Free The TRIBUNAL by Peter B. Robinson

disappointed . Was it the excitement of finally standing in the Tribunal’s courtroom wearing a black robe, only to be shown the door? Did he wish for an opportunity to lance Stone where it would hurt the most: in his puffy British ego?
        When Kevin heard a door open behind him, he turned and saw Draga enter, surrounded by light blue uniformed guards. As soon as Draga appeared, the smooth, silver-haired Krasnic was on his feet, making his way to talk with him. The two men greeted each other warmly.
        Kevin sat down. He could see it would be over quickly.
        Diane would be pleased, and Ellen would be disappointed.
        “All rise! Veuillez vous lever! ” the usher bellowed, as an elderly judge entered the room. It was William Davidson of Great Britain. He was reputed to be the most cantankerous of the Tribunal’s judges.
        “Call the case,” he ordered.
        The clerk announced, “Prosecutor against Dragoljub Zaric, case number IT-96-30. Counsel, announce your appearances please.”
        Kevin rose with the other lawyers.
        “Charles Oswald and Bradford Stone for the Office of the Prosecutor,” Oswald said in a firm voice.
        “Vladimir Krasnic for Dragoljub Zaric, Your Honor.”
        It was Kevin’s turn. “Good morning, Your Honor,” he said, edging over to the podium where Krasnic was standing. “I am Kevin Anderson. I was asked by the Registrar to be temporary counsel for the accused.” He then sat down.
        Judge Davidson said nothing for a moment. Then he addressed Vladimir Krasnic. “Mr. Krasnic, has the accused retained you to be his counsel?”
        “No, Your Honor. He is requesting that I be his assigned counsel.”
        “Very well.” Turning to Draga, Judge Davidson asked, “Mr. Zaric, do you request that the court assign Mr. Krasnic to represent you?”
        Draga was looking down. He did not look up or say anything.
        “Mr. Zaric, can you hear me?” the judge asked, tapping on his microphone.
        Draga stood up slowly and looked directly at Judge Davidson. He spoke in a loud, defiant tone. “This court has no jurisdiction over me. You have kidnapped me from my sovereign country. I am a political prisoner. I refuse to participate in your show trial.”
        Draga sat down.
        Judge Davidson’s face reddened. “Mr. Zaric, do you request that Mr. Krasnic represent you or not?”
        Draga again was silent. He looked at the judge defiantly, crossed his arms, and said nothing.
        “Mr. Zaric, I ask you for the third and final time. Is it your request that Mr. Krasnic represent you?”
        After a second or two of silence, Vladimir Krasnic rose. “May I have a moment with my client?”
        “Yes. I believe that would be advisable.” Judge Davidson’s tone signaled a warning.
        Krasnic walked over and whispered to Draga. The two men spoke out of earshot, then Krasnic returned to the podium. “Your Honor, I believe that Mr. Zaric feels that by requesting counsel, he is somehow consenting to the legitimacy of these proceedings. He does not wish to do that. Perhaps the Court will accept my representation, as an officer of the Court, that Mr. Zaric desires the Court to assign me as his counsel.”
        Judge Davidson shook his head. “No, Mr. Krasnic. This man isn’t going to get any special treatment. The temporary counsel assigned by the Registrar will represent Mr. Zaric until he makes a request for a specific lawyer.”
        Judge Davidson looked at Kevin. “What did you say your name was, counsel?”
        “Kevin Anderson, Your Honor.”
        “Mr. Anderson, are you ready to proceed with the arraignment?”
        “Yes, Your Honor.” The words came out weakly. Kevin’s heart was racing at this turn of events.
        “Will the accused please rise?”
        Kevin turned and looked at Draga. He was still seated, staring coldly at the