THE HAGUE: This has not been a good month for the world's most infamous jailbird, genocide suspect Slobodan Milosevic. He may never see his wife again and spend the rest of his life in jail, reports Chris Stephen
First came news that he will probably never again set eyes on his wife Mira - she has fled Belgrade for Russia to escape a murder rap. Second and more significantly, for the rest of the world, at least, his defence has suddenly collapsed.
Until now, the 62-year-old former Yugoslav president had been riding high in his genocide trial at the Hague war crimes court. While prosecutors produced plenty of evidence of atrocities, they could produce nothing directly linking them to him.
For month after month witnesses sat in the Hague's Number One Court telling their sad tales - a conveyor-belt of woe as the full horror of murders, rapes, brutality and terror of the Balkan wars. But each and every witness stopped short when asked the key question - was your suffering ordered by the man in the dock?
In fact, it has emerged that Milosevic ran Yugoslavia with considerable care. He kept his confidants to a minimum, never used written orders, and was careful to keep a distance between himself and the hard men who pulled the triggers in the killing fields of Bosnia, Croatia and Kosovo.
Never did he urge his followers to commit atrocities - though, of course, he never blinked when they went out and did just that. Even the release of signals intercepts of his conversations with Bosnian Serb warlords drew a blank.
Barking orders down the phone to his henchmen, Milosevic's crackling voice was nevertheless that of a man careful to stick to specifics - the timing of operations and the delivery of weapons and cash.
As the months dragged by, Milosevic's jowly face assumed the expression of a rock-face. Impervious to insults, unbowed by intimidation - above all, confident that the poor victims, some unable to stop weeping as they told their story, could never trace their suffering to him.
Prosecutors got agitated. Observers began to ask whether they could ever produce a "smoking gun," a key former confidant who could spill the beans.
In vain prosecutors insisted it was not necessary - in a war crimes trial, a commander can be convicted simply if it is proved his unit committed war crimes, even if there is no proof he actually ordered it.
But this is the biggest war crimes trial in history. It would be better, for the future of the war crimes process, if some positive proof of Milosevic's guilt could be found.
And then suddenly, in the space of two weeks, it arrived. The key witnesses are not highly- placed officials but a secretary and a casino under-manager. The secretary worked for Milosevic's most trusted warlord - Zelko Raznatovic, nicknamed Arkan, a baby-faced psychopath. This secretary, giving evidence under an assumed name, sat in the office of Arkan's main base.
Her duties included taking delivery of sacks stuffed with millions of German marks sent by a grateful Milosevic. More to the point, she told the court how she relayed orders from Milosevic's office for operations in Bosnia.
Then came the under-manager. He told the court about a secret meeting Milosevic held with his trusted inner circle one day in March 1993 in the casino's backroom to discuss the ethnic cleansing of Croatia.
The manager was in the room keeping the glasses of the warlords full of their favourite tipple, Chivas Regal.
Together, these two witnesses have provided the vital bridge between Milosevic and the horrors of the Balkan killing fields.
And for Milosevic, things may get still worse. This week his most trusted side-kick, former secret police chief Jovica Stanisic, was flown to the Hague and charged with war crimes. Many expect Stanisic to forget his old loyalty, and turn evidence against his old boss in exchange for a lighter sentence.
This has not come a moment too soon. Prosecutors are almost out of time - they have already had 17 months, and there are probably just two more left to finish their side of the trial.
Until now, the prosecution case has been frustrated by Milosevic's increasing bouts of illness - he has missed a total of two months suffering from colds, flu and high blood pressure.
Then there is the man himself. As a president of first Serbia, later Yugoslavia, Milosevic was famous in frustrating foreign statesmen. He has done the same with the court - outflanking the judges by refusing to recognise their legitimacy and insisting on conducting his own defence.
But now things appear to be drawing to a close. Although Milosevic will get the same time as the prosecution to present his case - ensuring the trial will drag on well into 2005 - it is difficult to see how he can escape the cast-iron case the prosecutors have made. He cannot deny that he was in command, nor evidence that he gave horrific orders. And nobody can deny that atrocities occurred. Game, set and probable match for the prosecution.
And Milosevic will mount his defence alone. Mira was not just his wife, but also his only real friend. The two have been together since they met as high-school sweethearts.
This month she was charged by Serb authorities with involvement in the murder of former Serb president Ivan Stambolic, after his body was found buried on a Serbian hillside.
Whether she stays on the run in Russia, or returns to Belgrade and probable jail, it is unlikely she will ever visit Milosevic. Both seem certain to spend the rest of their lives in jail.
Chris Stephen's book on the trial of Slobodan Milosevic will be published by Atlantic Books in 2004