Sept. 11 terrorism trial at Guantanamo gets off to a silent start

U.S. NAVAL BASE GUANTANAMO BAY, Cuba — Khalid Shaikh Mohammed, the boisterous, boastful self-proclaimed mastermind of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, sat in a small blue chair for hours Saturday at the opening of his capital murder military trial -- holding his tongue.

As the day wore on, it became increasingly clear that Mohammed and the other defendants were deliberately staging a group protest, one without words, aimed at both confounding the U.S. military court system here and demonstrating to the outside world that they do not acknowledge the United States’ control over them.

Mohammed, his beard trimmed shorter and dyed henna orange, often lowered his head and slumped deep into the chair. He occasionally fidgeted with his glasses. His eyes expressed neither the old outrage nor the amusement of his last court appearance here four years ago.

Two of the other defendants abruptly leaped to their feet at one point, but only to stand, kneel and lie on the gray carpeting in prayer. No words escaped their lips.

One defendant, the alleged head of the terrorist cell for three of the four Sept. 11 pilots, nonchalantly flipped through The Economist magazine. Another pretended to read what appeared to be a thick hard-cover English law book. Yet another feigned sleep.

Saturday’s arraignment was expected to draw bombastic pleas of guilt or innocence from the five top Al Qaeda operatives known collectively as the Gitmo 5.

The charges include conspiracy, murder in violation of the law, hijacking aircraft and terrorism. The charge sheet itself is 87 pages long. Several of the defense lawyers said their clients wanted each page read; Mohammed’s attorney said he did not. The judge declined to read the thick document, saying it would only unnecessarily delay things.

Judge James Pohl asked each of the five men how they pleaded to the charges – guilty or not guilty, or whether they chose to defer announcing their plea until later. None of them spoke. Instead, each of their attorneys said they were deferring their pleas.

The highly anticipated military commission trial is the most serious to be launched under the new rules imposed by the Obama administration. With Al Qaeda leader Osama bin Laden dead for a year, the trial might be the biggest national security event going.

Court rules disallow evidence seized by torture or other inhumane treatment. The issue looms as a critical political test for Obama, who won the White House in part by pledging to close the Guantanamo prison and move the trials to the U.S. He did neither.

The last time Mohammed and his inner circle appeared in a courtroom here was four years ago. They brazenly bragged of their past deeds and asked the U.S. to make them martyrs. “This is what I wish!” Mohammed said.

This time, when they refused to answer questions from Judge Pohl, the case moved to pretrial motions and other legal matters, a sign that the court took their non-compliance to mean that they were pleading not guilty and wanted the case to move forward.

The accused terrorists also did not fire their defense attorneys, which they had done or tried to do in the past. And the lawyers took that cue to quickly argue that their clients’ silence evoked their deep mistrust in the U.S. military law.

They were protesting, the lawyers said, past “torture” at a CIA black site -- Mohammed allegedly was waterboarded 183 times -- and harsh mistreatment at this detainee prison on the southern rim of Cuba.

“What happened to these men has affected their ability to focus on these proceedings,” said Cheryl Bormann, dressed in a black Islamic abaya.

She even suggested that some female soldiers and lawyers who came to court in skirts exposed too much leg and deeply offended the religious virtues of the five defendants.

Judge Pohl, an Army colonel from Pepperdine University, sat in a high-backed chair with the seals of the U.S. Armed Forces on the wall behind him. As night came on, he swayed back and forth. Sometimes he expressed deep frustration, other times anger, still other times a keen determination to keep the case on track.

“He can participate or not; that’s his choice,” the judge said, referring to Mohammed sitting mute. “But he does not have a choice from moving this commission forward.”

The tension was cut once. Three hours into the hearing, Ramzi Binalshib, the alleged pilot cell manager, waved his finger and burst out at the judge. “Maybe you aren’t going to see me anymore and they’ll say it was a suicide.”

He compared life at Camp Justice in Guantanamo to the brutal reign of longtime Libyan dictator Moammar Kadafi. “It’s about the treatment we have received at the camps,” he said. “You want to kill us.”

The judge asked for silence, and Binalshib quickly went quiet.

The rocky start of the proceedings probably will further divide opposing sides on whether a military tribunal on a faraway Caribbean island or a federal trial in the United States is the proper site for justice in the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks.

Just the fact that it is at last underway cheered those in favor of a military tribunal.

But for supporters of Obama, who in 2008 promised to close the detainee prison and hold the trials in the U.S., the trial starkly reminds them of the president’s failure to change the system.

Moments after the 9 a.m. gavel, the hearing began with a translation problem. Mohammed, sitting closest to the judge, removed his earphones and so did the rest. When the Arabic was piped in through loud speakers, it was so jarring and overlapped the lawyers and the judge that exasperated translators complained they could not keep up.

Mohammed did not appear to care.

“He’s deeply concerned about the fairness of this proceeding and the process that has brought us here,” said his civilian attorney, David Nevin.

His client did not want to participate because of past “torture,” the lawyer said. “What Mr. Mohammed has been through, and with all these shadowy figures around here, it is alarming and affects his ability to go forward with this arraignment,” Nevin said.

So, he told the judge, “If he doesn’t respond, it represents a choice on his part to decline to communicate with the court.”

The judge said that even if Mohammed had a perfect reason to refuse to cooperate and everyone agreed it were reasonable, he as the judge was going to move forward with the trial. “What difference does it make?” the judge said.

The courthouse is surrounded by heavy barbed and concertina wire. Guards were positioned around the perimeter. Inside the courtroom, a phalanx soldiers in camouflage khakis and lace-up tan boots took seats nearest the defendants.

The alleged terrorists, all of them bearded and wearing white tunics and head wraps, had been offered more formal Western suits and shirts to wear to court. Walid bin Attash, an alleged Al Qaeda training camp steward, was tied down to his chair in shoulder restraints.

His attorney said Attash was in pain, but authorities gave no reason for the restraints, other than to say he acted up while being moved from his holding cell to the courtroom. When he later agreed to cooperate, the restraints were lifted. Then he refused to cooperate by sitting in silence.

Guards did bring him a prosthetic leg to wear, however.

Also in the large, expansive courtroom were Ammar al Baluchi, aka Ali Abdul Aziz Ali, a college-trained computer engineer, alleged Al Qaeda financier and Mohammed’s nephew; and Mustafa Ahmed Hawsawi, another alleged financier.

Ten victims and relatives of those who died in the attacks were chosen by lottery from among 250 to attend the start of the trial. Though they said they were here to “put a face on the evil” of that day, they remained mixed on whether a military commission was the right setting to litigate the worst terrorist event in U.S. history.

“I would have preferred this would have been in federal court,” said Blake Allison of Lyme, N.H., whose 49-year-old wife, Anna, was aboard the first plane that hit the first tower. “The public needs to see how in the world you could defend these horrible criminals, and how the prosecutor will be able to prove to the country and the world this is a fair and just system.”

Disagreeing was Christina Russell from Rockaway Beach, N.Y., whose brother-in-law Stephen Russell, a New York fireman, died. She said, simply, “This is the right place for this.”

For the record, 6:10 p.m. May 5: An earlier version of this post misspelled the last name of defense attorney Cheryl Bormann.

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richard.serrano@latimes.com