“In general.”
“Since the early 1950s, military justice has been administered in accordance with the UCMJ, the Uniform Code of Military Justice. It provides the statutory framework that is the bedrock of both substantive criminal law and criminal procedure in the U.S. military.
“Many of the substantive provisions are similar to those found in American state and federal jurisdictions. The procedural provisions can be quite different.
“Under Article 32 of the UCMJ, no charge may be referred to a general court-martial for trial until an impartial investigation of the truth of the matter has been made. This is similar to a grand jury proceeding for civilians.”
Pete had always maintained that Article 32 actually affords an accused greater rights because it allows the accused and his counsel to be present at the hearing, to cross-examine government witnesses, and to present evidence, none of which is permitted before a grand jury.
I recalled how he’d bristle on hearing the old Groucho Marx gag that military justice is to justice as military music is to music.
Hawthorn’s voice brought me back from my thoughts.
“The government has presented all its evidence. I intend to call only one witness, that being you. I have reviewed your report and plan to take you through it, just as any civilian lawyer would.”
Hawthorn leaned back in his chair.
“I suppose you’d like to know a bit about the man of the hour?”
“Anything you think is pertinent, yes.”
“Second Lieutenant Gross’s father was Air Force, so he grew up a typical military brat. Base to base, hitch to hitch. Had the armed forces in his blood, you might say.”
“Sometimes it goes the other way.”
“Yes, but not for John. After graduating high school—as class valedictorian, I might add—he headed straight to a Marine recruiting office.”
“Not Air Force?”
Hawthorn dropped his hands, palms flat on the blotter. “I suspect he felt the need to prove something to his father.”
I didn’t query the meaning of that.
“John enlisted on an 18x contract, which offered a direct shot at a combat assignment. After training, he volunteered, and was deployed, to Desert Storm. He served in the Middle East, on and off, from ’91 to ’94.”
“That’s a good stretch.”
“Yes.” Hawthorn appeared on the verge of a comment, decided against it. “At the completion of his last deployment, John did not reenlist. He’d proven what he needed to prove, to himself, to his father. He had other plans for his life. Using the GI bill to fund his education and working full-time, he enrolled at NC State University. After graduating with a degree in political science, he taught high school in Charlotte for several years. Or it might have been Charleston.”
“Yet he must have reenlisted.”
“November ninth, 2005. That date have any significance for you, Dr. Brennan?”
I shook my head.
“It did for John. On that date, suicide bombers hit three American hotels in Amman, Jordan. The Radisson SAS, the Grand Hyatt, and a Days Inn. The Radisson was the worst. Husband-and-wife bombers walked into a ballroom in which a nine-hundred-guest wedding was in progress. Thirty-eight people were killed, including the fathers of both the bride and groom.”
I remembered the attacks now. Sixty killed, 120 injured.
“Reenlistments tend to rise after such incidents. In the wake of 9/11, lines ran out the doors of many recruiting centers.”
Hawthorn’s phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID but did not pick up.
“John experienced a sense of personal accountability. This is my interpretation, you understand. He never used those words specifically. It’s what I’ve picked up from our many conversations.”
“I understand.”
“John had spent three years in Iraq, making the world safe. This massacre of civilians demonstrated that wasn’t the case.”
“But we’re talking a different conflict, different perpetrators.”
“Absolutely. But for some soldiers it’s all one generalized evil. Saddam, Gadhafi, the Ayatollah, the Taliban—one evil with multiple faces. Like a hydra, a many-headed snake.”
“This was John’s thinking?”
“After those attacks, John viewed terrorism as a very real and very personal threat. To America, to our way of life.”
“He quit his job and reenlisted.”
“He applied for Officer Candidate School, which, given his age, was problematic.”
I did some quick math. “He was in his early thirties by then.”
“As in corporate America, the military prefers that its officers start out young. At his age, John should have been middle echelon. Nevertheless, he was accepted.” Hawthorn straightened the letter opener. “John’s status as a prior also worked to his disadvantage.”