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What It’s Like to Chill Out With Whom the
World Considers the Most Ruthless Men : Ratko Mladic, Goran Hadzic and
Radovan Karadzic Confessions of a Female War Crimes Investigator |
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Confessions of a Female War Crimes Investigator
A
lot of evidence will come out during my defence case as to how the
Americans wanted to secure a long-lasting war in Bosnia and instigated
violations of the UN arms embargo, even in close cooperation with Iran,
and how they supported and supplied the Bosnian Muslims to justify what
they were doing to Muslims elsewhere. --By Radovan Karadzic    
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 naive 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 adviser 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.
During this time period, I had the honor to meet, Professor Simeunovic
(Political Science Department of the University of Beograd) . He used to
come to New York City several times during the time period, Darko, was
First Secretary of the Bosnian Mission at the UN in NYC. Darko actually
called me one day when, Professor Simuenovic, came to New York to
attend the 1999 United Nations Preparatory Committee Meetings (Closed
Door). Then, the NATO Kosovo Crisis had fully begun; the UN refused
granting, Professor Simeunovic, entrance into the meeting since the
United States was so called "at war" with the Former Serbian &
Montenegrin Republic. Darko merely, told me to help get "Him into the
meeting somehow." I said, "What can I do"? He
said, "Your, Cousin Gay Rosenblum works at 1 United Nations Plaza in
Executive Offices of the UN's Public Administration i.e., India. Tell
them that and he will be able to gain entrance if you ask them to let
him in." It is true, my does Cousin work in the UN Plaza in Public
Administration. So trying to help Serbia, I
went down a to In Plaza, asked them to let the Serbian gentleman into
the
meeting and they did. Serbia
has the BEST DIPLOMATS working for it, and also for its' intelligence I
have seen anywhere in the world. I learned so much from my time working
with Darko as my "mentor." I remember on one particular visit, Professor
Simeunovic, Darko and myself, were on our way up to a renown and one
of the very few Serbian Restaurant's existing n America called, Sports
Bar; owned by a man named Nik, and his wife who cooks in the kitchen.
Professor Simeunovic taught me then, the importance of "true diplomacy"
in which is is NOT via weaponry , money and power, you make things
happen on the international stage, but through your share connections
and human contacts; the art of true diplomacy in and of itself. He said
to me, and simultaneously pulling out a worn old black telephone book
from his rear pocket said to me from the front seat (Darko always drove
my car and I sat in the back), "Do you know what this is JIll,"? I said,
"No I don't Mr. Simeunovic to be honest," he replied, "I am a
Diplomatic Mediator for Serbia, I have mediated situations for , Serbia
and RS, from Bosnia to Macadonia, in this book are all of my
"Diplomatic Contacts." Continuing speaking to me he said, " I have the
personal telephone numbers of the President of over 100 Head's of State
to lower Diplomatic at Embassies Worldwide I can call at any time and
place for help anywhere in the world." This is what makes a true
diplomat Jill." "No money and Weapons like NATO Uses; It is all about
who you know and how you can influence those whom you know and can
trust as confidants." Then said, "I strongly suggest Darko "mentor you,"
and you begin compiling your own little black book of diplomatic
contacts immediately, And I listened to his every word. While
the American Embassies, Colleges and Diplomats hated me for "chilling
and and making friends everywhere from the Iranian Ambassador to
Executive Head's of ENACO (Mr Davies) from Cocaine growing companies,
existing in Peru, l listened to, Professor Simeunovic's advice to
me. He was right; I needed to have tons of trusted high level people and
evene some Presidents' I could call if I needed assistance anywhere and
at anytime if I was going to be a "diplomat." That way, I thought to
myself, suppose I had to get some American citizens out of a kidnapping
situation say in, Iran or Iraq?" This way, only I could actually "pull
it off perhaps, though my contacts." This was very important and I
strongly suggest that, CIA Head take some classes in intelligence,
diplomacy as well as in Anti Terrorism, from Dr. Darko Trifunovic, at
the University of Beograd , Srebija (If tehy can get into his class
there). lol It is all about connections!
Here
is the Registration address for, Darko Trifunovic, in China
http://www.bg.ac.rs/eng/en_newss.php?id=96. OR
http://www.bg.ac.rs/eng/en_newss.php?id=96
(Get
into his class if you can is my best advice to those ignoring him and
his Al Qaeda information emanating from the Documentation Center of
Republika of Srpska Governmental Offices.the before 9/11). read More
About Darko and myself visiting Republican Senator NIcholson in DC
together to speak about Al Qaeda in Bosnia at:
http://sites.google.com/site/jillstarrsite/the-law-projects-center-information-the-cia-us-department-of-state-ignored-that-could-have-prevented-the-9-11-terrorist-attacks-on-the-twin-towers-in-nyc
Between the time, I was dismissed from the New school for Social
Research in New York City, and, the time, Darko, arrived in full
diplomatic capacity in to work in the Bosnian Mission to the United
Nations in New York City, I had lots of spare time on my hands. Before I
met Darko, I had fallen whimsically in love with a monk living at the
Abbey of the Holy Name Monastery, where I attend Orthodox Christian Mass
weekly. His name was Momcilo Pantovic.
Being familiar with
encryption and codes, I noticed an Orthodox Christian Ikon has gave to
me seemed to read “I have the NATO codes.” I ignored this at first. A
few weeks later, I was speaking with Bishop John at the monastery and I
went upstairs into the dinette to get something, and I noticed a piece
of paper lying on the table. I could not help but seeing what was
written on this paper. On one side it had names of insurance companies
and numbers, and when I looked on the other, becoming curious, it had
the names of the Serbian shot down non-invisible Stealth Fighter Jet
F-117A on it and the names of various American companies such as
“Boeing” and “Locheed,”
Upon seeing this piece of paper I became
immediately alarmed because a week or so before while at Sunday Mass,
one of my Serbian friends living at the monastery, a former Serbian air
force serviceman back in the Former Yugoslavia, had asked me to help him
input some numeric codes into the Bishops computer upstairs on a
‘Karaoke’ site called ‘Sing Out.” Thinking back on that experience, it
seemed I could have helped him input NATO air codes he transferred via
the Bishops computer to another contact that was somehow connected in
the NATO Stealth being shot down. I will never know for sure; I it
seems this way. The day after I entered the numbers for him, the Stealth
was shot down and someone unknown to me send me the photos of the
downed NATO stealth I have posted on my website.
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.
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.”
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. You can read
about this incident at my blog here
http//sites.google.com/site/jillstarrsite/Home/bill-richardson-revealed-as-weak-and-ineffective-diplomat-in-1999-when-dealing-with-opec-by-jill-starr
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. In fact,
Arnold Stark, with whom I was engaged to at that time period, came to
visit and meet the Al Qaeda "operatives" working there. It is a matter
of social fact, that we warned Arnold Stark, Educational Psychology
Professor and PH.D of Columbia University whom once was asked by the
United States of America to be its' one time, Ambassador from the
U.S.A> to Bonn, Germany, and a one time teacher at McAurthar War
College of the U.S. Navy (giving out high ranking security clearances to
students and graduates, that the AMbassador himself was a self
"confessed arms trader for Osama bin Laden." And what did Mr. Stark do
then? Run? No ! ASk us more questions? No! Report this informatin to his
friends whom are mostly retired tenured US State Dept. Officials? No!
He walked over to the man, started shaking the high wanking Al Qaeda
Officials hand and said, "I am Mr ARnold Stark. It is a pleasure to meet
you. IN fact, perhaps you would like to join me for lunch one day." For
heaven's sake, ARnold never told me wherefore he made this gesture
towards this terrorist working in New York City under Diplomatic Cover.
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. (Noteworthy of mentioning was this man being a doctor, when
returning from a trip to the Former Yugoslavia once, was nice enough to
bring me some alternative medicine (a liquid lemon mixture) back with
him and gave it to me to help me withdrawal from all the American
narcotics I was on). Darko insisted because he was worried about me
overdosing on all my American medications). I always wondered if Doctor
Radovan Karadzic had made the elixir himself for me--I will never truly
know but it is not out of the question because Darko told me it was an
"alternative medication and a liquid mixed with herbs and lemons
sliced").
I ALSO SAT DIRECTLY ACROSS FROM FORMER UNITED
STATES AMBASSADOR , RICHARD HOLBROKE! HE WAS SITTING ACROSS FROM MYSELF,
AND DIRECTLY NEXT TO THE ISRAELI AMBASSADOR. He did not look at all
like his photos (which were obviosly touched up) because he looked
terrible with BIG POCK MARKS ALL OVER HIS FACE AND THICK SQUARE BROWN
GLASSES! He laughed and took nothing seriously at all! I was shocked at
his taking human rights as some type of joke; I took every thing
happening extremely seriously!
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.
During this in which, Darko, and I worked together at the Law Proejcts Center (NYC), I had the chance to meet, I met Professor Simeunovuc, several times (Political Science Department From the University of Beograd,Serbia). Darko introduced
the
two of us actually. He used to come here and there to attend, the
Preparatory Committee Meetings To Establish an International Criminal
Court and Represent the Former Republic of Serbia & Montenegro. One
time, during the NATO bombing,the
United Nations ,declined him entrance to a meeting for the ICC. He
called me. My Cousin works in tge UN
Plaza in Public Administration I
went down a to In Plaza, asked them to let, " the Serbian gentleman into the
meeting," and they did.
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. A
couple of times I saw him walk around Beograd in his infamous hat like
in the photo posted below. Radovan was always a master of disguise
because he was always dressed different every time I saw him (in Ostrog
and many times in Beograd). 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 IT WAS PINK IN COLOR ,
merely 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. Upon, waking up in the morning, we made our way towards
KOsovo and the ADa Bojana which lies right on the Kosovo and Southern
Montenegrin border. I made a phone call to my fiancee at that time, Mr
ARnold Stark to Western Union us the sum of $500 owing to Darko's car
necessitating repairs on the way. I picked up on the money in
Southernmost Montenegro town near Kosovo. Thereafter we went through a
Kosovo checkpoint and Darko had a friend owing an auto repair business.
We waited about one hour for the needed repairs to be completed and
drove into , Kosovo (at this point the highway became completely flat,
almost resembling parts of Texas in America.
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 at the Ada Bojana (which the beach directly
border Kosovo) as seen here with the River Bojana. We WENT TO THE NUDE
NATURALIST BEACH! 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 fully armed with
guns; I felt 100% safe with them. 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. Darko made a
few cell telephone calls and told me, he was calling his friend to meet
us, and it would be about ten minutes and he said he would be there to
meet us; sure enough, in about ten minutes, Ratko Mladic appeared
walking towards me in the Boat restaurant!! Although Darko and I never
discuss the incident anymore, I always assumed that Ratko and Darko were
extremely close friends being that Darko had the personal cell
telephone number of, Ratko Mladic. It was obvious to me at that time, on
the way to meet, Ratko, Darko was speaking directly to Ratko on his
cell phone; several times after short conversations on his cell, Darko,
told me his friend said he was apologetic he was running a little late
and would be here in a moment. Darko and Ratko must have become
extremely close during the Bosnian war where later Darko confided to me
that he was an army officer and worked in the Yugoslav Army / Air Force
in some capacity. Darko recently told me, he was deeply hurt by the
Bosnian War; he told me he had a daughter (I never knew this before 2010
when he told me he had a daughter), in which during the time he was
apparently drafted into the army, he each day feared for his life, never
knowing IF, he would ever return alive to see his daughter again.
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
NOTES BY AUTHOR 2011
============================
(1) Later a few years after, Darko came to visit me for about one
week, and stayed at my house in Bloomingdale, New Jersey. This was the
trip where Darko and I, both drive down to meet United States Senator
Tim Nicholson
(see my blog on terrorism when me and Darko met with Senator Nicholson (Republican) http://sites.google.com/site/jillstarrsite/the-law-projects-center-information-the-cia-us-department-of-state-ignored-that-could-have-prevented-the-9-11-terrorist-attacks-on-the-twin-towers-in-nyc
in Washington D.C.). Darko stayed at Senator Nicholson's home and I in a
local hotel nearby)...Darko at that time, gave me two friendly
diplomatic presents from Serbia, thanking me again for all I have done
for him and his life, personally over the years, and also for his
country, Serbia and Republika Srpska. These were the gifts Darko gave to
me below.
http://sites.google.com/site/jillstarrsite/jillstarrinternationalnews
http://members.fortunecity.com/lpca1/lpc.htm
(2)
The only person's photo who is mentioned in my true story (this book),
has always been, Professor Arnold Stark's. This is 0wing to his constant
threatening me NOT to ever post his photo here. I am posting it now
(threats OR not). He and I were engaged in 2001 when I traveled to
Serbia. Owing to that trip, he considered me a traitor to both the
United States, and him personally and broke out engagement to be
married. He teaches at both Kean College and William Paterson Univesrity
of New Jersey and we are still pesonally close friends and colleagues.
He was just here the other day. He sent Darko Trifunovic , Bojana and I
near Kosovo (by the Kosovo border) as stated in my book , cash for
$500- to a Montenegro Western Union to fix Darko's car around the Kosovo
border area. He tells me he still has his AMERICAN EXPRESS RECEIPT FOR
THAT MONETARY TRANSACTION.
I
might also add, of anyone accused of "war crimes" by the ICTY housed at
the Hague in the Netherlands, only Mr. Arnold Stark has threatened me
in any manner about my printing this true account of history as stated
in this book I wrote. And for the sake of Radovan Karadzic, Ratko Mladic
and ALL the Bosnian Serbs obtaining a FAIR TRIAL at the ICTY which I am
telling you is impossible as I claim, I personally have heard and seen
more curse words and violence in the local Bloomingdale New Jersey Bars
then I have ever seen or heard in the presence of any Serb accused of
genocide and/or war crimes by the ICTY, Prsoecutor Brammertz, and the
Hague !
(3) This book was only made possible by a communication
error between, Darko Trifunovic and myself. I would never want to
publish matgerial making Darko (my friend) uncomfortable. Early in
January 2009, I e-mailed, Darko, asking him if he minded me publishing
this book. He never replied for several months. When he di dnot reply to
such an important question, from my knowing Darko well over the years
we have worked closely together, I merely published it, assuming it was
alrlight according to, Darko. When he replied to me, several months
after it gone viral online, it was too late for me to vanish all the
posts it was online. So I decided to move forward and leave it. At
first, Darko, was not happy with the book when we finally communicated
about it. At first, Darko, said "Jill, I only introduced you too another
high ranking officer named, Sharko, but not Mr, Mladic...I became
EXTREMELY ANGRY with Darko, because he had always been forthright and
never lied to me previously. I told him that what he told me was a bunch
of BULLSHIT owing to the fact I could prove I met Mr., Mladic anyway
because I had his signature on the books that he gave me, and his
fingerprints etc..in my house and to stop his lying about the incident.
Darko thentold me, he apologized and that "Just he did not want to be
implicated in all this by the ICTY and he was not being harassed, he was
not going to lose his job over the book and that yes, it is true that
he introduced me to, Ratko Mladic that night we were in Beograd
together in 2001. He said he would basically, live with it and it was
true to me. We have not really discussed the matter since.
The
original reason for my printing my book I told him was too shut down
the ICTY and I needed this book to get the international community's
attention, and, once I had that attention, they would have to
investigate the proof that I possessed, that neither Radovan Karadzic,
Ratko Mladic or any other person at the ICTY awaiting trial was going to
receive a FAIR TRIAL. My
intentions were always pure in writing this book andc I never did it
for profit. I had always told, Darko, IF, andonly IF, I had it ever
published and profited from it, I would give him half the proceeds, and
also give the other 50% of profits to the Republika of Srpska to help
them rebuild from the BOsnian War.
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.
http://sites.google.com/site/jillstarrsite/what-it-s-like-to-chill-with-the-most-ruthless-men-in-the-world-ratko-mladic-and-radovan-karadzic-confessions-of-a-female-war-crimes-investigator
http://www.facebook.com/home.php#/jill.starr2?ref=profile
http://shops.half.ebay.com/raretofindreads
(MY RARE USED BOOK STORE ON HALF.COM/EBAY)
Jill Starr Create your badge
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