Kevin dropped the phone and raced to the front door. He opened it only a crack, and immediately a half-dozen armed men and women in blue United Nations police uniforms burst past Kevin, fanning out in the house.
“What’s going on here?” Kevin demanded.
A tall man in a dark suit and Colombo rain jacket came in behind the police. “I’m John Wells, Chief Investigator for the Office of the Prosecutor at the Tribunal,” he said in clipped English. “We have a court order to search these premises.”
Wells directed Kevin to sit on the couch next to Diane. The color had drained from her face; she looked as if she expected her family to be dragged into the streets.
“Please,” she said, “our daughter is asleep on the third floor – ”
A few seconds later, a sleepy Ellen, in her pajamas and carrying her bathrobe, staggered down to the living room escorted by a police officer. She ran for her parents, her eyes like those of a frightened fawn caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle.
“What’s happening, Dad? Who are these people?”
“They’re police from my work. Everything’s going to be okay.”
A uniformed officer picked up the phone that Kevin hadn’t hung up. “Is anyone there?” the officer asked. “Who is this, sir?” After a pause, the officer said, “Mr. Anderson is unavailable. I suggest you call him in the morning.”
The officer hung up the phone and turned to Wells. “He was on the phone with Vacinovic from the Serbian Embassy.”
Wells looked disapprovingly at Kevin.
“May I see the court order?” Kevin asked.
Wells handed some papers to Kevin. “Read it and weep,” he said sarcastically. Kevin began to read the documents, with Diane and Ellen looking over his shoulder. The top page was indeed an order, signed by Judge Davidson, authorizing the search of Kevin’s home, his office at the Tribunal, the Serbian Embassy, and a box held by Dutch postal authorities. He flipped the page and began reading the attached affidavit of Chief Investigator John Wells:
As counsel for Dragoljub Zaric, Kevin Anderson was provided with reports and witness statements, which were governed by a protective order issued by the court. The order provided that because of danger to the witnesses, copies of materials concerning protected witnesses were not to be distributed to third parties other than the accused and persons working directly for the defense.
This morning, I observed Anderson loading boxes into a car at the Tribunal. Thinking that Anderson might be distributing materials covered by the protective order, I followed Anderson and observed him travel to the Tribunal detention center. Inquiry with the jail indicated that Anderson had delivered three boxes of discovery materials for his client.
Thereafter, I followed Anderson to the Embassy of Serbia and Montenegro, where he exited in the company of Zoran Vacinovic. Vacinovic is a former officer in the Yugoslavian secret police and a long-time confidant of former President Slobodan Milosevic. Vacinovic is believed to have been assigned to The Hague to monitor the activities of the War Crimes Tribunal.
I observed Anderson and Vacinovic get into Anderson’s car and drive off. Anderson thereafter engaged in counter surveillance driving, circling the same block and making quick turns. This is a common method of determining if one is being followed.
Anderson and Vacinovic were thereafter observed meeting at a restaurant in the central area of The Hague owned by a reputed member of the Serbian underworld. After the meeting, Anderson again engaged in counter surveillance driving, so as to lose anyone who might be following. I was unable to follow Anderson, but other investigators observed the pair arrive at the Serbian Embassy.
Once back at the Embassy, Investigator Allen Jacobson observed Anderson take a heavy box from the trunk of his car and hand it to Vacinovic. The box was identical in appearance to one that had been provided to Anderson by the company that had copied the discovery. It was also identical to the boxes that Anderson delivered to the jail earlier in the day. Investigator Jacobson observed Vacinovic carrying the box into the Embassy.
About an hour later, Vacinovic was observed carrying the same box to the Post Office. I requested the Post Office hold the box so that it could be searched once a court order was obtained. The box is addressed to one Mihajlo Golic in Belgrade, Serbia.
A review of the financial authorization forms filed by Anderson with the Tribunal revealed that no investigator had been retained by Anderson. Therefore, it appears that Anderson has violated the terms of the protective order, and that a search of the box seized at the Post Office, the Embassy of Serbia and Montenegro, and Anderson’s office and home is necessary to locate additional protected material and to find additional evidence of the conspiracy to violate the Court’s protective order by Anderson, Vacinovic, and others.
The affidavit was approved and submitted to the Court by Bradford Stone.
Kevin felt a wave of relief. They had gotten their facts wrong. He had not delivered any materials subject to the protective order to Vacinovic. Golic was Kevin’s investigator, and the prison had a letter to prove it. He had enclosed a letter in the box directing Golic not to copy the materials. Kevin had even kept a log of the copies he had distributed, as required by the Tribunal. And as for his “counter surveillance driving,” he had driven the way he had that day because he was lost, not to avoid being followed.
Then, a surge of anger welled up inside Kevin. These heavy-handed prosecutors had no right to invade his home and scare his family. “Could you come over here, Mr. Anderson?” Wells was sitting at the dining room table with materials from Kevin’s briefcase spread out before him. “This is a very serious matter, Mr. Anderson. I need to ask you some questions.”
“This is a very serious matter,” Kevin said. “You have stormed into my home at night like the Gestapo, scared my family to death, and rummaged through privileged attorney-client papers. And you’re dead wrong. I followed the protective order to the letter. I’ve got nothing more to say to you.”
Wells shook his head. “If that’s the way you want it, counselor. We’ll be seeing you in court.”
“No, I’ll be seeing you in court.”
Wells and his troops left a few minutes later, taking all the documents with them.
“Don’t worry,” Kevin told Diane and Ellen, “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
He explained to them what was in the affidavit and what he had actually done.
“What are you going to do, Daddy?”
“Well, I think I’ll file some kind of emergency motion tomorrow morning and see if I can get the judge to order the return of all the papers they took. After that – I don’t know – maybe we’ll sue them for home invasion.” He couldn’t believe how much like a defense lawyer he was sounding.
Diane was still shaken. “This isn’t like America, Kevin. These people at the Tribunal have more power than you. Be careful.”
“I will, honey. And you’re right; they have way too much power.”
Diane and Kevin let Ellen sleep with them in their bed that night. After Ellen had fallen asleep, Kevin got up and went back downstairs. He spent the next few hours drafting his emergency motion on his computer. He recounted segregating the discovery, and explained his so-called “counter surveillance” driving. He demanded return of all of the items seized, as well as Draga’s release from confinement as a sanction.
At some point, Diane appeared, and offered to make them tea.
With steaming cups in hand, they sat at the kitchen table, speaking in hushed tones in the quiet and darkened house.
“I’m sorry that I brought this home to you and Ellen,” Kevin said sadly.
“You know, all along I’ve thought that you were on the wrong side,” Diane said. “But after what happened tonight – my God, these people are scary. If they can make you look guilty in their reports and investigation, what can they do to other people?”
“This whole thing was a mistake. We should have stayed home.”
“There was a time I would have liked to hear that. But now, you’ve got to do your job. If you believe your client is innocent – ”
“I can’t know that for sure, Diane. Nothing is black and white around here.”
“Okay, but do what you have to do. I’m here with you – and for you.”
Kevin was remembering why he had fallen in love with Diane.
He reached out to touch her cheek. She intercepted his hand and kissed it.
At breakfast, Ellen asked, “Daddy, are the policemen going to come back?”
“I don’t think so. And today, I’m going to make them sorry for what they did.”
“I can come with you to court today,” Ellen said excitedly. “I can be a witness.”
“No,” Diane said quickly and emphatically.
“Maybe you can come another day,” Kevin said. “I’d like that.”
“Okay. I wanna see you kick butt at Draga’s trial,” Ellen replied enthusiastically.
Kevin laughed, and so did Diane. He was glad to see that the nocturnal visit from the police had not taken any of the spunk out of their daughter.
Kevin showered and dressed. There would be no time for his usual jog this morning. As he sat down for breakfast, he flipped on CNN. A picture of Draga appeared.
“Tensions are running high today in Serbia and Montenegro,” the announcer said, “after the search last evening of their Embassy in The Hague by investigators from the U.N. War Crimes Tribunal.”
Kevin motioned for Diane and Ellen to look.
“Court officials claim that Kevin Anderson, an American lawyer for the infamous Serbian warlord Draga, passed confidential information to an Embassy official about Muslim witnesses whose identity has been kept secret for fear they would be killed.”
A picture of Kevin was beamed on the television.
Kevin groaned.
“This morning, leaders of the Serbia and Montenegro government announced that they had expelled the Ambassador from The Netherlands in protest.”
The announcer went on to the next news story.
“Wow, Daddy, you’re on CNN!” Ellen exclaimed. “I hope my friends at home saw that.”
“That’s not exactly the kind of publicity I want,” Kevin said, wondering what his former colleagues at the U.S. Attorney’s office would be thinking.
When Kevin rode his bike near the Tribunal building, he could see news cameras set up outside the guardhouse. “Do you expect to be arrested, Mr. Anderson?” shouted a reporter as Kevin approached the Tribunal guardhouse.
“Not at all. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
The news cameras were rolling as Kevin stopped in front of the guardhouse.
Six or seven reporters gathered around Kevin.
“Was your house searched last night?” one of them asked.
“Yes, it was. The prosecutor’s office seized privileged communications between my client and me, as well as documents outlining our strategy for defending the case. I’m filing a motion this morning for the immediate return of those items.”
“Did you pass confidential materials to an official of the Serbian secret police?”
“No, I did not.”
Kevin noticed Judge Davidson striding briskly up the walk toward the guardhouse.
“I’ll be happy to provide you copies of what I file with the Court this morning,” Kevin said. “They contain all the true facts.”
He hustled up to the Registrar’s office to file his motions, and then went to his office. Later that morning, Kevin received a copy of an official protest lodged at the Tribunal by the government of Serbia and Montenegro.
Then, the phone at his desk rang. It was Nihudian.
“Kevin, I saw you on the news. Are you okay?”
“So far. You saw that I have a new client?”
“I did. That guy is really lucky to have gotten you. You are so powerful, Kevin.”
Hearing from Nihudian made Kevin smile.
“Thanks, but I’m not feeling real powerful right now. How have you been?”
“I am fine. I am teaching history at a high school in Sarajevo and enjoying the time with my family.”
“That’s great. Say, would you happen to know a good private investigator in Sarajevo? I need someone to interview the Muslim witnesses in Draga’s case.”
“I don’t think you could find an investigator in Sarajevo willing to help Draga. Let me think about that. I’ll ask my students. Maybe we can come up with someone for you.”
“Thanks, Nihudian. It sure is nice to hear a friendly voice.”
When he checked his e-mail, Kevin found a score of messages from concerned family, friends, and colleagues in the United States. Bud Marcello’s e-mail brought a smile to his face. It read simply: “And you told me to stay away from the dark side?”
He answered them all. “No problem,” was the gist of what he told everyone. “It’s just a small misunderstanding that will easily be straightened out.”
On his way out of the Tribunal he checked his mailbox. There was an envelope from the Registrar. Kevin opened it, hoping it was a notice of hearing on his motion. Instead, he saw the heading: “Order to Show Cause why Attorney Kevin Anderson should not be held in Contempt of Court.”
Kevin was ordered to appear in court on Monday morning for a Rule 77 hearing on whether he should be held in contempt of court for violating the protective order. The order, signed by Judge Davidson, noted ominously that Rule 77 provided for “punishment of up to twelve months in jail and a fine of 20,000 Euros” for anyone found in contempt of the Tribunal.
Kevin felt weak in the knees as he walked outside to his bicycle.
Would Judge Davidson dare to put him in jail?