Free A Far Justice by Richard Herman Page B

International Criminal Court and the arrest of Colonel Tyler. Personally, I think it’s a matter of geography. In the United States, we’re just too spread out and too far away to feel physically involved. Distance does lessen the impact.”
    Gus’s laugh filled his cell. Hank had taken the issue away from de Rijn. That’s not the answer you wanted, was it?
    “Perhaps,” de Rijn continued, “we could start by asking why Americans are so hostile to the court?”
    Don’t ask the question if you can’t stand the answer, Gus thought.
    “It’s not a question of hostility,” Hank replied, “but of a fundamental conflict that goes to the very heart of the International Criminal Court. Our constitution guarantees every US citizen the right to a trial by an impartial jury of his peers. There is no trial by jury under the ICC.”
    Gus read the expression on de Rijn’s face. You didn’t like that answer either, did you?
    The door of his cell swung open and a guard he had never seen before, a hulking brute of a man, rushed in. He turned off the TV, quickly disconnected it, and jerked it off the shelf. “It is not allowed,” he said with a heavy guttural accent. “The prosecutor’s orders.” He walked out, kicking the door shut. This time, Hank heard the lock click shut. The lights went out.
    So why are they turning up the pressure? Gus wondered. He stretched out on his narrow bunk, folded his hands behind his head, and thought about it.
     
     
    Denise tried to relax into her office chair, as her elegant OMAS pen twiddled in her fingers like a miniature baton. But nothing helped as she focused on the TV screen that retracted into the center of her black-lacquered desk. The TV camera zoomed in on de Rijn as he made a show of consulting his notes. She raged to herself as her anger broke over the seawall that contained it. Less than an hour ago, de Rijn’s producer had assured her they would crucify Tyler in the court of Dutch public opinion. But that wasn’t happening, and Sutherland had captured the interview.
    De Rijn looked into the camera. “Professor Sutherland, you have gone on record as saying the court is the logical outgrowth of the Nuremberg Trial at the end of World War II.”
    “I never used the word ‘logical.’ While the ICC is seen as an outgrowth of Nuremberg, the comparison does not hold up under close scrutiny.”
    “Nonsense. Of course it does.”
    Hank shook his head. “Nuremberg was held after the unconditional surrender of Germany to the Allied Powers. The trial was convened by the Allied Powers who, because of Germany’s unconditional surrender, were the sovereign authority in Germany, and held jurisdiction. The defendants were Germans, and the trial was held in the heart of Germany for crimes committed in Germany or German occupied lands. No one has ever explained how we got from that situation to the International Criminal Court.”
    De Rijn dropped that line of questioning. “Is that your only objection to the court?”
    “The court claims that it has jurisdiction over states that are not parties to the Statute of Rome,” Hank replied.
    De Rijn smiled, now on firmer ground. “It’s called the doctrine of universal jurisdiction. The civilized world believes it is an idea whose time has come.”
    “Yet the Statute of Rome specifically limits the jurisdiction of the court to states that are parties to the statute.”
    De Rijn smiled patronizingly. “Nonsense.”
    “This is a matter of public record,” Hank said. “The jurisdiction of the court is clearly stated in the preamble and Article Four of the Statute. The court simply does not have jurisdiction over Colonel Tyler. He is a citizen of the United States and is not subject to the court’s jurisdiction.”
    “But he is also a citizen of Panama, which is a signatory to the Rome Statute establishing the court.”
    “Not exactly,” Hank replied. “Colonel Tyler can apply for Panamanian citizenship based on the location of