The Devil's Garden: A War Crimes Investigator's Story

4. A Policeman’s Murder

45 4 z A Policeman’s Murder T he time had come to execute a search warrant at Štela’s headquarters. I knew from our intelligence that the premises, bearing the large, bold letters “HVO” over the entrance, would be covered by members of the Herzegovina mafia. And there they were, all dressed in black, with dark sunglasses that served to mask their eyes and accentuate their menacing faces. I arrived with an international search warrant and served it to the reluctantly cooperative mobster in charge, who was surrounded by a small group of thick-necked lackeys. I had my backup too. Two French SFOR choppers hovered overhead , one with thermal imagery to detect surreptitious threats and the other with machine gunners just waiting for a chance. My close protection team, an elite squad of the Carabinieri, never left my side. Scores of Spanish legionnaires and marines, Guardia Civil, and members of the International Police Task Force (IPTF) were also on the scene, each playing a carefully coordinated role. And just to make sure nothing went wrong, I had two Spanish M-60 tanks level off on Štela’s headquarters . The planning paid off. The search warrant was executed without incident , and the crime-scene processing began. Some of the worst crimes in Mostar had been perpetrated, planned, or staged on this site. Among other things, we were looking for evidence relating to the wooden-rifles incident and the murder of police officer Nenad Harmandžić. Just two hours earlier I’d showed up without notice at the office of the canton’s minister of interior, a powerful office in Bosnia. I showed my credentials and asked to speak to the minister. 46 / THE DEVIL’S GARDEN “I am sorry, but the minister is occupied in a meeting. He is not receiving anyone at this time.” “Madam, you don’t understand. Please interrupt the meeting and tell him that investigators from The Hague are here on a matter of the utmost urgency.” In less than a minute I was in the minister’s office, looking up at a Bosnian-Croat, who was about 195 centimeters tall and dressed entirely in black. “I have a search warrant that needs to be served within your jurisdiction , and I have been instructed by the prosecutor to request from you the assistance of local police in executing it,” I said. Technically, we didn’t need one ounce of assistance from either the operational or the legal perspective. The decision to make the request was a tactical one: My colleagues had another case in Bosnia in which the defendants and government representatives argued that in spite of our broad authority under UN Security Council resolutions and the Dayton Agreement, whatever was seized should be excluded as evidence if national authorities were not present at the time of the search. The Trial Chamber and the Appeal Chamber of the ICTY both ultimately agreed with the prosecutor’s position, which was that we had the legal authority to act unilaterally in such matters. In the meantime, the minister made it abundantly clear that he was in no mood to help. “Sorry. I have no one available to assist you. Perhaps you come back in hour or two.” “Are you saying that out of all of the police in the entire city, there is no one available?” “Da,” he said in a contemptuous whisper as he leaned forward. “Sir, I am only going to ask one more time. We will conduct the search with or without your help, but I must inform you that if you do not provide the requested assistance, I will promptly inform the prosecutor, who will in turn report the matter to the Security Council. It is your call.” This was part of the strategy. If he declined to assist, it would negate any future argument for the suppression of evidence on the sole basis of having no Bosnian police with us at the time of the search. It was as though he could read my mind. With a pissed-off look he picked up the phone and arranged to have a small number of uniformed A Policeman’s Murder / 47 officers meet my team just minutes before we deployed and executed the warrant. I had experience doing business this way back home. There were occasions when some local police or sheriff’s deputies couldn’t be trusted. As special agents working...