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'We in eastern countries think that hanging is just'

Phil Reeves
Sunday 04 May 2003 19:00 EDT
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He has sent hundreds of people to the gallows. He once dispatched the son of Tariq Aziz, the former Iraqi foreign minister, to jail for six years.

His proudest boast is that he fearlessly put a cousin of Saddam Hussein behind bars.

But the allied invasion stopped Sami al-Ba'ati's 16-year career as a hanging judge in its tracks. In the final days before the war, he says, he refused to convict any of those brought into the iron cage in his courtroom, no matter how guilty.

And now he is waiting to learn whether the Americans will allow him to don his black robes anew, to resume the business of meting out punishment to his fellow citizens.

US and British officials pressed forward yesterday with trying to restore Iraq's police and judicial system and end the chaos on the streets. Obeying instructions not to wear their black berets and paramilitary olive green shirts – symbols of the Saddam years – hundreds of Baghdad policemen reported for work for the first time.

Parallel negotiations were held between the allies' Office of Reconstruction and Humanitarian Assistance and members of Iraq's judiciary to decide how to get the courts running again, and who would be allowed to preside over them.

Mr Ba'ati was standing on the pavement outside his fiefdom, al-Baya'a criminal court in south Baghdad, wondering what his fate will be.

He is 53, and would normally have another 10 years left on the bench. "I will do whatever the Americans want. We are ready," he said, without enthusiasm.

His case typifies the complexities now facing the Allies as they decide which Iraqis can remain in their posts, and who must be weeded out as too close to the old regime.

The judge openly admits to membership of the Baath party. His worn-looking brown double-breasted suit seemed to confirm his assertion that he is not one of Iraq's high-flying legal eagles, or one of the 70 senior judges on whom Saddam bestowed Toyota and Hyundai cars as a mark of their seniority.

His own 22-year-old wreck of a Fiat was parked near by, its windows shattered – he pointed out sourly – by American bombs that landed next to his house. He portrayed himself as an average criminal court judge who earned about $400 (£250) a month and still dreamt of the career he would have much preferred – that of an Iraqi army officer.

US and British officials must now decide whether Mr Ba'ati, and many others like him, can play a role in the transition to a judicial system immune from state interference. This is no easy task, as some of those on the Iraqi bench have no experience – or even concept of – independence, having been routinely told what sentences to pass by the state security apparatus.

At first, the judge struck the right chords. He proudly described how he was one of the three judge panel who jailed Ali al-Majid, a cousin of Saddam. The young man had tried to use his family influence to get a friend out of jail, and got in a brawl with prison guards when they refused his demands.

The judge was adamant that there was no interference in this case, or any other in his court, from Saddam or his henchmen. "I always made my judgment freely and without fear. I wasn't frightened of annoying the president. I only fear God."

But then he contradicted this describing how he jailed Ziad Aziz – the son of Tariq – for trying to help a friend leave the country without customs clearance by arranging for an escort by his fathers' bodyguards.

"We applied the law in the Tariq Aziz case and the decision was just. The president was pleased with our judgment. He gave us presents of 5m Iraqi dinars and a wrist watch."

Nor are his views on hanging likely to endear him to the Allies, who (ignoring America's illiberal use of the gas chamber and electric chair) have drawn up a list of principles for the Iraqis' law enforcement agencies, which includes a ban on capital and corporal punishment.

The judge said he has sent "many, many" people to the gallows, although he said such rulings could be commuted in a higher court. He showed no remorse for dispatching people – tried without a jury – to the 5ft by 10ft dungeons on Death Row in the huge Abu Ghraib prison outside Baghdad, to die on the noose in the hanging chamber, one of which was still in place. "We in eastern countries think that hanging is just, especially for murderers."

If he does get his job back, the multitude of thieves of Baghdad – the "Ali Babas" – cannot hope for leniency. Asked what sentence he would give a looter, the judge replied with blood-curdling speed: "Fifteen years in jail."

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