After almost twenty years, Mugesera’s star is fading. Canada has had enough, and the message is clear: war criminals and other suspected genocidaires will no longer find safe haven on Canadian soil.

But there is an even clearer message: the long arm of the law is reaching out to those in Quebec, Michigan, New Hampshire. To the ones in Laredo, Texas do not feel out of reach.

What must be making fugitives uncomfortable is that if Mugesera can be shipped out, with all his high placed Quebecois friends, where do others not so highly place stand?

But what is so amusing and instructive is how Mugesera’s bravado melted when he heard that his deportation was imminent. His defiance melted and he became jello. An attempted suicide is no way for one so brave to meet his Maker. Shame,shame.

Seeing Mugesera on a stretcher, mouth gaping wide open says a lot. Most of these hardened criminals have constitutions of mice. The harder they come, the harder they fall.

Just like Khdaffi died like a chicken, and Mubarak stares on the ceiling of his cage during his trial, absolutely clueless and a shadow of his former Pharaohic self, Mugesera will cut a similar sorry sight in the confines of his soon to be rent-free quarters at “Camp 1930.”

At the end of the day, Mugesera’s cohorts in Paris, Brussels and Malawi and other hiding places will spend many sleepless nights in years to come contemplating their inevitable fate. It is not how, but when. It is not why, but because justice must be done.


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