On Sunday evening, we picked up copies of the first 20 of the 56 case files on which we would be working this week and got to work.  We broke into five teams, each of which consisted of an American lawyer, Ugandan lawyer, two Pepperdine students, and a Ugandan law student.  Here are the American members of each team:

Professor Carol Chase, Johnny Kristofferson, Nicole Bannister

Judge John Doyle, Nora Lopopolo, Aaron Murphy (prospective law student we adopted)

Sophia Hamilton, Katie Coy, Stephen White

Jessie Johnston, John Niemeyer, Ope Peters

David Nary/Jim Gash, Meredith Doyle, Ana Carinena (David and I are subbing in and out on a team because of our other logistical duties)

David divided the files such that each American law student had two files to summarize before the interviews commenced on Monday morning.  It was a late night.

In the morning, David, Professor Chase, Judge Doyle, and I met with the prosecution, defense lawyers, and judge to map out the week.  All went well with that meeting.  Next, the entire group, including both the American and Ugandan law students, gathered in a courtroom for a plea bargaining mini seminar presented by Professor Chase and Judge Doyle.

Plea bargaining is somewhat of a foreign concept to Ugandan lawyers, which is why their prisons are spilling over with detainees awaiting trial.  It is also why the lawyers with whom we are working (for both the prosecution and defense) are reflexively resistant to this method of alternative dispute resolution.  We are, however, working through the challenges and they are participating in the process.

After a quick lunch, we loaded up into four vehicles and left the paved road in favor of the winding, bumpy, dusty road out to Katojo prison.  This detention facility currently houses 874 prisoners, 320 of which are on remand.  Those on remand have been arrested and charged, but are awaiting trial.

David went in first to meet with the warden to ensure all was well.  While we came with the necessary paperwork, and while David and I personally met with the warden to arrange everything in March, we were still a bit anxious because things don’t always (often?) go according to plan in Uganda.  Ten minutes later, David emerged and gave us a “thumbs up.”

As we all passed through the two sets of security entrances, the guards corralled the prisoners into the courtyard, where they all sat submissively.  The warden brought David and me through the third security gate to address the prisoners.  When we realized the others were being kept behind, we talked the guards into allowing at least the Ugandan lawyers to accompany us, since they were the ones who would ultimately be representing the prisoners.

The warden belted out a brief introduction in the local language.  I, then, had the opportunity to address the crowd, while one of the prisoners interpreted.  I explained who we were, why we were here, and what would be happening this week.  I made clear that the Ugandan lawyers with us were their lawyers, and we were here to assist them.  David followed up with his greetings and an explanation that we would be working directly on 56 cases involving 70 prisoners.  They clapped excitedly every time we mentioned anything related to going to court to move their cases forward.

Next came what appeared to them to be The Lottery.  Not the Shirley Jackson kind.  Not the Hunger Games kind.  But the kind where you have a chance for freedom if your name is called.

In actuality, random chance played no part in the selection of the 56 cases.  Over the past several years, the court has held multiple “Plea of Guilty” sessions whereby any of the prisoners on remand who wanted to admit to their crimes and accept whatever punishment was doled out to them were allowed to jump the queue and have their cases disposed of en masse.  This left behind both those who insisted upon their innocence and those who did not believe the prosecution could prove a case against them.  (In other words, only the tough cases remained, so we have our work cut out for us in trying to assist in reaching plea deals).  Of these 320 remaining cases, we selected the oldest group for this pilot program.

The warden announced he would be calling out the first 20 for their interviews.  Instant silence.  Even the chattering birds stopped to listen, to see who would finally have a chance to tell his story to a lawyer representing him.  (This block of the prison contains only men, though two of the cases actually involve women housed nearby).

As a name was called, the prisoner would indicate his presence.  Some sprang to their feet and waved excitedly, and some called out in disbelief that their time had finally come.  Two of them, after signaling, put their faces into their hands as the emotion poured out.  I won’t soon forget this moment.

The disappointment among the unchosen was palpable after the last name was read.  More tomorrow, we assured them, though this intense week of preparation will only reduce the backlog in this prison by about 22%.  We have to keep reminding ourselves that our aim is to assist in a long-term change to the structure, but it is still difficult to see so many left behind in the short term.

Niemeyer photographed each of the twenty “winners” just before we broke into five groups scattered throughout the prison facility.

Over the next several hours, we collectively got through 14 cases, with Professor “High Speed” Chase’s group taking the prize for efficiency, completing 4 in the time my group finished two.  Time and confidentiality do not permit a recitation of the cases, but one case bears particular note.  In Judge Doyle’s group, one of the prisoners was 17 years old, and was 15 when the crime he was charged with committing occurred.  This isn’t just his word – the medical examination in the file confirms he was 15 at the time of the alleged crime.  The minimum age for this maximum security prison is 18.  Likewise, the maximum sentence for this boy is 3 years under Uganda’s Children Act, and he has already served 2 ½ years.  We will be actively working to get him transferred to the Fort Portal Remand Home, and then before a judge.  He should be going home pretty soon.

While we were at the prison interviewing prisoners, Nootbaar Institute manager Dana Zacharia was busy along with John and Carol’s son, Harrison, photocopying the rest of the files and flawlessly executing all of the logistical components of this massive effort.  The “herding (and feeding) cats” metaphor comes to mind.

Back at the hotel, we ate together and got started reviewing the next day’s cases.  The students are getting some fantastic legal experience and are rising to the challenge brilliantly.

More after Tuesday’s events.

Each of Friday’s meetings went according to plan, though the day started off with a regrettable run-in with the local police.  On my way to meet with Uganda’s Director of Public Prosecutions in the morning, I was going to pick up John Niemeyer on the road near where he was staying in town.  As usual, the Kampala “jam” made LA traffic look like an empty hallway.

So I decided to break the law.  I didn’t do so cavalierly, but out of a self-proclaimed necessity.  I called John on my cell phone to report on progress.

Uganda police officers stand on the sidewalks just looking for drivers to step out of line or for cars that could be credibly (or not so credibly) deemed unsafe.  When identify find their mark, they simply step into the road and point at the driver.  Well, I got the point — in more ways than one.

“Uh-oh, cop.  Gotta go, John,” I said as I hung up and slid my phone between my legs.  I put on my good-morning-and-so-happy-to-see-you face.  I usually carry a few of those with me when I get behind the wheel here.

“Where is your phone?” he said as I rolled down my window.

“Good morning officer, how are you?” my Howdy-Doody face beamed back.

“You give me your phone.”

“Sure, here it is,” I said as I handed my bottom-of-the-barrel, cheap-as-they-make-them (Nokia P.O.S. model, and that might actually be a compliment).

“Where is your other phone?” he inquired, insinuating I was giving him this one as a cover to preserve my iPhone from confiscation.

“I have no other phone,” said Howdy Doody.

“You give me your driving license.”

If one plans ahead, one can get an International Driving Permit from AAA.  It is 15 bucks and looks official.  I gave him that one, rather than surrendering my actual California license.  Howdy also told him he was on my way to meet up with the DPP director and I handed him my Ugandan Court business card.

He inspected both of them closely.  “I am going to give you a ticket for talking on the phone, OK?”

“OK, I understand.  I am sorry and will not do it again.”

He left with my driving permit and business card and returned with a ticket book and a pen.  “I am going to give you a ticket and keep your permit.  You can pay the ticket at the central police station and you can pick up your permit there.”

“I understand.  Thank you.”  I knew we were doing a dance, but we had a different step in mind.  He was doing the “give-me-a-bribe-and-you-can-go” dance, and I was doing “I-don’t-need-that-permit-and-I-will-never-pay-you-a-bribe” shuffle.

“You are not above the law,” he said.

“I understand, and that is why you are giving me a ticket.”

He stared, I smiled.

I won.

“You can go, but don’t do it again.”

Phew.

I finally met up with John, and then the rest of the students met up at the Commercial Court and we hoofed the mile in the humid, breezeless Kampala air to the DPP’s offices.

We had a good meeting with the Director, who will be joining the court of appeals next month.  In the afternoon, I met with the Head of the Criminal Division to talk about the next juvenile session we are scheduling, and then the students and I met with the Chief Justice of the Ugandan Supreme Court.  The CJ is retiring at the end of next week (Uganda’s Constitution requires mandatory retirement at the age of 70), though the smart money is betting there will be some sort of constitutional end run to keep in office for a few years longer.  A decision should be made in the next two weeks.

That evening, we took two cars out to the airport to pick up the Pepperdine team flying in.  This included Professor Carol Chase, her husband John Doyle who serves on California’s Superior Court, their daughter Meredith who just finished her second year at Pepperdine Law, their son Harrison who recently graduated from college, Nootbaar Institute Manager Dana Zacharia, and two 2011 law graduates, Jessie Johnston and Sophia Hamilton.  They were all tired, but so excited to be in Uganda.  Thankfully, their luggage all arrived, which is always dicey here.

The next morning, we had breakfast with Justice K before heading west in four cars out of Kampala.  Our full, including David, me, and the students already in Uganda, numbers 18.

Because our work at the prison doesn’t begin until Monday morning, because it takes a few days for one’s body to become acclimated, and because six of the seven who arrived on Friday night had never been to Uganda, we decided to build in some local wildlife to the first-weekend itinerary.

Accordingly, our first stop was at East Africa’s only crocodile farm, situated very near the equator.  My family and I visited this farm last year and I described it in complete detail here.  The highlight for some, and low point for a few, was our benevolent gift to two of the man-eating crocs (one had eaten 18 before he was finally caught) of a couple live chickens.  It is just as graphic as it sounds, and gives new meaning to the term “bone crunching.”

We made it to the safari “resort” in Queen Elizabeth National Park a couple hours after nightfall.  Those in my car – Dana Zacharia, John Niemeyer, and his girlfriend Sandra Niagaga – joked that I was burning lots of calories just by driving.  Dodging pedestrians, bicyclists, motorcyclists, oncoming cars, and breathtakingly large potholes has a way of speeding up the metabolism.

The resort rested on the hippo-laden banks of a lake.  The accommodations were rustic (tents for some and canvas-sided rooms for others) ensured we didn’t get too comfortable.  Also contributing to the discomfort was the stern warning from the staff, who insisted (i) no one walk alone at night, and (ii) no one leave their tents in the middle of the night.  Several in our group reported hearing a quadrupedal locomotion around the tents during the night.

The next morning, David reported that one of the guards saw a lion walking around the edges of camp the night before.  Later that morning on the game drive, we saw three lions lazing away the morning having filled their bellies the night before.

We also saw hippos, elephants, water buffalo, numerous varieties of gazelle, and some warthogs (think Pumba).

After the game drive, our group subdivided, with several of us heading to Fort Portal to finalize logistics, while the other stayed behind for a boat tour around the lake.  They are meeting us in Fort Portal Sunday night so we can begin our prison work in the morning.

I will provide more detail in subsequent posts, but what follows is the crux of what we are doing.  As previously written about, the J-FASTER program we designed and implemented in 2012 has succeeded getting the court system on track to deliver justice in a reasonably timely manner.  The five remand homes in Uganda – facilities where children who are arrested await trial – are slowly reducing in size as children are getting lawyers and case resolutions much more quickly via plea bargaining and fast-tracked scheduling.

On the adult side of the ledger, there are more than ten thousand accused persons “on remand” in prisons throughout the country, many of whom have been held without trial (or even a lawyer) for five years or more.  Given the successes on the smaller juvenile scale, we have been given permission to develop a pilot program for adults.

We are starting with a prison just outside of Fort Portal where over three hundred are awaiting trial.  This week, we will divide into five teams, with each team consisting of an American lawyer, a Ugandan lawyer (from the Uganda Christian Lawyers’ Fraternity), two American law students, and one Ugandan law student (from Uganda Christian University) acting as the interpreter.  We have been allocated 56 capital cases (with more than 70 defendants) for this program.  Our goal is to prepare all 56 cases for trial this week, with the hope that a percentage of them will be resolved short of trial via plea bargaining.  This is the first time such an effort has been undertaken in Uganda, and we have been warned not to raise our hopes too high because of the cultural expectations that such cases will get full trials.

We kick off our efforts with a meeting in the morning with the judge, defense lawyers, and prosecutors in the morning.  From there, we will descend upon the Katojo prison en masse.

I Bought a Rolex . . . and Ate It

On Wednesday morning, I went for a run on a dirt road by Lake Victoria – the largest lake in the world.  The air was clean and crisp, if not a bit muggy. What seemed like such a good and healthy idea quickly turned south.  The morning vehicle traffic on the road stirred up so much dust that my vision clouded, my lungs constricted, and legs morphed into pillars.  The thronging children in their cute school uniforms all smiling, pointing, and chiming in chorus “mzungu!” added to the obstacle course atmosphere.  After fifteen minutes I was spent.  Pitiful.

The rest of Wednesday was fairly uneventful, and intentionally so.  David and I continued to nail down the logistics for the upcoming adult prison session, and I picked up gorilla trekking permits for my colleague Professor Carol Chase, her husband Judge John Doyle, two of their children, and four of our Pepperdine students here.  Since the prison we are going to is in the western town of Fort Portal, and since the world famous mountain “gorillas in the mist” are in southwest Uganda/northern Rwanda/eastern DRC, a subset of our group decided to take advantage of our proximity to Dian Fossey’s old stomping grounds by introducing themselves to these highly endangered beasts.  I am waiting until Jennifer, my youngest, is 15 – the minimum age to trek – so we can do it as a family.

I did have a chance to catch up with my friends in the Criminal Division of the High Court, where I worked during my six-month sabbatical in 2012.  Big changes are coming, and I will admit to being a bit nervous about how the transitions will affect our ongoing work.

The Ugandan Judiciary is critically understaffed.  Last year, a Judicial Services Commission was established to nominate a large group of judges to fill the growing vacancies.  They submitted the names about nine months ago.  Uganda’s national budget is stretched rather thin (the 2012-13 budget consisted of 25% foreign aid), so there hasn’t been money allocated to plug the holes.  Early last month, President Museveni announced a total of nearly thirty new appointments to the three court levels (High Court, Court of Appeals, Supreme Court).  These appointments take effect on July 15^th.

The Criminal Court Registrar – the person who is primarily responsible for scheduling court sessions in Kampala – has been appointed to the High Court bench, but outside of Kampala.  And two of the four High Court judges in the Criminal Division are being rotated into other departments.  Compounding the threat to the momentum we have built is the fact that the Director of Public Prosecutions, Richard Buteera, has been appointed to the Court of Appeals.  Director Buteera has been very supportive of the J-FASTER program, and will be replaced by an unknown commodity.

On the positive side of the ledger, word of the multiple successful J-FASTER sessions we have run has spread such that the growing consensus among the judges seems to be that this new structure is here to stay.

I beat traffic out of the city back to where I am staying and caught a late afternoon nap before venturing into Gaba outdoor market in search of dinner (Joline, Jessica, and the Gregstons are still on the road – they treated over four hundred patients at a church in a rural town on Wednesday and Thursday).  I found what I was looking for – a Rolex.

Eating Ugandan street food is one of the wonderful cultural experiences all visitors should sample – road meat, chapattis, roasted cassava/bananas/corn, and Rolex.  When I was here in 2012, I read an article about the derivation of the rather curious name.  As the moniker obliquely suggests, it is a phonetically challenged combination of roll-eggs.  Two scrambled eggs spiced with tomato and onions are poured onto a concave skillet, on top of which is placed a tortilla-like piece of flatbread called a chapatti.  The eggs cook and adhere themselves to the chapatti, which is thereafter rolled into what vaguely resembles a breakfast burrito.  Delicious.

Like Wednesday, Thursday was another day of planning and logistical preparations.  I had a chance to watch part of a trial of Chinese national for trafficking in children – he is accused of kidnapping and selling Ugandan village kids to the Far East.  Quite disturbing.

David and I had tasty and heart-warming dinner with Dan Owens, one of the Directors of Sixty Feet — a stellar NGO dedicated to improving and redeeming the lives of Uganda’s imprisoned and vulnerable children.  He had been in Africa for two weeks, including a two-day stint to Malawi, where he and their resourceful and visionary legal intern Abby Skeans (Regent Law student with whom I worked closely last year) met with top government officials about potentially expanding J-FASTER (the implementation costs of which Sixty Feet has been generously funding here in Uganda) into Malawi.  Please pray for this exciting new possibility, as the remand homes in that former British protectorate are also badly swollen with detained juveniles awaiting trial.  The work Sixty Feet is doing here is truly amazing, and it seems to be finally recognized as such by the too-often too-bureaucratic administrative agency tasked with overseeing Uganda’s imprisoned children.

I got to spend an hour or so with Joline, Jessica, and Gregstons before bed as they returned to Kampala to resupply and recharge after two intensive clinic days.

It is now Friday morning, and today is packed.  I have meetings today with Mark Riley (Welshman who is doing transformative work here in orphan care through his Alternative Care organization), Justice Chibita (Fort Portal judge with whom we are working on this pilot adult prison program), Justice Mukasa (head of the Criminal Division), and soon-to-be-retiring Supreme Court Chief Justice Benjamin Odoki.

Thereafter, David and I will be heading to the airport to pick up the Pepperdine team flying in for an intense week of prison work.

More on the identity of the team and our specific work in the next post.

We have arrived safely in Uganda.  We are excited to join the rest of the team.  The Gregston family is pictured on the left (Jake, Jay, Jayne, Jill, and Jared).  Their friend from Oklahoma is the tall guy in the back row (Kyle Mueller).  We are on the right (Jessica, Joline, and Jim).

We are staying at a guest house in Gaba, near the headquarters of Africa Renewal Ministries (the organization with which we are working).  We woke up this morning to a beautiful view of Lake Victoria.

The team is heading to Rushere today to do a two day community medical clinic.  Jim is staying here to start his work with the Ugandan judiciary in Kampala.  We will all be on the road quite a bit this month.  We’ll update from our various locations as we are able.

We appreciate all your prayers and well wishes.  It means so much to know we have friends and family cheering us on.  Joshua and Jennifer are part of our family that is back home, staying with family until we return.  We love and miss you!