As final preparations are made for trial of Anders Behring Breivik, Norway families fear it could become a circus

The last time The Sunday Telegraph spoke to the Bjorkavag family was
just a week after the killings, when their grief was still raw, and the
shock of what had happened was still etched on Mr Bjorkavag’s face. They
told how on the day of the attack, shortly after a newsflash first alerted
to them to reports of gunfire on Utoya, they received a text message from
Sverre. “Shooting here, we are running, hiding on the lakeshore,”
it read. Then, 20 minutes later, there was one more text – the last
communication they ever had with their son. “Jeg elsker dere”, it
said in Norwegian – “I love you all”.

Now, just like eight months ago, it is noticeable that they still cannot bring
themselves to mention Breivik by name. As Mr Bjorkavag puts it: “We
have no feeling towards that person. He is a man who destroyed so many
lives, as well as his own.”

For the Bjorkavag family, and dozens of other families across Norway who lost
sons and daughters, the quest for justice in the weeks ahead is likely to
open as many wounds as it heals. Instead of just laying bare Breivik’s
crimes, the trial appears likely to give the self-styled “Knight Templar”
the opportunity he craves to justify his atrocities as necessary to “save”
Europe from Islam. In Breivik’s twisted mind, he was a hero, killing
traitors from the Norwegian Labour party who had opened his homeland to
immigration, and firing the first shots in a war against Islamic invasion.

To help him explain all this, Breivik has called a bizarre series of expert
witnesses, many of them from the fringes of Norway’s political life – old
Nazis, a notorious Islamist who met Osama bin Laden, an anarchist, a gay
rights activist who has warned of intolerant Islam, and extreme
left-wingers. He has also called a series of more mainstream writers,
academics and politicians, many of whom have written about multiculturalism
in Norway.

Hanne Nabintu Herland, a best-selling Norwegian author, thinks she was called
as a witness because some of her books have been critical of Norway‘s
stifling culture of political correctness.

“I don’t really know what they want me to speak about in the trial,”
she said, adding that she did not want to attend but had to in law.

“This lunatic said he was defending European values and then killed a
load of defenceless people.” At least one other witness, an anti-racism
campaigner, has said he will refuse to show up, even if that means he has to
go to jail.

There was speculation that some of the British writers and Far-Right figures
who Breivik claimed inspiration from would be called to the trial, but so
far that has not happened, probably because the court cannot compel them to
attend.

Ms Herland believes that neither the massacre, nor the trial, have been dealt
with competently, mainly because safe little Norway has been unable to cope
with the terrible reality of what Breivik did.

“I think Norway has been traumatised in a serious way by what has
happened,” she said. “We will be for years.”

The trial will be the biggest in Norwegian legal history, costing an estimated
97 million krone (£10.5 million). Places are reserved for 200 journalists in
the bright, modern courtroom in the centre of Oslo, less than five minutes
walk away from where Breivik’s car bomb went off.

The accused will get his chance to explain his actions, although whether his
testimony from the dock is broadcast to the world will depend on a ruling by
Norway’s Supreme Court expected on Monday. Some Norwegians believe that
broadcasting him will expose his ideas as laughable: others fear that
extremists and the mentally ill may be inspired by his rants for years to
come if it ends up on YouTube.

Breivik will not be able to speak to witnesses from the dock, but he will be
allowed to question them via his lawyers.

Adding to the sense of unreality surrounding the trial before it has even
begun, Breivik’s lawyer, Geir Lippestad, a father of eight and himself a
member of the Norwegian Labour Party, told Time magazine: “I
feel I have lost my soul in this case. I hope I get it back afterwards,”

The main issue for the judges will be to rule on whether Breivik is sane or
not. One expert report has said he is not, a more recent panel concluded
that he is. Breivik is desperate to prove that he is sane.

In a pre-trial hearing he complained that it would be “sadistic” to
send a “political activist”, as he describes himself, to a
psychiatric ward.

Judges are expected to pass sentence in mid-July, with a 21-year sentence
likely if he is determined to be sane. Whatever happens he will probably
never again walk free.

Most Norwegians are thoroughly sick of hearing his name. “They should
just lock him up and forget him,” said one man in a café as he pored
over a newspaper with a photograph of Breivik on the front page. There have
even been a few calls for his execution, almost unheard of before in liberal
Norway.

Many of the survivors of Utoya island are deeply worried that the trial could
give Breivik an opportunity to grandstand.

Eric Kursetgjerde, 18, a high school student who survived the shooting spree,
said: “What concerns me the most is that Right-wing extremists, many in
Germany and France, see him as some kind of hero. Sometimes you see
expressions of support for him on blogs and on Facebook, not usually people
who support him 100 per cent but there are those who think he had a point.”

In pre-trial hearings, the defendant has actually looked far from heroic,
according to one lawyer who has observed him. “When you see him in
court you realise he is not a tough guy at all,” said Brynjar Nielsen
Meling.

“He fiddles with his clothes, his eyes dart around. He has no charisma
and he looks anxious all the time. He looks like the weakest boy in class. I
wonder if he will be able to manage the pressure of a ten week trial.”

The prospect of attending the trial is a forbidding one for the Bjorkavag
family, but they have decided that they must, probably on May 10 when their
son’s murder will be dealt with. Each fatality is being dealt with one by
one.

They are angry about his witness list – “just to get him publicity,”
said Mrs Flate – and have no doubt that Breivik should go to hospital, not
prison. “We would hope that he can be helped, and perhaps one day
understand what he has done and have to live with it,” she said. “You
can tell that he doesn’t now. His eyes are cold.”

The grieving process has been difficult for the family, not helped by the
extraordinary publicity that Breivik’s massacre attracted. They have visited
Utoya island – “it was hard for us, but it was a beautiful place
and we glad we went”, said Mrs Flate – and counselling has helped.

They have made friends with other families who lost children. That has helped
too.

Discussing their grief with strangers is not the Norwegian way, but they are
honest about the pain. “I think it will be forever lasting,” said
Tore, 17, the younger brother of Sverre. He is thinking of becoming a nurse
when he leaves high school, like his murdered brother.

Having their son’s burial place within sight of the kitchen has helped them. “We
were not sure about it at first,” said Mr Bjorkavag. “But we see
him every day and it feels natural.” His wife lays red roses on her
son’s grave, even though deer come and eat them. She added: “I think we
will be able to live a good life in the future.”

One of the most controversial aspects of the massacre, that they refuse to
discuss, is the performance of the police. When The Sunday Telegraph
last met the family, Norway was united in grief, and nobody thought of
apportioning blame to anyone except one man.

Now it is clear that there were a series of avoidable disasters: there was no
helicopter to fly armed police to the island when the shooting started;
nearly all Oslo’s police were unavailable because they were on holiday on
July 22; a police telephone operator failed to accept Breivik’s “surrender”;
and for three hours after Breivik’s car bomb narrowly missed killing
government ministers in central Oslo, the prime minister had no security .
The city was apparently considered so safe that it was normal for him to
have no secret service protection on duty.

The head of the intelligence service, which was fixated on the Islamic threat
and virtually ignored Right-wingers, has been forced to resign.

The Bjorkavag family know that Sverre was one of the last to be killed, shot
dead outside the island pump house, and therefore could have survived if the
police had reacted quicker on that day. But they will not criticise. “We
won’t say anything against those who helped us,” Mr Bjorkavag said.

There is only one man who they blame. Soon they will see him in person. They
hope they will see justice being done as well.

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