Lawyer and writer Wadih Habib makes his literary debut with the thriller "Seduction and Death in the Judiciary ," a work that leads the reader through a plot marked by psychological suspense, ethical dilemmas, and a web of intrigue that runs through the Brazilian justice system. Set in Salvador and the backlands of Bahia, the novel introduces the protagonist Severino, a magistrate who abandons his judicial robes to pursue a career as a lawyer, but sees his life crumble when he becomes involved with the enigmatic and seductive Sofia, a central figure in a game that mixes fascination, power, and death.
In the narrative, Severino finds himself facing extreme situations that transcend the legal field and engage with universal conflicts: what to do when ethics confront desire? Between loyalty and self-preservation, the protagonist plunges into a spiral of irreversible decisions, becoming involved in crimes that affect judges, magistrates, and even members of the Federal Police. For Habib, the book provokes a question that runs throughout the work: "what would you do when the only way out seems to be compromising what keeps you standing?".
With engaging language and cinematic pacing, "Seduction and Death in the Judiciary" combines social critique and narrative tension in an investigation into the limits of human integrity. As the plot unfolds into a thrilling chase with shocking arrests and revelations, Habib transforms his more than 30 years of experience in law into a novel that intrigues, surprises, and invites the reader to reflect on how choices -- or omissions -- can shape or destroy destinies.
"Seduction and Death in the Judiciary" goes far beyond a legal thriller -- it touches on universal moral dilemmas. At what point did you realize that this story would also be a reflection on humanity and not just on the system?
I realized this in the trunk scene, when Severino confronts the corpse and understands that, before the law, comes the human being. There, what matters is not the system, but the immediate choice -- and life is exactly that: decisions that shape the future without warning. True morality is not born in legal proceedings, it is born in the instant when no one is watching. The Judiciary has become a stage; the human being, a crossroads. It was in this clash between daily life and destiny that I understood that the book spoke less of Justice and more of the price of choices.
Severino abandons his judicial career to pursue a dream, but ends up trapped in a web of corruption and desire. Do you believe that, in a way, every idealist carries a risk of losing themselves in their own passion for what they believe in?
I believe so. Idealists tend to see the world with a purity that doesn't withstand the friction of reality, and Severino is an example of this. He leaves the judiciary seeking freedom, but he takes with him the flame that both illuminates and blinds. When passion for one's own cause becomes the sole compass, any deviation seems justifiable. That's where the risk appears.
The character Sofia represents both fascination and destruction. Is she a villain, a victim, or simply a reflection of the temptations that reside within each of us?
Sofia is an emotionally shadowy zone, impossible to categorize. The traumas she carries explain her actions, but they don't grant her moral sanction, and she knows how to transform fragility into a weapon with almost instinctive precision. I don't see her as a villain or a victim -- she operates in the realm where desire becomes neediness and neediness becomes power.
The judiciary is portrayed in the book as a space of power, but also of human fragility. What was the biggest challenge in balancing the perspective of a lawyer and the perspective of a writer when constructing this scenario?
The challenge was to prevent technique from swallowing the soul of the story. The lawyer sees structures; the writer sees broken people within them. I had to leave formalism in the background and bring human vulnerability to the center, without losing verisimilitude. The Judiciary is powerful, but its characters are fragile. Balancing these two perspectives was like walking an ethical and emotional tightrope.
You present a plot of intrigue and crime that feels almost cinematic. Is there an intention to translate the complexity of the legal world in a way that is accessible and emotional for the average reader?
Yes, that's the intention. Law can be arid, but its consequences are profoundly human, and that's where literature comes in. Transforming processes, reports, and strategies into tension, doubt, and choice makes the experience understandable for any reader. I wanted to show the emotional weight behind each legal decision. The cinematic form helps translate complexity into feeling.
The backlands of Bahia and Salvador are more than just settings -- they seem like characters in the narrative. How do these places interact with the contradictions and moral dilemmas experienced by the protagonists?
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The backlands are Severino's tough roots: memory, resistance, moral formation. Salvador is the opposite -- hot, seductive, contradictory, where every corner offers risk and promise. These places perfectly reflect the characters' internal conflict: between what they were and what they become. Geography mirrors ethics. The whole of Bahia breathes along with the plot.
In your book, seduction is not only erotic but also symbolic -- power, status, survival. In your view, what is the most dangerous form of seduction that exists in real life?
The most dangerous seduction is the one that whispers to the ego, not the body. It's the one that offers validation, power, importance -- precisely when we are emotionally defenseless. This seduction changes decisions, contaminates judgments, and creates justifications that seem noble. In books and in life, no one falls because of desire; they fall because of neediness. The ego seduces better than any beauty.
The story poses the question to the reader: what would you do in a critical situation? And you, Wadih -- do you believe we are judged more by our intentions or by the decisions we make when no one is watching?
I believe that, in the end, we are judged by the choices we make when the world is silent. Intentions comfort, but it is the hidden decisions that reveal character. Extreme situations expose who we truly are, not who we say we are. Severino learns this the hard way. And I believe this too: true judgment begins where there are no witnesses.
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