The Sixth Station(15)
The prosecution was represented by an international band of attorneys under the ICC banner but newly appointed for this tribunal.
“It’s the dream team of media whores,” I whispered to Dona, taking in the group who would have practically skinned themselves alive for a chance at this much exposure.
The lead prosecutor, Lawrence Finegold from Great Britain, gave as expected a rousing opening statement, which was capped by him holding up photos of each bombing for which ben Yusef stood accused.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the monster before you, Mr. Demiel ben Yusef,” he thundered as he held up photo after photo of carnage and heartache, “isn’t a man of the cloth. He is nothing but a psychopathic killer who claims”—he sneered in disgust at the defendant, who still hadn’t moved a muscle or shown any emotion whatsoever—“claims to be, yes, a man of God!
“A devil claiming to be a man of God, or maybe God Himself.” He laughed disgustedly. “Caligula claimed to be a god; Hitler thought he was a god, too. Shall I go on?
“Demiel ben Yusef is no god, nor even a man of God, despite his claims to some sort of dubious connection to early Christianity! This is enough to make any God-fearing Christian sick with disgust!
“Yet this mass murderer, who is responsible for every death, dismemberment, and ruined life you see before you, claims he’s doing”—again he paused and then pointed his finger directly at ben Yusef—“God’s work. God’s work?
“He of the shadowy life, who seems to have no history before he suddenly appeared a few years ago, on Web sites and, yes, YouTube. YouTube! If Jesus, Moses, Mohammed walked among us today, I promise you they wouldn’t be making videos on YouTube!”
The audience broke out in inappropriate chuckles as Dona and I exchanged knowing glances. “Damn, he’s playing us like a bunch of cheap fiddlers,” she whispered.
Finegold waited until the snickers stopped before continuing as though he’d never heard the snickering. “Now his latest ploy is to say he answers only to his father? Who is the father of Satan, or for that matter, the mother? We have some loose information that Mr. ben Yusef once had a father who died in a plane crash. And there is no mother of record. Astonishing, really, in this day and age when it is impossible to keep anything hidden. Yet this, this man just appeared and has no history?
“How is that possible? I’ll tell you how: Demiel ben Yusef has no history of record because intelligence leads us to believe that his birth, his schooling, his very life have never been recorded because he was born and reared to become an enigma—a way to make the deluded believe he somehow miraculously just appeared out of nowhere to save us all!
“Well, the truth is he is a thirty-three-year-old man reared by parents, or perhaps by others who took him in, inside a terrorist camp, somewhere, probably Afghanistan. Nothing glorious or mysterious about that, is there?
“So who could have even birthed such a soulless creature? We don’t know; that’s how terrorists operate, in back corners and filthy desert hovels. But I can tell you this: Whoever his parents are or were, they weren’t people of God. The devil, perhaps, but not God!”
At that the Reverend Bill Teddy Smythe pounded his fist and declared, “Amen, brother! Amen!” He did this knowing it would create a commotion and knowing that the judge would admonish him. But the good preacher didn’t get to where he was by missing his moment. Ever.
Bagayoko rapped her gavel, while Bill Teddy smugly looked unfazed and even quite righteous—or quite self-righteous, at any rate.
Finegold let the furor die down and continued as though he’d not been interrupted. “Again, no one seems to know precisely the who, what, where, and, for the love of God, why.
“What we know is that Demiel ben Yusef suddenly appeared out of the desert four years ago, with dubious claims and clichéd sermons about how we should all love one another, while masterminding terrorist attacks around the world. We know this, and we will prove this beyond any doubt—to this august body.
“Nonetheless, via cyberspace he has, as you’ve seen outside this hallowed assembly hall this very day, amassed a worldwide following of deluded believers.
“Why, you may ask, could, would anyone follow a man who preaches ‘love of every living thing’ and yet carries out a personal jihad against the innocent whom he thinks deserve death because they are not ‘true believers’?
“Believers of what? Of the endless suffering and death of the innocents? Are the thousands of children and adults who have been killed and maimed merely the detritus of war? What war? Demiel ben Yusef’s personal holy war?