But the root of the problem comes down to the simple fact that time has muddied the evidentiary waters. Many of the lawyers involved in the trial had not even been born at the time of the war. And while witnesses will be summoned to Munich, they may not be able to specifically identify Demjanjuk. Indeed, as Van Pelt points out, Demjanjuk’s exact role at Sobibor can never be known; rather, lawyers will have to extrapolate from what is known, generally, about Ukrainian guards at the time. “These were very low-ranking people,” Van Pelt says, with no “nicely laid out contract stipulating exact duties.” Even the number of reported victims in the charge—27,900—is debatable: it conceivably includes those killed while Demjanjuk was not on watch.
When it’s finished, what will have been gained? From a historical and legal perspective, very little: “There have been so many Demjanjuk trials already,” says Van Pelt. “A criminal trial about what Demjanjuk did or did not do in 1942 and 1943 is going to teach us, if we’re lucky, a little bit more about Demjanjuk. But the trial will be a footnote in the historiography of Sobibor.” Adds Scharf: “The only thing that makes the trial unique is that it’s taken 30 years from the time he was first requested for extradition.”
The Munich state court has set 35 court dates, which are from November to May 2010. According to doctors who examined him, Demjanjuk can only appear for two 90-minute sessions each day. And so, until Nov. 30, the ailing Demjanjuk waits, reportedly in a spacious cell measuring 24 sq. m. “I honestly thought he would die in Cleveland,” professes David Crowe. Such a possibility weighs on Efraim Zuroff. “I worry about it every day that goes by,” the “world’s last Nazi-hunter” says. “I pray for John Demjanjuk’s health every day. Believe me.”
