Minorities and justice

Recently I went to the trial of three, female, Sunday school teachers in Indramayu, who were accused of trying to convert a few Muslim children to Christianity. After taking my seat in the courtroom, officials asked my Indonesian friend and me if we would like to listen to the trial from a safe distance, maybe in a back room.

The police knew trouble was coming and were concerned that as a foreigner, I could become a target of aggression. As we had just traveled three hours to view the trial, we did not really like the idea of hiding in a back office. We thanked them politely and stayed.

They then seated plain clothed police around us and we all hoped for the best. It was difficult for me to believe that a person, no matter what color or religion was not safe watching proceedings in a court of law.

Around 25 friends and family of the accused had also taken seats in the courtroom after being checked for weapons. They sat peacefully awaiting the verdict. Soon I began to realize why the police had been so concerned. Around 150 young men and their leaders arrived at the courthouse. They were angry and chanting.

After shouting and calling for death for these women, they proceeded to enter the courtroom and overwhelmed it. They were not searched, but were allowed to push friends and family of the accused out of their seats and were allowed to enter in such numbers that they outnumbered everyone else, including the police, by four to one.

As I sat there, with angry young men filling every corner of the room, some wearing bandanas and covers over their faces, I realized that the police, although well intentioned and very helpful, had no hope of controlling such an angry mob. The police had no weapons, no defense gear and were in as much danger as the defendants and their supporters.

They were at risk of losing their lives if they tried to defend the women, the judges or myself. We waited and hoped for justice.

The women were found guilty and sentenced to three years' imprisonment. It saddens me that I felt relief at this result; relief because today these women would not die at the hands of the mob; relief that I would not die at the same hands; relief, that the young policemen who stood so bravely in the face of fear, also would not die that day.

Intense sadness then filled me. Can justice be assured in the face of such overwhelming intimidation?

KERRY PATERSON Bekasi, West Java