Behind the scenes of a broadcast: Al Hassan verdict viewed live in Bamako
On 26 June 2024, the International Criminal Court (ICC) Trial Chamber X delivered its verdict in the Al Hassan case, concerning crimes committed between 2012 and 2013 in Timbuktu, northern Mali. An important day for many people in Mali, and for us in the Outreach team, as we worked to broadcast the verdict live in Bamako.
A verdict is an important moment in the judicial process. Watching ICC judges read the verdict live makes the moment even more solemn and contributes to the transparency of the justice system.
Organizing the broadcast was very intense, certainly with its share of unforeseen events, but nothing insurmountable. A lot of adrenalin and then, once the pressure was off, a certain satisfaction.
Here is the story of the teamwork among Julien, Margot and Tejanie, to ensure a live broadcast from The Hague to Bamako.
Two days before – 3:00 p.m. (Bamako time): First meeting
Julien:
I meet with the sales representative of the hotel conference room where we'll be broadcasting the verdict to work out all the logistics, from the number of seats to the microphones and drinks; I don't want to forget anything. They surprise us with a giant screen, bigger and better than a projector. We're won over.
One day before – 3:00 p.m. to midnight (Bamako time): Final touches
Julien:
It's around 3 p.m. The hall will be available to us from 5:00 p.m., which is convenient for final preparations. The technicians are busy setting everything up for the next day. I tell myself that everything is under control, that we'll have enough time in the morning for the final touches. We plan to be there by 8 a.m.
9:17 p.m.: In my hotel room, I finish assembling the press kits, some fifty information packages in ICC colors, to be distributed after the verdict.
11:49 p.m.: I reread tomorrow's schedule once more. I know we're ready, but I can't get to sleep. So why not put this time to good use? I head for the room to carry the remaining equipment. It's dark now and I can't turn on the lights, so I use the streetlight from the windows to guide me. This time everything is ready.
D-Day - 8:00 a.m. (Bamako time), 10:00 a.m. (The Hague time): Setting up
Margot:
I arrive at the room. A guest is already here, having arrived early fearing she'd get stuck in Bamako traffic. I help Julien finish setting up the room while our first guest looks on. There's a two-hour time difference with The Hague.
Julien:
As people arrive, I greet them and invite them to help themselves to drinks, food or a seat. I sense a hint of shyness and tension in them. It's understandable. What will the judges decide?
Margot and I take a few photos and videos - we'll continue until the end of the session, sending them immediately to HQ for posting on the Court's social networks as this historic day unfolds.
9:30 a.m.: Welcome
Julien:
Here we go! Margot starts. Now that everyone's seated, I count the number of participants. About 60 people.
Margot:
I turn on the microphone at the lectern to welcome our guests: representatives of civil society, journalists and a few diplomats. The room is full, but the first row of chairs is empty. Is the screen too big, or do the guests prefer to keep a low profile in front of the TV cameras?
I've prepared a short presentation to introduce the case and explain the morning's proceedings. From experience, we estimate that listening to the judge read the summary of the verdict should take about an hour.
9:45 a.m. (Bamako time), 11:45 a.m. (The Hague time): 15 minutes to go
Margot:
I've finished my presentation. In 15 minutes, the verdict will be read out by the presiding judge of the Chamber, Judge Antoine Mindua, at 10:00 a.m. sharp, or 12:00 p.m. The Hague time. Some journalists and members of civil society I know well approach me to say hello.
I'm a bit anxious: I look at the clock every 30 seconds.
9:48 a.m. (Bamako time), 11:48 a.m. (The Hague time):
Tejanie:
I'm in my office in The Hague. The Audiovisual Unit I work for has all the necessary equipment to organize live broadcasts when we receive requests from outreach officers. I press the button to start live streaming the verdict on Facebook and YouTube. That's it, we're live.
I use my phone to check that the connection is working properly. I've been setting up live broadcasts for years. But every time, I get nervous. Sometimes there's a technical problem: the Internet connection or the broadcast platform isn't working. I then have to react very quickly to find out what the problem is and fix it.
Margot:
I open the YouTube page on my computer. The image of the court duplicates itself on the large screen in the room.
Suddenly, the screen goes black. It has disconnected from my computer. I panic. I look at Julien and ask him to call the technician. He steps over to me and changes a parameter on my computer. It works again.
10:00: The courtroom appears on the big screen. The hubbub suddenly disappears.
Julien:
I've been to several hearings, especially verdicts. For me, the silence at the beginning is always the same: heavy, moving, like a reminder of what the duty of justice is.
Despite the silence, you can imagine the questions on everyone's mind. Even I'm asking myself lots of questions: Will there be other technical problems? Have I thought everything through? Will the verdict be satisfactory for those present, and for those in Timbuktu?
Tejanie:
My phone hasn't rung yet. “No news is good news.” From HQ, photos of the live broadcast in Bamako have been posted on the Court's social networks. I can see the big screen and, on it, the courtroom. Everything seems to be going according to plan.
What time is it?
Margot:
I'm following the verdict carefully. It's complex. I look up from my notebook where I'm taking notes and look around the room. Some people have been filming the verdict with their phones since the beginning of the hearing. I can see a certain impatience among our guests. I look at my watch. The summary of the verdict is taking longer to read than we had anticipated. There was no unanimous decision. Each dissenting opinion is briefly argued.
Julien:
I'm standing at the back of the room as Judge Mindua prepares to announce to Mr Al Hassan the crimes for which he has been found guilty. Mr. Al Hassan rises from his seat. Telephones rise to the level of the giant screen; so does mine. We don't want to miss a second of this solemn moment.
11:41 p.m. (Bamako time): The judges rise
Tejanie:
I press the button to end the broadcast. It's a satisfying moment, when I end the live broadcast and everything has gone smoothly, with no technical problems.
Margot:
The hearing is over. I approach the lectern. The question-and-answer session starts in 5 minutes, the time it takes to print the press release we've just received. There's some movement in the room. Some leave. Journalists approach the lectern.
11:50 p.m. (Bamako time): Questions
Margot:
I read the press release. After general questions about the proceedings and the next judicial steps in the case, I'm asked other questions, which hint at reactions: “Why was Al Hassan acquitted on the charges of destroying mausoleums and of violence against women?” “What hurts is impunity. Victims are demanding reparations. What measures will be taken for them?” “How do you intend to inform the people in Timbuktu?”
I expected these questions. I answer them by referring to the summary of the verdict. The questions die down. It must be around 12:30. It's time to close the session.
Journalists approach me for interviews or to ask for the contacts of the legal representatives of the victims and of Mr Al Hassan's defence. One of the legal representatives, Mr Doumbia, has just arrived in the conference room. He followed the verdict from the ICC Representation Office in Bamako. I indicate his presence to the journalists who will be interviewing him.
A little later, the room is empty. Only Julien and I remain, tidying up what we set up a few hours earlier.
Julien:
Stress and emotion give way to silence. Everything happened so quickly, after weeks of preparation and anticipation. I dread the feeling of fatigue when the pressure drops. So I hurry to tidy up, with Margot's help.
This was my first mission as a member of the outreach team. I learned a lot in those few days: the advice Margot gave me, or the simple fact of watching her handle the live broadcast or the difficult questions, were a real gold mine!
The pressure, the adrenalin, and finally the satisfaction of seeing everything run smoothly, reinforced our conviction that access to justice is essential. Thanks to a real team effort from The Hague to Bamako, we were able to offer our audience an immersive and informative experience.
Justice must not only be done, it must also be seen and understood. This is what makes our work so meaningful, and drives us forward, inspired by the commitment and hope of those we serve.
