IT was a scene befitting a bad Khmer operetta. There in the dock were the children of the deposed god-king, on trial for their lives. The judge, a rotund man given to spasmodic eyeball rolling, was the same judge who a year earlier had condemned their father to death in absentia. At the end of each day's session, scores of the curious spectators who filled the drab, stifling courtroom would nervously make their way to the two defendants, many prayerfully clasping their hands before their faces in the traditional Cambodian gesture of respect.
The frightened young man and woman on trial in...
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