Justice only just beginning, a decade later

I have been reluctant to write about my workplace because everything I do is either strictly confidential, exceedingly boring, or both. Part of the boring aspect is that much of my service work over the past couple of months has involved administrative matters ("editing bad English") in preparation for the commencement of war crimes trials, which, until very recently, the Court has not been prepared to undertake. But in the past few weeks, the trials have, one by one, quietly been launched. I am fortunate enough to be here during this exciting and unique period. There is a new energy to the Court now that the institution is tangibly relevant.

As a lowly intern, I am allowed to leave my internet surfing station ("desk"), to watch some of the trial proceedings, all of which are open to the public. I will try and relay some of my observations in the coming weeks.

A couple weeks ago I attended the trial of a Serb officer accused of taking part in the mass execution of 24 people. It was in a small courtroom, and I found myself only a few feet away from the defendant himself. He was a diminutive, skinny man with big glasses and an awkward moustache -- the class nerd 30 years later.

One seems to look at a war criminal differently than a serial killer, perhaps because he is perceived to be free of homicidal inclinations outside of war, and thus not entirely psychotic. Or perhaps this is a corollary of the taint on human nature which allows some to consider mass murderers heroes, as long as the killing is done for a political cause. In any case, I doubt I would have been as calm sitting next to Ted Bundy. (Sadly, this sentiment is reflected in the fact that sentences for war crimes, even for multiple murders, rarely exceed 20 years.)

On that day, a woman whose husband had allegedly been murdered by the defendant testified. In all trials, the most dramatic and shocking of statements are relayed in English by a dull interpreter's voice through headphones. I shifted uncomfortably as the voice droned on robotically about how she had finally found her husband's body, a dirty skeleton with a crushed skull. She managed to identify the remains by his distinctively curved spine and a pair of scissors found in his pocket.

She ended her testimony with: "At his funeral, we could hear shooting in the distance..."