It was July 1985 and I feared the worst for my family, because they were caught with Bibles. At that time I was in the United States waiting for my appointment with the Immigration and Naturalization Service. I kept in close touch with the situation in Romania by phone.

The day of the trial in Iaşi was rescheduled for July 11. Early that sunny morning, many people gathered in front of the grey stone courthouse building. Each one of them hoped to get a seat when the doors opened. Two representatives from the American Embassy, Paul Urly and Scott Edelman, were also present.

Half an hour before the trial, a police officer came and addressed the crowd in the yard. He wore a navy blue uniform with shiny boots.

“Those who came for Sfatcu’s case, come up here!” he said through a microphone as he motioned with his hand.

About two hundred people stepped up and crowded around him at the front door. The others stepped back under the shade of some old oak trees. They were there out of curiosity to attend a trial for Bibles.

However, Teodor noticed that many who were neither family nor friends of the family joined his group at the front. Secret police, he thought.

Another officer opened a window on the second floor of the courthouse.

“You are too many here…! Only the family is allowed in!” he shouted to the crowd below. “The rest of you… get away from the door! Go home!”

“Why? Why?” the crowd murmured in disappointment.

“Only the family is allowed in… The rest go home!”

“Let us all in…! Let us all in! We are all family… the family of God!” the infiltrators shouted, shaking their fists and pushing forward.

“Don’t push! Don’t push!” the women and children screamed, caught in the middle. “We cannot breathe…! Help! Help!”

“Let us all in!” the infiltrators continued to shout as they pushed.

“Order! Order!” the police officer shouted from the window.

“This is how believers behave—like hooligans!” another officer said.

In the middle of this well-staged chaos, Teodor noticed two muscular policemen next to him who looked like boxers. He overheard one of them say to the other, “Now… get the Americans!”

While one made room behind him, the other one turned and punched Scott Edelman in the stomach as hard as he could.

“Ach…!” Scott winced at the sudden blow, but kept his calm…

However, when the policeman swung his fist to strike Paul Urly, his watch flew off…

“My watch! My watch!” he shouted. He pushed everyone aside and stooped down to look for it. But all he found was broken pieces…

A young man saw what happened. He heard the Holy Spirit whisper, “Go and buy him a watch!” He hurried to a nearby department store and came back with the best watch he could find.

“Please accept this as a gift… I am sorry for what happened,” he said.

“Oh …thank you!” replied the policeman. He stepped aside, thoughtful… and put on his new watch.

Ding… dong! Ding… dong! The big clock in the city struck nine. The doors of the courthouse opened. Hundreds of people managed to enter the hall. They took their seats in silence.

From his front seat Teodor stood up and looked around. The hall was packed.

Where is Dănuţ? he wondered. It is strange that he is not here… He promised to come…

Dănuţ was a young brother in the church and a close friend of the family. He was of medium height, with brown hair and a moustache. He spoke good English and was a keen observer. The secret police did not want him at the trial…

When he arrived at work that morning, he went to his boss and said, “I need to take today off. I have an important meeting…”

“No problem,” his boss said. “But first, come with me upstairs…

Dănuţ followed him to the second floor, unsuspecting…

The boss opened a door. Dănuţ recognized it as the room used by the security guard. He took a quick look around… He saw a narrow bed, some armchairs and a little table in the middle. There was a bathroom and a kitchen corner with a coffee machine. Heavy curtains covered the window.

“Sit down here,” the boss said and offered him a soft chair.

Dănuţ made himself comfortable. He smelled the aroma of freshly-ground coffee.

The boss opened the refrigerator. He got out milk and some apple pastries and put them on the table.

“I have something to tell you,” his boss said as he poured two cups of coffee.

Why such treatment? Dănuţ wondered. Besides, it is nine o’clock and I should be at the courthouse…

At that moment the telephone rang. The boss answered.

“Okay, okay… I will come down…”

Then he turned to Dănuţ and said, “Excuse me just a moment! I will be right back…”

Dănuţ nodded and his boss left the room, closing the door behind him.

Click-click!

What did I hear? Did he lock me in? He jumped up and tried the door. He pulled at the handle from the inside and knocked with his fists…

“Let me out! Let me out!” he shouted, but it was too late…

He ran to the window and drew the curtains aside.

The window is barred… No way to get out! I am trapped… Lord, what should I do?

The Holy Spirit brought a verse to his mind. It was from Psalm 68 and he recited it, “‘May God arise, may His enemies be scattered; may His foes flee before Him. As smoke is blown away by the wind, may You blow them away; as wax melts before the fire, may the wicked perish before God. But may the righteous be glad and rejoice before God; may they be happy and joyful…’ Father, I claim these wonderful promises for Costică and the Sfatcu family right now,” he prayed.

All that day, locked in that room, Dănuţ interceded for his brothers.

Finally, back at the courthouse, the accused, Sfatcu Constantin, was brought in through a side door. All heads turned toward him. He was chained and handcuffed. His head was shaved and he wore striped prison clothes.

“Oh, oh…!” Muffled exclamations came from the awestruck crowd.

Then… complete silence. Costică stood in the dock, the judges and lawyers on one side and the public on the other side. He looked around and caught a glimpse of his family and friends from the church.

A gong sounded and the trial started. The prosecutor, dressed in a black suit and tie, stood up and read the charges:

On the evening of April 19, 1985 at about ten o’clock, the accused, Sfatcu Constantin, was stopped in a routine police check. The police officer asked to see in the back of the car. The accused pretended to take the keys from the ignition, but instead started the engine again and tried to drive away. The officer, holding the steering wheel, tried to take the keys out of the ignition. In the fight that followed, the car covered a distance of approximately 30 meters at a speed of about 30 kilometers per hour. The police officer was dragged along the pavement and in this way his life was put in danger. Sfatcu Constantin is accused of the premeditated attempted murder of a high state official!

Then it was the turn of the witness and the plaintiff:

“I saw the policeman being dragged along the pavement by the car,” the taxi driver said. “There was a fight between him and the driver.”

“This is what Sfatcu Constantin did to me in the fight,” the policeman said, as he showed a scratch on his hand.

What lies! Costică thought. Defend me, O Lord! There was no fight!

Then the defense lawyer spoke, “I draw attention to the fact that the accusations are inconsistent… There is only flimsy evidence that the policeman was hurt at all.”

The judge then asked Costică, “Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

“Since I was arrested three months ago I was interrogated only about Bibles,” he said, his body trembling violently. “I am surprised that you accuse me of attempted murder… I am not guilty.” Tears streamed down his cheeks, but he couldn’t use his hands to wipe them away.

Then the judge solemnly announced the verdict: “Guilty of malicious, premeditated attempted murder of a high state official!”

There was a loud murmur in the audience.

As Costică was led out of the courthouse, he took a last look at his family. Will I ever see them again? he wondered.

A car was waiting for him and, surrounded by armed police, he got in.

Which prison will they take me to? he wondered. Lord, help me!

After driving for about five kilometers, the car stopped and he was ordered out. It was not hard to recognize the place. It was the prison next to our family house…

Towards evening Dănuţ’s boss returned, unlocked the door and apologized. “Sorry about that,” he said, “I only obeyed instructions!”

Nine days later, in Costică’s absence, an officer read the following sentence in a public hearing:

…for these reasons, in the name of the law, it is decided: The accused, Sfatcu Constantin, son of Neculai and Maria, born April 4, 1953, resident in Iaşi, Strada Petru Rareş 5, married with two children, mechanical engineer, no previous convictions, held in custody at the police headquarters in Iaşi, is sentenced for the crime of attempted murder according to article 20 with reference to articles 174 and 175 letter F of the penal code (articles referring to malicious, premeditated action against a high state official) to seven years and six months imprisonment and four years’ loss of civil rights, according to article 64 letters A and B of the penal code (referring to rights to employment, medical and social benefits)… The accused is obliged to pay legal costs to the state of 1,400 lei… Sentence pronounced in the public session of July 20, 1985.

Costică remembered when he was a child that he heard terrifying screams that came from inside those walls. He saw prisoners pass by the family house in convoys to their place of work. He remembered how our father asked us children to sing, “God be with you till we meet again” as they went by. At the entrance to our street were signs in several languages which read: “Forbidden to Foreigners.”

Now the prison was rebuilt with three walls round the outside and underground cells. It held up to ten thousand prisoners. And one of them was Costică…

He soon learned to obey the discipline of the prison. A soldier led him to a large room which had iron bunk beds four high and assigned him a bed on level four. Fifty prisoners slept in that dormitory. There were only two washbasins and one toilet. There were always long lines to use these facilities.

The window was covered with a metal plate with small holes. Fresh air could hardly penetrate and the air in the cell was stuffy. The beds were covered with thin blankets infested with bed bugs. At night the bright neon lights were never turned off.

At quarter past five a loud gong sounded and Costică woke up with the other prisoners. Through a little window a guard handed each prisoner a tray of food with a chunk of bread and a cup of coffee.

Oh, no! The doctor told me not to eat dark bread or drink coffee, he thought.

For the last two or three years Costică suffered from stomach ulcers and colitis. He took medication and kept a diet. Any time he did not keep his diet, he had immediate pain.

Lord, please bless this food and heal me! I am so hungry! Then he ate and drank quickly… Thank You, Lord! I have no pain!

All that morning he sang a song in his heart. It was a beautiful tune with words from Psalm 103. “Praise the Lord, O my soul…who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases…”

Lunch was served at half past two. Costică looked in his bowl: heavy, greasy soup with beans, potatoes and cabbage… Lord, the doctor forbade me to eat such things, he prayed… but I am so hungry! Then he ate it… Thank You, Lord! No pain! How wonderful You are!

The evening meal was at nine in the evening. It was a bowl of boiled wheat. He saw mice droppings, hair and worms in the wheat, but he ate it anyway. He remembered the verse from Proverbs 27: “To the hungry even what is bitter tastes sweet.”

As the weeks went by in that prison, Costică never had any more pain or problems with his stomach. He knew that the Lord healed him. It was an answer to his prayers, and to the prayers of many…

The believers in Iaşi prayed and fasted against the spirit of false witness. They did not know how the Lord would answer their prayers until one evening…

About a week after the trial, Estera’s uncle and his wife came from Rădăuţi and took her out for a meal. The restaurant in Copou could seat about 100 people. After they entered, they put on their trays chicken with garlic, green salad, fresh bread rolls and mineral water with syrup. They looked around for a table, but all the tables were full. Soon a family stood up and left. A waitress cleaned the table for them and invited them to come.

They sat down and Uncle Avram prayed, “Thank you, Lord for the food. May Costică not be hungry in prison!”

“And deliver him and Estera from evil men!” Lidia continued.

“Amen!” said Estera.

In the middle of their meal Estera said, “This is such a treat for me! The chicken is so delicious! At home I hardly…”

She suddenly stopped in her tracks… A look of shock came over her face.

“I can’t believe my eyes!” she whispered… “Look… the prosecution witnesses…” she said and motioned with her eyes to the next table.

The policeman who stopped the car that night was there with his wife and cousin. With them was the taxi driver. There was a lot of food on their table and several empty bottles. They seemed drunk.

“Since I got involved with these believers… and their Bibles… I haven’t had one good night’s sleep!” the police officer said.

“Why is that?” his cousin asked.

“I have nightmares that I stand before the throne of God… He is very angry with me! I see fire and brimstone… I take sleeping pills, but they don’t help.”

Then the taxi driver spoke up, “It is the same with me… My conscience bothers me and I feel afraid all the time! My wife tells me that I lost my sense of humor…”

“I am going to change my declaration,” said the police officer. “Really, Sfatcu did not hurt me. He just had Bibles, that’s all… That night I received an order from the secret police, ‘Get the Sfatcus or you will be shot!’”

“Yes, the secret police put the words in our mouth,” said the taxi driver. “I was witness that night to the discovery of six hundred Bibles, but that was all…”

They finished their meal with a bottle of ţuică, Romanian whiskey. Arm in arm, leaning on each other, they stumbled out of the restaurant…

Estera and her relatives also got up to leave.

“Thank You, Lord that You are at work!” Estera said, a small smile on her face.

“That was incredible!” Lidia said.

“Praise the Lord!” said Avram.

The three of them walked home arm in arm.

My family told me on the phone about Costică’s sentence. I cried a lot and couldn’t eat.

A few days later I had my appointment at the Immigration and Naturalization Service in Cleveland, Ohio. That morning I put on my best blue velvet dress. A hairdresser did my short, brown hair with a fringe. I had to look special that day. I put on my favorite rose perfume. It was the day when I was to become an American citizen…

The INS center was a massive grey building. It was full of new immigrants who were to be sworn in that day as citizens. An officer asked me to answer a questionnaire and one of the questions was, “Have you ever been a member of the Communist Party?” I wrote in giant letters: NO! NO! NO!

It was a happy moment in my life, but there was so much sadness in my heart! My thoughts were with my family… I suddenly became so weak that I lay down on the carpet…

The kind officer who interviewed me asked, “What is wrong? Are you sick?”

“No,” I said. “I just received the news that my brother in Romania was sentenced to prison for Bibles… and my whole family is in big trouble.”

“I am so sorry,” he said. He brought me a cup of orange juice.

I drank it.

“Thank you,” I said. “That gave me strength.”

“Welcome to America!” he said. Then he added, “It usually takes at least three weeks for certificates to be mailed, but I promise that you will be the first to receive it.”

How much I needed that kindness! In a few days I received my naturalization certificate, dated July 26, 1985. And how many times I thanked the Lord for the United States!