“Free Myla! Free Myla!”

The chants rolled through the streets in loud waves, vibrating right through the thick bulletproof glass of the luxury sedan as it crawled through heavy traffic toward the television studio.

Myla leaned closer to the window, watching the sea of angry faces with awe and disbelief as camera flashes exploded nonstop around the convoy. 

It was surreal to watch a crowd of strangers screaming in anger for her sake, completely convinced she was a prisoner.

People lined ...