In my apartment I asked, What do you talk about while he’s smoking during the breaks?

Nothing. I don’t know his language.

Why don’t you wear headphones in court?

It is not my job to follow the proceedings.

But he might do something, strangle his attorney, take poison.

Lieven shook his head. He said, That cannot happen. It is why I am there.

But what if something happens during the proceedings? Don’t you want to know?

Lieven reached for the buttons on my blouse and said, I am good at my job.

He slipped my blouse off.

I said, I see you from the gallery. What do you think about when you’re guarding?

You.

That’s not true. Do you have other girlfriends?

Wat ben je toch een lekker ding.

I understood only the word for delicious so I let it go. We were just two people who worked in the same building. When you work closely with people, you sleep with them from time to time, you just do, you need to, and this revives you like a sip of spring water.

—

Two expert witnesses cancelled after listening to the televised proceedings. The judges chided lawyers for delays, for scheduling gaps. Karla and her team continued to weave individual testimonies into a collective story, each voice substantiating the others, to demonstrate systematic intent. They corroborated dates. Nura Muslimović, PW-91, remembered the day she was taken away from her village because it was her mother’s birthday. PW-75, Šefika Tvrtković, remembered the day her daughter was taken because it was St. Ilija’s Day, a holiday for all her village though the Serbs call it Ilinden and Muslims call it Alidjun. Mothers marked their time by their children. Mubera Sokolović, PW-187, said, I was there for six months. I know because I wanted to know how my pregnancy was advancing. When the security officers at the doors had newspapers I borrowed them and checked the dates. Anyway I lost the baby at four months and seven days and I am glad. I will never bring a child into this world. Never. The soldiers made us monsters. One night I saved myself by picking up a baby and making it scream when a soldier was dragging me to the door. He threw me off him and said, Not you, I’m not listening to a screaming baby. I was shocked at myself that I did this and I never did it again. Nejra Kulenović, PW-186, was the mother of that baby. Her two children were with her in Partizan, two years old and ten months. She was determined to remember her children’s milestones, first steps and words, and she scratched little marks in the bathroom which the investigators documented. Her milk dried up. She was continuously taken away by groups of soldiers for an hour, a day, three days, and each time she was pushed back into the hall she looked only for her children.

She testified, When I came back I tried to hide my burns, bruises. But I counted days. To know their ages.