It was like deja-vu: His portrait once again filled the front pages of newspapers at Belgrade's many newsstands, as if Slobodan Milosevic were still at the peak of his power. The headlines, implying that he was poisoned or murdered, also evoked memories of a Serbia that once again saw itself as the victim of a sinister international conspiracy. "Slobo, we expect your ressurection," the photo caption read; above was a woman's face, flooded with tears.

Nobody, it seemed, wanted to believe the fact that the most infamous prisoner being held in The Hague actually died of a heart attack -- neither Milosevic's family nor many average Serbs. Instead, they blamed the United Nations War Crimes Tribunal for the death of the 64-year-old deposed leader.

Citing a letter Milosevic sent to Russia's foreign minister the day before his death, the family claimed he had been murdered and swore they would avenge his death. In the letter, Milosevic claimed his meals had been tainted with a dangerous drug used to treat tuberculosis in an "attempt to silence him."

But last Friday, the Hague officially denied that it had dispensed any rifampicine to Milosevic. Some speculated that drug could have weakened the effect of heart medication given to the former Serbian president to treat his high blood pressure. Subsequent tests by toxicologists, however, found no traces of the drug in his blood.

As much as people in the Balkans want to fantasize about the causes of Milosevic's death, one thing is certain: the security facilities at the UN war crimes tribunal are anything but secure.

Six days before Milosevic's death, Milan Babic was found dead in his cell -- an apparent suicide. The former Croatian-Serb leader was sentenced to only 13 years in prison for war crimes because he agreed to become the chief witness for prosecutors. The former "president" of the self-proclaimed Serb Republic of Krajina was permitted to complete his sentence abroad, but Babic had been ordered to the Hague to testify against former political rival Milan Martic. He was placed in a cell without surveillance cameras.

In Belgrade, the rumor mill is filled with claims that his death was payback for incriminating testimony he gave about Milosevic. Other prisoners are now showing the first signs of panic. Radical Serbian leader Vojislav Seselj, who has been in jail for three years, has warned his family that he fears he may be the next "murder victim."

It will be difficult for the UN tribunal to refute accusations that it failed to recognize the seriousness of Milosevic's health problems. Russian heart specialist Leo Bokeria has criticized the tribunal for only treating Milosevic's high blood pressure and failing to detect that he had a defective artery. Eyewitnesses at The Hague also reported a dramatic deterioration of Milosevic's health in recent days -- saying he wobbled and held onto the walls when he walked and that he was constantly using the restroom.

A backyard burial

But last week, Serbia's new establishment had other worries -- they had to find the middle road between piety and maintaining national laws. President Boris Tadic blamed the tribunal for Milosevic's death. Nevertheless, he refused to provide amnesty to Milsevic's widow Mira, who lives in exile in Moscow and is wanted by Serbia and Interpol on corruption charges. A court ruled that Mira Milosevic could enter the country, but only if she gave up her passport. Prime Minister Vojislav Kostunica then refused to allow a heroic burial of Milosevic, with all the pomp in Belgrade, despite pressure from Milosevic's Serbian Socialist Party to abandon its support for the government. Though the SPS holds only a fraction of the seats in parliament, it is still instrumental in helping to keeping Vojislav's four-party minority government in office.

Instead, Milosevic was buried on Saturday in Poizarevac, a city 60 kilometers south of Belgrade that is now likely to become a pilgrimage site for the last remaining Serbian nationalists. There, Milosevic, the suspected war criminal, is now resting peacefully in an oak coffin under the same linden tree where he is said to have kissed his Mira for the first time.

From a purely legal perspective, Milosevic will go down in history as technically innocent. Last Tuesday, the UN Tribunal closed its case against the former Serbian president. The four-year trial -- which involved 466 court sessions, hundreds of witnesses and 5,000 pieces of evidence -- failed to achieve its goal of prosecuting Milosevic in what will surely go down in history as a bitter defeat for the international community. In an interview with the BBC, the European Union's former Balkans envoy, David Owen, said: "We need to have a post-mortem discovery of why the trial went on for such a long time. If we'd had a much shorter trial and verdict, the world would be much happier about the whole process."

For the victims of Milosevic's policies, the fact that 34 of his fellow detainees at the war crimes tribunal published a death notice in two of Serbia's biggest papers offering a "last farewell to a comrade-in-arms," just added insult to injury. Though deep hostility between ethnic groups still persists today throughout the former Yugoslavia -- the death notice made it appear as though that isn't the case in The Hague. In prison, Milosevic was known to share meals regularly with former Macedonian interior minister Ljube Boskovski, who would serve him his favorite dish, a pita. Milosevic also liked to play cards with Croatians and Bosnians, who still called him "president." On Catholic holidays, Milosevic was also the guest of Croatian generals.