Jasmina Tešanović: Hope for Serbia

It's a historic day for the nation that currently calls itself Serbia. Today the special court for war crimes in Belgrade declared the assassins of Zoran Djindjic guilty.

The killers of our late prime minister Zoran Djindjic (1952 - 2003) are guilty of first case murder, guilty of attempting to kill democracy and destroy the dignity of a country. All of the notorious Zemun Gang -- those accused in the courtroom, anyway -- got between 30 and 40 years of prison from tough-minded judge Nata Masarevic. This means a life sentence for them, practically speaking. The guilty parties abandoned the court room in anger and defiance, together with their numerous relatives and political supporters.

In front of the court the Zemun gangsters made violent threats and created incidents with the press while waiting for the jury and other VIPs to clear the area. There was also a street presence from various local political parties and NGOs, some with banners saying IT IS NOT YET OVER... Because they are looking for the unknown parties who gave the orders to Zemun group, who are the organized crime wing of the local secret police.

In the gallery of the court, the current president of Serbia, Boris Tadic, sat together with some other members of the late prime minister's famous government. The Djindjic government lasted only two years, but those were the first, last and only days of a true break with the criminal past of Slobodan Milosevic.

The crowd kept me from reaching the gallery of the court. I was supposed to sit there as a member of the NGO Women in Black, but the usual police officer there grimly recognized me and my gay friend. He forbade us to join the VIPs and shuffled us off to sit with the family and friends of the accused. So the two of us settled in right behind the backs of the murderers.

When the sentence was announced, anguished shrieks came from their party, some mothers of the accused started sobbing and despairing... My friend said calmly: finally today I feel human again.

These pop-stars of the local criminal scene were let down by whomever guaranteed them political protection in a future where they could continue to live above and beyond the law. It seems the secret police used the underworld and sold them down the river -- a tactic almost identical to the one they used to take with journalists.

This heavy sentence is in stark contrast to the relatively light treatment received two months ago by the Scorpion paramilitaries, who were responsible for genocide in Bosnia. One might cynically conclude that the Scorpions were let off the hook because they were killing Muslim civilians in Bosnia instead of Serbian politicians in Belgrade.

There is satisfaction in this for the much-beleaguered forces of Serbian democracy, who were further traumatized recently by the spectacle of a Radical in power in Parliament, burningly eager to launch a State of Emergency. While the judge was uttering the first sentence among many for a host of crimes -- the first sentence gave only a couple of years to the accused -- I felt near panic. I thought: that's it, they are setting the assassins free among us ... And after she finally summed the grim total of the sentences, for a dizzying host of Zemun crimes against the very basis of Serbian law and order, I panicked again. How could such things actually happen? This has become the common reaction among citizens in Serbia: we've been bully trained to expect the worst-case scenario. The entire polity has become a traumatized survivor of political terrorism.

The Zemun killers gave a host of swaggering patriotic speeches, all about ridding Serbia of a traitor who was selling his country to the West while expatriating the true Serbian heros to the Hague international war crime tribunal. The Zemun gang were definitely Djindjic's executioners, but it's hard to believe that these tattooed louts had enough initiative to boldly eliminate a head of state.

The death of Djindjic was the Serbian equivalent of a Kennedy assassination, and we seem just about as likely to get to the full truth about it.

The lawyer of the widow of Djindjic is satisfied, though not entirely. He wants more of the background, a record of the painful political pressures that the court went through during the present government.

The woman judge who brought this trial to its conclusion today, after four epic years, received death threats, just like the first judge, who was badgered into quitting the case.

With the trial over and prison doors clanging shut, we are both bewildered and relieved. It is the crossroads for Serbia today, the first and only solemn act of public justice in the new Serbia. Nobody knows if other such acts will follow.

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