By Terrence McCoy
By Allie Conti
By Terrence McCoy
By Scott Fishman
By Deirdra Funcheon
By Allie Conti
By New Times Staff
By Ryan Pfeffer
Jennifer Van Bergen opens the door to her tenth-floor apartment on Hallandale Beach, a law review article in her hand and eyeglasses perched on the bridge of her nose. She looks up, squinting. "Have we met before?" she asks, standing about 25 feet from a balcony that overlooks the Atlantic Ocean.
The answer is no, but the question is revealing. A 49-year-old with auburn hair, Van Bergen benefits and suffers equally from a mind as engaging as it is mysterious. She can discuss the history and implications of complicated legal concepts and procedures. At the same time, she can forget something that happened only minutes earlier, forcing her to take notes. "It's not quite like Memento," Van Bergen says, referring to the 2000 movie in which a man tattoos clues on his body to compensate for short-term memory loss.
Van Bergen takes a seat on a futon in her living room. Folders and magazines clutter the coffee table, crowned at the top of the heap by a dog-eared Time magazine, with John Kerry and John Edwards smiling like two long-lost brothers. Overburdened bookshelves cover the apartment's remaining walls. At the edge of one shelf is a large tome whose title acutely abridges Van Bergen's life: Memory, Trauma, Treatment & the Law.
From this cluttered apartment, Van Bergen has become one of the leading local critics of the Bush administration. Since the 2000 election, she has written commentaries for online magazines and academic journals about the administration's alleged indifference to domestic and international law. On August 30, Van Bergen, a board member of the Broward chapter of the American Civil Liberties Union, will travel to the Republican National Convention in New York City to sell copies of her forthcoming book, The Twilight of Democracy: The Bush Plan for America, which colleagues have hailed as an academic starting point for civil rights activists in the troubled post-9/11 world.
"There's going to be so many people out there protesting," she says. "I'm not going to go into the convention." No, she'll be among the people in the streets, with copies of her book and a few harsh words ready for the sitting president. That's because Van Bergen views herself as a good soldier of the left.
Her views were shaped, in part, by an unconventional childhood, growing up in a castle in Austria, thanks to her father's duties as chairman of the Salzburg Seminar of American Studies, a think tank for law and the arts. As a little girl, she trained in the theater, studying Shakespearean classics. But by the time she was 18, hoping to be an actress in college, Van Bergen was forced to give up the craft. "I had trouble remembering lines," she says.
She later married and had two children, Sarah and Giselle, now 18 and 15, respectively. When the girls began to attend school, so did Van Bergen. She enrolled in Yeshiva University's Benjamin N. Cardozo School of Law in New York.
In law school, she noticed additional memory lapses. "I was looking at an exam I'd taken the week before," she recalls. "I got an A on it. But I didn't remember taking it." Then she experienced a series of flashbacks over the course of a week. She sought professional help to interpret the experience. The diagnosis: dissociative disorder as a result of childhood trauma. She's not yet willing to talk about her experience in detail. "The reason for dissociation is that your mind, as a child, can't wrap around something or absorb it and continue to function," she explains. "It's like Vietnam vets. It's too much, and the mind splinters it off as a self-protective mechanism."
Although Van Bergen rejected the diagnosis at first, she eventually grew to accept it. She now receives disability benefits and does not practice law independently as a result of her condition. Instead, she works under the supervision of other attorneys.
Among her first positions was writing briefs for New York attorney Bernard Kleinman in the federal appeal of Ramzi Yousef. That gave Van Bergen an inhospitable introduction to the growing province of antiterrorism law.
The mastermind of the first World Trade Center bombing in 1992, Yousef was captured in Pakistan in 1995. He was then beaten during an interrogation, Yousef told the court in a videotaped statement. Among his alleged captors was a man who identified himself as an FBI agent.
"They interrogated him, claiming his brother was killed and his cousin tortured," Van Bergen recalls. "Then he claims he was brought before a magistrate in Pakistan, where he repeatedly asked for an attorney. Eventually, he was turned over to the FBI. They then claim that on the airplane, they read him Miranda rights."
Since Yousef had already been indicted, the alleged terrorist's attorneys argued, the FBI agent was obligated to read Miranda rights in Pakistan. The judge dismissed the appeal, as Van Bergen anticipated. It wasn't Yousef she wanted to defend; it was the civil liberties that had allegedly been violated. "I was protecting everybody else, not just this extremist," she explains. "If I had thought I'd be able to get this guy out, I might have thought differently about doing the case."