The Tribunal

EIGHT MONTHS EARLIER…
CHAPTER 1

“I can’t believe we’re moving to Holland tomorrow, Daddy.”

Kevin Anderson beamed at his eleven-year-old daughter, Ellen, as they huddled together over a two-scoop vanilla sundae with chocolate sauce and whipped cream.

She was beautiful, with her long brown hair gathered into a ponytail by a purple scrunchy; fun-loving, liquid-brown eyes, and a batch of girlish freckles on her nose.

“It’s going to be an adventure,” he said, smiling.

Her expressive face had morphed from a smile into a frown. “I’m really going to miss my friends. And my new school is so big. How will I ever find my way around?”

“You have plenty of experience finding your way around,” he said, nodding toward the Game Boy that sat on their white marble table at the soda fountain. “You get around Super Mario Land real well.”

Ellen’s face broke into a wide grin. “Can I play while we finish our ice cream?”

Kevin caught that infectious smile. If she had asked him for the moon at that moment, he would have somehow found a way to get a lasso around it.

“Sure. We’ve got time.”

“Yeah, if we go home now, we’ll just have to help Mommy pack.”

They exchanged conspiratorial smiles.

He hadn’t cared much for babies until he held Ellen in his arms seconds after she was born. Never before had he experienced the unconditional love that he felt for his daughter from that moment forward. There were mornings now he dropped her at school, and watched as she walked away, leaning against her heavy backpack, ponytail flapping. He’d sit there and look at her, thinking how lucky he was to have her as a daughter. Sometimes she would look back like, “Dad, go!” And of course, he did. But he couldn’t wait to see her again. He was a highly-regarded federal prosecutor, but his favorite job was being Ellen’s dad.

Ellen picked up the Game Boy and flicked it on. Its annoying, all-too-familiar tune filled the air.

Kevin watched his daughter squinting at the little screen, oblivious to the world around her. He went back to the ice cream, now without competition.

Less than an hour ago, he and FBI Special Agent Bud Marcello had been seated side-by-side at the prosecution table in San Francisco’s Federal Courthouse. As Ellen had watched from the public benches, a jury had convicted a prominent Santa Rosa City Councilman of bribery. It was Kevin’s last federal trial for the next year, and the final case of Bud’s long and illustrious law-enforcement career.

Tomorrow, Bud Marcello was retiring from the FBI after 30 years, while Kevin was heading to Holland where he had landed a one-year assignment to prosecute war criminals in The Hague at the United Nations’ sponsored International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia.

After twenty years as a federal prosecutor, Kevin was looking to do something different for a year, and at the same time, he wanted Ellen to experience living and touring abroad before she got to the age where she wouldn’t be seen with her parents.

When he returned to California, Kevin planned on landing with a prestigious law firm where he could try civil cases in federal court and make enough money to fund Ellen’s college education. Ellen was a straight “A” student. The day before, she had completed the fifth grade. To Kevin, she was Ivy League material already; Harvard, Yale, Princeton – none were too good for his little girl.

A trip to the Ghirardelli Chocolate Factory, with its large clock tower overlooking San Francisco Bay, was Kevin and Ellen’s tradition whenever he finished a trial. As he heard Ellen exclaim in frustration while pressing the buttons on her Game Boy, Kevin got up and filled two cups of water from the dispenser.

Ellen finally paused her game and looked up. “I was thirsty. Thanks, Dad.”

“Ready to head home?”

“We have to look at the machines on the way out.”

Ellen took a swig of water, got up from her chair, put the Game Boy in its case, and headed for the rear of the soda fountain. Kevin followed, snatching a napkin from the holder as they left. He caught up with Ellen and handed her the napkin without a word. She knew the routine. Grimacing, she wiped her mouth and handed the dirty napkin back to Kevin as they reached the exhibit showing how Ghirardelli chocolate was made. Ellen studied the placards, which she read every time they came here. She examined the machinery used in making chocolate candy.

“I wonder what the chocolate will be like in Holland,” she said.

“The Dutch make some of the best chocolate in the world. They’re famous for it. I hear they even sprinkle chocolate on their toast.”

Ellen’s face lit up. “Now that’s a habit I could get into. But I’m really going to miss my friends.”

“You’ll have all kinds of new friends.”

“I’ve lived in the same house since I was born. I’ve gone to the same school since kindergarten. There’s only a hundred kids there, and I know them all. There’s more than a thousand kids at The American School of The Hague. And it’s in a foreign country where I don’t know the language.”

“Scared?”

Ellen nodded.

“So am I,” he admitted. “A little, anyway.”

He put his arm around her shoulder as they watched the sea of milk chocolate wash back and forth in the large vat.

“Hey, have I ever steered you wrong?” he asked confidently.

“You made me take those drama lessons and play in that dumb softball league.”

Kevin grinned sheepishly. “Besides those two.”

Ellen rolled her eyes, then reached for his hand and cupped it in her own. Kevin loved it when she let him hold her hand. He knew it wouldn’t last much longer.

They strolled out of the ice cream place and into the parking garage. When they got to their minivan, Ellen grabbed the Game Boy and resumed the challenge.

Kevin didn’t object. He had slain his dragon in the courtroom today, and now Ellen was trying to slay hers.

As was their tradition, Kevin maneuvered the van over to the part of Lombard Street known as “The Crookedest Street in the World.” Ellen paused her game as the Andersons’ van joined the procession of cars carefully snaking their way down the switchbacks of the famous crooked street. She waved happily to the tourists who stood at the bottom of the street, snapping pictures.

Kevin and Ellen had been down this street dozens of times, but they still shared in the thrill.

“I wonder what it would be like to live on this street,” Kevin said.

“Oh, I don’t think I’d like it, Daddy. Too many tourists and too much traffic. And it’s so steep; you couldn’t possibly ride a bike here.”

“Good point.”

“I like our house in Santa Rosa. It’s on a nice, flat dead end street where I can ride my bike, and has lots of trees, and our creek. There’s too much concrete in San Francisco.”

Kevin agreed. San Francisco was exciting to visit, but he loved living in Santa Rosa, with its safe, family-oriented atmosphere, beautiful rolling hills, and an abundance of parks and nature trails. Their house backed up to Annadel State Park, where he ran along meandering footpaths whenever he could. It was one of his great pleasures.

“Did you find out about our house in Holland?” Ellen asked.

“Yeah, I got an e-mail this morning. We got the one I was hoping for.”

“What’s it like?”

“A lot different than what we’re used to. Three stories tall, but really skinny. They call them row houses because a bunch of houses are together all in a row.”

“Will I have my own room?”

“Better than that – you’ll have your own floor. The downstairs has the kitchen, living room and dining room. The second story has the master bedroom, an office, guest bedroom, and the bathroom. The third level has two bedrooms. You can have one for yourself and one for your friends.”

“Cool!”

“There’s a canal in front that runs down the middle of the street.”

“Can I swim in it?”

“I don’t think so. But I hear that sometimes it freezes over in the winter and people ice skate on it.”

“Great! I hope Mommy packs my skates.”

Ellen looked worriedly at Kevin. “Will we do the Breakfast Club in Holland?”

Once a week, he drove Ellen and two of her friends, Jordie and Britt, to school. They set out early in their minivan, picked up her friends, and then stopped for a donut, muffin, or croissant to eat on the way. Kevin had been doing this since kindergarten. The three girls called themselves “The Breakfast Club.” Kevin was their driver and an honorary member, mostly because he always paid for the goodies.

“I’d love to, but I think you’ll be biking to school. Everyone does it in Holland. And our house is only about ten blocks from school.”

“Wow! Will I get to pick out my own bike?”

“Sure.”

“I’m going to get a purple one with a bell.” Purple had become Ellen’s favorite color recently, after one of her friends had observed that pink was for little girls.

Kevin drove the van north, past the Marina Green and the stately Palace of Fine Arts, and on to the Golden Gate Bridge.

Ellen had turned back to her game.

“Let’s tell Mommy the verdict,” Kevin said as they passed the first huge orange span of the bridge.

“Call her,” Ellen replied, not looking up from her game.

Kevin reached for the cell phone, but realized that he would soon lose the connection as they drove into the tunnel on the other side of the bridge. To his right, he saw a huge container ship getting ready to glide under the Golden Gate out into the Pacific Ocean. Behind it in the bay sat Alcatraz Island, with its faded yellow prison buildings, steel water tower, and flashing beacon. Hundreds of white sails dotted the bay on this sunny June afternoon.

Ellen took a deep breath as they passed the rainbow arch that formed the entrance to the Waldo Tunnel a mile north of the bridge. She had been holding her breath and making a wish in tunnels since she was two years old. Fortunately, this was a short one. Ellen expelled her breath when their van emerged from the tunnel. She would never divulge her wish. She just said that it was the same one as always. Kevin thought he knew it – she had been wanting a puppy for some time.

Kevin dialed home.

Ellen, distracted from her game by the tunnel, snatched the phone.

“Daddy won his trial! And we had ice cream!”

They joined the commute north on Highway 101 through Marin County as Ellen recounted her day to her mother. Kevin reveled in the enthusiasm that Ellen expressed about their day together. When she finally surrendered the phone and returned to her Game Boy, there wasn’t much left for Kevin to report.

“Hi, honey,” Kevin said.

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks. It’s nice to go out with a win.”

Kevin and Diane had been married for twenty-one years. They had met in law school. Although she’d graduated near the top of their class, she hadn’t liked practicing law, and eventually had gone to work as a writer for a legal publishing company. When Ellen was born and with Kevin earning a federal prosecutor’s salary, Diane had cut down to part-time writing from home. Recently, she had stopped taking legal writing assignments from her regular clients, and Kevin wasn’t quite sure why. He knew that she had been depressed since the death of her last parent, her mother, in the past year. An only child, Diane seemed to have lost some of her passion for life since then.

“How’s the packing going?” he asked.

“Well, Ellen’s room is mostly packed up. I just need to get the stuff I’m throwing out into the trash so she won’t try to reclaim it.”

Kevin smiled. Ellen, a pack rat at heart, insisted on saving every piece of paper, Kid’s Meal toy, and art project that came into her possession. It was only through Kevin and Diane’s periodic secret sweeps that Ellen’s room was not totally engulfed.

“I haven’t even begun to think about packing the things we’re taking with us. Moving is so much work. I wish we could just stay put.”

They had just done ten years’ worth of staying put, Kevin thought. He didn’t say anything; he’d learned to listen to Diane complain, and offer words of understanding.

“I’m sorry I haven’t helped much with the move.”

Diane sighed. “I’ll see you in a little while. Don’t let Ellen have more sweets.”

“Of course not,” he said in mock indignation.

Kevin knew Diane didn’t want to go to Holland. A homebody, she was comfortable in Santa Rosa and among their circle of close friends. Kevin hoped the change of scene would be good for Diane, who had finally come around to the idea because she didn’t want to stand in the way of an experience for Ellen that few children got. If Ellen had not been in the equation and it had simply been a matter of Kevin wanting the experience, he suspected he would have been moving to Holland alone.

He wondered what the relocation would mean to them, and what would happen in their marriage. As they had gotten older, the differences between them grew and bothered Kevin more. He was forty-five years old, and he wasn’t yet ready to live on cruise control. With an innate zest for living, he still wanted to have adventures and make new memories, while Diane seemed weighed down and even haunted by old ones.

Kevin had never cheated on Diane, and he was not one to admit failure by divorce. And, of course, there was Ellen to consider now. He was in for the long haul. But he worried that he and Diane were disconnecting, and was scared to death that their marriage had begun to resemble that of the couple in American Beauty.

An hour later, Kevin pulled the van into the driveway. Ellen raced into their sprawling ranch house, leaving Kevin to carry in her Game Boy, backpack, as well as his own things. By the time he headed up the stairs, Ellen was passing him on her way down.

“I’m going next door to play with Lauren,” she said breezily.

“Thanks for a great day, Ellen.”

“Me, too. Love you,” she called back to him from halfway down the stairs.

Kevin’s face broke into a wide smile. He made it to the top of the stairs and put down his load. There were boxes everywhere.

Diane, wearing sweats, appeared in the hall. “I’m pooped,” she announced.

Kevin suddenly felt tired. The adrenaline of the trial and the sugar from the sundae had worn off. It was good to be home, even one that looked like a warehouse. Tomorrow, the movers would be taking everything away to storage – the things going to Holland with them would come along in five suitcases and two trunks. The day after, the family who had rented the house for a year would be moving their belongings in.

“Are we still going out to dinner?” Diane asked.

“I guess so,” Kevin replied. “I’m beat, but I want to take Bud out to celebrate the verdict and his retirement.”

“Whatever.” Shrugging indifferently, she said, “All the cooking utensils are packed up anyhow. And Ellen wants to spend the night next door.”

Kevin didn’t bother changing out of his suit. Diane put on a light blue summer dress. At forty-four, she still hardly ever wore makeup. Her smooth, moist skin and beautiful smile lit up her face, although the smile had not been coming out much lately. Diane wore her brown hair short now, and it was streaked with gray, which she made no effort to conceal. The most striking thing about her was that she didn’t act like she was beautiful; she carried herself with a reserved simplicity and looked good without trying.

Kevin and Diane drove to downtown Santa Rosa and strolled into his favorite restaurant: Mac’s Deli. Mac’s was a Santa Rosa institution; a hole-in-the-wall delicatessen that served huge sandwiches to the town’s movers and shakers. Diane didn’t care for Mac’s – she preferred fancier restaurants when they went out, and also, she didn’t like having to share Kevin with “the entire room” whenever they ate there.

Bud Marcello and his wife, Sherry, were already seated in a booth. The burly FBI Agent had grey, curly hair that looked a bit more unkempt than usual. He seemed to also be making less of an effort to conceal his bulging waistline now that he would no longer be subject to the Bureau’s grooming rules.

Marcello rose and kissed Diane on the cheek.

“Come on,” he said to Kevin with a chuckle, “let’s take our victory lap.”

Kevin winced. As Santa Rosa’s first and only federal prosecutor, he was a bit of a legal-community celebrity. But he shied away from gloating whenever he sent someone on their way to federal prison. Tonight, Kevin decided to humor the gregarious agent. After all, Bud needed to start drumming up business after tomorrow.

“Got your new business cards printed up yet?” Kevin teased.

“Right here,” Bud said, slapping his breast pocket.

Kevin had worked with Bud Marcello for the last eight years. Bud was a tenacious investigator with a keen sense of fair play, and Kevin had come to trust him completely. He was also the most irreverent FBI agent Kevin had ever met. If Bud needed some information, he would bypass the Bureau’s cumbersome procedures and just go get it, leaving FBI supervisors and bean counters tearing out their hair.

Kevin and Bud walked around Mac’s, talking to various lawyers and politicians sitting in the booths. News of the local councilman’s conviction had spread, and the pair was roundly congratulated. Political animals always went with a winner.

After Kevin and Bud had rejoined their wives, other locals frequently stopped by, talking about the trial, Kevin’s move to Holland, and Bud’s plans as he liberally passed out his new cards.

Kevin saw Diane silently steam as their meal was repeatedly interrupted.

“Are you looking forward to living in Holland, Diane?” It was Gaye LeBaron, the legendary columnist for the Santa Rosa Press Democrat. LeBaron was sharp and very perceptive, but Diane was savvy enough not to spill her guts to the local scribe.

“I’m too busy packing to think about it,” Diane said, managing a weak smile.

Shortly after dinner, Kevin and Diane took their leave.

“Stay away from the dark side,” Kevin kidded Bud, who was fully prepared to take on work from criminal defense attorneys in his new private investigation business.

There was no conversation in the car as the Andersons drove home. Kevin had enjoyed savoring his victory with his friend. Diane was so wrapped up in her anxiety over the move that she hadn’t even asked him for details about the verdict, as she usually did. As he drove, Kevin shook it off. It was time to disengage from the councilman’s trial anyway, and to look forward to his new challenge of prosecuting Bosnian war criminals. He found himself hoping once again that the move would prove to be good for Diane and their marriage.

When they got home, Kevin went to say goodnight to Ellen. He strode into her room where she had rigged a pulley system between her bedroom and Lauren’s next door. Kevin printed out the words “Good night, Love, Dad” on a piece of paper, opened Ellen’s window, and attached the paper to the rope with a clothespin. Then he pulled the rope through the pulley and watched as the note glided its way across to Lauren’s.

When they heard the sound of the rope scraping the pulleys, Ellen and Lauren appeared in Lauren’s bedroom window and retrieved the note. Ellen read it, grinned, and blew him a goodnight kiss.

He got up and went to check his e-mail for the last time.

WELCOME, said the familiar AOL greeting. YOU’VE GOT MAIL.

He scanned the list of incoming mail. One entry caught his eye: a message from his contact at the Tribunal in The Hague. He double clicked on it and read:

We are sorry to inform you that a budget freeze has been imposed upon the Office of the Prosecutor. At this time, we must withdraw our offer of a position for you. We will keep your application on file if the funding becomes available.

Rupert Schmidt, Director of Personnel

Kevin felt the air go out of him.