Pakistan's government, he said, "could not protect 400 schools in Swat. They should be repenting that they could not protect the girls to be flogged. They could not protect the infrastructure of Swat to be sold, and they could not protect the men to be slaughtered in the square. Why should I repent?"
When Malala was young, she wanted to be a doctor. She got good grades, she told Amanpour -- and not just because her father was the school principal, she chuckled -- and in her community, the studious girls could become one of two things: a doctor or a teacher.
Ziauddin, no doubt with some mix of affection and recognition that she was a prodigy, encouraged her to speak up and think about going into politics.
Soon, she started to like the idea.
"I realized that becoming a doctor, I can only help a small community," she said. "But by becoming a politician, I can help my whole country."
And, with a wry sense of humor that surprised and delighted the town hall audience, she added that many doctors in Pakistan "have to treat patients who are being injured, who are being killed. So I want to go and stop those people who are doing killings. So it's also like helping doctors."
And yes, she added, "I want to become a Prime Minister of Pakistan."
The nuclear family
So much attention has been focused on Malala and her father -- so progressive in their cause -- that it is easy to forget the mother and two brothers who have stayed almost invisible to the public eye.
"The first and the important thing in my life is that I raise my voice -- against my brothers," she joked. "I am, like, the only daughter. So it's very necessary to fight against them and to raise our voice against them."
Her mother, who is devoutly religious, has supported her cause, Malala said, but just has maintained a modest profile.
She grew up illiterate in Urdu, the national language of Pakistan, and English, literate only in her local mother tongue.
"I used to write poems to her," Ziauddin admitted, blushing.
Malala rescued her father from further embarrassment.
"A father must not share it in front of his daughter," she said through a broad grin, "because the daughters learn from parents."
Malala said her mother used to take her to the market and scold her for not properly covering her head.
"She used to tell me, cover your face. See, that man is looking at you," Malala told Amanpour. "I said, mom, I'm also looking at them!"
"We love our culture," Ziauddin said. His wife, he said, has "always (had) her scarf. And this is not something imposed. This is cultural."
"For me, all cultural and traditional things, they are very lovely when they don't go against human rights. So that is simple."
The fateful day
On October 9, 2012, Malala was on the white bench of her Toyota TownAce school van on her way home from school. She had just taken an exam and was happy to be chatting with her friends.
Two men stood in the middle of the road, blocking the van's path. One started speaking to the driver.
"Another boy, he came at the back," Malala told Amanpour. "He asked, 'Who is Malala?' All the girls, they got furious. No one could understand what he is saying, because we were thinking about our next-day exam paper. And on that day we were having a gossip: who would get the higher marks, who would get the lower marks."
"He asked, 'Who is Malala?' He did not give me time to answer [the] question. ... And then in the next few seconds he fired three bullets. One bullet hit me in the left side of my forehead, just above here," she said, gesturing to the left side of her forehead.