Chapter 386 - 31: Who Is Lying?

A few minutes later, Von Brown was escorted into the courtroom by two police officers. He was wearing a prison uniform and handcuffs. He had lost a lot of weight; his eyes were sunken, and his face was ashen.

When he saw Werner, a complex expression flickered in his eyes.

"Reiner von Brown," Stein said, walking up to him, "how many years did you work for the Stasi?"

"Thirty years." Von Brown's voice was hoarse.

"Do you know the defendant, Werner Betelich?"

"I do."

"What was your relationship?"

Von Brown looked up at Werner, a cold smirk playing on his lips. "Business partners."

Another stir went through the gallery.

"Please elaborate," Stein pressed.

"Betelich provided me with foreign currency, helped me open accounts in the West, and transferred assets. In return, I gave him protection, ensuring his business in East Germany ran smoothly."

"Did he know about your work for the Stasi?"

"Of course he knew." Von Brown's voice was laced with scorn. "Not only did he know, but he also proactively supplied me with intelligence. He would tell me who the dissidents were, who wanted to escape to West Germany."

Werner sat in the defendant's dock, his expression unreadable.

Stein turned to the judge. "Your Honor, this is my evidence. The defendant not only violated foreign exchange control laws but also had an improper collaborative relationship with the state security agency."

He returned to his seat.

The judge looked at Rosenblum. "Counselor for the defense, do you wish to question the witness?"

Rosenblum stood up and walked slowly toward Von Brown.

"Mr. von Brown, you just stated that the defendant provided you with intelligence on dissidents. Can I ask, do you have any written records, recordings, or other forms of evidence?"

Von Brown was taken aback for a moment. "What?"

"Evidence," Rosenblum repeated. "Anything that can prove what you're saying."

Von Brown's expression changed. "...The files were destroyed when the Berlin Wall fell."

"So you're saying you have no evidence."

"I'm telling the truth!" Von Brown raised his voice.

"Is that so?" Rosenblum produced a document. "This is a record provided by the Stasi Records Agency. We have carefully reviewed all files pertaining to the defendant. Not a single document shows that he provided you with intelligence on dissidents."

"That's because they were destroyed!"

Rosenblum turned to the judge. "Your Honor, this witness clearly holds a personal grudge against my client. According to Article 60 of the Code of Criminal Procedure, if a witness has a vested interest in the case, the credibility of their testimony should be carefully evaluated."

Von Brown was led away by the police. Before he left, he shot Werner a vicious glare.

Stein stood up. "Your Honor, while the witness's testimony may be questionable, the defendant's overseas accounts are irrefutable proof. Under former East German law, the very existence of these assets constitutes a crime."

Rosenblum immediately interjected, "Your Honor, I have a fundamental objection to the legal basis being applied by the prosecution."

"Proceed," Judge Schultz said.

"The prosecutor is citing the former East German Foreign Exchange Control Act." Rosenblum walked to the center of the courtroom. "But I must point out that my client worked for Koko. His duty was to earn foreign currency for the state. Everything he did was in the execution of a state mission."

"According to the principle of non-retroactivity of law, we cannot judge past actions by today's standards." Rosenblum's voice was powerful. "If the defendant's actions at the time were authorized by the state, then even if that authorization came from a regime we now consider unjust, it cannot constitute a crime."

Stein countered, "The defense attorney's logic is dangerous. By that logic, the actions of all East German officials could be exonerated as 'executing a state mission'."

"No." Rosenblum shook his head. "I am not saying all actions can be exonerated. But we must distinguish between two situations: one is acts that violate fundamental human rights, such as torture and murder; the other is economic activities within the legal framework of the time."

"According to the Radbruch formula," Rosenblum continued, "only when a positive law contradicts justice to an intolerable degree can we deem it 'unlawful law'. I ask the prosecutor, which fundamental human right did my client violate by engaging in foreign trade and earning foreign currency?"

The courtroom fell silent.

Judge Schultz looked at the two lawyers. "This involves complex legal principles. We will elaborate on this in our judgment. For now, counsel for the defense, please continue with your defense."

Rosenblum turned to the judge. "Your Honor, the prosecution accuses my client of collaborating with the Stasi, but the truth is quite the opposite. I have multiple witnesses who can prove that my client was secretly helping political prisoners and dissidents."

"Call the first witness," the judge said.

The courtroom doors opened, and a man in his fifties walked in. He wore a neat suit. His hair was streaked with gray, but his gaze was firm.

"Please state your name," the judge asked.

"Lucas Becker."

Someone in the gallery immediately recognized him. "It's that writer!" "The one who wrote *A Gray Life*!"

Stein frowned. He knew that name—Lucas Becker, a writer with a modest reputation in West Germany's underground literary circles, who specialized in writing about the oppressive life in East Germany.

Rosenblum walked up to Lucas. "Mr. Becker, please tell the court your relationship with my client."

Lucas glanced at Werner, then turned to the judge.

"In 1961, I secretly wrote a novel in East Berlin called *A Gray Life*. It was about the oppressive life in East Germany, about how people managed to survive in fear." His voice was calm. "I knew the book could never be published in East Germany, so I wanted to smuggle the manuscript to West Germany."

"But I didn't know how to do it." Lucas paused. "Until I met Werner Betelich."

The gallery was completely silent, everyone listening intently.

"He said a publisher from West Germany had referred him, and that he could help me get the manuscript to West Germany."

"And what happened then?"

"Later, I gave him the manuscript, and he actually got it to West Germany." Lucas's voice trembled slightly. "Three months later, my book was published in Munich. It was the most thrilling moment of my life."

"Did Mr. Betelich take any money from you?"

"He did. Five thousand West German Marks."

Stein immediately shot to his feet. "Your Honor, this proves the defendant did it for the money."

Rosenblum turned to him. "Please let the witness finish."

Lucas continued, "But that five thousand Marks wasn't just for transporting the manuscript. During that time, because of the book I wrote, I had become somewhat known in East Berlin's underground literary circles, and the Stasi was coming for me."

He looked at Werner. "It was Mr. Betelich who helped me again. He hid me in his car, under the back seat—it had a hidden compartment. He drove through the border checkpoint and smuggled me into West Berlin."

Gasps erupted from the gallery.

"He risked being caught to save my life." Lucas's voice choked with emotion. "If he had been discovered, he would have been sentenced to prison, or even executed."

Stein sat there, his face grim.

Rosenblum said, "I have a second witness."

This time, a thin man with glasses entered, looking like a scholar.

"Please state your name."

"Peter Weber."

"Occupation?"

"Former philosophy lecturer at Humboldt University. I now teach at Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich."

Rosenblum walked up to him. "Mr. Weber, please tell the court about your experience."

Peter pushed up his glasses. "I started out teaching philosophy at Humboldt University in East Berlin. In my spare time, I organized an underground reading group to discuss Kant, Hegel, and some banned works of Western philosophy."

"We were very careful and thought no one knew," he said, his voice tinged with bitterness. "But later, the reading group was reported."

"And then?"

"The night before the Stasi was set to make arrests, someone knocked on my door." Peter looked at Werner. "It was Mr. Betelich. He told me the Stasi already knew about the reading group and would be coming to arrest us the next morning."

"He gave me a map marked with the East Berlin sewer system." Peter's voice trembled. "He said, 'Go in here, head west, and come up at this spot. That will be West Berlin.'"

"I followed his instructions and escaped through the sewers that very night." Peter took off his glasses and wiped his eyes. "That sewer was dark and foul-smelling. I walked for three hours and almost gave up several times. But I survived."

"What about the other members of the reading group?" Rosenblum asked.

"They were all arrested the next day," Peter said in a low voice. "They were sentenced to three to five years. I was the only one who escaped."

"Did he take money?"

"He did. Three thousand West German Marks."

Stein stood up again. "Money again!"

"But the intelligence he gave me was worth far more than three thousand Marks," Peter said. "If I had been caught, I might have been sentenced to ten years. He saved my life."

Rosenblum then called three more witnesses—a former worker from an underground printing press, a journalist who had been monitored by the Stasi, and a young mother who had tried to escape to West Germany. Their stories were largely the same: they had all met Werner in their moments of desperation, received his help, and successfully escaped to West Germany.

By the time the fifth witness had finished testifying, it was already 11:30 AM. The atmosphere in the gallery had completely changed. The people holding signs that said "Liquidate the Old Regime" were no longer chanting slogans. Reporters scribbled furiously in their notebooks; some were already brainstorming headlines.

Stein looked livid. He hadn't expected the defense to have so many witnesses.

But he had one last question.

"Your Honor," Stein stood up, "I would like to ask these witnesses a question."

The judge nodded. "Permission granted."

Stein walked to the witness stand and looked at the people who had just testified. "To all the witnesses, you all say the defendant helped you. But I ask, how can you be sure his motives were benevolent? Perhaps he was just using you to accumulate political capital for himself?"

Lucas answered, "The risks he took were too great. If it were just for money or fame, he could have chosen much safer methods."

Stein pressed on, "But he did take money. This proves he wasn't a pure altruist."

Rosenblum stood up. "Your Honor, the prosecutor's question goes beyond the scope of fact-finding and into speculation about motive. Moreover, I must point out that even if the defendant accepted money, it does not change the fact that he helped these people escape persecution."

The judge banged his gavel. "Mr. Prosecutor, please watch your line of questioning. We are concerned with the facts of the actions, not subjective motives."

Stein sat down, his face ashen.

The judge announced, "The court will now recess for a two-hour lunch break. We will reconvene at 1:30 PM."

************

During the lunch break, the courthouse corridors were packed with people.

A reporter pushed through the crowd.

"Mr. Rosenblum, I'm Peter Hoffman, a reporter for *Der Spiegel*."

"Mr. Hoffman. What can I do for you?"

"We received some material regarding Mr. Betelich and a *Der Spiegel* report from August 1975. The Mr. K mentioned in the report—is that him?"

Rosenblum glanced around, then said, "We will reveal everything in court."

After sending the reporter on his way, Rosenblum walked back to Werner's side.

"Is everything ready?"

Werner nodded and took a magazine out of his briefcase.

The cover was slightly yellowed with age, but the *Der Spiegel* logo was still clear.

"This is our trump card," Rosenblum said.