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Confessions of a Female War Crimes Investigator
Retrospectively, it was all so simple, natural and matter of fact being
on a boat restaurant in Belgrade, sitting with, laughing, drinking a
two hundred bottle of wine and chatting about war and peace while Ratko
Mladic held my hand. Mladic, a man considered the world’s most
ruthless war criminal since Adolf Hitler, still at large and currently
having a five million dollar bounty on his head for genocide by the
international community. Yet there I was with my two best friends at
the time, a former Serbian diplomat, his wife, and Ratko Mladic just
chilling. There was no security, nothing you’d ordinarily expect in
such circumstances. Referring to himself merely as, Sharko; this is
the story of it all came about.
It all began as former United States President Bill Clinton spearheaded
NATO’s war against Serbia, Montenegro and Slobodan Milosevic (March
1999). Thirty-five years old, conducting graduate study work at the
New School for Social Research in New York City in political science,
I planned graduating spring 1999 with an area study emphasis in
international law and human rights. I was naïve then, still believing
strongly in democratic liberal concepts such as freedom of academic
thought. Hence, I never anticipated my political views would impede
either my graduation or completing my master’s thesis work on whether
NATO member states committed gross violations of customarily accepted
international criminal law in launching military aggression against
Serbia and Montenegro owing to not acquiring United Nations Security
Counsel approval prior.
Then as hit with the identical smart bomb dropped on Milosevic’s
presidential palace in Serbia the night of April 22nd 1999, political
science chairperson then at the New School, Professor David Plotke,
summoned me into his office before class that evening and dismissed me
from the master’s program at the New School owing to what he considered
my possessing unsavory political science opinions.
Only
having to complete two more classes to graduate, I always thought my
future in political sciences as wide open with innumerous
possibilities; unfortunately this proved untrue. Plotke told me in no
uncertain terms that I was not the type of person the New School wanted
walking around with a degree stating the New School’s prestigious name
on it.
Ironically, the New School was an institution I
attended only owing to its’ placing great pride and emphasis on
allowing students complete academic freedom of thought without
dictating what is and what is not politically correct to discuss. Yet
surprisingly, dismissal from the program and blow to my graduate work
should not been completely unexpected since the semester immediately
prior, the school refused allowing me to conduct my graduate thesis
work on the subject of whether the NATO and Bill Clinton committed war
crimes against the former Yugoslavia during the Kosovo war (1999) and
internally suggested I write about infringement of Muslim human rights
in France.
I suppose with the likes of Hillary Clinton
and Tony Blair hanging about the fourth floor of the school at the
renown World Policy Institute in 1999, I should have expected the
university would not take kindly to student‘s speaking out critically
against Bill Clinton and the Kosovo war (1999) he went down in history
for advocating. Then again, in 1999 I still believed in the school’s
core ideals of academic freedom, especially since I was paying no less
than one thousand United States dollars a credit to attend. My civil
rights lawsuit against the college is another story in and of itself
not deserving extended amounts of space here, except what I already
mentioned.
Dismissal from graduate school left me in a
complete state of scholarly anomie seeking empathy and solace from my
few friends and confidants at the time including many diplomats I
studied with at the New School for several years. The list included
but was not limited to ambassadors from Iran, Oman and a newly
appointed First Secretary of the Bosnian Mission to the United Nations
in New York, Darko Trifunovic.
Noteworthy of mentioning, both the ambassadors from Iran and Oman both
confided in me their own extreme dissatisfactions and the scholarly
problems they themselves currently encountered at the New School for
Social Research. On the last day attending the school, both
aforementioned men explicitly complained to me the school was holding
them back from graduating owing to their own so-called extremely
unsavory political viewpoints. In particular the Iranian ambassador,
Amir, was writing his master’s thesis on the Iranian contra affair and
the UN Ambassador from Oman told me, for years he was being held back
from graduating because Greek Professor Addie Pollis strongly disdained
his Islamic religious and cultural views insofar as human rights and
multiple marriage partners by Muslim sultans in his country of origin.
It was May (1999).
Riddled with uncertainty about my future
scholarly status, I immediately applied for graduate study at Farleigh
Dickinson University in New Jersey where I studied an additional two
years before encountering similar problems with the graduate school
faculty there. Ironically it was only FDU professors whom formerly
studied themselves at the New School still in touch with the faculty
there, who were later responsible for my having to leave the graduate
program at FDU in early 2002.
Between the time of my
dismissal from the New School and my dismissal from FDU in the fall
(2002), I stayed in touch with many scholars and other politically
active persons sharing similar anti-war views as myself regarding
NATO’s 1999 Kosovo war including: Professor Barry Lituchy (NYC), Ramsey
Clark’s people at the International Action Center, and a couple of new
acquaintances I’ve chanced meet online in Serbian political activist
forums.
One of those people was, Darko Trifunovic. Darko and I were e-mailing
each other regularly by early spring (1999) at which time he informed
me that he became the newly appointed First Secretary of the Bosnian
Mission to the United Nations in New York City and wondered whether I
would pick him up at JFK airport when he arrives in a few weeks; I
acceded.
Another event in my life occurring in Manhattan
in late spring (1999) was chance meeting Nikola Sainovic; Slobodan
Milosevic’s former Deputy Serbian Prime Minister. It just so happened I
was in the city attending Ramsey Clark’s anti-NATO lectures immediately
after NATO’s bombing campaign against the former Yugolsavia began. I
was walking up to the main lecture building and paused at the door
momentarily to examine how to enter and where to go when Nikola walked
up for me , surprising me from behind, he said “hello, are you here for
the lecture also“? I replied “yes.” I was shy, but Nikola kept the
conversation going as we walked into the building together discussing
the horrendous actions the NATO was currently undertaking against his
country in Serbia. Although I did not know then who exactly he was, he
was handsome, educated and he wore a very sharp brown suit, tie and
wore glasses. His identity is unmistakable to me now viewing the photos
of him sitting in the Hague currently awaiting his own trial for
complicity in war crimes. During the lecture intermission he again
came over to speak with me and asked me my telephone number stating
he’d like to get together and talk sometime with me while he was in
town; I acceded.
It was not long after Ramsey Clark’s lecture that Nikola called me and
we agreed to have dinner together at the Peking House in Butler NJ on
Route 23. He met me at the restaurant and we enjoyed a great dinner
and lively conversation regarding American diplomacy and politics
between the United States, NATO and Serbia. After dinner he asked me
if there was somewhere quite we both could go to continue talking and
being shy about men and their intentions, I told him since it was a
beautiful summer’s evening, I suggested we drive up 23 North into West
Milford NJ where there was a lovely “rest stop” where we could sit down
on the picnic table chairs and continue our conversation together.
He offered to drive me up to the spot in his fancy brown Jaguar. I had
never really been in a Jaguar before and it drove really smooth.
Nikola and I spent several hours just chatting about Serbia and the
illegal NATO actions undertaken against his country and when we
commenced, he drove me back to my car waiting by the restaurant and we
decided we would meet again for lunch in about a week; he would give me
call soon.
I was attending Montclair State University for
one semester that summer so when Nikola call me in about a week for
lunch I recommended we meet at about 4pm at the 6 Brothers Diner on
Route 46 by the university. Nikola never made any unwanted advances
towards me and we just like to chat about war and peace. He told me,
‘Jill, I like to come talk with you because I can trust you. I can let
down my hair so to speak with you and not worry about you wire tapping
me or stabbing me in the back.” I thanked him for his compliment and
company. He told me his daughter lived in Tarrytown New York and when
we parted that day, he told me this is where he was headed. He gave me
his business card bearing his name, Nikola Sainovic. I forget the
business it listed, it might have just said Prime Minister but I think
it said something else politically related but I can’t remember now. I
took it and thanked him. Whomever I did meet, they also gave me photos
and showed me a brief portfolio of their news ideas in the space saving
architecture and additionally gave me some photos of their work and a
business card for what I remember as a German PASSOS company. It had
to be be Nikola. We actually had a great chat about what I thought
about his new architectural ideas. I loved them telling Nikola I
believed he would be extremely successful in his new endeavors. I think
we may have had lunch one additional time and then I never heard from
him again.
Darko arrived first, his very beautiful wife,
Bojana, arrived as expected about one month later after he was
settled. Darko greatly impressed me at the time. Being a former
political advisor to the to the former female President of the Republic
of Srpska in Bosnia, he had a degree in international law, diplomatic
immunity, was a writer, handsome, was extremely brilliant and fun to
just hang-out with and work. The three of us became extremely close
friends and confidants. I even became voted in as the
executive director of the Law Projects Center Yugoslavia in New York .
The Law Projects Center was a United Nations accredited NGO and
offshoot of the Yugoslav Coalition to Establish and international
criminal court. Darko and some political people originally founded the
organization in Belgrade Serbia prior his arrival in New York City in
diplomatic capacity.
http://members.fortunecity.com/lpca1/
I worked fervently legally registering the organization in New Jersey
as a legally filed non-profit successfully. The Law Projects
Center and its activities demanded Darko, his wife and I often stayed
the night over each others’ apartments often; many times working days
at a time with very little sleep. From winter (1999) until fall
(2002), Darko, his wife and I worked daily at the Bosnian Mission to
the United Nations in New York City co-authoring two books: 1) The
Bosnian Model of Al-Qaeda Terrorism and; 2) The Srebrenica Massacre.
As a young student of war and peace in the former Yugoslavia, I was in
scholarly heaven accessing the United Nations to work with Darko
daily. This enabled my meeting many of the most fascinating people in
the world. I vividly remember Senator Bill Richardson at the time
giving nightly press interviews on television about meeting with OPEC
members states, “setting them straight about lowering oil prices in
2000.” Yet when I’d chit-chat with the Iranian ambassador in the city
before class asking him about it he would say to me something to the
effect as,” We at OPEC are so angry about former colonialism by
England and America, OPEC will continually attempt bringing both the
United States and England to their financial knees on energy
issues…And by the way Jill, Russia does not in any manner intend to
halt weapon sales to Iran.”
http://www.slobodan-milosevic.org/documents/srebrenica.pdf http://www.analyst-network.com/profile.php?user_id=240
In fact Amir and I, notwithstanding our theological differences, got
alone well. We’d often sit together before class acceding on a great
many matters. In particular I remember us sitting one night and
looking me square in the eye stating, “You know Jill, I will never
believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God.” I replied, “And I Amir
will never convert to Islam.” Now that we got that out of the way, we
both smiled at one another getting down to discussing real issues.
The Bosnian mission to the United Nations in New York City in 2001 was
an extremely interesting place. Reflecting the rotating ethnic
presidency existing in Bosnia unto present, Mission employees were
comprised of people of completely bipolar ethnic, theological and
politically ideological viewpoints.
The Head Ambassador
of the Mission post 9-11 was then combating rumors of his soon becoming
persona non grata in the United States for allegedly giving Osama Bin
Laden a visa to travel through Bosnia illegally when previously
stationed in Italy in 1993. There were also rumors he confessed to the
United States Department of State of running international arms trades
in connection with Al-Qaeda.
Darko
Trifunovic confided in me that Al Qaeda Algerian militant Abu Mali,
worked in the Bosnian mission to the UN in Manhattan 2001-2002 after
the war under a Bosnian name, Safet Catovic. Darko Trifunovic and I
worked together at the Bosnian Mission to the United Nations in NYC in
2001-2002 together and I, Jill Starr,l verify I used to work on Mali's
computer at the Mission because it always was getting fouled up with
computer viruses at his request.
The number two man at the Bosnian mission, the First Ambassador was
Serbian, Orthodox Christian and a doctor of medicine by university
degree. The First Secretary of the Mission was my friend Darko, the
Consulate department was headed by an ethnic Muslim lady from Bosnia,
and there was an ethnic Croatian woman floating around with other
various diplomats being of Roman Catholic Croatian descent. He became
extremely suspicious of who Catovic really was because he spoke poor
Bosnian. As a result, Trifunovic said he lost a job in the mission and
moved to Belgrade.
The number two man at the Bosnian mission, the First Ambassador was
Serbian, Orthodox Christian and a doctor of medicine by university
degree. The First Secretary of the Mission was my friend Darko, the
Consulate department was headed by an ethnic Muslim lady from Bosnia,
and there was an ethnic Croatian woman floating around with other
various diplomats being of Roman Catholic Croatian descent.
My time at the Mission was primarily spent fixing Darko’s laptop
computer which became daily infected with computer viruses he
continually claimed emanated from other employees at the Mission who
were allegedly trying to sabotage him because of his ethnic Serbian
background. I vividly recall the constant bickering between all the
mission employees; always accusing each other of committing war crimes
and giving each other computer viruses making it virtually impossible
for any of them to get along. The Croatian diplomat usually stayed to
herself with her office door shut while the others present usually just
listened to Led Zeppelin rock music on their personal CD-ROM players.
They told me repeatedly they had nothing else to do with their time at
the United Nations beyond an occasional meeting except for listening
to music and playing computer games.
Sad and ironic was
the few things I noticed all the Bosnian mission employees agreeing
upon was their undying love for the rock band, Led Zeppelin.
A year had come and gone while I totally immersed myself into political
inquiry as to just who was guilty of committing war crimes in the
former Yugoslavia. My favorite subjects of inquiry included:
NATO, Kosovo & Metohia, Serbia, Montenegro, Bosnia and persons of
interest such as Mladic and Hacim Thaci (Albanian Leader of the Kosovo
Liberation Army). It was not enough for my merely taking in nightly
news reports from CNN and other mainstream American media; to conduct
an investigation for inquiry of social fact, I needed to go to Serbia
and investigate for myself.
Only after seeing firsthand the goings on in the Balkans could I make a
discriminate determination of guilty parties insofar as genocide
there. After my fateful month long trip to Serbia and Montenegro in
the fall 2002 I later concluded all warring parties involved had blood
on their hands (Croats, Serbs, Muslims and the NATO); there are no
innocents. But in 2001, neither my finances nor busy schedule allowed
such a trip. Moreover, not speaking fluent Serbian coupled with the
anti-American sentiment existing in Serbia then listed on the United
States Department of State travel warning website caused going to there
an unfeasible option. Hence, my life and studies went on as usual.
Several seasons went by and now it was spring 2001. Darko and his wife
Bojana had time off which they spent visiting friends and family in
Serbia for about two weeks. Because of this Darko was unable to
function in full diplomatic capacity. In spring 2001 there was a
preparatory commission meeting of plenipotentiaries to establish an
international criminal court at the United Nations in New York City.
Topics of the meeting included but were not limited to defining
interstate acts of aggression, court financing etc.. Darko asked me if
I would sit in for him at the meeting taking as many notes possible
owing to the Law Projects Center possessing United Nations
accreditation as a NGO (non governmental organization) with full
observer status at the United Nations; I acceded.
Darko
faxed me all necessary paperwork enabling my application attendance at
this crucial meeting; I filled out the necessary forms and faxed them
to the appropriate United Nations office for approval. It was an
extremely exciting time for me. My close friend and colleague, Arnold
Stark (History professor and Columbian University PhD) drove me into
Manhattan walking me through the United Nations main entrance and
security the day of attendance. Professor Stark himself was an old
foreign service man from way back in the day and he told me I never
looked as professionally sharp as I did on that day; I wore a navy blue
pin striped suit. I must admit, I looked good.
Only
post attending that day did I truly understand the total lapse of
security existing then at the United Nations in New York City. I say
this owing to the social fact that the Law Projects Center was indeed
registered as an United nations accredited NGO it is true. However,
closed meetings of this sort meant attendance was strictly limited to
head ambassadors of valid United Nations member state missions and non
governmental organizations possessing observer status were not allowed.
Unto present, I’ve yet understood whereby I gained entrance into this
privy closed meeting consisting of only United Nations ambassadors,
but I did. Walking to the basement floor of the United Nations
building that day, I merely wore a visitors badge given to me at the
front desk in no manner indicating that I was an ambassador of a United
Nations mission; least of all the Bosnia mission as required for
entrance. Totally unaware I didn’t possess necessary credentials to
enter the meeting, I walked confidently towards the entrance door and
past the guard stationed outside it. The guard never bothering to
examine the type of badge I wore around my neck simply said “good day
Madame” and urged me into the meeting; it was just about time to begin.
I immediately sensed something wrong once through the door past the
guard. First, I was uncertain where to sit. Everyone else had a sign
in front of their seat stating their country of origin. The Israeli
ambassador sat in front of the Israel sign, the Spanish lady sat in
front of the seat indicating she represented, Spain etc..
I looked fervently around the room seeing no seats indicating seats for
United Nations observers anywhere. The last thing I wanted to do was
to embarrass myself by taking the seat of an important ambassador; I
noticed a couple of men seeming from some African state grabbing some
meeting paperwork nearby so I inquired of them.
I told
them I was a newbie and inquired where to sit and what I should do.
With heavy African accents one of them said, “just grab a bunch of
these papers, sit there and look like you are busy,” so I did. In
fact, I grabbed as many extra copies as I could without looking
conspicuous when noticing another peculiarity.
The
meeting papers indicated they were for restricted for the eyes of state
mission heads’ only (chief ambassadors of countries) and allowing other
persons and/or United Nations employees to view them was a punishable
offense. Uncertain what to do, and with the meeting beginning, I
merely sat there stunned. My seat and the one the African gentleman
next to me took seemed extras because they neglected having any
indication regarding country origin in front of them on the table; I
felt safe.
As totally immersed and interesting as I found
the topics, the African ambassador seated found boring. I say this
owing to noticing during the entire meeting he was merely doodling
nonsensical pictures on some legal pad. I think that no one took more
notes that day than me. I was especially interested in the interstate
bickering about financing the international criminal court should and
when it came about. Spain was particularly forceful in vocalizing its
opinion that the countries giving the most monetary contributions to
the court itself ought have more power over both its staffing and its
innocent and guilty verdicts as well as judges appointed. My
suspicions’ equally shared by scholars such as Noam Chomsky and former
attorney general, Ramsey Clark were now fully justifiably confirmed.
The court itself was a great travesty of justice and I was actually
witnessing quarrels between countries insofar as controlling the courts
judges and verdicts based on financial contributions rather than on law
and true international justice.
The most shocking point
of the meeting for me was when the Israeli ambassador admitted openly
to the other attendees that Israel was indifferent to war crimes,
crimes against humanity and would in no manner support any
international structure limiting its’ ability for practicing war and
peace against any other state and/or party it considered a threat to
its national interest.
The ambassador representing the
United States that day strongly and equally explicitly backed the
Israeli position making clear American attendance was more for
information gathering purposes and show than true concern for
international law, world peace and social justice. When the meeting
ended I slipped quickly out the front entrance of the United Nations;
notes and papers in hand; I would read them in detail later that
evening. When I attended these Preparatory Meetings at the end, the
First Ambassador to the Bosnian Mission in NYC (The Serbian Doctor with
glasses) came in but only stayed a short while as my witness to my
being there.
It must have amazed Darko upon
returning from Serbia I actually gained entrance to the ICC preparatory
closed meeting because within a week he invited me to the city to
attend another important meeting at the United Nations comprised of
diplomats from some very selective and prestigious NATO member
states. I don’t recall the date but by his return fully I understood
the definition of a closed meeting. Upon approaching the meeting door
I became at once cognizant the meeting stated “closed meeting,” on
the door. I did my best to point this fact out to Darko who told me to
go in with him anyway; we did. Darko obviously thought because I
gained entrance to the ICC meeting I ought not have in his absence,
perhaps if I were with him, he covertly could gain access this closed
NATO meeting; no dice. Upon entering the room, immediately some
important looking man called him over and diplomatically informed him
that “Serbia was not invited.” Darko pointed to me explaining that he
was with the American lady but he was asked politely to leave; I
followed him out the door embarrassed.
The following
year was mundane. Filled with activities like shuttling back and forth
to FDU for graduate school, fund raising for the Law Projects Center
and co-authoring two book with Darko. The fateful day of 9/11 and the
attacks by Al-Qaeda on the World Trade Center Towers in New York City
changed my venue forever. Post 9/11 Darko became a man on a personal mission seemingly unrelated to the Bosnian mission itself.
He told me it was the utmost importance to publicize the alleged fact
that the head ambassador of the Bosnian mission was in his estimation
involved with Al-Qaeda.
Darko had a seemingly ton of secret documentary evidence emanating from
the ministry of internal affairs in Belgrade and Bosnia seeming true
bolstering his allegations in my eyes then.
Asking me to fervently work on editing a book on which topic was meant
for exposing the head ambassador of the Bosnian mission at that time; I
acceded. The publication was later published by the Repubika Srpska
information agency in Bosnia. The Serbian government in the Republika
Srpska in Bosnia then was seriously pressing Darko for a fast
publication so we stayed up many nights over his apartment in Forest
Hills, New York working to do so. The book was entitled, ”The Bosnia
Model of Al-Qaeda Terrorism. It can probably still be found and read
online. Last time I checked it was posted on the website:
http://www.analyst-network.com/profile.php?user_id=240.
Darko always told me I possessed full rights to this and other
publications we worked on together. Although I edited and co-authoring
the Al-Qaeda work, a few years back I noticed Darko removed my name on
the inner front cover page as editor replacing it with the name of a
Serbian editor. When questioned about it Darko told me he kept my name
from being published because of the death threats and dangers to my
life that he himself encountered because of its publication. I do
vividly remember Darko receiving a great many death threats and threats
towards his wife at the time, Bojana, so it is possible he was telling
me the truth.
Even prior completing our work on the
Al-Qaeda book together Darko was obsessed with manifesting the Bosnian
Chief ambassador at the time as a terrorist. At the time I had no
reason to doubt Darko’s word and assisted him in rabidly writing an
open letter to all the United Nations member state missions exposing
him as such. I surmise this is when Darko’s job at the United Nations
as First Secretary of the Bosnian mission became jeopardized.
Today I surmise Darko’s employment at the United Nations genuinely
became compromised owing not only to the inter-ethnic conflicts
existing between him and the head ambassador then, a proud Muslim man,
but also owing to the fact he forged birth certificates to acquire his
position in the first place later becoming a social fact from the
interior ministry in Bosnia. It was an emotional shock when Darko
informed me a by summer 2001 that he lost his job and he and Bojana had
to immediately return to Belgrade to work out the matter in court.
This was also a great emotional blow to me also owing to the fact that
I always possessed a crush on Darko and he knew it. This was a social
fact I never publicly admitted previously to writing this book. I once
even asked Darko if he wanted to have an affair with me but he declined
stating he would never be unfaithful to his beautiful wife, Bojana.
This left me in an extreme morally uncomfortable position because
Bojana was my best friend. I continually told myself being attracted
to her husband Darko was a non-option. Working so closely with him on
an almost daily basis however made my attraction to him difficult to
overcome.
I was also engaged to Professor Arnold Stark at
the time and wore the ten thousand diamond ring he bought me on my
finger. Arnold became increasingly jealous of Darko in time and
eventually forbid me to work with him altogether. Notwithstanding, I
continued working with Darko against Arnold’s wishes. This coupled
with my trip to Serbia and Montenegro in 2002 eventually led to my
breakup with Professor Stark and after almost an entire decade, my
relationship with Arnold never fully recovered.
Darko tried
keeping his job in diplomatic capacity at he UN as long as possible but
the bipolar friction and hate existing between himself and the chief
ambassador at the mission proved too much. The chief ambassador in
contact with the Bosnian government at the time in Sarajevo eventually
had Darko dismissed as first secretary of the mission. To the best of
my recollection Darko was no longer receiving a monthly salary from
Sarajevo by spring or summer 2002 (approximately).
I
often came visiting Darko and Bojana’s apartment in Manhattan then
situated on a side street within walking distance from the UN to help
them out financially by buying them inexpensive dinners and such in
Manhattan and chauffeuring them around (they did not own a car for the
majority of their stay in the States).
In July 2002 as I
remember the three of us spent many memorable moments going to the
beaches outside the city and just spending time talking etc.. At the
time and owing to my being in graduate school at FDU, I had plenty of
extra money to burn owing my taking the maximum GSL student loans
totaling about twenty thousand dollars a semester. Then one day that
summer Darko informed me he and Bojana were only awaiting the Bosnian
government to wire them a sum of five thousand dollars to pay off their
American bills, last month rent and they would make a hasty exit back
to Belgrade permanently. I was emotionally crushed.
Desperate not to lose contact with Darko because of my personal
feelings towards him, I told him my summer classes at FDU were about to
end August 2002 and although the fall semester was about to begin, I
wanted to visit him in Serbia as soon as possible. Soon for me meant
as soon as I received a check from the United States government for the
total of that semesters’ student loan money in the amount of about ten
thousand dollars.
Darko, hesitant at first soon gave in to
my constant petitions to visit him. The day I brought them both to JFK
to return to Serbia permanently, Bojana whispered something in Darko’s
ear as we hugged saying our goodbyes all three of trying to hold back
tears of parting and Darko looking me in the eye said something to the
effect, “Jill, don’t worry as soon as you can afford it call me and
we’ll arrange your visit.” Darko never could stand to see me cry which
on many occasion I did owing to the loss of my two children and other
personal challenges in my life. They turned and boarded their plane to
Belgrade as I drove back to New Jersey.
Driving home I
felt an odd combination of extreme sadness at the loss of my two best
friends mixed with the cheerful prospect I would shortly be boarding a
plane myself destined for Serbia and Montenegro by mid August 2002 when
my student loan check arrived. Upon arriving home I immediately began
making all necessary arrangements for my forthcoming trip.
The day following Darko ‘s departure, I bought a great many prepaid
phone cards for the purpose of calling him owing to both my missing him
and also my primarily wanting to began making all necessary
arrangements facilitating my forthcoming visit from JFK to Beograd. I
had countless questions such as: how much money will I need, how will I
obtain a VISA being an American citizen with all the US State
Department warnings against US citizenry traveling to the region, etc.,
etc., etc.. I had already obtained a valid United States passport many
years ago which I always carried with me. I’ve always held the strong
opinion that having a valid passport with you at all times is just a
good idea. It enables one the necessary freedom to go to the airport
and catch a plane going anywhere at anytime.
Darko told me that I need not worry about all the complicated VISA
requirements listed on Serbian government website required of other
Americans that he would handle everything. I was told merely to bring
with me about five thousand United States dollars in cash spending
money and it was a done deal. I went to buy some new suitcases and
clothes for my trip in Wayne, New Jersey during the first two weeks in
August 2002 in preparation. Packing was always a problem for me as
Darko can attest to owing to my medically diagnosed attention deficit
disorder. I had a difficult time deciding what to bring, so I tried to
bring everything I thought I needed. The day of my departure my
suitcases weighed way over the weight limit restrictions indicated by
the airline.
Getting to JFK for departure in mid August 2002
proved to be an almost insurmountable task in and of itself owing to my
heavy luggage and everyone I asked to drop me at the airport that day
had strongly held views against my going.
Arnold Stark
declined to bring me owing to his personal jealousies insofar as Darko
and everyone else had one or another excuse rooted in the anti-American
sentiment in Serbia at that time and danger involved.
Undeterred, I finally convinced Archbishop John LoBue, my priest and
confessor at the Holy Name Orthodox Christian Church in West Milford,
New Jersey to take me as far as the Port Authority in Manhattan; from
there I took a bus to JFK managing myself.
Post 9/11, JFK was supposedly safe beyond reproach insofar as security;
this proved untrue. I had not traveled outside America in many years
so I was unfamiliar with the new travel restrictions on such items as
nail scissors etc., being illegal to bring onboard flights and carried
several very sharp ones right passed JFK security inspection inside my
purse on board out of my own ignorance of new flight rules. It was not
until I arrived on my stopover in Paris, France that I was boarding
onto a JAT (Yugoslav Air Travel) flight for Belgrade that the security
officer of JAT told me that he had to confiscate the aforementioned
items owing to new security precautions implemented post 9/11.
I informed him upon boarding my initial flight at JFK in New York, the
security guards at the gate allowed me to board my flight to Paris
carrying them in my purse. The JAT security employee merely shook his
head in amazement mentioning something insofar as his seriously
questioning American security in general stating that Jugosalv Air
Travel obviously took airline and passenger security much more
seriously.
I loved flying JAT! Not only was I completely
satisfied the flight from Paris to Belgrade was many times more secure
since JAT searched boarding passengers more thoroughly than JFK, the
hospitality, food and drink was excellent. I say this owing to my
being a well seasoned traveler having previously visited places such as
Indonesia, Thailand and Hong Kong, etc.. It was extremely laid back on
the flight. People moved around switching seats and chatting with good
friends and the food was the best! My favorite Serbian food
and drink were served and all airline employees shoed me the highest
level of hospitality. I was extremely pleased with the professionalism
and service on JAT I later began an online blog about it on Yahoo360.
Upon my flight arriving in Beograd, all passengers left the plane in
the usual manner except Serbian citizens were shuffled through customs
quickly merely showing their passport. All others including myself
were asked to relinquish their passports and told to wait an
unspecified amount of time in a holding area at the airport. An
airport security officer went around confiscating our passports
afterward leaving us merely standing there not knowing what to expect
next. No other announcements were made; I did the only thing possible
I relinquished my passport to the Serbian custom official along with
the other western Europeans and/or Americans (if there were any) which
I surmised like myself were attempting to enter Serbia from countries
that were NATO allies in the Kosovo war against Slobodan Milosevic in
1999. There must have been about twenty persons with me just waiting.
All types of nagging thoughts plagued me such as “perhaps my friends
were correct that I ought not have taken this trip…was it really too
dangerous to travel to Serbia with all the anti-American sentiment and
what would happen if Serbian customs decided I was an American spy,
kept my passport and I ended in some unknown jail and/or murdered….who
would find me…what could I do about it etc., etc., etc..”
It seemed nearly an hour passed; me and the others were still standing
there waiting. I didn’t want to seem scared or overly curious by
asking either Serbian custom officials or anyone else waiting with me
anything as to not cause unnecessary attention to myself. I also kept
checking my watch wondering if Darko knew I was here waiting. I had
hoped with his government connections he would at least inquire about
my arrival since he told me he would pick me up. I drew comfort from
the fact Darko was always very punctual picking up and bringing himself
and others to airports.
On numerous occasions I gave
him and others rides to and from them. These and other thoughts
plagued me when suddenly I heard a voice on the loud speaker call my
name, Jill Starr, asking me to go to a customs area to claim my
passport.
I was the first person called so I don’t know
what happened to the others standing there still waiting. I hurriedly
went to obtain my passport and was told that I cleared; the guard
pointed the direction for me to go claim my luggage. You have no idea
what a relief that was!
I took in my new surroundings
pleased that I made it into the country successfully. As a young child
my father took me with him traveling the world when he was an active
nuclear engineering consultant for Chas T Main, USAID and the IMF. I
had been in Indonesia during the turmoil in East Timor so I was used to
being in war zones surrounded by soldiers with guns. I was presently
older, but still I found such travel extremely exciting more than
dangerous and looked forward to enjoying the rest of my vacation with
Darko and Bojana.
Making it to the baggage claim
area successfully I was relieved seeing Darko standing their waiting
for me. I was not fluent in Serbian and didn‘t want to publicize it by
asking people questions in English manifesting I was American. I
hurried towards him, giving him a large hug.
I was so glad
to see Darko. I noticed upon my arrival at the Belgrade airport that
there were many female police officers equipped with guns wearing short
mini skirts and extremely high heels. I asked Darko how they
apprehended criminals in such high heels and he replied smirking that
they don’t have to run, they merely shot those not halting in the back
and that stopped them.
Like a dream come true, there I was
in Beograd Serbia against all odds and complaints from my friends.
Darko helped me get my luggage to his friend’s vehicle telling me we
could talk about everything I had to say later because we had to
hurry.
Darko‘s friend, a German man living in Serbia for
years and an important military employee of the Serbian government in a
grayish older large SUV vehicle with what seemed a special license
plate was impatiently waiting at the front gate of the airport for us.
Darko’s friend did not speak fluent English but he did speak fluent
German and Serbian. Upon writing the first edition of my book I still
wondered who this man really was because Darko pointed out to me
proudly, while placing my luggage in the vehicle of his car, this car
“specifically bore special Serbian military license plates;“ Darko
pointed this out to me at the airport and I was greatly impressed to be
in a Serb military vehicle.
The man picking me up at the
Serbia, Beograd airport with Darko also referred to himself merely by
a nickname. If my memory serves me correct he said to call him, “Babic
or Babo” or something like that. “Babic” is not probably not 100%
correct because my memory is kind of fuzzy on this. However, in coming
across a BBC website with a photograph of Dragan Dabic, the male
construction worker whom apparently Dr. Radovan Karadzic was assuming
the identity of before he was arrested and transferred to the Hague in
2008; it does look about 90% correct in my memory that it was Mr.
Dragan Dabic who picked me up at the Beograd Serbia airport that day.
Even his glasses look the same and he told me he used to work as a
military mercenary for the Serbs during war time and he was originally
from Germany. Whoever it was, he was a relatively short man in height
with salt and pepper hair.
He said he worked in the military during “ the war/s” but (I forget
which war he meant now), did say currently since all “the military
business ended, he now worked construction and was building a second
house himself outside of Beograd because his girlfriend was having a
child. He told me he had several children but was not married. I saw
him also my first night in Beograd at Bojana’s parents residence
visiting as well as a day or so before I departed Beograd Serbia.
We drove all around the city of (Beograd) in his large van type SUV
again; he gave me a large tour of the entire city area pointing out
everything.
It seems almost surreal to me actually chance
meeting so many fascinating and exciting people, I almost didn’t want
to mention possibly meeting, Dragan Dabic, too in the second edition
of my book.
But, I decided to write the best and most
truthful testimonies of my memories as possible about my super cool
vacation in Serbia & Montenegro in 2002.
Anyway, so
Darko told whomever this man was to please help lift my luggage
into the trunk in Serbian and he did. Darko always liked to brag and
as usual he introduced me to his friend giving me the details of his
being an important man in the Serbian military etc.. We went straight
from the Beograd airport to the home of Bojana’s family in the suburbs
of Belgrade and all became reacquainted. Whomever it was, he was a
relatively short man in height with salt and pepper hair and muscular
with that triangle type of nose. Bojana and I hugged;
she introduced me to her family (father, mother and brother who was a
high school student in Beograd). Afterward, Darko showed me the room
upstairs where I would sleep which was actually Bojana’s room also
informing me of our three week itinerary; he had it all planned out.
Darko told me we would all spend the night over Bojana’s house, the
next day sleep at his apartment outside Beograd and later explained the
next day we would stop at his father’s family’s house for dinner and
leave from there making our way into Montenegro for a ten day vacation
staying at his friend’s resort on Budva’s seaside coast. Along the way
Darko told me he would give me the best tour I could ask for and he
did. He showed me military installations and one of my favorite stops
was the NATO bombed Chinese embassy which I stood in front of only
several yards from.
My night at Bojana’s
residence was wonderful. I was never showed as much love and
hospitality as I did from her family. Although it was late in the
evening (about 11pm Serbian time) when we arrived, Bojana’s mother, a
wonderful woman, treated me as her own daughter. She insisted that
Darko, Bojana and I enjoy what seemed a 10 course home cooked meal.
She was still cooking while she served us a variety of cooked steaks,
vegetables and pastries. And like many Italian families she insisted I
tried and ate everything. To top the night off before bed Bojana and
her father performed an accordion duet live in the kitchen for me.
Apparently, Bojana and her father were professional accordion players
and Bojana explained that her father’s employment consisted of playing
nightly in a local bar. Thereafter, we went to bed with full stomachs.
The next morning we all enjoyed an equally exquisite breakfast.
Bojana’s family had livestock in the backyard and her mother cooked us
a fresh eggs and steak for breakfast like never before experienced. We
said our parting goodbyes and left for Darko’s apartment in the hills
of Beograd. We brought my suitcases in and upon entering I noticed
there were lots of stray dogs around the apartment entrance. One in
particular was very cute and Darko explained that the various residents
fed it because it was so adorable. I found it interesting that so many
old men were just hanging about the entrance to the apartment building
drinking and just sitting there with seemingly nothing to do. They
remained there throughout my entire trip.
Even when Ratko
Mladic came to see me on my final day in Serbia in full military
regalia giving me a parting gift (a book he inscribed to me entitled
Serbija) while Darko took pictures of Mladic with his arm around me,
the men remained there merely looking like old bums. Retrospectively, I
wonder if they weren’t some watchmen and/or guards. Unto this day I
always wondered what Darko did with those photos.
I was
surprised what a very large apartment Darko owned. He showed me into
his guest room and I unpacked my suitcases in just enough time to
inform me I was to consolidate all my truly necessary items for
Montenegro into one small bag that would reasonably fit into his trunk
in the morning because he needed enough room for his and Bojana’s
luggage also. He laughed at all the things I brought with me to
Beograd telling me that I had no idea how to pack. By
the time I was done with that task Darko told me it was time to go meet
some friends at a local café for coffee. It was late summer and the
outside café’s in Beograd were the best !
We met up with
a few friends in some restaurant in Beograd; there was about five of us
sitting there just chatting and drinking coffee when I noticed an older
gentleman sitting a few seats down with feathered salt and pepper
colored hair not saying much except for an occasional laugh and nod at
us. I wondered wherefore Darko a man about thirty would associate with
such an older person, as for me being several years older than Darko, I
thought to myself, what a cute guy. Then upon closer inspection, I
realized it was doctor Radovan Karadzic. I knew he was a
psychiatrist. By no means was this to be our last meeting. Throughout
the time I spent in Serbia Darko met with Karadzic on many occasions in
Beograd. The meetings were usually brief; only to exchange oral
information and/or a few papers with Darko and whisper something or
other in Darko‘s ear. He looks as the news media portrays him dressed
in his gray wrinkled suit and tie and salt and pepper colored hair. He
was a perfect gentleman all times I met him with Darko. After finishing
our coffee, Darko said we ought leave and get a good nights rest
because we had to leave early the next day for Montenegro.
The next morning we all got into Darko’s blue Audi (car) and left for
his Father’s house. I remember arguing with Darko about wanting to
bring lots of luggage with me and he replied I didn’t need all that
stuff and I could only bring one normal sized bag with me and I had to
leave the rest of my things at his apartment; I did. On the way to his
father’s, Darko made a few important stops for the purpose of giving me
the grand tour.
We only stopped briefly at some military
installations; we didn’t get out of the car. We drove up to the gates
and Darko pointed out, “look Jill, this is an important military
facility.” Darko always sarcastically smirked as he pointed out these
places to me. The only place we got out was in front of the bombed out
Chinese embassy in Beograd. There were Serbian military officers in
front of the embassy. I was amazed owing to I always had thought
bombed out buildings were totally demolished. But standing in front of
the Chinese embassy that was bombed by the NATO in 1999 taught me the
definition of a “smart bomb.”
Only the portion of the
building hosting the embassy employees on the upper level of the
building itself was demolished and in particular the window where the
Chinese embassy officials worked. I could see in the window and I even
got a sad glimpse of the Victorian styled chair sitting there empty in
the bombed out window. I wondered who used to sit there and if they
were dead or alive. No other parts of the building was seriously
damaged. There were even flowers and trees still growing untouched in
front of the building. I strongly believe that NATO knew exactly what
they aimed at when they bombed the building.
I brought a digital camera with me on my trip but upon returning to the
United States, all the film Darko claimed to snap for me was returned
by my local film developer as blank. I wondered if Darko told me the
truth about snapping photos for me at all. Throughout my trip he
insisted on taking all the photos I wanted claiming I take poor
pictures.
It since crossed my mind he may have removed
the film from my camera prior my departing Serbia so I could not take
it back with me. One thing I am sure of is both Darko and Bojana
refused having any photos taken of them throughout my entire stay.
After leaving the scene at the Chinese embassy, we made our way to the
home of Darko’s father driving through a beautiful park not dissimilar
to Central Park in Manhattan along the way. I can’t be certain what
park it was because I didn’t know the geographical area; we soon
arrived at our destination.
Darko’s father lived in the
most incredibly beautiful green hills in an area of Serbia existing
somewhere between Beograd and Montenegro. Immediately upon entering
and meeting his father, stepmother and grandmother who recently passed
away, I felt part of the family. Although his family did not speak
English, Darko and Bojana translated for me.
Darko’s
grandmother was an extraordinarily warm and wise woman in whose
presence I felt comfortable and happy the entire time. Before dinner
there was the customary libation of grappa (a Serbian hard liquor of
incredible potency). If only I could find grappa here in America.
After another dinner that would give Manhattan’s top chefs a run for
their money, Darko brought me upstairs into a guest room to take a nap.
I told him I was not tired but he insisted I nap saying we would be
driving all night before reaching Montenegro and I need my rest. I
must have slept an hour before he awakened me to say our parting
goodbyes and begin our journey. I was extremely excited; Darko
promised me a three week Adriatic holiday allowing me swimming
privileges at every beach from Hercegovni to an area he said was only
ten meters from Kosovo’s border. We couldn’t go into Kosovo Darko said
because it was too dangerous. I knew Darko had been shot several times
and almost killed in Kosovo previously so I didn’t push the issue. As a
former lifeguard and avid swimmer, I couldn‘t wait for my vacation to
start and Darko delivered it to me as promised.
The
onset of our journey began at sunset; still adjusting to the time zone
differential I dozed off in Darko’s backseat; for how long I’m
uncertain. I dozed on and off until sunrise when we reached the
Montenegrin border. I mean, there wasn’t much to see driving in the
dark cover of night. The wider well lit highway we initially set out
upon gradually narrowed as the highway lights became fewer. Eventually
there were no highway lights at all. My body continuously shifted from
one side of Darko’s backseat to the other making sleep difficult.
It was obvious the road we traversed was analogous to Pacific Coast
Highway in California driving through Big Sur. It was mountainous,
dangerously ridden with hairpin turns and no guardrails. In
Montenegro, inexperienced travelers could almost mistake the scenery
for Big Sur with the beautiful blue Adriatic sea hugging the bottoms of
the cliffs we not so cautiously traveled. I asked Darko to slow down
because he was driving like speed racer. He replied not to worry
explaining he could drive these roads blindfolded he knew them well. I
thought to myself, better safe than sorry buddy.
It is a good thing I had some prescription Xanax with me, I popped one,
maybe two just to relax while simultaneously trying to hide this act
from Darko since he hated drugs in general. He especially hated my
taking the prescription medications my doctor gave me saying I didn’t
need them, they were addicting and poison. He also strongly disdained
cigarettes; Bojana smoked covertly.
The sun was just
rising when Darko awakened me excitedly pointing out the tunnel we were
driving through. I think he said at the other end we’d be entering
Montenegro. Driving to the Budva Riviera in Montenegro we drove
through some similar tunnels; the scenery was unbelievably
breathtaking. There is no other place in the world I’d rather be than
in Budva Montenegro and I recommend everyone vacation there. We were
making our way to a seaside resort a friend of Darko owned. Still
driving like speed racer around the hairpin turns and mountainous
cliffs compromising the road, we finally arrived at our destination
safely. I admit Darko is an excellent driver; his driving is
reminiscent of agent 007 in James Bond movies.
Because of the Kosovo war, there was not one functional ATM in
either in Serbia and Montenegro. To be safe I split the five thousand
dollars we had between Darko and I. I held onto half and he the
other. One of my favorite stories I tell people of my trip is how I
swam with my money throughout the trip; it made me feel secure always
keeping some cash on me at all times; even when I was swimming a
quarter mile out in the Adriatic sea. Darko told me not to; I did
anyway.
Owing to that, the cash I held was often wet. One particular time we went to a bank in Montenegro.
The banks there are so remarkably careful of counterfeiting, they
refused exchanging my United States dollars for Euros because my money
was wet; the three of us returned to the hotel using my blow dryer to
evaporate the dollar bills until dried. The three of us henceforth
joked about this saying we laundered the money.
Upon
arriving at the resort, Darko introduced me to his friend and we worked
out the financial gratuities for our stay. We paid him eight hundred
United States dollars for ten days; meals included. Unlike hotels in
America, meals meant an extremely large home cooked breakfast
consisting of large varieties of meat, coffee and juice. Lunch and
dinner consisted of many course meals where main dishes consisted of
either freshly caught seafood or meat. Our accommodation consisted of
two medium sized rooms with separate entrances; one for myself and
another for Darko and Bojana. To reach the beach we only needed to
walk across the street and down a small path; one could see Italy at
the other end of the horizon on a clear day. I was ecstatic loving to
swim. Since Bojana didn’t swim, Darko couldn’t always accompany me to
the beach so I‘d just walk to it myself for periodic swims throughout
the day; August was a very hot month. Of any country I’ve visited,
Serbia and Montenegro wins my top prize for fun, food, beauty and
hospitality.
Everyone is friendly, warm, the atmosphere is relaxed and laid back and
most persons speak some English owing to children learning English as a
second language in school at a young age. Unfortunately, American
school children do not grow up learning another language other than
native English which leaves them I feel at an intellectual
disadvantage.
Each day Darko took us to another beach for
a day enjoying food, drink, music, perhaps some shopping and primarily,
swimming. As long as I could swim for hours each day I was happy. By
the time nighttime rolled in all of us were so tired each day we
usually had dinner and retired early, except for one night. This just
happened to be the one night of my entire vacation I was overly
exhausted wanting to retire early at any cost. Inversely, this was the
one evening both Darko and Bojana incredibly excited informed me to
take a shower, dress and get ready for a big surprise.
When I asked Darko what this surprise was and its great importance
being I was so tired; he merely insisted I go get ready for it. Darko
was always very bossy in my estimation constantly telling us when to
sleep, awakening Bojana and I up early, limiting our time before
breakfast for dressing, blow drying our hair etc. which the two of us
always complained about privately to each other. I always accepted
this as part of his personality but this night it annoyed me to no end;
I simply wanted sleep, surprise or not.
As usual I gave
into to Darko’s demands by hurrying to my room, showering, changing,
and preparing myself for a night out. If you’re a woman, you
understand when you have a crush on someone as I did Darko, you usually
give into his demands easily; so I did.
Upon changing,
Dark and Bojana were waving me to hurry to the car; exhausted I got in
and slammed the door. Less than ten minutes up the pitch black road
Darko pulled the car over and we got out. Darko and Bojana said,
“Hurry Jill look down there.” At the bottom of the cliffs was the most
beautiful city of lights I’ve ever seen.
Darko said proudly, “this is Budva Jill, that‘s where we are going.”
It was many times more beautiful that Paris or Manhattan at night and
situated in a valley about a mile and a half wide forcing the
Montenegrin peninsula farther out. It was a remarkably amazing sight,
Budva itself being lit up with a wide variety of bright lights
surrounded by an aura of pitch black. By this time Bojana started
complaining to Darko to move his car in more because someone may come
around the sharp turn in the darkness sideswiping it. Darko never
worried much about illegal parking or his speed limit owing to whenever
getting pulled over, he just made manifest to the officer his huge
governmental badge and they let him go; the badge was at least three
times larger than the usual American police officer badge and was gold
in color.
Darko became annoyed with Bojana’s
complaints so we returned to the car, got in and descended about five
minutes down the treacherously dark road into Budva and parked. I
couldn’t believe it! It was like a dream, We walked down around Budva,
Darko pointing out everything.
We stopped to have a drink
at one of the many outdoor bar/café’s and listened to the live
entertainment while we sipped our drinks. Then I went to buy another
bathing suit at a small shop when Darko told me to follow him and
Bojana into the most amazing bar I’ve ever seen, anywhere in the
world. The bar itself was actually a small island rocky island; to
reach it one had to walk underground below the Adriatic Sea maybe a
little less than one quarter mile. Upon entering the bar it had many
levels; all outside surrounded by the roaring nighttime surf of the sea
and live entertainment.
I saw a few people illegally
swimming and asked Darko if I could swim there too. He informed me the
swimming was closed for the evening. We ordered drinks and sat there
chilling for a while. On the walk back Darko showed me all the
gambling casinos along the Riviera. It looked like anyone could get
whatever they wanted in Budva if they had the correct amount of money
with them.
Montenegro was to me akin to a luxurious
playground for the ultra rich, famous as well as infamous. We then
walked back via way of the tunnel, stopped at a small outdoor
restaurant all ordering a type of delicious pancake we enjoyed by
dipping it in chocolate syrup and drove back to the hotel to get some
rest.
The next day Darko took merely us to another
gorgeous beach. It was reminiscent of Greece. The water was sapphire
blue, clear and warm. The beach itself was not large, but completely
hidden by huge rocky cliffs. The three of us took a kind of small
craft about a quarter of a mile out into the Adriatic; Darko and I
jumped in for a swim. Bojana was partially nude sunbathing at the time
on the boat and since she was unable to swim, Darko teased her by
stealing her clothes, pretending not to give them back to her. She
immediately became upset demanding Darko return her clothes; Darko
soon complied with her demands. Thereafter, we ended the day with
lunch and drinks. The following day was one of my vacation high
points. We visited the Ostrog monastery.
Driving to the Ostrog monastery was long, hot and boring. It lied
somewhere deep beyond the Montenegrin coastline inland. We drove a
long windy road without even so much as a store on it. After a couple
of hours, Darko stopped for lunch at the only restaurant I noticed the
entire trip. You’d think it would be small being situated in the
middle of what I considered, “nowhere.” However, this was not the
case.
There was actually a long line and tons of people
there having lunch. I could only imagine like us they were on their
way to visit Ostrog. The restaurant itself was classy and I can only
liken it to seeing a luxurious restaurant in the middle of the Mohave
desert. While I was visiting Ostrog monastery in Montenegro, Darko
introduced me to a Serbian priest asking me if I wanted confession. The
man looked almost verbatim to Karadzic in his monks getup. I mean the
way the latest news photos of Karadzic in his monk getup looks. I only
became cognizant of this recently since the photos of him since his
arrest have been made publicly manifest.
In particular I
remember the priest’s large darker curl on the top of this priest’s
head like in the recent Karadzic photos; I wondered who would make
their monks hair like that. This priest blessed me and told Darko in
Serbian he could not hear my confession owing to his not understanding
English well. He gave me a gift, a book about the monastery itself
which I gave to Archbishop John LoBue in West Milford (my priest).
While visiting Ostrog, we venerated the holy relics leaving an offering
of either food or money at the door leading to the holy relics; I can’t
remember which now. Leaving, we looked around the gift shop, had
coffee at the small Ostrog monastery café and Darko gave me a tour
where the monks sleep and shower. Then we made the long drive back to
the hotel. We had the usual dinner at which time Bojana was overcome
with a terrible toothache. I told her I’d pay for the filling
tomorrow; Darko knew a dentist 10 meter from Kosovo‘s border. Tomorrow
we‘d swim there and have Bojana‘s tooth looked at. The town we went to
the next day possessed an ethnic Albanian majority and organized crime
was everywhere.
There is one more sough of significant event that occurred to me
during my stay on the Budva coast. Darko was extremely insistent one
friend of his “read my palm.” You guys just aren’t going to believe
this, and I can’t be 100% certain because I only met this man who read
my palm once, but I could swear it was Goran Hadzic (!) He was dressed
like an old 1960s “hippie” with some old ripped blue jeans and old
dirty T-shirttoo. He had long straggly hair but I( could never forget
his tall drawn out thin pail nose and face. I did not want anyone to
“read my palm” because as a staunch Orthodox Christian chick, it was
against my religion to do have my palm read. But I gave in to Darko’s
persistence for this man to “read my palm.” I really did not agree with
much of which he told me, he took a long time to read my palm, like
about for 45 minutes and I really wanted to go across the street
swimming instead. But this man told me I had a “strong lifeline” on my
palm. After that I never saw him again. And I think he also gave me a business card; the same one that the BBS displays on their website of “quantum
energy practice/ alternative medicine,” and I definitely remember the
care bearing three Greek Letters “Alpha or Delta” like on the card
(like a triangle, that letter. in the internet news media. I lost it a
long time ago.
Before retiring for the evening I went for a small walk around the
corner from the hotel to buy some snacks; there was a small store
there. I never felt endangered at any time by anyone. During my stay
in Montenegro I walked to the store myself almost daily buying drinks
and other items I could enjoy privately in my room at night. I never
noticed previously to that evening’s walk just how many persons
actually were vacationing from Western Europe in Budva the fall 2002
like me.
After promenading to the store, upon returning
to the hotel, a German man sitting outside the hotel and speaking in
broken English introduced himself. When I told him that I was from New
Jersey in the United States he became extremely interested and warmly
said he is pleased I was able to enjoy the area. I replied, “I was
tired and needed to retire.” Saying he understood he returned to his
card game.
We had the usual dinner at which time Bojana
was overcome with a terrible toothache. I told her I’d pay for the
filling tomorrow; Darko knew a dentist ten meters from Kosovo‘s
border. Tomorrow we‘d swim there and have Bojana‘s tooth looked at.
The town we went to the next day possessed an ethnic Albanian majority
and organized crime was everywhere.
We awoke early as to get Bojana to the dentist. This is actually where
the Montenegrin bank had refused to exchange our money for Euros.
Managing cash was difficult in Serbia and Montenegro owing to that the
national currency in Serbia was still dinars and in Montenegro it was
Euros. Most businessman preferred either Euros or American dollars,
but one never knew which.
Upon parking, Darko led the way
down the busy street towards the dentist who I remember being an ethnic
Albanian man. Apparently, they visited this dentist previously and he
was extremely friendly. Not at any time did any ethnic Albanians cause
me, Darko or Bojana any problems because I was American and they were
Serb. The dentist was going to take a while and since the bank would
not exchange our American dollars for Euros, we could buy neither lunch
nor anything else and we all possessed a ravenous hunger for lunch.
Ignoring Darko’s warnings not to go wondering myself, I left the
dentist office under the pretense of going for a walk while Bojana had
her dental work completed. Before Darko could catch me I was gone. I
walked up the main street about one mile and began asking people in
English where I could exchange United States currency for Euros. I
came upon a well dressed ethnic Albanian high school student, a girl
speaking perfect English who told me to walk up the street about
another half mile and when I see men selling the cigarettes outside on
a bridge table, ask them to do the deed; I did.
The girl
asked me about America saying her greatest wish was to study in New
York City one day. When I told her about my experience at the New
School for Social Research, being dismissed for my anti NATO views on
the Kosovo war she replied to me, “maybe she was wrong about wanting to
study in Manhattan.”
I made my way to the table with about
five ethnic Albanian men hanging about selling cigarettes and asked
them in English if they could exchange money for me; they did. They
were definitely organized crime. They took my wet cash, examined the
bills, one man walked into an apartment building with my cash while I
merely waited. He didn‘t rob me and returned with my Euros.
Surprisingly, I found everyone in both Serbia and Montenegro very
honorable in their business dealings; even if those dealings are
organized crime.
Upon receiving my Euros from the men, I
walked away back to see if Bojana was through with the dentist; she
was. I excitedly told Darko that I had successfully managed to
exchange American dollars for Euros thinking he’d be pleased with me;
he wasn’t. Darko was always very protective of me. Instead of
commending me he immediately got very angry; scolding me he said
exchanging money illegally in the streets of Montenegro was both
illegal and dangerous. You can’t change the past so I diplomatically
apologized and Darko soon forgot his anger I lieu of the fact that now
we all could have lunch. Afterward, Darko brought us to a beautiful
beach nearby. The majority of the sunbathers were ethnic Albanian and
again no one harassed us based on our ethnicity. I tried pushing
Darko into driving into Kosovo but he flatly refused. I found it
interesting that the international news at this time was reporting that
there were hundreds of thousands of homeless ethnic Albanians being
ethnically cleansed to Albania, I did not see one ethnic Albanian or
Roma homeless on the streets anywhere. All seemed normal only ten
meters from the Kosovo border. After a day of swimming and partially
nude sunbathing, we returned to the hotel.
Insofar as
sequence of events, at this junction in time it was the last few days I
spent in Montenegro; it’s difficult now to remember the exact timeline
of events. In other words, I remember visiting Old Town and Podgorica
also in Montenegro but uncertain of which locations we visited first.
During the last two days, Darko took me one day to Old Town in
Montenegro for dinner; there we greatly enjoyed an expensive seafood
meal after which we walked around. Darko got a parking ticket that
night in Old Town and greatly complained about its five dollar fee;
for some, five dollars is equal to an entire week pay in Serbia. I
think I offered him the five dollars for the ticket feeling guilty
because it was only for my benefit he parked there at all. Darko
wanted to show me Old Town; he already knew what the beautiful cobble
stone streets looked like.
We also went to the Montenegrin capital, Podgorica. I really don’t
remember much of Podgorica except for walking around the streets one
night. Since we didn’t swim there so it wasn’t a high point for me.
When our ten day stay in Montenegro was finished we all packed and
returned the way we came in Darko’s car. The day before we left,
Darko’s car required maintenance. We didn’t have enough cash on hand
left to pay for the needed repairs so I called Arnold Stark, my fiancée
in the states, asking him to please wire us five hundred dollars cash
to Montenegro; he did. This is a fact that Arnold himself can verify
being that he alone possesses the charge card receipt for wiring us the
money through Western Union to a town not far from Budva. With Darko’s
car repairs complete, we returned home for Beograd.
On the
way back to Beograd we made two more important stops. One was
Hercegovni where we met up with Darko’s cousin, a soon to be freshman
college student and her friends. We had a couple of drinks, snapped
some photos and Darko and I went for a quick swim in the sea. When it
began to rain, we called it a day. The other stop was somewhere on the
way back, where I have no idea. We pulled up to a large lake. Darko
pulled his car onto a large ferry boat. There were some people on the
ferry, but primarily soldiers from the Serbian military. Reaching the
other side we drove around but I can’t remember much.
Returning on the ferry, we piled into Darko’s car and appeared at his
apartment several hours later. We were all extremely exhausted and
passed out as soon as possible in our separate rooms. Again, we walked
past the same old men sitting in front of Darko’s apartment building
seeming to do nothing; they waved at us.
There were only two days left of my vacation at this point; I didn’t
feel like doing much of anything. I’d come down with terrible stomach
symptoms that began in Budva several days prior. This was probably
owing to my ignoring Darko and Bojana’s warning not to drink tap water
but only bottled; a lesson I ought have learned in Indonesia as a young
girl.
We were all feeling tired and slightly under the
weather merely wanting to recuperate. Notwithstanding, Darko, always
an avid early morning riser, insisted we promenade Beograd’s renown
indoor marketplace; an extremely large indoor flea market. We walked
approximately an hour or two. I tried on several dresses before
finally buying myself one; the type I can’t recall. Bojana bought
herself Serbian brand makeup after which Darko informed us it’s time to
leave.
Shopping was always boring to Darko unless it was
for himself and during his stay in the United States Darko, Bojana and
I hit many malls in New York and New Jersey such as Willow brook in
Wayne, New Jersey. Other favorite stores we often visited were Daffy’s
and Macy’s in Forest Hills, Queens, New York. I vividly remember the
Republika Srpska diplomatic contact, Dejan Miletic, to the Hague
court in the Netherlands visiting. Me, Darko, he whose name was, Dan,
Dejan Miletic (he gave me his busines card at the restaurant), in
English, along with my daughter little Jill went to Macy’s at the
Willow brook Mall in Wayne NJ allowing Dan to buy some gifts for his
girlfriend back in Bosnia. Afterwards, we all enjoyed a wonderful
lunch at Six Brothers Diner on Route 46 not to far from Montclair State
University in New Jersey.
I can’t recall whether it was
prior to vacationing in Budva or after, but close to the Beograd
marketplace we visited the apartment of a Serbian basketball player and
his disc jockey roommate (the walls of the apartment were covered with
music CD’s from around the world). It was a very impressive CD
collection. He said he often spent time in Manhattan studying when not
having to compete.
I became increasingly sad during this
time owing that in another day I’d again be saying goodbye to the man I
loved, Darko; perhaps leaving Serbia forever. I wanted to stay and
live in Beograd permanently but I had duties to my graduate studies at
FDU in Hackensack, New Jersey. Had I known the university (FDU) would
be soon dismissing me from their graduate program similarly to the New
School for Social Research, I would have stayed in Beograd. I always
told Darko my greatest desire was to live in Serbia and/or Montenegro.
He always replied, “Jill you have your children and your studies
now. After your children leave and you complete your graduate degree,
then you can come reside in my country.” After the New School
discriminated against me and I was recently receiving poor grades at
FDU from professors that had formerly studied and graduated from the
New School themselves, I felt I wanted to leave America thinking
strongly I would have more academic freedom in Serbia. In fact during
my entire Serbian trip, I discovered that myself and others freely
spoke our minds on a myriad of subjects such as politics and theology
without being badgered. This was my personal experience and I know
allegedly not all Serb citizenry under previous regimes enjoyed such
privilege.
Upon leaving the marketplace we enjoyed lunch
at Darko’s which Bojana prepared; she was an excellent cook! My
favorite Serbian food is Gibanica (I think this is the correct
spelling). Gibanica is an exquisite main dish comprised of Greek filo
dough, beef, cheese and sometimes spinach baked in layers similarly to
Italian lasagna. After lunch, I decided to walk by myself to a local
store for purchasing some items. I wanted some air alone outside not
wanting Darko to see me cry. As aforementioned, I became extremely sad
about returning to the United States the following day. When returning
to the apartment, Darko suggested I nap a while so I did. I don’t
remember what time it was when Darko knocked on my door waking me up.
He informed me we were heading out soon to meet up with a friend of
his named, Sharko, he wanted to introduce me.
We left
Darko’s apartment after dusk and about ten minutes later parked nearby
a beautiful green park lined with trees along the river, somewhere in
Beograd.
Uncertain exactly where we were going, I allowed
Darko and Bojana to lead. Strolling down the narrow paved path a few
feet wide cutting into a grassy hill, we headed directly towards a boat
restaurant. Traversing the small shaky wooden bridge, we boarded. The
place was empty; we were the only persons present besides one
waitress. We sat as follows; Darko and Bojana sat
next to each other as in American restaurant booth’s and I sat alone
across vis-à-vis. The boat itself was very luxurious resembling the
interior of several large boats formerly owned by the late Aristotle
Onassis. I have several books on Aristotle Onassis so I have seen
photos of the interior of his large boats. The waitress came over to
take our order; there was no menu. We verbally told her which libation
we wanted; as she walked away Sharko came in. Sharko was Ratko Mladic;
he wore old faded blue jeans sagging a bit around his waist.
I wasn’t scared at all. When first shaking hands with Mr. Mladic I
thought quietly, this couldn’t possibly be happening; but it in
objective reality it was really happening. I’ve met many interesting
people since graduating WPUNJ in New Jersey in 1997. I personally
coined the term, extreme sociologist which I consider myself. I may
not be rich, but achieved my scholarly goals notwithstanding either FDU
or the New School for Social Research in Manhattan dismissing me from
their graduate study programs. Since completing my undergraduate
degree, I’ve desired to better understand our world by meeting with and
talking with the world’s most controversial individuals. I believe in
traveling to hidden and seemingly remote places around the world,
partaking in local cultural activities for better understanding
wherefore people behave as they do.
Mladic first seated
himself across from me, in a separate chair the right of Darko. The
waitress returned asking Mladic what he preferred to drink; he ordered
expensive wine saying jokingly it was “two hundred dollars a bottle,”
smiling. I was already drinking an alcoholic beverage of some sort I
can’t remember along with Bojana. Darko rarely drank and sipped on
something non-alcoholic. Extolling me to Mladic,
Darko
explicated whereby I was the only American college student standing
firm on grave issues pertaining to international justice insofar, the
NATO and the former Yugoslavia.
Darko finished boasting
about me to Mladic after which I in an extremely forceful forthright
manner explained to Mladic my political views insofar as NATO’s
breaching international law by launching military aggression against
the former Yugoslavia, by bombing the Chinese embassy in Beograd, and,
by purposely bombing other civilian targets in Serbia and Montenegro in
1999. I have a film of when NATO bombed a newborn baby hospital unit
in Beograd; disgraceful!
Mladic seemed impressed with my
viewpoints on war and peace. He was very warm friendly man; very
relaxed and laid back. He smiled the entirety we were chilling out
just enjoying each other’s company and drink. Hanging out with Mladic
was no different than chilling with my other friends back in America.
I ordered another drink with Darko’s disapproval. As aforementioned,
Darko strongly disdained mind altering substances, always trying to
help me overcome my craving for them. Then, Mladic opened his wallet,
showing me photos of his wife and children; he had a very attractive
family as portrayed in his wallet sized photos. I think he missed
them, perhaps empathizing to the loss I felt being estranged with my
own two children for so many agonizing years.
Like General
Mladic, I possess very few photos of my own children. The photos
Mladic had in his wallet were obviously very old because his children
were still very young in the pictures. It was evident he didn’t have
any recent photos of his family in many years; I sympathized with him
in this respect. After reminiscing over family photos he got up
sitting next to me across from Darko and Bojana. I let him hold my
hand gently massaging it. He kissed my hand, inviting me to spend the
night with him in the hills of Beograd; I declined on account of my
strong Orthodox Christian theological convictions. I admit Mladic
having warm inviting hands and greatly enjoying the manner in which he
touched me. I did consider him an attractive man; yet as
aforementioned I declined his invitation.
He accepted my decision although he did ask me again; again I replied
the same answer. It was getting late and I was departing Serbia the
following day in the afternoon. Still sipping my drink, I began urging
Darko to return to America with me making a life for himself teaching
as a professor at a university.
In retrospect, I now feel
tremendous guilt and shame because of my advances towards Darko owing
to Bojana my best friend sitting there with me vis-à-vis. Feeling a
bit tipsy from drinking, Mladic continued making sexual advances
towards urging me to go home with him. Darko laughed seemingly
thinking Mladic’s advances towards me were cute stating, “go ahead
Jill, spend the night with Sharko, it’s fine…Sharko‘s a good friend of
mine…don‘t worry if you want to…I promise you’ll not miss your flight
back to America tomorrow…“ I continued declining the advances and when
it became obvious I wouldn’t change my mind, Darko said we had to leave
because I had to finish packing for my flight and get a good nights
sleep.
We all departed identically to boarding the boat
restaurant, crossing the small narrow wooden bridge; Sharko/ Mladic
departed with us. After exiting, Mladic and I stood in front of the
boat restaurant for several minutes. I began crying because I loved
Serbia not wanting to leave the next day. Mladic pulled me close to
him and embracing me, he kissed both my cheeks. I kissed his cheeks
also embracing him.
In examining photos online of the
Topcider Serbian military barracks in Beograd recently, the photo
scenes look identical to where I met Ratko that night. Even the photos
of the trees, walkways and benches/Gazebo and river where we met look
exactly the same. I remember the shape of the trees there that night
even. The scene that night when we met looks very much identical as
seen in the newly released Mladic home videos.
I wonder if
Mladic did not have any security when he met me because Darko had
brought me in the Topcider military barracks to meet Mladic that night;
I believe he did. I would not have known the difference since it seemed
merely a beautiful park.
Darko and Bojana were walking ahead towards the car leaving me and
Mladic alone. Knowing, I’d continue crying, I broke our embrace saying
“goodbye.” Mladic promised to visit me the next day dressed in his
full military uniform before I left Serbia. I didn’t want to part; but
I did. I saw Darko and Bojana walking towards their car up the grassy
hill and followed. I walked briskly catching up with them; I was
exhausted and still had to finish packing back at Darko‘s apartment.
Once more I turned and saw Mladic drive away in an old brown Mercedes
Benz on its left front side. I was surprised to see it was scratched
and slightly dented. Arriving back at Darko’s place, I completed
preparations for departing the following day and fell fast asleep.
The next day I woke up around mid morning feeling depressed so I went
for a walk to a local store picking up some things. Returning to
Darko’s, we were standing outside his apartment discussing something
when I turned seeing Mladic approaching me in full military regalia.
We shook hands glad seeing each other. Of all photos I’ve seen online,
Mladic never looked better than he did then.
His military
uniform was clean, ironed and he wore every military metal ever earned
it seemed to me. He was as honorably decorated as any of the American
Joint Chief’s of Staff; even wearing his gold colored in sigma upon his
green military cap. He had many gold colored metals hanging from his
uniform on the left side by his chest. I was privileged to see him
this way; I confess being impressed.
I was surprised to
say the very least. Darko said to stand next to Mladic insisting on
snapping some photos of the two of us. Mladic placed his arm around my
shoulder and I his; we both smiled as Darko snapped some photos. When
finished Mladic presented me with a gift. The book I posted online for
you all to view, signing it to me under the alias name, Sharko thanking
me for beautiful times spent together in Beograd. We embraced and he
left as Darko interjected saying we had to hurry to the airport before
I miss my flight.
Darko’s German friend delivered me back to Beograd airport the same
manner as picked up. There was little time, my flight was actually
locking the gate and about to depart without me. Darko ran up to
someone important showing his governmental badge as I recall, asking
them to hold the flight until I board. There was hardly time for JAT
to weigh my luggage; they did however inform me it weighed over the
limit allowed. Darko said there was no time to be picky about what I
was bringing back to the States ; I obeyed leaving one full suitcase
behind with him as to not miss my flight. Quickly helped me through
customs and the gate, I tried prolonging our goodbye. Darko didn’t
want seeing him cry and urged me on as the Serbian flight attendant
waved me to hurry. The gate was closed up and I had to run with my
carry on to board the plane. One last time I turned briefly to see
Darko; he tried hiding the tears swelling in his eyes as I. I
took my seat on the JAT flight back home to America. Upon reaching JFK
my luggage was lost and it was delivered over the weekend to my home in
Bloomingdale New Jersey. This is what it’s like to chill with the most
ruthless men in the world. No biggie really.
THE END http://sites.google.com/site/jillstarrsite/jillstarrinternationalnews http://members.fortunecity.com/lpca1/lpc.htm
Law Projects Center Int’l [Beograd / New York] Miss Jill Louise Starr [Director of LPC New York] 138-A Hamburg Tpk., Bloomingdale, N.J. 07403 U.S.A. Lpcyu@optonline.net To: All Interested Parties Date: March 11th 2001 Subject: Int’l Criminal Court Preparatory Commission Meeting Report [Draft Documents on Establishing a Permanent ICC] March 1st – March 9th 2001 United Nations, N.Y.C. Dear Friends and Colleagues, In the true spirit of former United States President, Woodrow Wilson’s American Democratic Ideals#, I hereby forward you draft documents from the recent United Nations meetings held in New York City on establishing a permanent International Criminal Court. I strongly believe, if all countries in our world will soon be submitting both themselves and their citizenry to a new ICC establishment possessing exclusive international legal jurisdiction over the entire world, that you should fully comprehend its meaning and raison d’etat. Hence, I believe that all persons possessing a strong commitment to enhancing democracy, internationally
applying equitable social justice and peace for our perpetual human
survival and for our posterity [without prejudice], should read these
documents. Respectfully Yours, Miss Jill Louse Starr
PS:
I probably have other documents I’ll have to check. Start reading these
including a scanned photo image of the secret Richard Holbrook and
Radovan Karadzic Immunity Agreement.
PS: I probably have other documetns I’ll have to check. Start reading these
http://thaissa.tripod.com/ICCUSE/icc1.jpg
http://thaissa.tripod.com/ICCUSE/icc2.jpg
http://thaissa.tripod.com/ICCUSE/icc3.jpg
http://thaissa.tripod.com/ICCUSE/icc4.jpg
http://thaissa.tripod.com/ICCUSE/icc5.jpg
http://thaissa.tripod.com/ICCUSE/icc6.jpg
http://thaissa.tripod.com/ICCUSE/icc7.jpg
http://thaissa.tripod.com/ICCUSE/icc8.jpg
http://thaissa.tripod.com/ICCUSE/icc9.jpg http://thaissa.tripod.com/ICCUSE/iccanada1.jpg
http://thaissa.tripod.com/ICCUSE/iccanada2.jpg
http://thaissa.tripod.com/ICCUSE/iccanada3.jpg
http://thaissa.tripod.com/ICCUSE/icclast1.jpg
http://thaissa.tripod.com/ICCUSE/iccolumbia2.jpg
http://lpcyusa.instablogs.com/entry/read-all-my-international-criminal-court-preparatory -
meeting-documents-here-more-easily/
The book I wrote entitled, “Chilling Out With Radovan Karadzic and Ratko Mladic’ is far
from complete.
http://sites.google.com/site/jillstarrsite/
http://picasaweb.google.com/lpcyusa/
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http://shops.half.ebay.com/raretofindreads (MY RARE USED BOOK STORE ON HALF.COM/EBAY)
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