A Far Justice (16 page)

FIFTEEN

The Hague

Melwin stood in front of the big poster boards lining the walls of his office.
He gestured at the boards with their ordered boxes connected by arrows and information points. Rows of manila folders were carefully arranged on the conference table, all keyed to the big boards. He had created a masterful legal argument and had brought it all together with one day to go. “That’s it,” Melwin said. He collapsed into a chair next to Hank. “I still believe the lack of temporal jurisdiction is our most compelling argument for dismissal. We should lead with that rather than saving it for later in the trial.”

“I agree it is our best argument,” Hank replied, “But, given the court’s rather cavalier attitude about jurisdiction, it’s all in the timing. Hopefully, by the time we raise the issue we will have given the court other reasons to bail, and they will latch onto
ratione temporis
like a drunken sailor grabbing the last bottle of rum.” The American smiled. “Melwin, I got to admit, what you’ve done is absolutely brilliant.”

“Thanks to Cassandra and her team,” Melwin said.

“It was a pleasure,” Cassandra said with a definite Irish accent. The percom had become permanently attached to Melwin and Hank suspected the Irishman even took it to bed with him.

The intercom buzzed. “I know you said not to disturb you,” Aly said. “But Bouchard wants to see you immediately in his office, and you have a visitor, Marci Lennox. She says you know her.”

“Ask her if I’m in trouble,” Hank said. He heard a familiar, and very wicked laugh in the background. “I’ll be right out.”

“Is that the Marci Lennox?” Melwin asked. “American TV’s weapon of torture for inflicting pain and punishment on the rich and powerful?”

“The one and only,” Hank admitted. “A ghost of sins past. Alex, take the rest of the day off and get a good night’s rest. You’ll need it tomorrow.” He went to meet his guest.

The woman waiting with Aly was trim and pretty with an elfin look that suggested a mischievous nature. But there was nothing playful about the way she did business. She rushed up and gave Hank a hug. “You haven’t changed a bit,” she said as a cameraman recorded it all.

“Marci, you are looking better than ever. I take it you’re covering the trial.”

“Only the first day or two,” she said.

“That’s a lifetime commitment in your business.” He pulled back to look at her. “I’m sorry, but the court has me under a gag order. I can’t talk to the media.”

“Not even to verify a few facts?” she asked. She didn’t wait for an answer. “I hear Melwin has a drinking problem and his girlfriend is a prostitute. And what about the rumors that women are visiting Tyler late at night in his cell?”

“Still doing the sex and scandal bit?”

“It does help the ratings.”

“Sorry, Marci. I can’t talk. I’ve got to go.” He beat a hasty retreat, fully aware that he was being videotaped.

The corridors were almost deserted and he stopped on the fly bridge linking the two towers. The forecourt below was packed with people, banners, and TV crews. A long line of trucks with raised satellite antennas stretched down the street as far as he could see. The circus had started.

Bouchard’s secretary actually seemed happy to see him. “I must apologize for the short notice,” she whispered. “Security told him about the TV reporter in your office.” She raised her voice as Denise walked in. “Please go right in.”

Bouchard looked at him with an icy calm. “It has come to my attention that you spoke to a reporter a few minutes ago, which you were specifically ordered not to do. I have no choice but to demand that President Relieu remove you as defense counsel.”

“Marci Lennox came to my office unannounced, and I honored your request not to speak to the press and refused to answer any questions. If you remove me now, well, just look outside your window.”

Denise played the peacemaker. “Monsieur Sutherland cannot stop reporters from approaching him. I see no problem as long as he refuses to answer their questions.”

Bouchard grumped as his fingers beat a tattoo on his desk. “Very well. I will overlook it for now. President Relieu has announced that Justices Carla Della Sante and Heinrich Richter will also be sitting with me.”

“I was wondering when he would get around to that,” Hank murmured.

Bouchard ignored him. “In regards to tomorrow, once the court is called to order, I will make a few opening remarks and then ask for opening business. As I stated earlier, I do not tolerate surprises in my chamber. Are there any petitions, objections, or observations for presentation at that time?”

“There are none,” Denise answered. Her answer seemed to satisfy Bouchard.

“Good. The charges against the defendant will then be read and I will ask for Tyler’s plea. I assume it will be not guilty. Then I will ask for opening statements and that will conclude the day’s activities.” He fixed Hank with a hard look. “Do not attempt to make a mockery of these proceedings, Monsieur Sutherland.”

“I won’t disappoint you,” Hank replied.

“See that you don’t,” Bouchard said, dismissing them.

Hank tried to remain calm as he hurried back to his office. But Aly saw through him the moment he came through the door. “What’s happened?”

“Has Alex left yet?”

Aly motioned at the Irishman’s office and Hank rushed in. “The other two judges are Della Sante and Richter.”

Melwin thought for a moment. “It could be worse. Richter is probably the most intelligent judge on the court. He’s very deliberate and logical.” A worried look crossed the barrister’s face. “But his father was a member of Hitler’s German Youth and we don’t know how he feels about Americans. As for Della Sante, she is extremely well connected politically in Italy, and a very opinionated and emotional woman. Do not expect any two days to be the same.”

“Lovely,” Hank muttered. “Absolutely lovely.”

“There is one thing, she’s the only judge who didn’t want the post. She was pressured by her government to serve.”

Hank was hopeful. “It sounds like the Italians know how to select judges.” He firmly believed that no one who wanted to be a judge should ever be allowed on the bench.

SIXTEEN

The Hague

Hans Blier, the prison superintendent, walked purposefully down the
corridor leading to Gus’s cell. Two guards carrying a dark blue suit, white shirt, and a new pair of black oxford shoes followed him. Blier waited while a third guard opened the door. “Colonel Tyler,” he said, “the court ordered you to wear a suit, not your uniform. Please change.”

“I’m on trial because of what I did as an officer, but can’t wear my uniform?”

Blier’s face was unreadable. “This is beyond my control.” He held up a set of handcuffs and a waist chain. “If you persist in wearing your uniform, I will have to use these.” He let it sink in. “I would prefer to have my staff escort you to the courtroom with dignity.”

Gus made a decision. “A little privacy, please.”

Two prison guards wearing dress uniforms escorted Gus into the holding cell immediately behind the courtroom where the court’s chief of security was waiting. “Why are you late?” he demanded. “The trial starts in four minutes, and he should be in the dock.” His face flushed with anger. “Where are his handcuffs and waist chain? The prosecutor ordered them on during the trial.”

The guard in charge of the detail gave him a disdainful look. “Superintendent Blier never mentioned handcuffs or a waist chain. We will have to send for them.”

“There isn’t time,” the chief of security wailed. He motioned them down the hall, anxious to get his charge into courtroom on time.

“Please thank Superintendent Blier for me,” Gus told his guards.

The chief of security held the door to the courtroom and a single guard escorted Gus into the dock, the small enclosure where he would sit for the trial. Hank and Melwin were already seated at the defense table, both wearing the required black robes with white bib. Hank stood and walked to the dock, fully aware the TV cameras were recording his every move. As the microphones were turned off, he assumed the media networks had lip readers trying to pickup what they were saying.

Gus grinned. “You look real pretty in that outfit.”

“Wore one just like it to my prom,” Hank said. The two men looked at each other for a moment. “Just like we discussed, okay?”

“You got it,” Gus assured him.

Hank returned to his table as Denise entered with her two assistants. There was a slight stir as Jason entered the courtroom with Hank’s wife, Catherine. The audience buzzed with interest and heads turned as they found their seats immediately behind the defense table. Jason was wearing his Service Dress uniform, and carried the Security Forces dark-blue beret with the Defensor Fortis patch in his left hand. Hank wanted the father and son team to loom larger than life, to dominate the courtroom with a commanding presence. Half the woman in the audience bisected Catherine Sutherland and gave her high marks for her well-cut and stylish business suit. The other half envied her for having such a handsome escort.

Hank turned to his wife. “The prosecutor is giving you the once over.”

“She is beautiful,” Catherine allowed, fully aware that there were many kinds of judgment going on in the courtroom. She spoke in a low voice. “It was just announced on the news that the President is pushing the UN for action on China.”

“I imagine that will definitely speed things up here,” Hank replied.

The head clerk glanced nervously at the audience and the TV cameras. The red light on her desk blinked and she took a deep breath. “Please stand for the entrance of the judges.” The spectators in the packed courtroom came to their feet as the three blue-robed judges filed in. Bouchard was his usual lumbering gray self. Carla Della Sante was a petite, bird-like woman in her mid fifties, with short, obviously dyed, dark blonde hair. Heinrich Richter was a nondescript, balding, heavyset man in his early forties.

The clerk panicked and couldn’t remember what to say next. Denise bent over her microphone and spoke. “Please remain standing silently until the judges are seated.” Every commentator in the media booth set high above the audience at the rear commented on Denise’s regal beauty and how her commanding sense of presence had averted an embarrassing moment.

Bouchard took his seat, obviously peeved at the awkward beginning. “Please be seated.” The audience sank into their seats and the courtroom was absolutely silent.

The red-faced clerk found her voice. “Good morning your Honors. The International Criminal Court is now in session, the prosecutor versus August William Tyler.” She bowed to the judges.

This was Bouchard’s moment and he swelled with importance. He spoke in English. “Good morning and I welcome all to this chamber. We are a court of international criminal law concerned with crimes common to all of humanity. Many spectators will find our procedures different than their national courts. However, our goal is the same: we seek justice for humanity. As is customary, we begin each day by asking the prosecutor and the defense whether they have any objections, observations, or petitions for the chamber’s consideration. Madam Prosecutor, are there any issues to be brought before the court?”

Denise stood. “There are none, your Honor.”

Melwin came to his feet. “May it please the court, the defense has a petition for your consideration at this time.”

Bouchard’s face flushed with anger. But he was painfully aware that the TV cameras were zooming in on him and managed to control his voice. “Please proceed.”

Melwin stepped to the podium and opened a manila folder. “Article Twelve of the Rome Statute clearly states that this court only has jurisdiction over individuals who are citizens of States that are parties to the Statute. As Colonel Tyler is a citizen of the United States, which is not a signatory to the Statute,
ratione personae
is not established. Consequently, the court does not have jurisdiction over Colonel Tyler. Therefore, we petition the Court for dismissal.” He handed the petition, a blue-covered four-page document, to the clerk.

Denise was on her feet. “I must object to learned counsel’s use of the defendant’s former military title.”

Bouchard spoke quietly with Della Sante and Richter. “That issue,” Bouchard announced, “was decided by the pre-trail chamber. The defendant will be referred to as Mr. Tyler.”

Della Sante leaned forward and folded her hands. “Signore Melwin, the issue of jurisdiction was also decided by the pre-trial chamber.” She leafed through the red-covered bench book in front of her. “Rule 122 states that once such an issue or objection is ruled on in the pre-trial confirmation hearing, it may not be raised again in the trial proceedings.”

Melwin bowed respectfully to her. “Your Honor, if I may refer to the transcript of the confirmation hearing.” He turned a page. “If you will carefully review those proceedings, you will see that no motion or objection was filed by any officer of the court or the defendant. During the pre-trial proceedings, the defendant merely asked, ‘Why am I here?’ At that point the prosecutor explained her position on
ratione personae.
The court then continued without a petition or objection ever being placed before it. That issue is now before the court for the first time in the proper and correct form. By its own rules of procedures, the court must rule on a question of jurisdiction before continuing.”

Bouchard’s face flushed. “We will recess to review defense’s petition and will reconvene in one hour.”

The clerk bounced to her feet. “Please stand.” Bouchard stood and led the other two judges out.

“Well, that was quick,” Catherine said.

Hank spun around in his comfortable high-backed chair. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” He leaned close to his wife and lowered his head so the cameras could not focus on his face. She was an accomplished lawyer in her own right and Hank trusted her judgment. “Cathy, I’ve got a feeling about Della Sante.”

“I’ll work on it,” Catherine promised.

As planned, Melwin walked over to the dock. On cue, the cameras followed him. “Colonel Tyler, I know what you think of me, but I am totally dedicated to your defense.”

Gus extended his hand. “Hank was right about you and I apologize.” They shook hands, playing to the cameras.

Exactly one hour later, a different clerk entered the courtroom and sat down. Hank glanced at the man. “Well, I guess we know what they were really deciding.” The red light on the clerk’s desk blinked. This time the clerk got it right and they were back in session.

Bouchard took his seat and looked over his glasses at Melwin. “We have reviewed defense counsel’s petition to dismiss. We find that the prosecutor’s position during the pre-trial proceedings was correct, and that the defendant is also a citizen of Panama, which is a member of the court. Therefore, the court does have jurisdiction and the petition is denied.”

Melwin was on his feet. “May I ask what the court’s vote was?”

The request caught Bouchard off guard and he glanced nervously at Della Sante. “The court is in consensus.”

Hank leaned into Melwin. “He didn’t say ‘unanimous.’ It looks like we’ve got a friend at court.”

“Indeed,” Melwin replied in a low voice.

Bouchard cleared his throat. “The clerk will read the charges to the accused.”

The clerk stepped to the center podium. “The defendant is charged with the war crime of willful killing under Article Eight of the Rome Statute and with the war crime of employing prohibited weapons under Article Eight of the Rome Statute.” He detailed the specific elements of each crime and sat down.

Bouchard turned to Gus. “Do you understand the nature of the crimes you are charged with?”

Gus stood, and, as Hank had told him, hesitated. It was a deliberate ploy to give the cameras time to fully focus on him. “Yes, your Honor, I do.”

“How do you plead to the charges?”

Gus’s head came up, his jaw set, his voice firm. “Not guilty.” The words echoed over the courtroom.

Bouchard jotted down a note. “Madam Prosecutor, you may present your opening statement.”

Denise stepped to the podium and, fully aware that the cameras were on her, fought the urge to toss her hair into place. “Since time immemorial, war has been the curse and the fate of humankind. But for the last thousand years the civilized world has tried to limit and control its destructiveness.”

Hank resigned himself to a long speech and split his attention as Denise spoke. It was a skill he had developed as a prosecutor, and he relied on a sixth sense to catch the key words and phrases he called ‘bullets.’ “The law has proven to be our refuge and guide in this quest,” Denise said. Hank studied the three judges for their reactions. Nothing. He waited for Denise’s first bullet. It came twelve minutes later. “The precedents of Nuremberg and the Tokyo war trials must not be lost.” The look on Richter’s face was ample evidence that Denise had pushed the wrong button. But Della Sante was different. She had a calm and understanding look but there was something about her neither Hank nor Catherine could read.

Again, Hank waited for the next bullet. Denise did not disappoint him. “International law,” she said, “has given us guideposts by distinguishing between civilians and combatants. We must not erase this distinction, we must not allow anyone to cross this line and drag humanity into the depths of unrestricted warfare using weapons that are inherently meant to be indiscriminate and widespread in their effects.” A low murmur of approval swept through the audience.

Hank studied Gus’s reaction as Denise continued. The pilot was playing it perfectly with just the right mixture of respect and doubt.
He glanced at his watch. Denise had been talking for over an hour. He studied the judges and their body language and decided they weren’t really listening.

“The Rome Statute,” Denise said, playing to her audience, “has been rightfully criticized for its inability to reach into the past and to correct obvious crimes against humanity. Fortunately, our system of justice has grown and matured and we can now correct this fault.” Della Sante beamed as she listened. Ten minutes later, Denise reached a conclusion. “The law is not mere theory but an instrument for bringing justice to those who commit crimes against humanity. No state or organization is on trial here, only the individual who committed these crimes, who wantonly killed hundreds of innocent people. Need I remind the court, or the world for that matter, that there is no statute of limitations for murder? As such, the court’s jurisdiction is not subject to any statute of limitations. For these reasons I bring you the criminal Tyler. I do this under the authority of the Rome Statute, and in the name of the United Nations, and for all humanity.”

A smattering of applause rippled across the room and crescendoed into a roar. Bouchard looked tolerantly at the audience as it died away. “We are in recess for lunch and will reconvene in two hours.” The courtroom rapidly emptied as the spectators and judges hurried to the restrooms.

Hank turned to his wife. “Any ideas?”

“A few,” she said. “I’ll know better after we finish today. I’d suggest Alex keeps it short.”

“That’s the plan.” Hank ambled over to Gus who was still in the dock. “How’s your bladder doing?”

“No problem. Why?”

“You need to project an image of a man totally in control of himself, and at ease with who and what you are. When anyone looks at you or Jason, I want them to see who they want to be. When they look at the judges, they’ll see who they are.”