Saturday, February 14, 2009

Trials underway

One of the Tuol Sleng victims where Duch presided over thousands of deaths
The Khmer Rouge Tribunal is hotting up this coming week with the initial trial hearing for Duch, the former head of Tuol Sleng Prison, aka S-21, the first of the trials of the former Khmer Rouge leaders to come to fruition. He's been incarcerated for nearly a decade already but it'll be another month or so before his trial proper gets underway. It was way back in 1999 that Duch revealed himself as the former S-21 chief, he'd been living under the assumed name of Ta Pin, and he was subsequently arrested. Now is the time of reckoning for Duch. He has admitted his role in the Khmer Rouge regime and his case is perhaps the most open and shut of the five that are in custody awaiting trial. We shall see. This article appeared in today's Times Online. There will be many such articles over the coming days and weeks, which I won't re-print here, or else my blog will collapse under the weight of them. Suffice to say I will post anything that I think adds new insight into the trials.

Masters of Cambodia's killing fields face justice at last - by Anne Barrowclough

Him Huy, a seasoned executioner at Tuol Sleng, studied the list of names of people he would kill that night. When the silent, terrified prisoners had been lifted on to his lorry he drove them out to the pretty orchard on the outskirts of Phnom Penh. There, he took them one by one to the ditches that had been freshly dug, forced them to kneel and clubbed them to death with an iron bar. “Sometimes it took just one blow, sometimes two,” he told The Times. “After I clubbed them someone else would slit their throats. But every time I clubbed someone to death I would think, tomorrow, this might be me kneeling here, with one of the other guards killing me.”

In the orgy of cruelty unleashed on Cambodia during the insane years of Pol Pot's rule, Tuol Sleng, formerly a high school, was to become a symbol of the apocalyptic state the Khmer Rouge created. Enveloped in secrecy and identified only by the code name S-21, it existed solely to interrogate and kill the men and women incarcerated behind its walls, the vast majority of whom would never leave it alive. From 1976, until Vietnamese troops took over Phnom Penh in January 1979, as many as 17,000 men, women and children were taken to S-21 to be interrogated for counter-revolutionary crimes, and then killed. Only 14 are known to have survived, although recent evidence suggests that five child prisoners may have escaped and still be alive today. Thousands of innocents died here - but so too did members of Pol Pot's own circle, Khmer Rouge soldiers and the prison's own guards. “Out of my interrogation unit of 12, only I survived,” said Prak Khan, a soldier who became a torturer at the prison. The man who presided over the atrocities of Tuol Sleng with fanatical devotion was Kang Kek Ieu, also known as Comrade Duch, who was posted to S-21 in 1976. He goes to trial this week, accused of crimes against humanity.

Today Cambodia is, on the surface, a peaceful country with a thriving tourist industry. Casual conversations with Cambodians reveal nothing of the horrors of the Khmer Rouge years. But behind the superficial serenity, the people are still traumatised by their memories. In interviews with The Times, the prison survivors, guards and even those who carried out the worst atrocities described Duch as a man of almost sub-human cruelty, who instilled terror into prisoners and guards. Bou Meng, an artist who was taken to S-21 in 1977, remembers how Duch would visit the room where he and dozens of other prisoners were shackled to the floor. “He ordered me to beat the man beside me with a bamboo cane while he watched,” he said. “Then Duch ordered the man to beat me. You could see the pleasure in his face.” Duch was a frequent visitor to the torture rooms, where he drove the interrogation units to ever-harsher techniques as they worked through the day and night in four-hour shifts. “The sound of screaming was all around us all the time,” said Vann Nath, a former prisoner and now a renowned artist.

Duch brought the orderly mind of a dedicated teacher to S-21. He kept a meticulous record of the prison's workings and read every confession. Often, he would send them back with corrections marked in red pen, as if they were the test papers of a reluctant student. “Sometimes the confessions came back saying, ‘must get more from the prisoner',” said Prak Khan. The prisoners were deemed guilty simply because they had been accused - and it was the interrogators' duty to force them to admit that guilt. Many admitted to crimes they did not even understand. “I had not even heard of the CIA,” said Bou Meng. “But they beat me with bamboo rods and electric cables until I confessed that I worked for the CIA and the KGB.”

“We kept torturing them until they confessed,” said Prak Khan. “If they didn't, the torture got worse. We pulled out their finger and toenails and gave them electric shocks. Sometimes we would tie a bag over their head so they suffocated. We'd take it off just as they were about to fall unconscious. If they still didn't confess, they'd be killed.” Some inmates were sent to a clinic to “donate” blood to the army hospitals. Prak Khan, whose interrogation room was adjacent to the doctors' clinic, said: “They would bring the prisoners blindfolded and tie them to the beds with their legs and arms spread out. They attached lines to their arms. The tubes led to a bottle on the floor. They pumped all the blood out until the bodies were limp. Then they threw the bodies into pits outside.”

The routine was always the same for the prisoners taken to S-21. Told they were being taken from their homes to work as teachers, doctors or mechanics, they were handcuffed on arrival, photographed and forced into cells, often 60 at a time, where they were shackled by the ankle. They were banned from speaking to guards or each other. At night they were not allowed even to turn over without permission. “If the guards heard our shackles they would beat us,” said Chum Mey, a mechanic. He spent his first two weeks being tortured day and night. “They pulled out my fingernails and toenails. Then they put electric wires in my ears. I heard the generator and then I felt the fire coming out of my eyes. After 12 days and 12 nights I signed their confession and they took me to a big room with other prisoners. Every night we waited to hear the trucks come. If midnight arrived and they hadn't come we knew we would live another 24 hours.”

The guards lived through their own hell. Him Huy, known to the prisoners as “Cruel Him”, said: “One day I would be guarding prisoners with another soldier and that afternoon the other soldier would be arrested. You always expected to be arrested.” Prak Khan often recognised old friends among the people taken into S-21. “When I heard the names of people I knew, I pretended I didn't know them,” he said. “If I showed I recognised them I would be killed too.” After the Vietnamese invaded Cambodia in 1979, Duch disappeared into the jungle. In 1996 he met a group of American missionaries and converted to Christianity. A journalist discovered him working as a medical orderly in 1999 and he was arrested, at last, by the Cambodian police. On Tuesday Bou Meng, Chum Mey and the S-21 guards will be among the scores of Cambodians who will crowd into a courtroom to see their tormentor brought to trial. Duch has since apologised to the survivors of S-21 but it is not enough. “He asked my forgiveness,” said Bou Meng. “I could not give it to him.”

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Blogger Andy Brouwer said...

Last week I had a drink with Andrew Buncombe, the Asia reporter from The Independent newspaper in the UK. So its only right, as he bought me a pepsi, that I post his most recent story on his visit to Cambodia!

Khmer Rouge prison torturers finally put on trial

Of the 14,000 Cambodians held in the brutal Khmer Rouge prison of Tuol Sleng, barely a dozen survive. Chum Mei is one of them, and this week he will finally see his torturers put on trial. Andrew Buncombe reports from
Phnom Penh

Beneath the shade of spreading branches in the courtyard of Tuol Sleng prison, Chum Mei slipped off his sandals and demonstrated how Khmer Rouge torturers had pulled out his toenails. "They beat me seriously," he said quietly, sitting on the floor as tourists wandered past, unaware of his
story. "I tried to protect my face and they broke my finger. They kept
repeating the same question: was I working for the CIA? They pulled out my toenails. Then they used electricity to shock me through my ear. And then I went unconscious."

Forty years ago, the black-clad cadres of the Khmer Rouge swept to power in Cambodia and set in motion a genocidal programme that left up to 1.7 million of its people dead. Tomorrow, after what seems like an eternity of struggle, the trial will finally begin of some of those senior figures who headed one
of the 20th century's most brutal regimes.

First in the dock for committing crimes against humanity is Kaing Khek Lew, also known as Comrade Duch, the spindly former school teacher and head of Tuol Sleng prison where Chum Mei and so many others were brought to be
questioned, tortured and dispatched for execution. Of an estimated 14,000 people sent to Duch's jail, established in a secondary school in Phnom Penh, barely a dozen survived. Today, just six are alive. Chum Mei is among them,
and he is expected to give evidence at the trial, operated jointly by the Cambodian government and the UN.

Tuol Sleng was central both to the Khmer Rouge's killing machine and the legacy of the Maoist-inspired regime that has reverberated down the years. There were other prisons equally brutal, some larger. But Tuol Sleng, now a museum of the macabre, has come to represent the regime's horrors. Every
day, tourists from around the world step quietly through the prison blocks that are haunted by history.

On a recent afternoon, Mr Mei led the way through the classrooms full of bones and skulls, past photographs of more than 5,000 former prisoners, who would end up being executed, usually at "killing fields" on the city's outskirts at an orchard called Choeung Ek. The 78-year-old, once a car
mechanic, stopped next to a photograph of half-a-dozen emaciated men standing at the gate of the jail and pointed to the pencil-thin figure in baggy-fitting fatigues. That was him. The shot was taken 30 years ago when
the jail was emptied in the face of an invasion by Vietnamese forces that ousted the Khmer Rouge from power.

We move on to the tiny brick cell where he was shackled. "For me, the trial is very important," he says, "I need justice for Cambodia. I want the international community to find justice for Cambodia."

Bou Meng is also a survivor. He, like many other ordinary citizens, joined the Khmer Rouge revolution after a coup that ousted Cambodia's prime minister, Prince Norodom Sihanouk. But he ended up in Tuol Sleng after being denounced by a colleague as a traitor. To this day, the 68-year-old has no idea who denounced him or why.

"They beat me with all sorts of instruments, sticks and electric shocks," he said, "I still have the scars across my back." Sitting next to him in the restaurant garden as he talks is his second wife; his first was killed after she was sent to Tuol Sleng with him.

Mr Meng survived the prison, known as S-21, because, six months after he was taken there, Duch learnt that he was a painter. Handed paper and pencil, he was ordered to sketch. He was then handed a photograph of the Khmer Rouge
leader Pol Pot and told to make a copy. Mr Meng did so, wisely deciding to ignore an unsightly mark on the regime leader's throat. Duch told him they wanted him to paint four large pictures. He said each painting would take three months. "That is the only reason I am still alive," he said. "They
left me alone to do the job. It was one year, and then the Vietnamese
invaded and it was that which saved my life."

Mr Meng will also give evidence against Duch. "The most important thing about the trial is finding justice for the prisoners," he added. "More than 14,000 prisoners were killed, including my wife. I will feel relieved if Duch is convicted. The soul of my wife will be peaceful."

The process to bring to trial Duch and his co-accused – the Khmer Rouge
second-in-command, Nuon Chea; the former foreign minister Ieng Sary; the former social affairs minister Ieng Thirith; and the former head of state Khieu Samphan – has been difficult. Duch was arrested in 1999 when he was discovered by a journalist, working for a Western aid group in the north of Cambodia and having converted to Christianity.

Quite what Duch's position will be when the case begins is unclear. His
defence team declined to answer whether their client will plead guilty or not guilty. In several interviews, Duch has admitted ordering the deaths of countless prisoners but claimed he had no option. "Whoever was arrested must
die. This was the rule of our party," he told Nic Dunlop, the journalist who found Duch, and wrote The Lost Executioner. Yet the court has made clear that for a defendant to claim they were just following orders will not
constitute a defence.

Helen Jarvis, a spokeswoman for the so-called Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia (ECCC) blamed the long process on "geopolitics", meaning some countries in the world have been pushing for the $150m trial more than others. After the fall of the Khmer Rouge in 1979, many countries, including Britain and the US, continued to support them in a guerrilla war against the
Vietnamese-backed administration in Phnom Penh. Ms Jarvis, in her office at the specially-constructed court complex beyond Phnom Penh's airport, said: "[The trial] is important. It is the international community saying that something serious happened here."

Yet the trial process has already been controversial. Many Cambodians are disappointed that only five Khmer Rouge leaders have been charged, and one of the two joint prosecutors has argued there should be more defendants. His co-prosecutor, who is Cambodian, believes it is better to concentrate on just these five, repeating an often-heard comment that extending the scope of the trial too far could be counter-productive.

Indeed, there have long been whispers that the Cambodian government had dragged its feet over the trial process to protect former Khmer Rouge officials now in senior positions within the administration. Just two weeks
ago, the present Foreign Minister, Hor Namhong, won a defamation case in a French court over a book that claimed he was once a senior Khmer Rouge commander.

Yet the reluctance to extend the remit of the court may have more practical reasons. In Cambodia, where the grip of the Khmer Rouge was so complete, anyone over the age of 45 is, in effect, either a survivor of the regime, or
else an accomplice. As a result, there are limits to how many cases can be dealt with. Some also argue it is better to proceed against these senior leaders before they die awaiting trial, because some have already died.

Many believe the process is essential if Cambodia is to move on. Youk Chhang is the director of the Documentation Centre of Cambodia, a remarkable project that has collected testimony from thousands of victims and former
regime members. "This is a process that can be utilised ... to put this
behind us, to help restore our identity and move on," he said. "You cannot try everybody. That is why it is important to try the senior leaders."

Yet it is possible the trial will provide more questions that answers. For many years, Cambodia has lived with its dark history, become intertwined with it. In some respects the country's history has become akin to an industry, for NGOs, for tourists, academics, writers, films such as The
Killing Fields. The fancy Foreign Correspondents Club restaurant in Phnom Penh may never have been a genuine press club but today it lures tourists with the frisson of the past and a chance to enjoy the sunset and buy prints by the war photographer, Al Rockoff.

Yet less focus has centred on the question "why". Historians can plot therise of the Khmer Rouge, detailing the role of the massive US bombing campaign in turning people against the Western-backed government and in building support for the Maoists, but less has been written to explain how the regime's brutal behaviour could have been enacted so casually. Some
Cambodians have the courage to say they do not condemn those involved and question how they themselves might have acted if a gun was held to their head and they were ordered to torture and kill. When Duch takes the stand, will he be judged as the face of pure evil or else as someone caught up in the dark forces of history?

Two hours south of Phnom Penh, on a road that heads to the Vietnamese border and Ho Chi Minh city, lies Preykun village. In a simple raised house fashioned from teak and split bamboo lives Him Huy. Today, the 53-year-old is a farmer but between 1976 and 1978 he was a senior guard at Tuol Sleng. He admits to killing five people, though some witnesses suggest he was involved in many more deaths.

Him Huy recalled taking trucks of blindfolded prisoners to Choeung Ek,
ordering them to kneel down and then killing them with a blow of a steel axle-shaft to the back of the head. The prisoners' throats were then cut. "Duch ordered us to kill," said Mr Huy, pouring fragrant black tea into small glasses as though we were discussing the weather. "If they were wearing good clothes we had to strip them off, if they were not covered in blood ... It was not easy. I feel mixed up. I thought I would be executed if I did not show strong feelings to kill the enemy."

Asked how, 30 years on, he reconciled himself to what he did, Mr Huy did not hesitate. "I don't feel I'm a killer. If the Vietnamese had not invaded I
would have been killed as well. People living in the outside have no idea what it was like in that prison."

February 17, 2009 at 9:22 AM  
Blogger Andy Brouwer said...

There's an interview with Nic Dunlop, the man who tracked down Comrade Duch, whose trial began today (Tuesday), some 30 years after the Khmer Rouge were kicked out of Phnom Penh, and the gruesome story of Tuol Sleng emerged. The interview is in the Phnom Penh Post. Go here to read the interview:


February 17, 2009 at 2:37 PM  
Blogger Andy Brouwer said...

Special Report: Khmer Rouge's S-21 torture prison

Cambodia is to relive the horrors of the Khmer Rouge's S-21 torture prison when its jailer goes on trial.

15 Feb 2009 - by Thomas Bell, South East Asia Correspondent, The Telegraph (UK)

Like many village homes in Cambodia, his simple house is on stilts and entered by a ladder - stripes of daylight show through the slatted bamboo floor. There is a television, wedding photographs and a small Buddhist shrine. Many believe that the man who lives here personally killed thousands of people with an iron bar.

Him Houy, 53, was the deputy head of security at the Khmer Rouge's S-21 torture centre where victims were forced to confess to imaginary crimes before being taken to the killing fields and murdered.

On Tuesday his former boss, the prison's commandant Kaing Guek Eav, better known as Duch, 66, will become the first Khmer Rouge leader to face trial for crimes against humanity.

"In 1977 I went to have a meeting at Duch's house and he said 'we must kill everyone'," Him Huoy claims. "He even killed his own relatives.

He never shouted, he was always very quiet, but if he gave the order to arrest someone they would be arrested. There was a motto hanging on the wall that said 'The secret enemy belongs to the CIA and KGB. We must arrest and kill them all'."

The old prison is a museum now, lined with the haunting black and white portraits of its inmates. Each one of them was grotesquely tortured with the tools still on display until they confessed to crimes they never committed. Many victims implicated everyone they ever met in fantastical conspiracies in their desperation to satisfy the inquisitors. John Dawson Dewhirst, the only British victim, eventually claimed he joined the CIA when he was 12 years old.

Finally they were driven to the killing fields outside Phnom Penh at Choeung Ek to be killed and dumped in pits. The site is a tourist attraction now, with a monument of skulls and the clothes of victims emerging from the bumpy ground. Surviving prisoner lists show that at least 12,380 people passed through S-21, although the true number may be higher. Only around a dozen are believed to have survived.

Four other Khmer Rouge leaders are in custody awaiting trial and prosecutors at the court, jointly run by the United Nations and the Cambodian government, are preparing cases against six more people. The court will only pursue senior figures – Him Huoy is not important enough to be prosecuted, although he will be a witness in Duch's trial.

It is three decades since the fall of the Khmer Rouge's lunatic regime, and the special court has been blighted by delays, financial scandal and political rancour. The hope is that at the end of it all Cambodians will have heard their painful history carefully examined and – perhaps – laid to rest. If the process is a success the wounded country might move a step closer to reconciliation and "closure".

For Van Nath, 62, one of S-21's tiny band of surviving victims, justice delayed is still important. When I met him a year ago he was bright eyed with a full head of white hair but he complained that his health was beginning to fail. As part of a unique experiment he will be a "civil party" in Duch's trial, represented by a lawyer with the right to question witnesses and influence proceedings.

"I'm not looking for torture like he did to me, or for him to be killed like he killed other people," Van Nath said. "He should apologise to his victims so they can rest in peace. Of course, if he regrets what he did that means something."

But glib notions of "closure" may be beyond reach for survivors of Cambodia's hell. Between 1975-79 an estimated 1.7million people, or 20 percent of the population, were executed or died of starvation and overwork. Half the populations is under 30 and too young to remember those days – for the older ones it is doubtful whether anything can lay the past to rest. Nevertheless, surveys show that around 80 percent of Cambodians support the court process.

Thousands of relatively low level Khmer Rouge cadres, many with the blood of hundreds or thousands of people on their hands, live in villages across the country. A few occupy high positions in government and the army.

Duch, now a born-again Christian, is in fact almost unique among Khmer Rouge figures in that he has acknowledged his crimes and asked forgiveness. Nevertheless, he is expected to argue at his trial that he was following orders from more senior leaders and he would have been killed if he had not obeyed.

"They always say they did nothing wrong, they only followed orders and it's not their fault," Van Nath said angrily. "I don't want to hear them say they followed orders and did their job."

Him Huoy makes just that argument to explain his own actions. "Duch said whoever went against his orders, he would kill him," he said.

In 2002 Van Nath and Him Huoy, the victim and the perpetrator, were reunited at the prison to make a documentary, S-21: The Khmer Rouge Killing Machine. In the film the old guards and their prisoners confronted each other, recalled and even re-enacted life at the prison.

"It was not easy for me, it was hard to handle the situation, but we had a plan to ask questions and I had to ask them," Van Nath said of coming face to face with Him Huoy. "It was hard for me because I hate this man. He killed a lot of people. It has been thirty years now and I have never heard him apologise."

When the court was set up it was decided that in the interests of national reconciliation junior figures such as Him Huoy should not be prosecuted – there are simply too many of them. But as far as Van Nath is concerned, "Absolutely this man should be prosecuted."

"I am trying to find a way to compare this man to something," he said.

"I can describe him, while he worked with Duch, this man was like a computer button. Him Huoy was the most trusted person of the regime."

Today Him Huoy is a gentle seeming, quietly spoken man. As he talked to me in his village home children played in the sunlight outside and older relatives lounged in hammocks strung beneath the house. He fled S-21 with the other prison staff on the day the regime crumbled in 1979. Four years later he was arrested by the new government and accused of being the prison director.

"At that time they asked me how many people I killed. I said 'a thousand'," he told me. "They said 'could it be more?' and I said 'you can say more', because in those days I was so depressed I couldn't do anything. I didn't want to be alive anymore. I wanted them to kill me right away."

"My brain is getting better now. The bone is getting harder. There is no depression now," he added with a weak smile, his eyes dampening.

As Him Houoy tells it, the prisoners would be blindfolded and driven by truck from the prison to the killing fields at night. He said he knew that many of them were innocent – some were his former colleagues.

Him Huoy has given differing accounts of his actions to different interviewers.

It was his job, he claimed, to record the prisoners' names as they were unloaded from the trucks. "We told them 'we will take you to a new house'. We never told them anything that would frighten them," he said. Then they were led away and killed at the edge of the pits with knives and iron bars to save bullets - it would take about four hours to kill 100 people.

Him Huoy, who insisted he killed only five people, described killing a man. "Duch was sitting there under a tree and there was one prisoner left," he said. "Duch said to me, 'are you honest with the government? If you are honest with the government then you have to kill this prisoner' and he took an iron bar from the ground and gave it to me."

"I beat him once on the back of the neck and I threw the iron bar down and I walked away," he claimed.

Him Huoy likened himself in those days to a pig in cage. "It can't move," he said. "If they want to kill the pig they can. We wanted to escape but we couldn't."

For him dealing with the past is not about examining it in court but obout forgetting. "If you didn't ask me about it I would try to forget. I just try to earn a living and not remember these things," he said flatly.

And what about apologising? "I think the guards should apologise to the prisoners, it is polite to do so," he allowed. "But I am also a victim of the regime, Duch is the right one to punish."

February 18, 2009 at 11:42 AM  
Blogger Andy Brouwer said...

On the trail of an executioner
17 Feb 2009
Channel 4 News (UK)

Author and photographer Nic Dunlop first tracked down Kaing Guek Eav, known as Duch, currently on trial in Phnom Penh for crimes against humanity.

Duch was commandant of the S-21 Tuol Send prison in Cambodia, where at least 14,000 "enemies of the revolution" were jailed and later killed.

Channel 4 News online spoke to Nic Dunlop in Bangkok.

How did you actually track down Duch?
I'd come out to Cambodia because I wanted to have an understanding of why the Khmer Rouge had happened. I began to carry round a photograph of Duch with me. He was a key lnk between the Khmer Rouge leadership and the killing of the Khmer Rouge's enemies.

Of all the people in the world that you'd like to talk to to explain this period, Duch would be the man. A year prior to meeting him (in 1999) I began to carry around a photo.

One day, while on a routine assignment in the west of Cambodia, I had a day off. There was a meeting in a former Khmer Rouge zone which I'd always wanted to go to.

I was wandering around and this mean wearing an American Refugee Committee T-shirt came up to me and introduced himself. So the meeting was largely accidental.

Duch felt protected where he was, and that no matter what happened he would be looked after. Most of these people (a reference to four other high-ranking Khmer Rouge functionaries, due to be tried later this year) were never on a wanted list.

Duch seemed quite keen to tell me that he was a Christian, that he'd seen the light. And I think he just assumed that I would be a Christian.

Several meetings later I, along with Nate Thayer (the last western journalist to have interviewed Pol Pot), confronted Duch. I'm not sure he was aware of why we'd come. He then began an extraordinary confession where he talked about his role as Pot Polt's executioner.

And he's remained true to his word that he's gong to tell as much of the truth as he can. That will be devastating for the rest of them.

How easy or difficult will it be to convict the others if Duch's conviction fails?
Proving they were aware of what Duch was doing isn't going to be difficult. Proving their involvement is going to be more difficult.

When I talked with Duch in 1999 we presented him with signed lists of victim's confessions. But he said the signatures were not his writing but belonged to the others. But I think it may be very difficult to make the link with the others.

30 years on, what meaning does the present process have for Cambodians?
For those who are aware of it, yes, it is meaningful. I've never met anybody who didn't want some accounting, who didn't believe it was terribly important.

But very little is understood outside Phnom Penh. There's a chasm between the world of rural Cambodia and urban Cambodia.

The problem with this tribunal is that 85 per cent have little or no understanding of the tribunal or don't know about it. The rest know about the tribunal, but beyond that very few people understand it.

At least one lawyer I spoke to said, "We've failed to explain what we're going." I met one woman who had been a prisoner of the Khmer Rouge for three years, and she had no idea that the tribunal was happening.

February 18, 2009 at 11:45 AM  

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