The TRIBUNAL (10 page)

    Kevin offered his hand. “I’m Kevin Anderson. I was appointed to represent Dragoljub Zaric at the War Crimes Tribunal. As you probably know, he was kidnapped within the borders of your country and handed over to U.N. forces. On his behalf, I wish to file a formal request for your government to investigate his kidnapping and to prosecute those responsible.”

    Vacinovic paused. He did not look like much of a diplomat to Kevin.

    “Is that so?”

    “Yes.”

    “What makes you think my government will cooperate with an American lawyer?”

    “Well, our interests in this are the same. If I can prove that U.N. officials conspired to kidnap my client, then perhaps I can prove that the arrest was illegal and win his freedom. Then, maybe it will not happen again in the future to one of your citizens. That would be a good thing for your country, would it not?”

    Vacinovic stroked his goatee. “That would be a good thing.”

    “Then will you forward his request to the proper authorities?”

    Vacinovic eyed Kevin warily. “Mr. Anderson, a lot of people are not happy that an American lawyer was assigned to represent Mr. Zaric. I’m not sure how long you’ll remain in that capacity.”

    “Well, anything you can do to uncover the circumstances of Mr. Zaric’s arrest will be very helpful to whoever ends up representing him.”

    Vacinovic walked to the door and opened it. “I’ll see what we can do. Good day, Mr. Anderson.”

    It felt like a diplomatic brush-off, and Kevin left disappointed. Draga would be better off with a Serbian lawyer. At least his lawyer would have received a warmer reception at the Embassy.

    For the rest of that week, Kevin worked at the Peace Palace, a magnificent building with a large clock tower jutting into the gray skies of The Hague. It housed the World Court, formally known as the International Court of Justice, which decided civil disputes between countries, and contained a law library containing the largest collection of international law books in the world.

    As he walked through the building, Kevin felt like he was in a true temple of justice. A marble statue of Lady Justice greeted visitors on the main staircase. Elaborate murals by French artists depicted the wisdom of settling disputes with judges, rather than by war. Stained glass donated by Great Britain depicted the world as it had been torn by wars, and as it looked when people lived in harmony and settled their disputes civilly.

    Kevin was inspired by the bust of Mahatma Gandhi he came across in one of the corridors of the Peace Palace. The sculptor had captured the peacefulness and simplicity of Gandhi’s persona. Gandhi had persevered in the face of much greater adversaries than Bradford Stone and Vladimir Krasnic, and had survived much greater indignities than being laughed at in court, or rebuked by a judge.

    So could he.

    

    Ellen started school the next week. Some of her friends from camp were in her sixth grade classes, and the school had assigned each new student a returning student as a Student Ambassador. Ellen had scored well on two placement tests that the school gave her, and was assigned to the advanced Math and Spelling classes. “I even have a seventh grade spelling book,” she told Diane and Kevin proudly that night.

    On Thursday, Kevin waited for the postman. The prosecutor’s response to his motion for an identity hearing was due. When the postman came in the afternoon, there were two envelopes for Kevin, one big and one small.

    The small one was from Vladimir Krasnic. Kevin read Krasnic’s motion on Draga’s behalf asking that Krasnic be assigned as his counsel, but curiously, there was no signed request by Draga. Kevin doubted that Judge Davidson would allow Draga to change counsel unless he personally signed the request. Had Draga changed his mind?

    The big envelope was from the Office of the Prosecutor. Kevin flipped through the pages and saw that there were two stapled packets. One was a response to his motion.

    When he came to the second packet, Kevin gasped. It was entitled:

    “Motion to Disqualify Attorney Kevin Anderson for Conflict of Interest.”

    

    

    In the prosecution’s motion, Bradford Stone claimed Kevin should be disqualified because he had a pending application to be a prosecutor. He contended that Kevin’s desire to work as a prosecutor would prevent him from providing a vigorous defense to an accused. Several cases from the United States and other jurisdictions, as well as law review articles, were cited in support of the principle that a lawyer has a conflict of interest when he has applied to work for the other side.

    Stone also attached Kevin’s application and cover letter, in which he had expressed his desire to prosecute war criminals at the Tribunal. Stone even found an article about Kevin in the Santa Rosa newspaper, quoting him as saying that he looked forward to helping “bring to justice those responsible for the ethnic cleansing in Bosnia.”

    Kevin held his head in his hands. It was so true that he had wanted to be a prosecutor – heck, he’d even been
hired
as one only to have it taken away. Nonetheless, that did not prevent him from defending Draga, or any client, to the best of his ability.

    So far, he
had
provided a vigorous defense, and in so doing he’d alienated everyone in the system – including his own client. Kevin no longer had any illusions of working as a prosecutor at the Tribunal. He had to admit, though, that there was an appearance of a conflict of interest when a defense lawyer had his own personal agenda to curry favor with the prosecutor. He had certainly felt that conflict when representing Nihudian.

    Kevin looked over the response to his motion for an identity hearing. It was very powerful. Stone attached news media articles with photographs of Draga in his Black Dragon uniform. It was clearly the same man sitting in the Tribunal courtroom. Stone labeled Kevin’s motion as “frivolous.”

    When Ellen arrived home, Kevin gave no hint of his latest problems at the Tribunal.

    “Dad, some of my friends are going down to the
Langstraat
this afternoon on their bikes. Can I go with them?”

    The
Langstraat
was the pedestrian mall in the center of Wassenaar where lots of little shops were located. Kevin had noticed many kids Ellen’s age, or younger, bicycling to the
Langstraat
without their parents. While he liked the idea of giving Ellen the independence that Dutch parents gave their children, Kevin was concerned. After all, she was only eleven, and a stranger in a foreign land.

    “Let’s wait and ask Mommy on that one. She should be home any minute.”

    When Diane arrived, Ellen ran outside and popped the question.

    Diane came in the house and said to Kevin, “I don’t know about her going so far on a bike without an adult.”

    “But, Mom, it’s less than a mile away,” Ellen pleaded. “It’s not much further than school. And four girls are going with me.”

    Diane looked at Kevin. “What do you think?”

    “I guess it would be okay. Everyone else seems to let their kids do it.”

    “See, it’s okay with Daddy. Please, Mom, please.”

    Ellen knew how to play one parent off the other.

    “I guess so,” Diane finally said.

    “All right!” As Ellen ran up to hug and kiss her mother, she winked at her father.

    In fifteen minutes, Ellen’s friends rode up on their bicycles and Ellen was off on her shiny new purple bike with a sing-song bell attached to the handlebars. Diane had given her some spending money, and a phone card to use if she needed to call home.

    After Ellen left, Diane and Kevin talked about the wisdom of their decision.

    “That’s one of the nice things about living in Holland,” Kevin said. “It seems a lot safer here.”

    A few minutes later the phone rang. Diane and Kevin both jumped, thinking it might be Ellen.

    Kevin got to the phone first. “Hello.”

    “Is this Kevin Anderson?” asked a man with a heavy accent.

    “Yes.”

    “This is Toma Lanko from the Bosnia News Service. Do you have a minute?”

    Kevin signaled to Diane that it was not Ellen. “Sure.”

    “Do you have any comment on the prosecutor’s motion to disqualify you?”

    Kevin was taken by surprise. He had just gotten the motion himself a few hours earlier. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to be arguing motions outside of court. I’ll have plenty to say about it at the hearing.”’

    He found himself speaking with more bravado than he felt.

    “I’ve spoken with Draga on the telephone this afternoon,” the reporter went on. “Here is what he said: ‘They sent a prosecutor to defend me? This is just more proof that this court is a farce. It is obvious I will receive no justice here.’ Do you have any comment on that, Mr. Anderson?”

    Kevin was stung by the words of his client. “I’m sorry, but I can’t get into a public debate with my client. I’m sure you can understand.”

    “I understand, but without your response, my story is not going to make you look very good.”

    “You have a job to do. I appreciate you giving me the chance to comment. But I just can’t go there.”

    “As you wish. Have a nice day.”

    So far, it had been anything but a nice day.

    The next morning, Kevin switched on his computer and located the web site for the Bosnia News Service. He saw the headline: Draga’s Lawyer Exposed as Prosecutor. The story reported that the Tribunal had assigned Draga a former prosecutor who had never defended anyone in his life. It quoted Kevin’s letter and the Santa Rosa newspaper article in which he had said he wanted to help bring war criminals to justice. The article also contained Draga’s quote. A spokesman for the prosecutor’s office agreed that Kevin’s appointment had been inappropriate but said that there was no deliberate attempt to saddle Draga with a lawyer who would not look after his interests.

    “After all,” the prosecution spokesman was quoted as saying, “we were the one who brought this conflict of interest to the court’s attention.” The article concluded by noting that Kevin had refused to comment.

    Kevin knew that he had to confront this problem right away and not wait a month until court resumed. He typed a letter to the prosecutor, formally withdrawing his job application. He no longer wanted to work for those people. The practical side of him knew that there was no chance they would hire him now anyway. Kevin rode his bike to the Tribunal and dropped off the letter.

    Then, he rode over to the prison, where he was led into an interview room. When Draga arrived, Kevin walked up to him and looked him straight in the eye. “I have no conflict of interest. I will fight for you as hard as I know how.”

    Draga looked away.

    “Before I came here,” Kevin continued, “I did want to prosecute. I thought they were the good guys. But since I’ve been here I’ve seen how they abuse their power. If I get the opportunity, I’m going to jump up and down on the defense side of the scales and do my best to see that it balances out.”

    Draga said nothing. Both men were still standing less than a foot from each other, with Draga towering over Kevin.

    “If you don’t want me to be your lawyer,” Kevin said, “you can just tell the Court on September 4
^th
and the judge will be happy to assign you someone else.”

    Draga walked over to the door, opened it, and left. He had again said nothing.

    The meeting had lasted all of thirty seconds.

    

    On Monday, September 4
^th
, Kevin donned his robe and entered Courtroom 1 shortly before court was scheduled to start. Vladimir Krasnic took his seat at the defense table with Kevin, but selected the chair farthest away.

    Judge Davidson strode to the bench like a man with a purpose.

    “We have several matters to take up at this hearing,” he said in an authoritative voice after the case was called. He looked down at the leather book where he made his notes. “I see we have a motion filed by Mr. Anderson, one by Mr. Krasnic, and one by the prosecution. We will also complete Mr. Zaric’s arraignment today.”

    “We will first take up Mr. Anderson’s Motion for an Identity Hearing. Mr. Anderson, do you have one shred of evidence to offer that the man seated in this courtroom is not the same Dragoljub Zaric as accused in the indictment?”

    Kevin rose quickly. “No, Your Honor.”

    “That’s what I thought. Your motion is frivolous, counsel, and a waste of the Court’s time. It is denied.”

    “Your Honor,” said Kevin, who remained standing. “Four years ago, an innocent man named Goran Lasic spent over three months in custody because this Court had no procedure in place to hold an identity hearing. Perhaps you will find, after a hearing, that the accused in this case is the man charged in this indictment. But unless you rule that an accused is entitled to such a hearing, you are permitting a system to exist which is fundamentally unjust.”

    “Your motion is denied, counsel,” Judge Davidson said loudly. “Now sit down!”

    Kevin obeyed. The hearing had not started off well. Kevin wondered why Judge Davidson had not begun with the disqualification issue.

    “We shall now arraign Mr. Zaric,” the judge ordered. “The Court, having found beyond a reasonable doubt that the accused is the same Dragoljub Zaric as charged in the indictment, now calls upon the accused to plead.” Turning to Draga, Judge Davidson asked, “What is your plea, Mr. Zaric, guilty or not guilty?”

    Draga said nothing.

    “Mr. Anderson,” the judge said, not missing a beat, “as counsel of record for the accused, do you request that a not guilty plea be entered on his behalf?”