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twenty thousand rials out of my wallet and tried to give him more money. He again pushed my hand away. “You are American. I will never charge an American.”
    Despite my run-ins with Shapour and Mr. Sorush and the walls they placed before me, the taxi driver made me realize that all the real information was right in front of me. The vast majority of the Iranian population is under the age of thirty and these young people proved not only eager to talk to me, but also to be forthright in their displeasure for the Iranian regime. To this day, the Iranian people are some of the most pro-American people I have met in the entire world. The vast majority of Iranians—especially the youth—have a strong affinity for American culture, products, and entertainment and a substantial portion has at least an element of appreciation for the American government’s unwillingness to pander to the Iranian regime.
     
     
     
    I was not arrested that night, so I completely changed my objectives. Instead of seeking officials, I would learn about Iran by seeking out my peers throughout the country. The taxi ride without Shapour was evidence that the intelligence services in Iran were so preoccupied with preventing me from meeting with officials that they might not concern themselves with my new interest in the youth.
    With a newfound sense of purpose, my confidence returned and with it came the ability to see the threats of Sorush and Shapour for the cheap intimidation tactics that they were.
    Like so much else in Iran, my relationship with my guides became a charade: I asked to meet with officials, expressed frustration over the stagnation of my research, and complained almost incessantly about the problems the escorts were causing me. We would typically then have some kind of a disagreement or verbal argument, after which I would return to the hotel, playing the part of the defeated student. Certain that I was sufficiently terrified, my escort would head home.
    It was at this point that I would begin my work for the day.

CHAPTER 2

REMOVING THE SHACKLES
     
     
    IRAN, 2004
     
    M aking friends in Iran was surprisingly easy. When the vast majority of the country despises the regime, there is no shortage of opinionated youth. The leadership has deprived Iran’s young population of a stable economy, civil liberties, and full access to an increasingly modernized and globally interdependent world. Students in Iran openly lash out at the regime and often preemptively vent to whoever will listen. I had seen subtle hints of this anger in my first four days in Iran, but it was not until the fifth day that I began to really take note of the anger and resentment among the youth.
    That morning, I spoke to two Iranian academics I had become close with in the States. A paranoid e-mail I had sent them led to two phone calls very early in the morning. Hearing their voices and assurances was a relief. One of my contacts gave me the names and phone numbers of several individuals who, he assured me, would be able to help. He had been in touch with an influential official in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, who, because of a past history together, was willing to call Mr. Sorush and arrange for me to have some autonomy from the escorts.
    After Mr. Sorush and Shapour received that phone call from the ministry, I felt that my fortunes had been reversed. Up until that point, I’d only seen what the Iranian government wanted me to see, but now, Shapour asked me where I wanted to go for the day. It was a truly liberating moment for me when I told him I wouldn’t be requiring his “assistance.”
    “I’m going to the university,” I told him. “I don’t need you to come with me.”
    The tables had really turned. It had taken five days for me to break free from Shapour, Sorush, and the rest, and though I knew that covert agents would still be following me around, my newfound independence was significant—psychologically and otherwise.
    I turned my eye toward