Iraqi war claims a tricky proposition
Chicago Tribune
RAMADI, Iraq — The questions swirled inside the dank courthouse as Aboud Sarhan Mouyed and his lawyers faced off with an attorney for the U.S. Army, thrashing out terms of compensation for a bomb blast last April that killed his family, wrecked his house and incinerated his flock of sheep.
Is there a price that can be placed on a single life, let alone 20? What is the market value of one sheep, or as many 400? Can a home, five cars and jewelry worn by his now-dead daughters be accounted for? And even when it all is added up, can cash bring meaning to a broken man's existence?
"I wish I was dead," said Mouyed, a 65-year-old shepherd whose weathered face was swaddled in a red-and-white checkered kaffiyeh, the traditional Arab headdress.
Mouyed's case is just one among thousands as the U.S. military copes with compensation claims filed by Iraqi civilians who say they have suffered from the U.S.-led war and occupation of their land.
The claims process has brought frustration to some and cash to others. Civilians and lawyers spend weeks, at times months, winding their way through red tape to come up with settlements in a country raw from war and bitter from occupation.
The U.S. military has paid about 13,000 claims totaling $2 million to $2.5 million, a spokesman said, covering everything from property damage to deaths.
But the process itself is taxing, cluttered with bureaucratic forms, uneven investigations and cultural misunderstandings.
"At the end of the day, my job is to compensate people for our mistakes, our negligence," said Maj. Craig Bennett, an international law officer for the 304th Civil Affairs Brigade based in Philadelphia.
"When you think of the billions of dollars spent over here, the best-spent money is the cash paid to individual Iraqis for the harm being caused to them," Bennett said. "It's just the right thing to do."
Iraqis can request compensation under the Foreign Claims Act. Payments are made for personal injury, death or material damage during noncombat action where "willful misconduct" or "negligence" is proved.
The clincher is this: Claims cannot be made if the action is combat-related.
But in the ever-changing military landscape — and the world that is Iraq — military raids remain commonplace long after President Bush declared an end to major combat May 1.
Military lawyers dispense cash through the Commander's Emergency Response Program. The money comes from assets seized from Saddam Hussein's fallen regime.
And that is where things get tricky. Somebody had to set the limit on life, and the price tag became $2,500 per person. These are so-called sympathy payments.
That makes some sense in Iraq, where tribes often negotiate penalties for deaths. Tribesmen are known to demand up to $4,000 for the slaying of a tribal member. But the compensation system run by the Americans has not pleased everyone.
Some human-rights activists contend that procedures are confusing, with the system prone to errors and delays.
Military attorneys involved in the process say they are doing the best they can in an environment with different legal heritages, two languages and hostilities that often limit on-site investigations.
The military's judge advocate generals are on the front lines. They are lawyers who carry weapons, face hostile fire and roadside bombings, and still manage to meet Iraqi plaintiffs to deliver some justice.
In many cases, the attorneys push the legal envelope to get cash to Iraqis.
"We've tried paying as many claims as possible," said Capt. Karin Tackaberry, 31, of Grapevine, Texas.
Tackaberry and other attorneys in the 82nd Airborne Division's area of operation in western Iraq have dispensed more than $500,000 in claims. And they've made some tough judgment calls.
"Say if we're still in combat and a legitimate firefight is going on and someone is wounded accidentally," said Capt. Sean Gysen, 29, of East Greenville, Pa. In such a case, cash could be paid out of the commander's fund, Gysen said, "as long as we are assured that person wasn't shooting at us."
Capt. James Stamper of the 1st Infantry Division said he gave $2,500 to a young woman burned when a barrel of fuel blew up during fighting between the U.S. and Iraqi armies.
"I really try to pay on injuries or deaths of bystanders to battle," said Stamper, 32, of Manhattan, Kan. "Women and children are injured as part of any war. We still pay a small amount to show our sympathy for a loss to establish friendship."
But not all can be helped. The lawyers ruefully recalled turning down a claim from a mother of nine children whose husband was killed during a raid. They rejected the claim because the Army had been trying to capture the husband.
The lawyers acknowledge it is difficult to conduct investigations in a volatile environment.
"Major combat operations are over with, but there is still combat going on," Stamper said. "In Afghanistan, JAGs could go out and investigate. Here, we need a convoy and trigger-pullers to take us out."
Stamper said the "majority of the claims" filed in the area "have been from the initial drive to Baghdad. Legitimate targets were hit and there was collateral damage. Some we are paying out of the goodness of our heart."
The case of Mouyed, the shepherd, has troubled many of the lawyers here. On April 4, in the desert 12 miles west of Ramadi, Mouyed left his family home and ventured 50 yards to an outhouse, where he washed before morning prayers.
It was then, he said, that his home was hit, wiping out nearly his entire family, virtually all his possessions and his flock of sheep. His home was near an Iraqi military installation and apparently was struck by an errant bomb.
"It was like a fire, like someone opening a fire," said Mouyed, who suffered shrapnel wounds below his right hip.
He and his attorneys pursued action in the Iraqi courts, filing a $200 million lawsuit against U.S. Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld and the commander of U.S. forces at the time, Army Gen. Tommy Franks. They later lowered the amount to $12 million.
The Iraqi courts eventually ruled they had no jurisdiction.
It fell to Bennett, a 36-year-old corporate attorney and reservist from New York, to try to settle the case Wednesday. He met at the courthouse with Mouyed, his brother Hamad, their two attorneys and two extended family members.
It was clear from the outset that a deal could not be consummated. Bennett came prepared to provide sympathy payments for 11 lives — $27,500 — out of the commander's funds. But after a quick glance at the file, he saw that at least 17 family members, including 11 children, were killed.
Then he was told that at least three more family members were killed. He looked at Mouyed's younger brother, still on crutches, and said a further medical claim could be made.
Then there was the matter of the sheep. Attorneys initially claimed 100 sheep were killed in the blast but upped the number to more than 400.
Plus, they did not file claims for the house, vehicles and jewelry lost.
Mouyed's attorneys talked of human rights and said that under no circumstances could their client accept the offer.
"We wonder what the world will think of $2,500 per life," said one of the attorneys, Rabah Saleh.
Bennett said he understood their frustrations and told them to file the property claims.
