CALS alum reviews Abu Ghraib cases
by ANDREA VOGT
IT WAS A VOLLYBALL GAME, so the sight of someone diving for the sand wouldn’t normally cause concern. But this was no everyday beach volleyball tournament. It was an impromptu match convened by several paralegals and military lawyers, including Capt.
Airon Shuler Mothershed ’98, ’01, just outside their office in the heavily fortified U.S. Embassy in Baghdad’s Green Zone.
“We’d had a long time of no mortar, and so we were outside playing volleyball. I mean you want life to go on, and you have to do something to keep yourself from going crazy,” Mothershed recalls. Then they heard the telltale whistle of an incoming rocket sail overhead.
“There we were, an 11-member volleyball team … all diving for a nearby concrete bunker and pulling each other inside. It hit, about a block away.”
Capt. Mothershed, 32, is a member of the Air Force Judge Advocate General Corps—an attorney whose role prosecuting, defending, and mediating legal cases inside the military was made famous by the television series named after the profession’s acronym—JAG.
Airon Mothershed ’98, ’01
Global focus: Iraq, Pentagon, WA D.C.
“Abu Ghraib was such a horrible thing.
We all wanted to make it better.”
The Soda Springs, Idaho, native was a fan of the TV show growing up. After graduating from the UI in agricultural economics in 1998, she went on to attend the UI College of Law, graduating in May 2001. Events a few months later on September 11, 2001, ignited a “patriotic fervor” that committed her to the JAG Corps program she had been considering.
By fall 2002 she was assigned to Little Rock Air Force Base, Arkansas, and then three years later, to Eilson Air Force Base near Fairbanks, Alaska. There, in spring 2007 she and her husband Zachary got word that she would deploy shortly to Iraq. The obvious questions came up. “Will this be my last summer vacation? Will I make it home safe? Will my husband survive in Alaska without me?”
Helping Abu Ghraib victims
Her Alaska JAG colleagues promised to keep her husband busy with hockey games and dinner invitations. In August 2007, she joined more than 100 military attorneys and para- legals—mostly from the Navy and Air Force—deployed to Iraq to work for Task Force 134, charged with detainee command and control and establishing Iraq’s judicial, correctional, and law enforcement system.
Just two years before, seven soldiers had been court-martialed and sent to prison for torture and prisoner abuse in Baghdad’s Abu Ghraib prison. Mothershed did not take the charge of protecting detainees’ rights lightly. “Abu Ghraib was such a horrible thing,” Mothershed said “We all wanted to make it better.”
Her specific role was to facilitate a review board that managed the “iffy detainees,” those who had been confined 18 to 36 months whose cases merited a closer look. Along with another attorney, Mothershed organized each detainee’s file, and then decided which cases would be presented first to the board.
Each board was composed of at least three American military officers at the rank of O-5 and above and three high-ranking Iraqi government officials. “A lot of times the cases were not clear cut. The Iraqis picked things up—sometimes they would say this person is from this tribal family, but the neighbor who ratted on him was from a different tribe that hated his tribe, so he needs to be released.”
Eventual recommendations had to be vetted and accepted by higher ups with access to classified intelligence. Security was also a priority—JAGs worked hard to protect identities of Iraqis working with them—never, for example, posting their names, pictures, or other information on Facebook, blogs, or photo-sharing sites for friends and family at home.
While most of her detainees remained confined, some were released. And there have been new changes to the process—boards today don’t just review the paperwork but also hear detainees’ cases in person.
“I think it was as fair as it could be under the circumstances,” said Mothershed. “We were merging two systems. The situation is a lot harder than anybody realizes.”
While work was more challenging than expected, her living conditions pleasantly exceeded her expectations. She shared a trailer with another female military officer, with modern plumbing, running water, and a Kevlar vest and helmet in arm’s reach for terrifying moments of mortar/rocket fire.
Most workdays went from 8 a.m. to 9 p.m., with hour-long breaks for gym time and meals. She enjoyed one memorable week of R & R in neighboring Qatar, where she and friends hit the beach, took an inland sea cruise and an SUV trip through the desert that ended with an Arabic meal cooked by a Qatari tour company. She befriended several female Arabic linguists (mostly U.S. nationals of Lebanese origin) with whom she celebrated the end of Ramadan at festivities held at the U.S. Embassy.
Fighting work discrimination at the Pentagon in Washington D.C.
By February 2008, Mothershed reunited with her husband, and the two moved to Washington D.C., where she works as a litigation attorney defending the U.S. Air Force against employment discrimination suits based on race, gender, reprisals, or hostile work environment. Once again she finds herself transforming a system—this in her own country. “We try to solve cases whenever possible outside of court, and in that task, I am an advisor, so I can’t make anybody do anything, which is frustrating,” Mothershed noted. “Other times we make a real difference by sharing possible solutions. In one racial discrimination case, the guy had valid reasons for filing the complaint. When we finally got management on board, we completely transform their workplace.”
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