Notorious Khmer Rouge killer Duch was tracked down by photographer Nic Dunlop
On the manicured lawns surrounding the special chambers that house Cambodia's Khmer Rouge tribunal, photographer Nic Dunlop holds his own court on occasions.
He is slightly uncomfortable with his own publicity, and the notion of celebrity journalism. But Dunlop also knows a chance ride in the back of a pick-up truck a decade ago landed him a place in history, and an entire circus of judges, lawyers and perhaps the most difficult war crimes tribunal ever.
"It wasn't a desire to see the Khmer Rouge bought to justice. It wasn't a crusade to bring down the Khmer Rouge, but it was more about trying to understand what made them kill like that," he told Spectrum. "Photography has allowed me to do that."
Having a keen eye for the subject of a photograph would be to Dunlop's advantage.
As a child, Dunlop first saw the photos of Tuol Sleng when they were published around the world in 1980, revealing the full horrors of the Killing Fields and the systematic industrial scale slaughter of men, women and children at S21.
Dunlop was haunted by them. He came to Cambodia as a young man in 1989 and visited S21.
There, amid the thousands of black and white prints of the victims, he found a photograph of Kaing Guek Eav, the camp commandant also known as Duch.
That picture was permanently etched on Dunlop's mind. He also carried it in his wallet. It showed the well-defined lines, wide eyes, distinctive jaw and jutting ears of Pol Pot's most effective executioner.
A career in photography and assignments in Southeast Asia followed. Then, in 1999, while working in the remote village of Samlaut, near the border with Thailand, Dunlop hitched a ride with some Canadian mine clearers.
As they left, he spotted the face from the photo and recognised it immediately.
"It was a very ordinary day," he remembers. "It was an incredible accident. I never really thought I'd find him. I'm not a newsman. As a photographer I like to do longer term projects."
Duch had left the Khmer Rouge a few years earlier, become a born-again Christian and returned to teaching. He had previously worked with the American Refugee Committee and alongside World Vision. He went under the name Hang Pin when Dunlop approached him.
"We presented him with the evidence and he confessed before us." It was an extraordinary moment - as Dunlop puts it: "The Khmer Rouge was highly secretive and finding answers was difficult, and Duch said the truth should be known and on the public record - that surprised me.
"Oddly," he recalled, "he noticed that I was carrying a Leica and commented that it was an expensive camera. I wondered how he knew that, and then I remembered he had his own extensive photo collection back at S21."
Dunlop and the journalist Nate Thayer met with Duch a handful of times, recording his interviews as he revealed the grisly details of his stewardship at Tuol Sleng, the suburban school he converted into a death camp.
Duch then surrendered to the authorities, Dunlop wrote The Lost Executioner, winning widespread praise, and despite enormous opposition from pro-Khmer Rouge corners, the first trial of a senior cadre is complete.
The trial of Duch, known as Case 001, finished on Friday. Sentencing is expected early next year.
In calling for a 40-year sentence, prosecutors acknowledged that Duch had pleaded no contest, shown limited remorse and importantly provided evidence that was necessary for history's sake and the prosecution of other senior leaders.
Prisoners were routinely beaten, faced electric shocks and had their toenails torn out. They were whipped and faced water-boarding. Surgery was performed on prisoners without anaesthesia and blood was extracted from them until they lay dying.
The extent of those crimes were probably best captured by a Vietnamese cameraman who entered Tuol Sleng with Hanoi's invasion in late 1978. The footage shot was ruled inadmissible by judges after defence lawyers challenged its authenticity.
But Greg Stanton, president of Genocide Watch, has no doubts to its authenticity. Speaking for the first time about the film, he says: "It makes Nazi death camps look tame.
"It's black and white, silent, about 10 minutes. It shows bodies chained to beds, fuel was tossed on them and they were burnt alive. Bodies were shackled at the ankles and disemboweled. It's the most horrible thing on earth," he told Spectrum.
"You could tell the film was shot just after those people were burned alive."
Co-prosecutor William Smith from Australia said Duch's crimes were comparable with those of Nazi Germany and Stalin's Russia.
Mr Smith was also critical of the defence argument that Duch had not accepted full responsibility for his actions. Duch pleaded no contest and his defence counsel won few fans by their arguments.
"I apologise in advance to the victims for what I am about to say," defence lawyer Francois Roux said in front of a packed public gallery. He then claimed the total number of deaths under Duch's stewardship was less than 1% of those who perished across the country at that time.
In comparing the evidence offered before the court with the information Duch surrendered a decade ago, Dunlop said the truth had been told in varying degrees.
"We look at him in the context of today. It's been 10 years since we first met. He's been truthful up to a point, there is a measure of sincerity. There is consistency in what he says, but he's had 10 years to script it," he said.
"The prosecution asserts he lacks sincerity and lacks empathy for the victims, perhaps, but 10 years ago he wasn't reading an apology from a piece of paper.
"It's like we are taking down a brick wall - brick by brick - a wall that separates his emotional life and reality. Duch is being tried for the crimes he committed, but not for the type of person he is. He always seemed disconnected."
Therein lies the rub. What makes a man like Duch? According to Mr Roux, the former maths teacher was "a decent man by all accounts" before the advent of Pol Pot.
"[Becoming ] a Christian convert made him much more interesting," Dunlop said. "Being honest with oneself and for the general good is central to being a Christian and Duch's needs are seen in his position with the Khmer Rouge and later as a Christian.
"I think he is one of those people who requires a structure. He needs a group, but I'm not sure that he has the courage of his convictions," he said. "I think he has minimalised his individual responsibility while accepting a broader guilt."
Limited guilt and whether Duch is truly sorry was a contention not lost on Dunlop, the prosecution, the victims or the defence who compared Duch's position with Albert Speer, Adolf Hitler's defence minister who was sentenced to 20 years in prison at the Nuremberg war crimes trial.
Speaking for the last time in his own defence, Duch said within the ranks of the Khmer Rouge "the collective led but the individual had responsibility".
He then stunned the court, did an about face and asked to be acquitted and released from the chamber. It was as if the ramifications of Duch's own admission had failed to register on his moral compass.
His request was ignored and the bench of five local and international judges retired, to deliberate one man's humanity.
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