I spent yesterday morning at the opening statements of the Duch trial. Fun times, I know. The trials are held by the phenomenally-named Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia in a slightly extraordinary courtroom outside of town. The bus there was packed with NGOers, journalists and the likes—a mix of Cambodians and Westerners, and the court itself filled with everyone from school groups to monks to local business owners (hi Rhum Bar guy) to at least a friend of two of Duch’s.
The court itself is in a glassed-in enclosure within a bigger auditorium. There were two rows of judges clad in red robes, facing Duch and the audience, and the defense and prosecution flanked the sides. You can see Duch if you sit on the right or left of the fishbowl and he’s a small old man who looks slightly fastidious and nothing more. What does it mean for humankind if the torturer of thousands is indistinguishable from someone’s grandpa? From time to time he jotted a note and sometimes the court camera (usually trained on the attorneys an piped over TV screens throughout the auditorium and in front of everyone in the courtroom) would settle on him and he’d shuffle his eyes from the screen in front of him a bit, not sure where to look.
The proceedings were blasted through speakers in Khmer, and they handed out headsets with simultaneous translations in French, English, and Khmer. Every so often there’d be glitches and the lawyer would have to ask for “IT to please do something about the translators.”
