Confronted with killing his own men

Joseph Bozicevich was a Boy Scout. He took care of the family puppies. He avoided confrontations, never so much as throwing an elbow or hip during youth soccer games in Eagan, his father said. Young Joe never even owned a toy gun.

But Sgt. Bozicevich, of Minneapolis, now sits in a Georgia jail. He is charged with slaying two fellow U.S. soldiers in Iraq -- only the second time since 2001 that a soldier in combat conditions in Iraq has been so accused, according to Army officials.

Awaiting trial by a general court-martial, Bozicevich, a 1987 Cretin-Derham Hall High School graduate, faces a possible death sentence if convicted.

He was arraigned today, at Fort Stewart, Ga. Bozicevich, who turned 40 on Monday, did not enter a plea, which an Army spokesman said is not unusual. Bozicevich did not speak during the arraignment.

"Joe has a tender heart," his father, Joseph Bozicevich Sr., said from the Albany, N.Y., area, where he now lives. "To say this is a shock ... it wasn't even in the ballpark."

Bozicevich's lead attorney, Charles Gittins, one of four lawyers on his defense team, declined to discuss circumstances surrounding the shooting deaths last September of Staff Sgt. Darris J. Dawson, of Pensacola, Fla., and Sgt. Wesley Durbin, of Dallas. He would say only that he expected Bozicevich's general court-martial case to begin next summer.

Bozicevich has been charged with two specifications of premeditated murder. His next scheduled court date is March 29.

"You have a previously peaceful soldier ... a guy who had never been aggressive toward anybody, involved in a shooting incident," Gittins argued. "He may not be the greatest soldier in the world, but he is a good soldier and he always tried.

"Something happened in that room that led Sgt. Bozicevich to believe he had to use his weapon."

The soldiers of the 3rd Infantry Division of the 3rd Batallion, 7th Infantry in the 4th Brigade Combat Team Regiment were in their 11th month of a 14-month deployment in Jurf as Sahkr, Iraq -- a joint U.S.-Iraqi patrol base, 15 miles southwest of Baghdad.

It was Bozicevich's second tour of Iraq.

"He'd gone through some horrible, bloody circumstances," his father said. "People in his unit were killed and severely maimed.

"What happened in that room that he ends up screaming, 'Kill me?' What did those guys do to him that scared him?"

At 6 feet 3 inches and 240 pounds and with a black belt in karate, the man known as Sgt. Boz cuts an imposing figure. But when describing his son, who was born the day Neil Armstrong stepped on the moon, Joseph Bozicevich frequently uses the word "vanilla."

"Joe was an average kid," he said. "Joe was an average soccer player. He was an average student, a little above a C, through high school. I'd be hard-pressed to remember Joe in a fight."

The eldest of Joseph and Mary Katherine Bozicevich's five children, young Joe never came home drunk while in high school, his father said. Any possible experimentation with recreational drugs by young Joe had to be minimal, the father said.

Joseph Bozicevich, Sr., 62, talks about serving in Vietnam, spending 10 years in a special forces unit and a total of 24 years in the Army, retiring as a lieutenant colonel. But he can't explain his son's passion for the military at an early age.

At Cretin, Joe participated in a junior Reserve Officers Training Corps program, but he did not join ROTC while at the University of Minnesota, from 1987 through 1989, his father said. He was a part-time student taking liberal arts courses. "I think Joe lost interest in college," his father said.

He enlisted in 1989, serving with an Army Reserve unit at Fort Snelling, then later in Arden Hills.

His parents divorced, straining Joe's relationships with both of his parents, his father said. Mary Katherine Bozicevich, who still lives in the Twin Cities, did not return calls for this article. In an interview with KARE-11 last year, she said she had lost contact with her son after a falling out 18 years ago.

Joe never married but had several relationships, his father said. He worked for UPS for 10-plus years, handling packages, washing and driving trucks around the yard. And he maintained a somewhat anonymous profile with the Army Reserves. Courtney Buck, formerly of Minneapolis and now living in Woodbridge, Va., said he served five months with Bozicevich and remembers talking with him, "but I couldn't tell you a thing about him."

Then five years ago, Bozicevich left his UPS job and went on active duty. He was in his mid-30s, single with no ties, wanting a change. He was excited about his deployment to Bosnia, where he was with a psychological operations unit, his father said.

Dawson and Durbin prepared to counsel Bozicevich, soldiers testified. Dawson appeared "fired up," one said. Others testified that Sgt. Boz, generally quiet, had been given a decongestant because he was "pretty stuffed up." An Iraqi soldier stationed at the joint security station said Bozicevich seemed tired and angry that night.

Some time after 1 a.m., shots were heard. Dawson lay on the ground bleeding and Bozicevich was seen running. Restrained by two soldiers, with his face to the ground, Bozicevich began yelling, "Just kill me!"

Durbin, in a pool of blood, was curled in a fetal position. He was pronounced dead at an aid station. Dawson, with two gunshots to the abdomen area, made it to the operating room but was beyond repair.

"We know there was a shooting in the JSS [joint security station]," Gittins said on the final day of the Article 32 hearing. "We know there were two soldiers running out of the JSS. Obviously, Sgt. Boz was concerned about his rear flank. What I am saying is something was going on in there."