Legal Village

In the lawyers' room

Posted 13/04/2008 by Ben Hallman

If you got to this blog from the American Lawyer home page, you clicked on a photo of Iraq’s Central Criminal Court. And, yes, that is a giant clock protruding from the top.

The structure was built to commemorate the Arab Summit of 1980 and was later used to hold all the booty Saddam Hussein received as gifts from other leaders. During the US invasion, the clock and the building were badly damaged and the building was looted. It was renovated several years ago and now handles coalition-held detainees and political corruption cases. Though technically in the Red Zone, one entrance to the courthouse is a short walk from a metal door in the T-wall that lines an expressway heading out of Baghdad. I visited it this morning with the rule of law team.

This was my first encounter with Iraqi detainees. I was told that Iraqi prisoners are docile, like to be together and don’t like furniture in their cells. (From first appearances, this seems to be correct — though I didn’t ask the dozen or so quiet men in red jumpsuits sitting on the floors of two holding cells.)

The prisoners who come through this complex are typically held at one of the three large American-run detention facilities in Iraq. They come in a few at a time for hearings before an investigative judge and, if necessary, a trial before a three-judge tribunal. I briefly observed a trial but was told by a guard outside that the Iraqis we were with wouldn’t be allowed to translate the proceedings for me, so we moved on to a much more interesting section of the courthouse - more interesting to someone looking for opinions on legal affairs in Iraq, at least.

The lawyers’ room is easily the most happening place in the courthouse. It is exactly as it sounds: a room filled with lawyers. Smoking, chatting, laughing. In one corner, a woman in a black chador serves lunch and sodas. Upon entering, two little girls latched on to Sergeant Angel Storm, my military escort. (Storm is a spritely 22-year-old. Good with kids and idiot civilian journalists. Later, out in the open in the Green Zone, the incoming fire clarion sounded and she quickly guided me to the nearest shelter.)

I’ll save the details of the conversations I had with the lawyers for the story I’m writing — blogging, after all, is only my night job — but overall it was an enlightening trip.

Tomorrow I’m headed to another courthouse in Rusafa, a neighborhood across the river. I should have time when I return for one last blog entry from the Green Zone.