By Emmanuel Olawale
On a chilly Saturday morning on Thanksgiving weekend, I received a call from a local imam. Some members of his congregation were in urgent need of legal help. We arranged to meet the next day, Sunday. That meeting took place inside a modest one-bedroom apartment on the east side of town. As I entered, the room brimmed with humanity — a dozen men waiting anxiously. Four sat on a small sofa, while the rest sat on the carpet in an arrangement reminiscent of a masjid.
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