A Murder in Auschwitz

by J. C. Stephenson

  “When the bank manager came running up the stairs to Walter and declared that there had been money stolen from the bank, Walter made his gravest error; he assumed that for some reason he had been found out and confessed all there and then. In fact, the manager had only discovered the few hundred Reichsmarks that were missing and who knows, if Walter had kept his nerve, perhaps he could have walked away with the money.

  “In any event, the police were called and Walter was arrested. His sister asked us to represent him in court and we had advised him to plead guilty and take a reduced sentence. But this is where our bright young star comes in.

  “He was a very intelligent and charming young man, but he had a few major flaws. He was greedy and he lived a champagne lifestyle which he could ill-afford. And here was someone he felt he could influence and exploit, since although Walter had confessed to the crime, he had not told anyone how it was carried out or where the money he had stolen was.

  “In secret, our young lawyer convinced Walter not to plead guilty, which was against what Herr Deschler had advised, and promised him all sorts when he was released. He also put a huge amount of pressure on Walter to disclose the whereabouts of the money, telling him that if found guilty, giving up such information would mean his sentence would be lessened. Now, Walter may have led a somewhat sheltered life in the bank but he could determine when someone was attempting to relieve him of his ill-gotten gains.

  “He gave Schmidt false information on where the money was. Once he had this information, unbeknownst to either Walter or Herr Deschler, Schmidt also began attempting to falsify evidence to have Walter convicted. Our young lawyer did not want to share any of this money with the man who had stolen it.

  “Herr Deschler began to become suspicious of this young man’s ability to supply evidence, and once he had investigated further and found the full extent of his abuse of his position and attempts to find the location of the money, then the judge was informed and, in a turn of luck for Walter, a mistrial was adjudged and Walter was free to go.

  “Perhaps Herr Deshler would like to finish this little tale.”

  Deschler took a deep drag from cigarette and rubbed the scar on his face. “Walter Baumann shook my hand at the judge’s decision and handed me an envelope which he asked me to promise not to open until I returned to the office. He quickly disappeared from the courtroom and that was the last I saw of him.

  “Of course, our young lawyer, Schmidt, had not turned up for that day’s court appearance, and a warrant was issued for his arrest. He was quite easy to find since, as I had promised Walter Baumann, I read the letter on my return to the office. It described his crime in detail but also that he had told Schmidt that the money was buried in the Friedrichsfelde Central Cemetery. He also explained further in the letter where the money had actually been kept; in the safety deposit box. Additionally, he explained that he had sent someone to remove the money from that location and, by the time I had read the letter, it would be gone.

  “The police picked up a filthy and disappointed young lawyer with his career in tatters and nothing to show for his hard night’s digging except a handful of old bones.”

  Bauer puffed on his pipe and, in a great cloud of tobacco smoke, added, “So, since then, Herr Deschler has been very suspicious of any new assistants we have given him, no matter what their pedigree may be. However, it seems that you may have won him over.

  “He has also intimated to me that apart from a few errors which will be remedied by experience, you are ready to front your own case.”

  Meyer’s eyes flicked to Deschler and then back to Bauer before he managed to ask, “My own case? You mean run it entirely? And represent a client in court?”

  Bauer gave one of his wide, friendly grins. Pipe smoke wreathed his head and a small chortle escaped from his throat. He looked genuinely pleased for Meyer.

  “Yes, Herr Meyer. In fact, you will have your own assistant,” said Herr Bauer, and indicated with his eyes towards Deschler.

  Meyer could hardly believe it. He would be given his first case and Deschler would be his assistant. He wanted to run straight home and tell Klara the great news.

  Deschler placed his empty coffee cup on Herr Bauer’s desk. “I will find you a suitable case which will be appropriate as your first. It won’t be one which would be in danger of overwhelming you or putting a client at risk, but it will be challenging enough to require guidance and assistance from myself.”

  Herr Bauer stood up, placed his thumb over the bowl of his pipe and, with the tobacco still smoking, slipped it into his pocket. Smiling, he gestured with his hand towards the door.

  “Thank you for your time this morning Herr Meyer,” he said.

  Meyer placed his empty coffee cup on the edge of Bauer’s desk and stood to leave. “Thank you, Herr Deschler, Herr Bauer. I won’t let either of you down.”

  Herr Bauer put his great paw on Meyer’s shoulder. “Please, er, Manfred isn't it? Call me Friedrich. I think we can heartily greet you into the firm, wouldn’t you agree, Kurt?” he asked, looking to Deschler.

  Deschler pushed himself up on his stick and gave Meyer a rare smile, while holding out his hand, which Meyer took. It was only then that Meyer noticed the silver pin which Deschler wore on his lapel. It was a small eagle with its wings spread wide.

  “Yes, Friedrich. Manfred, welcome to the company.”

  The men shook hands and, guided by Bauer’s hand, Meyer headed for the door. As he left, Meyer realised what had been held in the eagle’s claws on Deschler’s lapel pin. It was a swastika.

  Auschwitz, 30th July 1943

  MEYER was woken by banging on the door and pushed himself up from the bunk. The hut was dark, but enough light from the full moon outside flooded into the building through the broken windows that he could see that everyone was asleep except him.

  There was another banging on the door. Then he saw Langer in the moonlight, limping towards the doorway. Langer's limp was always worse in the morning. This was the result of a broken ankle from his bank-robbing days. He was lucky that he could walk at all, as it was a break which had never healed properly, but then, Langer had never had it set by a doctor.

  Meyer saw him open the door and speak to someone outside. Then Langer’s hand went out and brought in the person who had been banging on the door. It was Klara.

  Meyer couldn’t believe his eyes. His breath left him as he watched Langer bring her over to him. Both Langer and Klara were smiling.

  Meyer reached out his hands, waiting for her to take them.

  Langer was the first to speak.

  “Your wife has some wonderful news, Herr Meyer.”

  Meyer stretched his arms forward. He couldn’t wait to hold her in his arms and he felt tears prick his eyes.

  Her kind face was an open smile as she started to explain her presence. Her beautiful brown eyes and those lovely creases at the corners from years of laughing and joyful life.

  Klara was wearing the blue summer dress with little white flowers that he had given her for her birthday, and he was pleased that she didn’t wear the harsh cloth of a prison uniform. Her hair was held in place with her favourite large, black clasp, and around her neck was her silver locket. She even had makeup on. And then he heard her voice. It felt like he had not heard it for years.

  “It was a mistake, darling. We shouldn’t be here, and we will be leaving in the morning.”

  Meyer couldn’t speak. He was so happy. He couldn’t remember the last time that he had felt this happy. Then he managed to get out the words that he longed to say, “I love you, Klara.”

  Then he asked where the girls were.

  “They are already at home with my mother, darling, waiting for us.”

  Meyer was happy that the girls were not in the camp. They were with Klara’s mother. As long as they were safe.

  Klara kept smiling and walking towards him. His arms were still outstretched and he tried to reach her, hold her hands, touch her face. But even though she
was walking towards him, she wasn’t getting any closer.

  Then there was a hand on his shoulder. It was Geller. His mouth was moving but no noise was coming out.

  There was silence and everything became very slow. Then suddenly there was noise. And cold.

  “Manfred!” Geller said, “We have to get up.”

  Meyer’s eyes sprung open, allowing a well of tears to escape down his face.

  “Are you alright, Manfred?” asked Geller.

  All around them, prisoners were being bustled out of their bunks, while Langer shouted insults as he limped around the hut.

  Meyer turned to Geller, the pain and sorrow biting into his soul.

  “Anton, I dreamt she was here.”

  “Who?” asked Geller, pulling on his clogs.

  Meyer wiped away the tears from his cheeks, struggling not to allow his face to crumple. The stifled sob forced him to suck in air.

  “Klara. I dreamt she was here. Oh God, I love her. Anton, what will I do?”

  Geller put his arm around his friend’s shoulder and led him out into the cold of the night.

  Berlin, 30th July 1930

  IT was a relatively simple case of theft. The case has started on the Monday with the preamble from both sides, and then the prosecution had stated their case against the defendant; Meyer’s first client, Peter Vogel.

  Vogel had been accused of stealing a pocket watch from Kristian Amsel, an official of the Deutsche Reichsbahn-Gesellschaft, the German state railway. The alleged offence took place during the disembarking of passengers on the Munich to Berlin express in the Anhalter Bahnhof on Askanischer Platz.

  The prosecution had made their case against Peter Vogel in three main arguments. The first was that Peter Vogel had a criminal record from his youth which had included petty theft amongst some other misdemeanours. The second was the circumstantial evidence of Vogel being in the crowd that left the train and was pushing past Kristian Amsel as he was checking his watch. But the third and most damning of the arguments was the incontrovertible truth that when Vogel was apprehended at the station, in his pocket was part of the watch chain from Amsel’s watch.

  Meyer had arrived in high spirits each day at the Bauer & Bauer office on Potsdamer Platz as he and Deschler, now working as Meyer’s assistant as promised, prepared themselves for his first case. Although Deschler did run some of the checks and background work that an assistant would be expected to do, in fact most of this work was passed to clerks and assistants borrowed from other lawyers. Instead, Deschler helped Meyer formulate the strategies for the defence, guided Meyer through the interview with Peter Vogel, and made sure that the case that the defence would be presenting was as clear as possible to both the lawyers and their client, and was designed in such a way as to be as easy as possible for the jury to understand.

  The prosecution had been very clear in their arguments and stated their case as if the verdict was a forgone conclusion. Meyer’s usually high spirits had dropped as the prosecution summed up their case against Vogel.

  “You don’t play cards do you?” Deschler whispered to Meyer.

  Meyer thought that Deschler was going to berate him for showing his disappointment in the way the case was going in his facial expression. “No, Herr Deschler.”

  “I can see you are becoming downhearted. You are familiar with the concept that one person holds a hand of cards which you cannot see and you hold a hand which they cannot see?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then do not forget that as the prosecution lays their cards on the table one by one, we can see in our hand that we have a higher card which will trump theirs. As the defence, we have the added advantage of seeing their cards before they see ours, and, if required, we have a couple of aces hidden up our sleeves.”

  Meyer forced a smile. He knew that they had built an excellent case for Vogel, and that in all but the very first case where Meyer had been assisting, they had always won. But the Prala Weide case still preyed on Meyer’s mind.

  Deschler had provided the jury with the best arguments possible in Weide’s defence. Meyer had been in awe of the way he had torn the prosecution’s arguments apart and dropped in that special trick of his; the alternative suspect. And yet, the jury had still found Weide guilty. Not because of the evidence, in fact they had found him not guilty of theft, which to Meyer’s mind should have precluded him from the guilty verdict for murder, but because of who he was. Because he was a Gypsy. Because the Färbers were a respectable middle-class German family. When Meyer had discussed this with Deschler during the preparation for the Vogel case, Deschler had provided Meyer with one of the aces to be kept up his sleeve.

  When they arrived on the Wednesday, Meyer’s nerves were obvious. Throughout the officiousness of the Clerk of the Court getting the court ready and the arrival of the Judge, Meyer’s hands trembled visibly, as he checked his opening statement again and again.

  Deschler sat quietly, allowing Meyer to read over his notes and prepare himself for the first time he would need to speak in court. Yet he was concerned about Meyer’s apparent anxiety.

  The Clerk of the Court announced the start of the defence case and looked towards Meyer. Meyer took a deep breath and readied himself to stand. He feared stumbling as he stood; he thought that he might spill his papers on the floor or be unable to speak once he was standing there. What if he lost his train of thought, what if his mind went entirely blank?

  The Clerk of the Court looked over in Meyer’s direction and widened his eyes in a motion which unmistakably indicated that he felt that Meyer was taking too long to get to his feet. The judge looked up from the papers on his desk and peered over his pince-nez glasses. For the first time, Meyer felt the eyes of court on him and found the strength to take to his feet.

  Deschler thought that he could see the Clerk of the Court join him in breathing a sigh of relief. Deschler watched Meyer stand with the notes to his opening statement in his hand. It seemed an eternity passed as he watched him scan over the papers without saying anything. The silence of the court was oppressive and bore down on Deschler. He was about to lean forward and ask Meyer if he wanted him to make the opening statement when he saw Meyer lick his lips and heard his voice break the silence.

  As Meyer and Deschler had already discussed that morning, Meyer opened with a rebuttal of Peter Vogel’s early criminal record. This was at a time, he argued, when circumstances had been very different for Herr Vogel than how they stood now. It was a time before the war, when, as a young man, he had made an error of judgement which had attached a label to him for the rest of his life. Who could say that in their youth they had not also made errors of judgement? Whether it was the justice system which had amended Peter Vogel’s behaviour, or whether it was the maturity that going to war brings, between that time and now, Peter Vogel had not had any dealings with the police. This was a youthful mistake which had no bearing on the current case at all.

  As Meyer laid out this argument, he kept a close watch on the faces of the jurors. He was certain that he could see that this line was making an impression. He was almost certainly sure that he could even see one of the men nodding his head in agreement. Meyer suddenly felt himself fill with self-confidence, and realised that at that particular moment the court was his; everyone would be waiting for his next word, his next sentence, his next argument. And he felt himself relax. His nerves left him and for the first time that day, he felt that he was the one who was controlling this session.

  Deschler had asked Meyer to open with the argument against the earlier criminal convictions for three reasons. The first was that this was something that had to be done and removed from the minds of the jurors as quickly as possible. More importantly, Vogel’s war record had not been mentioned yet, and this was one of the aces which Deschler had placed up Meyer’s sleeve. But most importantly of all, this fairly straightforward and simple argument could be given in the opening statement without intervention by any of the other members of the court and M
eyer would be able to gain the confidence he required in speaking on the floor of the court for the first time. Deschler watched anxiously as Meyer spoke, and as the seconds went by and the sentences were communicated, he could feel and hear Meyer’s confidence grow. When Meyer had finished his opening statement and called for his first witness, Deschler could hear the voice of a lawyer in the court.

  Meyer’s first witness was Frau Engel, a plump, middle-aged woman with a ruddy complexion and greying hair scraped back into a bun on the top of her head. Frau Engel took her seat in the witness box and made her oath, before blowing her nose on a cotton handkerchief.

  “Frau Engel, I see you have a dreadful case of the cold. I will keep this as short as possible,” began Meyer. Frau Engel smiled and finished wiping her nose, which was a painful red around her nostrils.

  “Frau Engel, can you tell me, were you on the Munich to Berlin express on the second of May this year?”

  “Yes, it was a Friday. I had been in Munich visiting my sister,” replied the woman, her voice thick with the cold.

  “Can you tell me what time the train arrived at Anhalter Bahnhof?”

  “It was sixteen minutes past four exactly when the train pulled into the station,” she said, confidently.

  “You seem very sure about that, it was several months ago. Can you be certain?”

  “Absolutely. The train is supposed to take six hours and forty minutes to make the journey. I checked the time just as we were arriving to ascertain if the estimate had been accurate.”

  “And had it been, Frau Engel?”

  “Yes. As accurate as you would expect. Not that it mattered that much anyway,” came the reply.