Can Justice Be Served Without Him? Inside the Central African Republic’s War Crimes Trial of a Fugitive Ex-President

Bangui, Central African Republic, MMN Correspondent: Imagine a courtroom where the most powerful defendant is an empty chair. That’s the scene unfolding right now in the Central African Republic, as the Special Criminal Court (SCC) opens the trial of former president François Bozizé. He’s charged with war crimes and crimes against humanity for atrocities committed between 2003 and 2013. But here’s the twist: Bozizé isn’t in the room. He’s living freely in Guinea-Bissau, ignoring an international arrest warrant issued in April 2024. The trial started in June 2026, and it’s already forcing a hard question: can a nation truly hold its leaders accountable when they refuse to show up?

This isn’t just a legal drama. It’s a story about a country trying to heal after years of brutal conflict. The charges against Bozizé focus on a dark period from February 2009 to March 2013, when his Presidential Guard and security forces allegedly ran a campaign of terror. The SCC indictment describes systematic torture, murder, arbitrary detention, and enforced disappearances at places like the civilian prison and the military training center in Bossembélé. For families who lost loved ones, this trial is a long-awaited chance to see justice. But with the main accused absent, that chance feels incomplete.

Three of Bozizé’s co-defendants are here in person: Eugène Ngaikosset, Vianney Semndiro, and Firmin Junior Danboy. They face similar charges of murder, torture, and enforced disappearance. Their presence allows victims to look them in the eye and allows the accused to defend themselves. That’s how fair trials are supposed to work. The contrast with Bozizé’s absence highlights a real challenge for the court: even with international support, enforcing arrest warrants remains difficult, especially when the suspect has found refuge in another country.

Marceau Sivieude, Amnesty International’s Regional Director for West and Central Africa, put it plainly: “The execution of arrest warrants ensures fair trials where victims can confront the accused, and the accused can defend themselves. It also means that those found guilty face the consequences.” His words capture the stakes. Without Bozizé in the dock, the trial risks becoming a symbolic gesture rather than a full measure of accountability.

The SCC itself is a remarkable institution. Created in 2015 with United Nations support, it’s a hybrid court designed to handle the most serious crimes from the Central African Republic’s long conflict. Its mandate covers war crimes, crimes against humanity, and genocide. So far, it has secured convictions in multiple cases, including ten individuals tried in absentia. But the court’s success depends on more than legal skill. It needs money, cooperation from other nations, and the political will to keep going.

Funding is a constant worry. The SCC’s mandate runs through 2028, but budget shortfalls threaten witness protection, legal aid for defendants, and everyday operations. International donors have provided temporary help, but long-term support isn’t guaranteed. Without stable financing, the court could become a hollow symbol instead of a working justice system.

Then there’s the question of Guinea-Bissau. Bozizé has been living there since fleeing the Central African Republic, and the government hasn’t responded to extradition requests. This reflects a broader pattern in the region: political asylum and diplomatic immunity often protect former leaders from prosecution. Some African nations have embraced international justice norms, but others hesitate, worried about setting precedents or facing retaliation. That hesitation creates safe havens for fugitives and weakens trust in regional cooperation.

This case also shines a light on a bigger issue: impunity for former heads of state in post-conflict societies. Across Africa, many ex-leaders have escaped justice through legal loopholes, political influence, or simple non-cooperation from other countries. The Central African Republic’s effort to break that cycle through the SCC is both brave and fragile. Its success depends not just on the court’s diligence, but on whether other nations choose justice over politics.

There are signs of progress. In early 2026, several neighboring countries increased intelligence-sharing with the SCC and promised better cooperation in tracking suspects. Civil society groups have stepped up advocacy, mobilizing victims and youth networks to demand accountability. Social media has turned the case into a global conversation about justice and memory. These developments show that momentum is building.

Still, the road ahead is uncertain. More than 30 additional suspects remain at large across various SCC investigations. The court’s ability to fulfill its mission depends on consistent political will, reliable funding, and strong legal cooperation between states. As the trial moves forward in absentia, the world is watching not just to see if justice is served, but whether it can be delivered when the accused refuses to appear.

For victims and survivors, this trial represents hope. For the international community, it’s a test of commitment to universal justice. And for the Central African Republic, it could be a defining chapter in the journey toward reconciliation and peace. But without Bozizé in the courtroom, the full weight of justice remains just out of reach.