The Freshman Ch. 32

----------

There was a brief break for a very late lunch, and then the trial continued with the speed typical of the Danubian justice system. Several lower-level mercenaries were brought into the courtroom to identify the three defendants and verify some of the information on the maps that Jason had scanned. It turned out that Jason's CD's were the gift that kept on giving, because many of the scanned documents matched or complimented documents seized from various mercenaries during their arrests. The noose tightened around the three CEO's as the evening progressed and more and more witnesses confirmed what they were doing in Upper Danubia.

The first day of the trial adjourned at 10:00 p.m. nearly 14 hours after the proceedings started. There would be just enough time for everyone to go home, get eight hours of sleep, and return the next day to continue. During the second and third days of the proceedings, Jason and Cecilia could just sit back and enjoy watching other witnesses come forward to confirm the details about the testimony presented on the first day.

Jason felt deep satisfaction from knowing that even if he was killed, no longer would his death do anything to avert the looming fate of his father's associates. Hour after hour he sat with his eyes glued to "Cutter" as the testimony dragged on.

----------

In the end the defense attorneys did not have many options when their time came to counter the Prosecutor's case presented during the week of the trial. Because of Danubian property law, they could not challenge much of the evidence, in spite of the fact that Jason had recorded the documents without his father knowing about it. In Upper Danubia personal property always belonged to the entire household, never to any particular individual within the household. Danubian law mandated that, because Jason was a member of his father's household, anything that went on in the house was fair game as far as collecting information was concerned. The same was true for entering his father's home office and using his sister's computer. There was nothing illegal or questionable about what Jason had done, because the Danubians considered those resources communal property of all four members of his family.

None of the evidence collected during the arrests in April could be challenged without good reason, nor could any of the mercenaries' statements identifying their superiors be thrown out. In such circumstances, a Danubian Spokesperson would not seek to challenge any evidence, but instead try to find circumstances to mitigate the alleged motives of the defendants and have the charges reduced. The problem was, there were no mitigating circumstances. There was no doubt whatsoever why Richard Moore and "Cutter" Stern had traveled to Danube City. There simply was too much evidence, real and circumstantial, that proved their intentions. The evidence did not directly implicate Guerra, but the Prosecutor already knew how to address that issue. More testimony would be forthcoming very quickly, the statements needed to convict the third defendant.

Thursday afternoon of the following week, just ten days after the trial began, it ended for two of the defendants. Richard Moore was found guilty on all counts, while "Cutter" Stern was cleared on the weapons charge, but convicted of everything else. Guerra's case would not be adjudicated that day.

The verdict? Death by firing squad, to be carried out Saturday morning at sunrise in the courtyard of the Central Police Station. Suddenly the entire courthouse, as well as the crowded Central Plaza outside, began shouting:

"DOC-DOC DANUBE!... DOC-DOC DANUBE!... DOC-DOC DANUBE!... DOC-DOC DANUBE!..."

-----------

That night, as reporters converged on the Central Courthouse and filmed the jubilant crowds outside the National Parliament Building, frenzied negotiations were taking place between the attorneys of various defendants and the Prosecutor's Office. Dukov's cold calculation was paying off as suspects stepped forward to plea and testify to avoid the death sentence. Police video cameras rolled and translators stayed up all night as defendant after defendant confessed to his part in the scheme and named his associates.

Of course, the defense attorneys of Moore and Stern were desperately trying to save their own clients' lives, and in doing so played right into the Prime Minister's hands. Sure...your clients can avoid the firing squad...if they talk...

And talk they did. Moore and Stern turned on Guerra that Friday. Guerra struck back and further implicated the other two, as well as giving up information on the U.S. Commercial Attaché who still was trapped in the Embassy. Moore and Stern then turned on each other and offered additional testimony to convict the field commanders and CEO's back in the U.S.

Saturday came and went with no executions, but during that time the Danubian nation listened transfixed to TV's and radios as one revelation after another came out about the details of the coup. Throughout the following week the foreign defense attorneys attacked and undermined each other as the entire proceeding degenerated into a massive fight between various defendants and their councils. The capitol's newspapers printed everything their reporters could get their hands on by press time. More and more unsavory details came out about Mega-Town Associates and the cowardice and ruthlessness of its leaders.

As the revelations continued pouring out in court during the third week of trials, the Danubian National Police quietly began deporting lower-ranking mercenaries whose home countries had promised to prosecute them. By the end of the week the number of low-ranking foreign suspects still being held in the country had dropped to under 100. The remaining prisoners would be leaving the country as soon as their home countries promised to put them on trial, not before. By the end of the fourth week yet another 50 would be gone.

Meanwhile, the prosecutions against 23 higher-ranking defendants continued. In the end, they showed themselves for what they were, men with absolutely no concept of honor or loyalty, not even to each other. They became nothing to the Danubians, pathetic shells of human beings with broken souls. The public demands to execute them died down, because they were too contemptuous even to warrant the dignified death of a formal execution. Let them live out their lives, in absolute disgrace.

Unfortunately for the defendants, there was such a sentence under Danubian law, a lifetime of absolute disgrace, or "life without honor". A sentence of absolute disgrace ensured that Dukov could keep his promise to foreign leaders not to execute any of the prisoners, but at the same time satisfy his own people's thirst for revenge. In Upper Danubia "a life without honor" was the lowest a person could sink, a lifetime of insult even worse than death.

After three weeks of trials and sensational revelations, 26 naked, chained defendants crossed the Central Plaza with their police escorts one last time to receive their final sentences. The group included the three Mega-Town CEO's and 23 other higher conspirators.

When they entered the courtroom, the judge gave a short speech to the defendants. They had proven themselves greedy, bloodthirsty thugs and cowards, incapable of demonstrating any kind of loyalty, even to each other or their bosses at Mega-Town Associates. They had chosen to live in dishonor, and thus would continue to live in dishonor.

"We gave you the opportunity to end your lives in dignity, but you proved afraid to face the Creator with your actions. Instead you chose to continue dishonoring yourselves with your betrayals of each other. In this country, no matter how heinous a criminal you may be, we expect you to at least uphold the trust of your peers. You failed to do even that. I therefore have no reservation of implementing our harshest punishment, a life without honor."

An ominous silence settled throughout the courtroom as the criminals were collared, one by one. While the collaring continued, workers spread out several tarps along the edge of the room and erected fencing normally used to corral animals. Why the tarps and fencing were necessary would become evident momentarily.

Once collared, the criminals were forced into a kneeling position by several cops threatening them with electric cattle prods. Meanwhile, 26 young and middle-aged women lined up at the foot of the judge's desk. One by one they signed a contract and each was handed a police switch. None of the women had kind expressions, because each one was the widow, the sister, or the mother of a soldier or police officer killed in combat the month before. The contracts allowed each woman to continue receiving her loved-one's salary in exchange for taking responsibility for carrying out the pending sentence against one of the criminals. The women saluted the judge, who stood up and saluted back.

The rear door of the courtroom then opened and two cops wearing pigs' masks stepped in and saluted the judge. The crowd started laughing, and laughed even harder upon hearing the following announcement.

"The mistresses have arrived, your honor."

"Very well, show them into the courtroom. Our defendants shall be honored to meet their new custodians."

The crowd started chanting:

"NÁK SVINIÚKT POKCHÚKT VÁSHU! HADNÁSH ONÁCKT HARÁSH!"

Cynthia leaned over to Jason and Cecilia to translate:

"They're chanting, 'the pig is your mistress, serve her well.'"

As the chant grew louder and louder, 26 young sows suddenly ran through the backdoor into the courtroom. The animals grunted and squealed as they ran along the fencing and clustered into a makeshift pen near the judge's bench. Obviously they were scared, being in a strange place with hundreds of people chanting in the room. However, the 26 sows had nothing to be scared of. They were destined to enjoy very pampered lives as a result of the pending sentences.

The sentencing judge assigned each criminal to a "mistress": one of the breed sows. Each animal was issued a certificate of custody that obligated the criminal to spend his life catering to her needs. The conditions of care were very exacting and strict, forcing each criminal to maintain his "mistress" in pristine condition at all times. To enforce the conditions of the sentence, the National Police had hired the 26 women, paying them their dead husbands' full salaries. All day, every day, each woman's only duty was to stand over her assigned criminal with a switch and make sure his pig was properly cared for. She was free to beat the convict as much as she wanted, since the normal restrictions protecting criminals did not apply in a sentence of "life without honor".

The dishonored criminals would not be allowed to roam freely within a collar zone, but instead would be restricted to wherever the pig was being kept, which in most cases would be a rural police station. Wherever the sow went, the criminal in charge of her had to go. The criminal could not let the pig out of his sight, ever, not even at night when the animal went to sleep.

Police officers quickly separated sows, chained criminals, and enforcers. Each group was led them out of the courtroom and into the plaza, where the angry crowd continued to chant:

"NÁK SVINIÚKT POKCHÚKT VÁSHU! HADNÁSH ONÁCKT HARÁSH!"

As police vans took the coup leaders away to live out their bleak lives scattered about the country, Cynthia commented:

"Sometimes dying isn't the worst thing that can happen to a person. The foreign governments thought they got themselves a deal, by forcing Prime Minister Dukov to promise them he wouldn't let the police shoot the coup leaders. But he had to do something to 'em, 'cause this country had to have its revenge. You do something bad in the Duchy, and you're gonna suffer for it. That's the way people here think. This just isn't a 'forgive and forget' society."

----------

Later that night, Prime Minister Vladim Dukov watched the tanks and Army trucks move out of the Central Plaza. The capitol would be returning to normal, now that the trials had ended and the convicted conspirators had been shipped out to the provinces. The other foreigners were gone as well, quietly deported while the nation's attention was focused on the sensational revelations coming out over the last two weeks.

Dukov was relieved. He was grateful to the Ancients that the world did not have to witness the spectacle of mass executions that seemed inevitable just two weeks ago. He had managed to settle the entire matter in a way that satisfied everyone except the 26 men who most deserved to be punished. In the eyes of the Danubian nation, their humiliating sentences overshadowed the deportations of the others. In the eyes of foreign governments, the deportations of their citizens overshadowed the 26 sentences. Now everyone could move on, because the crisis had passed.

Once the Plaza was cleared of military equipment, Dukov re-entered the Central Police Station to watch the sorting of the impressive collection of weapons and ammunition seized the previous month. A wealthier country might have simply destroyed the arms in a public ceremony, but Upper Danubia could not afford such wasteful luxury. Instead, the chief of the Danube City Precinct of the National Police would have to distribute the weapons to various police stations around the country to replace their aging arsenals. Hundreds of Danubian police officers would be getting new issues, courtesy of Mega-Town Associates.

Much later, Dukov excused himself and walked alone through the quiet entryway of the National Police Station. He stepped outside, and proceeded to the middle of the Central Plaza. The Plaza was completely empty after having been packed over the last month with soldiers, police officers, and demonstrators. The only other person within sight was a single street sweeper, and she was too far away to recognize the lone figure as the nation's Prime Minister.

A new day was coming. Dukov could see it: a faint lightening of the sky to the east. A new day for Upper Danubia. A new hope for the Danubian people. The defeat of the nation's enemies, a secure southern border (which would be finalized in just two weeks), jobs for the restive eastern provinces, the safeguarding of the nation's natural resources, and a re-negotiated entry into the European Union. The Ancients had blessed the country after all.

It's been a very hard two years since I took office, thought Dukov to himself, but I think we will succeed and take our proper place in the International Community. I think we will be able to join the world on our terms, not someone else's. But of course, we must not be complacent.

Another thought went through the Prime Minister's mind, his next idea for bringing his country's ambitions in line with its reality.

The name of our country, the Grand Duchy of Upper Danubia, is a lie. We are not a Duchy. We haven't been since 1942. And there is no such place as Lower Danubia. That hasn't existed since 1502. The only Danubia is the one that exists today. There is no other, and if the Creator is willing, never again will we have to change our borders. I want our people, and the world, to understand that reality.

As the pre-dawn sky brightened, Dukov began pondering a proposal to officially change the country's name. He mulled over several possibilities, but finally two stuck in his mind: the Republic of Danubia, or simply, Danubia. As soon as things settled down in Parliament, he would address the nation and suggest the change. Many people would not like it, but the country needed to have the debate as a nation. The symbolism would be extremely important, because the best symbols are always the ones that reflect reality, not wishful thinking.

Dukov noticed more people milling about. It was time to leave, because certainly people would find it strange to see the Prime Minister standing alone like a statue in the Central Plaza. It just wouldn't look right. He entered the Parliament Building to get a few hours of sleep in his office.