From a New Vantage Point: the ACCUSED

Callixte Kalimanzira was read his second, and final judgment last week at the ICTR. Take a second to consider the accusations against this man. In 2008 he was sentenced to 30 years in prison for charges of genocide and public incitement to genocide. What could a man like this look like?? I ask you to imagine someone's grandfather, with a polite smile on his face and a hearty laugh when the defense team (including two people I greatly admire) greets him. I watched from the public viewing room as they embraced like old friends. Looking behind me, I see his family waiting anxiously to hear the verdict. They sat through this process once two years ago, the wife already looks traumatized enough. Now they wait for his last chance at a fair hearing.

There had been rumors circulating that his sentence would be greatly reduced this second and final time around, based on the errors found in the law of his previous judgment. So we sat to hear the decision of the appeals judges. In the chair next to me sat a man who is known as one of the engineers of the genocide. He recently sat in the same seat as Kalimanzira, and was freed based on his appeal. He, no doubt, was waiting to celebrate with his friend after the judgment.

For about thirty minutes a judge from Israel read us the findings of the appeals chamber. They granted many of the motions to appeal (things like insufficient evidence, unreliable witness, etc.) and dismissed the motions from prosecution to extend the sentence to life. (Mind you, this judge from Israel is a survivor of a Holocaust work camp, and he is now leading a jury to consider acquitting (setting free) a man accused of genocide.)

They come to the end of the judgment, Kalimanzira's face is solemn as the judge says something to the extent of, based on the granting of several of your appeal motions, we will substantially lower your sentence. Everyone takes a deep breath. From 30 years to 25.

I felt the weight of this mans burden, and his family's burden in the room. Heavy. Suffocating. But then it was time for lunch.

Can you imagine, now, the importance of a fair trial? If this was you and your family waiting, anticipating your last chance for freedom and vindication, how would you feel about the priceless and yet sometimes trite principal of "innocent until proven guilty?"

[a note: genocide is a very serious crime. proving that someone has partaken in such a horrific thing is likewise a very serious task. I hope that no one will ever take these things lightly. But what is the difference between the man in the chair next to me who was released, and the man that will now serve 25 years in a third world prison? A better lawyer? Does it matter that the man who was released is rumored to have committed worse crimes? watching the practice of law from the side of the defense was quite unsettling. At the very least it reminded me that law is a practice. And law might rarely equal justice.]