9/11 conspirator trial a celebration of liberty and justice

By Roey Rahmil

A quiet celebration is underway in an Alexandria, Va., courtroom. Zacarias Moussaoui, an admitted co-conspirator in the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, is being tried and sentenced for his role in that horrific incident. It's a real trial: there are witnesses, lawyers, a judge and even a jury. There are psychological defenses and closing arguments; attorneys squabble over evidence, and the jury hears a heartwrenching emotional testimony. So, what is the celebration all about? It's about the triumph--in the most adverse circumstances--of the rule of law.

The Bush administration would have us believe that when it comes to terrorism, concepts such as a fair trial and due process rights are irrelevant. When you're trying to find a ticking bomb or foil an unfolding plot, there's no time for legal counsel or search warrants. The only way to combat, stop and punish terrorists is through thorough investigation, relentless interrogation (read: torture) and swift retribution. Besides, "they" ("they" being anyone the administration suspects of wrongdoing) hate our system; why should they be allowed to avail themselves of its safeguards?

That's why the Bush administration has, at every opportunity, decimated the rights of those it thinks are terrorists. It threatened to veto Sen. John McCain's anti-torture bill until public pressure became overwhelming. It designated Jose Padilla, an American citizen, as an "enemy combatant," holding him in military facilities, incommunicado and without legal aid, for more than three years. The Bush administration later transferred Padilla to civilian custody -- not because of any crisis of conscience, but in order to shield the whole matter from the Supreme Court's review. And, most notably, the administration has held hundreds of people at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, without anything resembling a fair trial.

But in an almost painful example of self-contradiction, the Justice Department has painstakingly prosecuted Moussaoui. And it has not been completely successful. For example, late last month, after a government lawyer illegally coached several key witnesses, the judge rightly prohibited them from testifying, and thus seriously damaged the government's case.

That's how the process is supposed to work. And that's why the process is so important. An impartial judge can put the brakes on an overly aggressive prosecution and check an overzealous defense attorney. A fair jury can critically evaluate the evidence and reach a just conclusion. The system doesn't always lead to perfect results, but it at least gets us closer to them.

It's also risky because sometimes the evidence doesn't add up to help make a concrete decision, and, as a result, the accused go free. The Bush administration doesn't want its prisoners to be tried because it doesn't have a shred of evidence to prove that the accused have committed the crime. The government, of course, would not want to be blamed for imprisoning an innocent. And there are chances that a dangerous terrorist could wind up on the loose. But it's worth it.

Because that's what we do in every other situation. That's the key characteristic of a fair system and, more broadly, of a democracy: no person is below the law, and no governmental interest is above it.

Sometime soon, when the verdict is read and Moussaoui is sentenced, it will be a dignified affair. It won't look like a celebration. But it will be one -- it will be a celebration of justice. And it should also be a reminder to us all: liberty and justice are most needed when they are least attractive.

Roey Rahmil is a junior political science and philosophy major.