Hello, Uzicka

The first act of Slobodan Milosevic’s arrest started off as a farce. The whole world was watching pictures shot in front of the Palace of Justice. The sequence with the third jeep was a few seconds too long, just long enough to make us doubt that the middle-aged man who hid his face behind a jacket in the front seat – isn’t the former most powerful man of the Balkans. Only a few minutes later, the picture which traveled the world was disputed by Mira Markovic herself, on the phone in Uzicka. 

“He hasn’t been arrested! How could he be arrested when we’re sitting here with our friends? He’s right here beside me. No, he didn’t go anywhere. We’ve been here all the while, in the house. We have no idea what is going on.”

In the meantime, CNN had already bitten into the story. The timing was perfect – in Serbia (and especially around Milosevic’s house) it was pitch dark, but that wasn’t the case in the US, on the contrary, it was the time when TV is being watched. And CNN has a reporter on the scene next to the villa, who together with the other reporters is guessing what is going on inside, all up till the moment when Carko Korac, “deputy minister” (i.e. Zarko Korac, deputy prime minister of the Serbian government) joined the program live and confirmed the picture seen in front of the Palace of Justice. From his mouth official news pours into the ears of the US that Milosevic has been arrested.

We then realize that we belong to a small group of people who know that Milosevic is drinking coffee in his house. For the whole world and CNN, however, he is already a prisoner.

LURING BUSH: CNN’s anchorman announces Andrea Koppel, a State Department correspondent, while text at the bottom of the screen says "Official says Slobodan Milosevic has been arrested in Belgrade". Coppel reports that “Djindjic and Kostunica were presented with an exact list of steps which need to be made by ambassador Montgomery, among them also a demand to arrest Slobodan Milosevic. That is why the State Department doesn’t doubt that the arrest has been made.” And further: “No one in the State Department believes that Slobodan Milosevic’s arrest was accidental. Namely, tomorrow is the decisive day for the (US) thumbs up or down for 50 million dollars aid to Yugoslavia.”

The anchorman in the studio then presents Major Garrett, the White House correspondent (the bottom of the screen says “The US applauds the news on Milosevic’s arrest”). The White House correspondent says that he has just spoken to a senior State Department official who confirmed that the “White House is 98 percent sure that Milosevic has been arrested”. And that they are “only waiting a bit for an official announcement, in order to be totally certain about the arrest and all the legal consequences which derive from it”. The announcement was delayed due to diplomatic courtesy – to allow the Serbian government to be the first to officially announce the news. They even expected Bush himself to make a short statement. A certain amount of doubt was packaged in the two percent, which is what they estimated to be missing after Zarko Korac’s announcement. The situation seems grotesque to us, and the media all-powerful – and at that moment a handful of people in the world knew that this deceit was almost successful. They saw all of this in Uzicka street as well. And rhetorically asked the question, which somehow seemed more like a claim: “How are we supposed to deny this?!” It didn’t take long before someone thought of a way – seven minutes later Milosevic appears at the front gate and waves to his supporters.

The scene lasted just long enough to dispute the previous news, and Milosevic adds a personal touch with a short radio announcement, in which he is still drinking coffee. All the same, local and international TV stations kept guessing for the next few hours who was in the column of jeeps which had previously been shown as they arrived in front of the Palace of Justice from Dedinje and why. There is no doubt that at that moment the gathered friends in Uzicka, while sipping their coffee, were somewhat amused in a perverse way by this unbelievable, self-directed TV drama. The virtual arrest was performed and it was difficult to believe that, despite all that was seen on the TV screen, all those in the residence were still gathered. As those very same jeeps had in the meantime returned to Dedinje, the media started pushing the following speculation – that Milosevic was taken into custody, interrogated and returned to the villa. There was speculation that he was under house arrest, which the very scene, fifteen minutes after midnight, when Slobodan Milosevic appeared in front of the gate and smilingly waved to the “guardians of the gates”, threw a disturbing light on. All until the action of the special police force units ensued, hardly anyone even though that house arrest doesn’t encompass a walk through the huge complex of the residential grounds, the unlocking of the gate and free access to the street.

By four a.m. the situation became somewhat clearer. The action of the special unit in front of the cameras, despite total darkness, did look extremely clumsy, but it made the public aware that the government cannot pass through the gates of Tito’s former residence and gain access to Milosevic in any other way – than by force. At 4 a.m. there was no electricity in the villa, the garden was dark, the shootings had stopped. The most important thing of all that was heard, however, was that in the early hours a police representative did manage to break through and reach Milosevic and present him with an arrest warrant. To which Milosevic allegedly answered that he “wouldn’t leave the house alive!”.

Later during the day, at various press conferences, the Democratic Opposition of Serbia’s (DOS) representatives added to this sentence that Milosevic had also said that he would: 1. “kill his wife and daughter, since they’d agreed on it” and 2. “kill all those around him”.

BEHIND THE WALL, ON THE OTHER SIDE: During the second arrest act, when young men wearing jeans and masks on their faces appeared on the scene, when gunshots were exchanged, all seemed to resemble a low budget Hollywood movie. Namely, it is difficult to believe that the government wasn’t aware of what was occurring behind the walls of the presidential residence in which Slobodan Milosevic continued to live after October 5. It is clear that the reporters were guessing, it is clear that the masses didn’t have a clue. The fence surrounding the residence is high, the gates heavy, made of iron. Someone could have guessed something from the two guards who had kept guard in front of number 15 until a few days ago, while in front of the lower entrance, or as members of the household of the complex in Uzicka referred to it – the reception, in front of number 11, members of the Socialist Party of Serbia (SPS) and Yugoslav United Left (JUL) kept guard.

The more interesting one was the lower entrance, from Konavljanska street. Two massive gates for cars, between guardhouses with huge, dimmed windows. One entered in a conspiratorial way. First, at least in our case, when the interview in Uzicka was conducted, we didn’t drive there with our own car. Every time an official black BMW arrived. The first time we got into the car without exactly knowing where we were to meet. It was evening, we drove towards Dedinje and supposed that we were going to the house in Uzicka street; but when the silent driver turned towards the 25th of May Museum next to the Hyatt park, nothing was certain. That is why we asked – where are we going, and the answer was: “You’ll see!”.

We saw faster than we thought – he turned into a dark alley before the Museum, and then turned left next to some low buildings and we found ourselves in front of the gate. Silence in the car, I thought I was supposed to find and present some personal document. The driver dims his headlights towards the gate. They open incredibly slowly, slowly enough for a young soldier to appear, wearing camouflage, a red beret, holding a long barrel. The driver lowers his window slightly and says a word, which then sounded like a password to us: “Guests.”

The soldier withdraws, without a word. And the gates open, just as slowly even though they are run by electricity, probably a security measure. On the other side a couple of wide, asphalt roads. Left, right (to the residence), right, into the hills, winding, below the tall pine trees, the narrow asphalt lane branches, before it reaches the Uzicka exit. Right, then left was a complex of various Tito’s huts – hunting house, workshop… The hunting house has been radically redecorated in the meantime – gone are the goats and animal exhibits. A tiny road and a bridge lead from the log cabin (which became a continuation of the living room) to the main house. Lots of greenery everywhere, woods. Tall trees, a lot of shrubs. Then, in mid March, the leaves still weren’t out and it was clearly evident that all around, in the thinned out greenery, there were guards, also wearing camouflage, armed with automatic rifles, standing guard. Like the ones who were standing guard on the other side of the wall, at the entrance to Uzicka 15.

UNOFFICIALLY: If we exclude the staff which was bringing in the refreshments, the residential object was teeming with army and plainclothes security men. That fact obviously didn’t bother the new government until March 30, or they didn’t know how to deal with it. The inhabitants, who after October 5 simply became average citizens (even though two of them remained heads of two opposition parties), didn’t find such a high level of security strange, nor did they think it was in any way disputed: “The police protected Slobodan, even the army. That is the usual practice. Every former head of state has such security, especially one who is a candidate for imprisonment in The Hague. Anyone would do that.”

Therefore, entrance into the complex was controlled in a scrutinized manner. There was no chance for anyone to arrive uninvited. Moreover, the entire space was brightly illuminated even at night, since everywhere, along the roads and also on the grass surfaces special, wide neon lamps stood half a meter or more above ground every few meters. Everything was highly visible, day and night. An undetected entrance to the grounds (even more so to the house, which is a long way from the gates) simply wasn’t possible. Which was additionally made even more difficult by video security – numerous cameras whose positions are uncovered by red  lamps. Naturally, when there is any electricity.

In the early evening/morning hours of March 31, the grounds were no longer lit up, since the electricity was cut. Nevertheless, special Interior Ministry (MUP) forces didn’t get far. They did break up the windows of the reception and jumped over the gates. The spectacle was at its height, complete with gunshots and swear words. They shortly brought out a few young men and escorted them past the TV cameras.

We recognized two; one drove us on Tuesday, the other on Thursday. One had a strong Krajina accent and addressed the mistress of the house as “professor”, unlike the others who strictly addressed her as “comrade Markovic”. The cars they drove us in were black automatic BMWs, but they weren’t bullet proof, presidential ones. Even though the drive was truly “presidential” once. The second time, the driver didn’t find the place where he was supposed to “pick us up” easily, and we were late for the appointed meeting. He drove fast, red lights remained behind us, he swerved on to the other lane, then we came upon the Museum next to the Partizan stadium, a fast U turn towards Boticeva street, a drive on the sidewalk, a fast left turn, yet another, and we were in front of the gates. He noticed that such a drive wasn’t routine for us. He apologized: “We broke some regulations, to get here more quickly.”

The guard came out. The rest of the procedure was identical.

DISBELIEF, HELPLESSNESS, FEAR: What is certain is that neither on Friday, nor a day later, did the inhabitants of the Residence realize what was in store for them. The family made plans for their meetings and obligations for mid April on Friday noon. Even when the head of the SPS group in parliament Ivkovic dramatically disclosed that an action was being prepared and called on the sympathizers to gather at the gates in name of defense, the target of the action remained in relative nirvana, until the evening. The usual strong coffee was being drunk from large, white porcelain cups (with a pattern of green leafy branches). The atmosphere was domestic, wide, comfortable leather armchairs, large pots with artificial plants, glass tables, everything spick and span. Some exhibits with plaques, left over state gifts of the former inhabitant of the residence. A huge globe (like the one from Chaplin’s movie “The Great Dictator”), however the plaque at its base is hard to decipher. A lot of paintings, heavy curtains… The group of friends who never left them in the lurch slowly grew. (Mira Markovic with cynicism and self-irony likes to say “how their friends abandoned them” every time things became rough. The first time – prior to the Eight Session. Then, some even crossed the street when they spotted them; as soon as the Eight Session was finished – they all appeared, as though nothing had happened. The second time was on March 9, 1991, and then – when the bombardment started. As soon as the bombardment stopped, they started calling, apologizing: “Miki, I didn’t know where you were”, even though the telephone number remained the same throughout it all. While she recounted similar dialogues with smiles, there was no bitterness for the temporary betrayal of those one should count on. They somehow, over the years, got used to the seesaw. When power was strongly held in their hands, all of their friends were around them, unreservedly loyal. After October 5, many of them said they’d never known them, which she forgave them for, looking at the intimate group photos with those who had lost all memory of the last ten years).

After Milosevic’s appearance at the gates, the atmosphere became more relaxed, which isn’t strange after that charade with the jeeps and the unconvincing double under the spotlights of the Palace of Justice. It didn’t last long. Special police forces appeared in the frame and new misinformation followed.

It was said that during the night the police chief who was leading the action managed to appear in front of Milosevic and present him with the arrest warrant. That Milosevic answered that he wouldn’t go out alive. Mira Markovic, however, says that as far as she knows, that isn’t true: “No, no one came up to him, no one showed him anything. He saw no one. And he went nowhere.” A day later the media announces that someone from the house was treated in the course of the night and that the patient was “Milosevic’s wife, due to her heart problems”. Mira Markovic, however, knows nothing about this: “No, I didn’t feel ill. At least as far as I know – I didn’t feel ill.”

There was speculation that the inhabitants of the residence and their guests could break through the police encirclement by using secret hallways and passageways built during Tito’s times. That didn’t happen, and the very idea seemed funny to the residents in Uzicka street: “There are no such passages. They kept talking about it during the war, that we have some passages. That was a story to do with the residence which was bombed and which is now attached to all the residences. There are no passages nor tunnels here.”

THE BEGINNING OF THE END: After the failed night action of the special police units, new negotiations started on Saturday. The situation in the villa in Dedinje was tense. The telephones were still operating, although the operators, personal security staff who remained in the villa despite MUP’s calls, were becoming increasingly more nervous. Milosevic was in his study (the household members say – office) and was holding long talks with various DOS negotiators, with the assistance of older SPS officials. His wife and daughter were in other rooms, mostly together, talking. They removed their grandson Marko, who had spent a lot of time with them lately, on time, to stay with his mother. As the negotiations progressed, without much success, the garrison of the former president of Serbia and Yugoslavia slowly but surely repeated the destiny of the former YNA army barracks outside of Serbia – first in Slovenia, then in Croatia and Bosnia. After the first hours of the standoff, the electricity was cut, and then, just as DOS representatives on BK television announced that “to cut off water, phones… would be inhuman” – the water was cut. Which left an unpleasant feeling in the villa. There was bottled water, they could even brush their teeth, but it was impossible to have a shower. After the electricity was cut – they could no longer watch television nor follow other media outlets. Quiet was broken by a song which appeared from a distance, a song which the supporters of the former president sang in front of his gate, facing the police cordon. The song had a magical effect in the villa, a true anesthetic. They didn’t suspect that that only a handful of those who had applauded them in Usce over a decade ago were outside. Allegedly, they never even contemplated the possibility of Slobodan’s surrender. That was out of the question.  And what instead – any contemplation about that simply never came up. Not much talk was devoted to house arrest either, nor did anyone from the police nor DOS offer it. Of those who remained with Slobodan Milosevic during the crisis, we find out that the greatest dilemma was what after the eventual meeting with the investigative judge. Jail was out of the question, not even as a possibility, and therefore a visit to the investigative judge was also ruled out: “It would turn out just as it did with Dragoljub Milanovic. He went in for an interrogation and has spent two months in jail!”

To hold a hearing in the house could have been an acceptable solution, if it had to be conducted. But the other side didn’t plan for this thing, once it had kicked off as it had, to be resolved in the house. The cell in Central Prison was already waiting.

On Saturday, after ten p.m., following a previously made agreement, I call Slobodan Milosevic. An announcement for Vreme was short, he’s “in the middle of a meeting”, he’s talking. “The solution has to be in keeping with our constitution”, he answers the question what the outcome of the crisis will be and finishes the conversation quickly, we’ll talk later, tomorrow. We find out that he was still convinced then that Kostunica would keep his word given after October 5 by which he: “guarantees his (S.M.) safety etc. and that we shouldn’t worry about a thing (the family, reporter’s note)”. That’s what he kept saying since October.

That very same night Milosevic was taken to Central Prison, accompanied by his lawyer Toma Fila, who the family had previously opted for. Despite rumors that the former president is under sedation, those who saw him claim that it isn’t true. And that one thing he won’t be doing in jail is – reading newspapers. Not because the proceedings would forbid him to do so. It is a well known fact that he never much cared for journalists. After this – he’ll do so even less. As far as the public is concerned, it seems as though he’s already lost that battle.