maybe all of the above.

“It’s barbaric,” Dustin said. His eyes darted around the room, as if he’d gone into fight-or-flight mode. “In our own country. My God, Jessa... This is really serious.” His usually sunny face had drained of color.

“Yes, Dustin, I’m aware.” Perhaps I should have been gentler, given him another moment to adjust. At least his first reactionhad been one of trust; he’d believed Jacinta and whatever she’d told him. It was probably more than I had expected of him, but I was too focused on what was happening at Hydeford to waste time reconsidering any part of my perception of him.

“What else did she just say?”

“Other women in the facility complained, but then they were deported.”

Jacinta watched Dustin closely as he continued relaying her words. “She’s willing to tell us more about what Dr. Choudry did, but she doesn’t want to be involved beyond that. It’s behind her now, she says. She just wants to forget what they did to her.”

“To her? To Jacinta?”

Dustin glanced back at Jacinta.

“Is okay,” she said in English, giving him permission to continue.

“They removed her uterus,” Dustin said quietly.

“She...” I looked over at Jacinta, who met my eyes and nodded. “But I thought you were a witness,” I said, forgetting that Jacinta wouldn’t understand the English words.

“Sounds like she’s both,” Dustin answered quietly. “Witness and victim. She was only in detention for thirty days,” Dustin said. “For filling out a form improperly when her green card expired. She said she didn’t even complain of any physical problems before they brought her to the clinic. They told her the visit was a routine checkup, so she assumed it was protocol for all the women when they first arrived. But the doctor did some tests and said she needed to have a procedure to remove two cysts. When she woke up, her uterus and ovaries had been taken.”

I felt myself gripping the arms of my chair, attempting to steady myself in the wake of this news. It was too much.

“Did they tell her beforehand,” I asked, “that they might remove other organs?”