Work Text:
The boy was struggling.
The professor noticed that his student, Michael Berg, had been struggling with their presence in court for a long time, finally reaching a climax when Hanna Schmitz repeated her words from earlier, therefore dooming herself. “There’s no need,” she mumbled, “I wrote the report.”
Michael was at the edge of his seat, staring in shock. At what he was staring or on whom, the professor did not know for certain. Maybe it had something to do with the woman. The professor presumed that she could not be called a beauty anymore. But with a bit of imagination, one could still be able to guess that she had once been one. At least she had a kind face.
The mumbling in the courtroom was steadily increasing, and the professor could see the other women on the stand congratulate and smile at each other. What cruelty, he thought to himself. They were rejoicing in the fact that one of them had taken the blame for what, he presumed, had been the act of all of them. Sometimes cruelty came in the form of a beautiful face, and he knew it all too well.
He wondered what demons Michael was fighting, and his gaze absentmindedly wavered back to the now vacant chair where his student had sat before. With surprise, he realised that Michael had stepped to the edge of the railing and was now fixating his gaze on the accused. When the head justice demanded silence, one could have heard a pin drop.
“Let me repeat that to be very clear: you admit that you wrote the report? Do I understand correctly, Frau Schmitz?” The justice looked heated, even though he was supposed to be objective. Something he clearly was having difficulties with.
The accused turned her head and replied that: “Yes, I admit it. I wrote ...”, when suddenly she was interrupted by another, louder, determined voice coming from the back of the hall; more precisely, from right in front of him.
”That’s not true. She is lying!”
Many gasps could be heard at once. All eyes were on Michael Berg now. Even the accused, Hanna Schmitz, had turned around and now wore a haunted expression on her face. The professor noticed that Michael and Hanna were staring into each other’s eyes. They were so far away from each other but still: they were not able to tear their gaze away.
The judge, however, did not have the same problem.
Now openly hostile he shouted: “And who are you to make such assumptions, boy? When these things happened, you must have just been born. So how dare you interrupt this trial? I would suggest you shut up now before you embarrass yourself further and we continue with the accuse ....”
“But your honour, I have valuable information that can contradict the testimony you just heard. I knew the accused and would like to speak! If you’d let me.” Michael had a determined look on his face, and the judge was too stunned to say anything for a moment. Meanwhile, the whispers had started again, were growing louder. The judges were discussing quietly with each other, till they, again, called for silence.
“Well then, Herr ...?”
“Berg, Michael Berg, your honour.”
“Then, Herr Berg, I suggest you make your way down here and give us your statement. Frau Schmitz, you may return to your seat.”
Frau Schmitz hesitated and slowly walked back to her seat. When Michael was lead to the stand, he avoided her direction; so far the professor was certain. With a look at his other students who all looked as horrified as he did, he noted to himself how different today’s trial had gone from what he’d expected.
But it proved one thing he had known for a long time: there were always unpredictabilities.
When Michael sat, the judges turned to him with stern faces. “State your name again, please. Then tell us something about yourself, your occupation and the connection you have or had to the accused.”
“My name is Michael Berg, I was born in 1943, and I am a law student listening to this case for our field study. I met the accused first in 1958, and we were ...” he hesitated for the split of a second but then continued. “We were lovers.”
Indignant whispers could be heard.
“So you were what? 15? And she was ...?” The judge started, trying to keep all emotion off his face.
“36, but everything that happened between us was consensual. And that’s not why Frau Schmitz is accused today, or is she?”
“Of course not! We are just stating facts. So you and Frau Schmitz were in a relationship?”
“Yes, as I said before. We were lovers. For many months.” For a moment, he looked as if he was chasing after a precious memory, but then he continued. “Hanna was a kind woman. We first met because she helped me home after I got sick. I always knew her as a silent but warm person. She cared for people. Over the many months that we shared each other’s company, we had formed a habit. Something that I only realised could be important for the case today.”
Now he looked a bit insecure, but still, he continued with an unwavering voice. “Before we made love, Hanna would demand that I read to her. Homer, Lessing, Lawrence - everything I read for school and more! I read to her for the whole time we were together. What I didn’t realise was that she never read to me. You may ask why this is important and you’re right in questioning its importance at all. But let me repeat what we just learned by one of the victims today: Hanna chose people for elimination that she knew were sick, and she made them read to her before. She gave them one last night of peace. But that is of small importance today, I know. What really matters is that they read to her. Like I later did. So, how is this important? Well, you see that our relationship didn’t end consensual. One day, I showed up at her flat only to find it empty. She was gone. She had left without a word. Without a note. I was shattered, my heart broken.”
“Why does this matter?” One of the lawyers asked, annoyed.
The judge signed him to shut up and Michael continued.
“After she was gone, I couldn’t believe that she had just left without a trace. So I went to her workplace, and they told me that they were as clueless as I was. Hanna had been exceptionally hard-working, and just the day before, she had been promoted to work in the office. That day, she hadn’t returned to her old nor her new job, leaving everyone confused.
I was angry and sad and didn’t know what to think of it. Only today did I realise ...”
“What did you realise?” the judge asked pointedly.
“Don’t you see it?” Michael pleaded desperately.
“Hanna disappeared when she was supposed to work in an office twice, she got the inmates and me to read for her, and she admitted to something she didn’t do because she was … is too scared to admit something else ...”
The next words were spoken calmly and soft:
“She couldn’t have written that letter, because Hanna cannot read or write! She is illiterate.” His eyes had turned soft too, and he was looking at Frau Schmitz now, who was fighting with her tears.
At that point, the noise in the room was exploding to something extraordinarily loud. It took a long time till silence had once again returned to the courtroom.
“Thank you, Herr Berg.” The head judge said quietly. “Frau Schmitz, is this accusation true?”
“I ... He had no right. I …“, she stumbled over her words, looking defeated.
“Frau Schmitz, can you confirm or deny? Do we need to test your writing after all?”
“No!” She cried. “He is right.” Hanna Schmitz was now crying silently, but she did not hide her face.
Michael Berg gave her a sympathetic look. He had tears in his eyes as well.
The judge coughed to get his attention back, and when Michael finally looked at him said
“Thank you for your testimony, Herr Berg. The information you provided today was of huge importance for this case after all. You may leave.”
With these words, Michael nodded, stood, shared one last longing look with Hanna and then left. After the testimony Hanna Schmitz was silent. One after one, the women were called to the stand again, and the professor found their desperation pathetic. They were all determined to blame each other—all of them but one. Hanna Schmitz did not accuse anyone. She stood by her words that all women had made the decisions together. And this time the judges believed her.
It was no surprise when the judges read the sentence. All women were to serve the same amount of years in prison—all but one. Hanna Schmitz received only half. The professor smiled.