IN MEMORIAM:
Reflections on Igolima Amachree, a Wonderful Friend 
by
Jack Gorby

Losing a friend is always difficult. My pain on learning of the loss of Igolima, a friend with whom I have been very close for 44 years in many different capacities, is beyond my capacity to express. Rather than dwell on my emotions, I’ll try to honor Igolima’s memory and his great contributions to others and to me by sharing highlights of several of our most significant life experiences together.

I was McDonough County Illinois’ first Public Defender. I was also an outsider, having moved to Macomb to take on that newly created position. It was a lonely job without friends or much support from the local government. I soon learned that the County saw little need and didn’t want a public defender. Its decision to hire one was a direct result of a “Hobson’s Choice” imposed by the 9th Judicial Circuit: “Either employ a public defender or pay local attorneys the going hourly rate for lawyers.” It was much cheaper to employ me.

I arrived with a desire to teach part time and be a part of the WIU academic life. So I applied for a position as an adjunct professor. That’s how and when I met Igolima, the chair of WIU Sociology and Anthropology Department. We were about the same age, both products of foreign universities, both very interested in sports and politics and religion, and both saw law as an aspect of sociology. Igolima was as warm and curious about my life as anyone I’d met, a character trait he consistently displayed. I developed an immediate liking for him. He took a chance and hired me to teach law-related courses in his “soc”—department.  Igolima was always interested in “doings” and encouraging and supportive of my academic interests and ambitions.

We met often to discuss students, teaching, law and my public defender job and criminal cases. We also played tennis, a new sport for me I’d learned in Germany. To my never-ending annoyance he always beat me. The fact that he was very good at that sport was of little solace.  In losing at his hand, I at least learned a lot.

One day the local court appointed me to represent a talented Nigerian-WIU student whom I’ll call “George.” George had just been accepted by the U of Southern California medical school. One morning, while going through the cafeteria line at WIU to get breakfast, a student cafeteria worker scooped out a spoonful of scrambled eggs and placed it on his plate. George asked for a second spoonful. The server said “no.” George responded by saying he was entitled to as many eggs as he wanted, which was true. The young woman server told him that he could come back for seconds but had to “first eat the food on his plate.” This upset George, and he tried to grab the serving spoon and serve himself a second helping. By accident he grabbed her hand. She was apparently very offended by this black boy touching her hand and filed a criminal complaint against him for battery. George was arrested. While in jail, immigration authorities informed him that, if convicted, he would be deported. George was very upset, and so was I. An American kid under similar circumstances would, at worst, be found guilty of disorderly conduct, fined $25, and told not to do it again. In George’s case, the consequences appeared to be deportation and loss of a wonderful opportunity to pursue a medical career as a physician back home in Nigeria. I spoke to the State’s Attorney about the grave injustice of George’s situation. 

The State’s Attorney was unreasonable, adamant and uncompromising. I contacted the head of WIU’s foreign student office, a retired Army colonel. He was equally adamant. The university “will not interfere with the legal process,” he said. I resorted to a letter to the president of WIU and urged him to support George and contact the State’s Attorney’s office. The president was moved. He contacted the State’s Attorney, who exploded and made a spectacle out of this by claiming publically that I had acted unethically by encouraging the WIU president to put pressure on his office. In the State’s Attorney’s view the circuit court should reprimand, if not fire, me. Equally importantly, the State’s Attorney refused to drop the charges. A trial date was set.

I spoke to my friend Igolima about this. Igolima sat back in his chair and said: “This is a consequence of cultural differences. In Nigeria, the poor social classes have a reputation for going back for seconds in situations like this and this behavior has come to indicate one’s social class. As a result, the wealthy classes instruct their children not to go back and get second helpings. However, since young men are always hungry, they are allowed to pile up their plates with a lot of food so they avoid hunger pains and the temptation to return for seconds and betray their social class. George,” Igolima continued, “is a kid from a wealthier social class and most likely reacted as he’d been taught.” Impressed, I said: “Igolima, you’re going to be my expert witness.” We tried the case before a jury. Igolima testified very persuasively and apparently touched a compassionate nerve of the judge, who, after the prosecution rested its case, directed a verdict of acquittal. George regained his freedom, and off to med school he went. If it weren’t for Igolima’s earnest persuasiveness, George’s life would have suffered a terrible blow. With that case, I gained an insight into Igolima’s compassion and talent for persuasion. To my surprise and great delight, George’s parents sent me a strikingly beautiful African robe and pants. I treasure it to this day.  I may wear it in honor of Igolima at his funeral in Lansing. Igolima deserved the robe, but since he already had one, I selfishly kept it for myself. 

Not long after George’s case, I resigned my job as public defender and left Macomb to take a position as a professor of law at The John Marshall Law School in Chicago and also become the legal director of the Americans United for Life Legal Defense Fund. In this latter job, I handled cases at all federal and state levels, many of which I discussed – from afar – with  Igolima. In addition, when I taught “philosophy of law” courses, I invited Igolima to my classes to expound – from his sociologist’s perspective – on law generally and as practiced in foreign countries, particularly Africa. He never failed to impress my students and me with his thoughtful insights, wisdom, curiosity, kindness, commitment to learning and teaching, and intelligence, all of which he conveyed in our classes and in his life. I understood why he was so respected at WIU and everywhere else.

We stayed in touch and on a few occasions had lunch in Galesburg when I was there. We exchanged stories of our lives, counseled each other on family troubles, and kept our friendship alive. 

In 2003, I learned that Igolima’s brother-in-law and Mara’s brother Charles Gyude Byrant – a highly respected Liberian politician and businessman -- had been selected the Chairman and Head of State of the Transitional Government of Liberia pursuant to terms of the “Accra Comprehensive Peace Agreement” of 2003 that brought an end to 14 years of civil war in Liberia. This promised to be a most challenging, risky and important job. And it was.

Three years later, after the transitional era had ended and the newly elected Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf government took control, the Liberian Minister of Justice indicted the Chairman Bryant for serious economic crimes (a form of embezzlement) while in office. These charges were disturbing, particularly in light of all the Chairman had done for Liberia. He had discharged very successfully his mission as defined in the Comprehensive Peace Agreement, which functioned as the basic law that governed Liberia during the transitional era. In short, Gyude Bryant maintained peace among the previously warring groups, assured democratic elections that ushered in a new government as scheduled, and ran the government on a daily basis.

In addition to asserting his innocence, Chairman Bryant and his lawyers claimed that – as head of state – he was entitled under the Liberian Constitution to presidential immunity for acts performed while in office. (US presidents and other heads of state enjoy similar protections.) This issue went to the Liberian Supreme Court, composed entirely of Johnson-Sirleaf appointees. The Supreme Court rejected his claim of immunity, holding that only persons elected president under the provisions of the Liberian Constitution are entitled to such immunity, not a transitional head of state. Igolima and Mara sent me a copy of the Court’s judgment and opinion with a request for me to read it and give them my opinion.

Knowing nothing about Liberian constitutional law, I was hesitant. But as a courtesy to dear friends, I read the Court’s opinion, thinking I’d have nothing to say. I read it several times. This thought came to mind: Gyude Bryant was elected pursuant to the internationally (UN, African Union & the regional Economic Community of West African States or ECOWAS) brokered Comprehensive Peace Agreement, not the Liberian Constitution. (Charles Taylor was at the time the duly elected president of Liberia.) And thus the ultimate tribunal for interpreting the meaning of the Comprehensive Peace Agreement in Gyude’s case is not the Liberian Supreme Court at all. It is an international tribunal to be organized by ECOWAS. Thus, the Liberian Supreme Court never really had jurisdiction and, even if it did, it isn’t the ultimate decision-maker about the Chairman’s immunity under the Comprehensive Peace Agreement. In addition, the Comprehensive Peace Agreement suspended all provisions relating to governmental “power” in the Liberian Constitution and incorporated all other provisions of the Liberian Constitution, including executive immunity. Accordingly, so my thinking went, immunity became a right of the Chairman of the Transitional Government of Liberia. In any case, it is ECOWAS’ tribunal that determines ultimately the meaning of the Comprehensive Peace Agreement, not the Liberian Supreme Court. Wow! I had something to say.

I became Chairman Gyude Bryant’s lawyer, converted Igolima from a sociologist into an international lawyer and law partner, and impounded into service JMLS international law librarian Ann Abramson and several international law students, including Kenyan lawyer Mercy Muendo. We immediately started working on an application for relief in ECOWAS. Specifically, we asked ECOWAS’ President Dr. Mohamed Chambas to organize a tribunal to determine the meaning of the Comprehensive Peace Agreement with regard to Gyude’s right to “executive immunity.”  One snowy day in January while taking a hike in the woods with an old friend, I got a call from a “Tom Sawyer.” No joke, I quickly learned. This Tom Sawyer was a Native American, a friend of Gyude, who shared an intense aversion to the use of children in warfare as had been done in the Liberian civil wars. Tom also had been a senior cabinet advisor on Indian Affairs to US presidents Nixon, Ford and Reagan. A remarkable man. Gyude had instructed Tom to call me. So he did. Tom was an economist and psychologist, not a lawyer. Together we became a “pretty good law firm” composed of one lawyer (me), one librarian (Ann), one sociologist (Igolima), one economist (Tom) and the several students, including a foreign lawyer (Mercy). We all worked hard and enthusiastically together, completed and filed our application for relief with ECOWAS. 

This sent shock waves through Liberia. The Johnson-Sirleaf government was furious and within a week – in the spirit of “I’ll teach them” – set one of Gyude’s two indictments for immediate trial. We urged Gyude’s lawyers in Liberia to inform the trial court that Gyude’s case was now pending before ECOWAS and that the court should postpone all proceedings until the ECOWAS tribunal ruled on our application. Unfortunately his lawyers in Liberia wanted nothing to do with this international legal action. They told Gyude and me that they’d lose their license to practice law in Liberia if they had anything at all to do with such action. In short, they refused to cooperate with our little makeshift “law firm.”

Gyude resolved this dilemma in a manner contrary to his own interests by telling his Liberian lawyers that he could not and would not ask them to risk their careers on his behalf. I offered to come to Liberia to deal directly with this issue. These lawyers warned me I would not be safe in Liberia and insisted I not come. So the trial on one of the two indictments began. 

It went on for 135 days. Igolima and I stayed abreast by reading transcripts and making suggestions, most of which were accepted. I also consulted with Tom. Gyude claimed that the “missing” oil money was withdrawn under his authority from the Liberian Bank and used for the sole purpose of keeping Liberia’s promise to compensate a band of youthful civil warriors in the backcountry that threatened to resume hostilities unless compensated for their weapons and for keeping the peace.  As said, Gyude’s main job under the Comprehensive Peace Agreement was to keep the peace. And he was determined to do this. The jury accepted his defense and acquitted him unanimously. Upon learning of the results, church bells rang throughout Liberia. 

One indictment remained, and the government seemed determined to prosecute and convict Gyude on that remaining charge. ECOWAS’ President Dr. Chambas was ignoring the application we filed. In the meantime, Igolima, Tom Sawyer and I worked together to write legal arguments in a letterform, which we sent to Dr. Chambas to explain how Gyude’s case raised serious issues for ECOWAS and its integrity as well as for the use of transitional governments following civil wars. Dr. Chambas ignored these letters as well. Finally I contacted the “Liberia desk” of the U.S. State Department, shared my frustrations about ECOWAS, and asked how I could communicate with Dr. Chambas. To my surprise and delight, the head of the Liberia desk provided me with contact information to Dr. Chambas’ personal secretary, whom I immediately called. She was most cordial and cooperative and suggested I send her our correspondence and she would see that Dr. Chambas would read it. Over the next year or so, we sent a number of such letters to his secretary. 

The gist of the letters was as follows: 1) Gyude had a good defense to the remaining indictment. Specifically Liberian refugees had settled in a neighboring country, causing economic harm, considerable unrest, and political problems. In response, a movement had arisen to attack the Liberian transitional government to solve the problem.  Gyude’s decision to withdrew additional funds from the same Liberian bank was done to help the neighboring country deal with the refugee problem. This resolved the crisis, averted military action, maintained the ceasefire agreement, and allowed Liberia to hold democratic elections as scheduled. And 2) The UN, African Union and ECOWAS had played an important role in ending the Liberian civil wars of 14 years. This effort gained an end to hostilities between the warring factions in Liberia and brokered the Comprehensive Peace Agreement under which Gyude served. That agreement provided the head of the transitional state with certain protections that most heads of state enjoy. By ignoring this matter, we claimed, ECOWAS is “pulling the rug of protection” set forth in the Comprehensive Peace Agreement out from under its Chairman, thereby subjecting him to what appears to be politically motivated prosecution, is violating its own duties under the Comprehensive Peace Agreement, is – out of fear of similar treatment – discouraging anyone from serving as head of a transitional government, and is eroding seriously trust and confidence that ECOWAS has the courage to keep its important promises and commitments.

From the outset of Gyude’s case, I had the picture in my mind that ECOWAS would form a tribunal composed of international judges, the Chairman and the government of Liberia would draft, file and exchange formal pleadings and legal briefs, and I’d travel to Abuja, Nigeria, where ECOWAS’ headquarters are located, and make oral arguments. Just like in our Supreme Court. Igolima wasn’t so certain. 

One December day, Gyude and Dr. Chambas met in Monrovia. Rather than talk about the burdens of being the head of state and let a good opportunity slip by as had been previously the case, Gyude with great directness asked Dr. Chambas: “Why do you ignore my lawyer, Professor Jack Gorby?” Dr. Chambas was silent for some time and then replied that he felt very, very badly about this but that he just couldn’t have a paper trail of correspondence showing cooperation with an adversary of a member state’s government. Dr. Chambas added: “I feel particularly bad about this because, at one time, I was a student in Professor Gorby’s law school.” Gyude, Igolima and I were very amused about this remarkable coincidence. We kept this a secret because we didn’t want to suggest Dr. Chambas had any possible favoritism toward me and thus compromise our best hope for some kind of fair resolution.

While we never heard from Dr. Chambas directly, we did learn through various sources that he visited Liberia on several occasions, met with Liberian President Johnson-Sirleaf, discussed Gyude’s case with her from ECOWAS’ and Liberia’s perspectives and urged her to dismiss the remaining charges before this case became an international scandal.  Nothing happened for about two years. And Igolima, Tom and I worked on more arguments.

And then, one day, the Liberian government announced it had dismissed all remaining charges against our Chairman. In the end, Dr. Chambas had apparently been effective. What a relief, what a delight, what a cause for celebration! 

We learned a lot. The West African member states of ECOWAS joined this regional international organization to make money as the European Union has done, not to surrender to a regional international organization the authority to interfere in the domestic affairs of member states.  Dr. Chambas understood this implicitly. This explains what happened. He couldn’t leave a record of cooperation with us. It also explains why all his efforts were made diplomatically, quietly and behind the scenes. Igolima, Tom and I had given Dr. Chambas Gyude’s best arguments. In turn, Dr. Chambas was able to quietly employ these arguments to persuade President Johnson-Sirleaf, who in turn, was able to persuade her Justice Minister/Attorney General that Liberia and ECOWAS’ interests were best served by dismissing all charges. While not as exciting or as much fun as making an oral argument before an international tribunal, in retrospect this approach became more effective and successful in the very political world of West Africa. We learned something valuable about the workings of international law.

And I learned things about Igolima that I somehow knew all along. Igolima was a very hard, tireless, talented and creative worker. (I have at least 1,000 emails of suggestions, admonitions, summaries, drafts and revisions of arguments and big phone bills to support this claim.) Though not formally trained as a lawyer and never thinking of himself as a lawyer, he is as good a lawyer as any I’ve had the honor of working with. I also learned that Igolima was a very compassionate, loving man and deeply committed to the truth, to justice, and to his family. Over this four-year period of litigation, he also made great contributions in a serious case with important consequences for Liberia, ECOWAS and his family and to my ability to successfully represent Chairman Bryant. 

I feel better having shared some of my stories with you about Igolima and me. I hope they reveal something of his many admirable character traits. As I’ve written this, I keep feeling I should send Igolima a draft with my usual request to look through this and correct my mistakes and blunders. This, of course, will never happen again. And we’d planned to write a book about Gyude Bryant, his ordeal and aftermath. 

Thank you for reading all of this. The deepest and most revealing friendships are built through cooperative, team efforts like these. I’ve been very blessed by 44 years of such a friendship but selfishly want more. While the loss of Igolima is very painful, one simply cannot ask for more from a friend. And I’m left with the deep honor of calling Igolima my friend.