Chapter 390: The Gavel Falls (Part 1)

Chapter 390 -35: The Gavel Falls (Part 1)

Stein stood up, his face weary.

“Your Honor, members of the jury,” his voice lacked its previous passion. “I admit that the defendant did, in fact, help some political prisoners and fund dissidents. The witness testimonies have made these facts abundantly clear.”

“However,” he paused, “that does not erase the vast fortune he acquired during his time with Koko. The source of the money in his overseas accounts remains in question.”

The gallery was silent as everyone listened intently.

“Nevertheless,” Stein’s tone shifted, “given the witness testimonies and other factors, I must concede that I cannot prove the defendant was directly involved in the Stasi’s political persecution or the illegal transfer of state assets.”

He looked at Werner, his expression complex.

“Therefore,” Stein took a deep breath, “I recommend the court dismiss the criminal charges against the defendant. However, I request that the defendant be required to provide a reasonable explanation for the source of his overseas assets and submit to a tax audit.”

With that, he sat down.

Applause broke out from some in the gallery, while others sighed.

The judge looked toward Rosenblum. “Counselor, your closing statement.”

Rosenblum stood and walked to the center of the courtroom.

“Your Honor, members of the court, citizens in the gallery,” his voice was calm, yet forceful. “My client, Werner Betelich, is a man who made complicated choices in complicated times.”

“He worked within the system to survive.” Rosenblum looked at Werner. “In a country like East Germany, if you wanted to have any freedom, any choice at all, you had to find a position for yourself within the system.”

“But he was not assimilated by the system.” Rosenblum turned to the judge. “He used his position to help countless people: political prisoners, dissidents, and those who wished to escape to freedom. He provided them with foreign currency, false papers, and secret routes.”

“He did these things at the risk of being arrested, sentenced, and even executed.”

“More importantly,” Rosenblum raised his voice, “he supported the Solidarity Union of Poland, contributing to the democratization of Eastern Europe. He provided intelligence to the West, helping to end the Cold War.”

“A man like this,” Rosenblum said, looking at the gallery, “should he be the one to be purged?”

“The prosecutor just mentioned the Radbruch formula, stating that only laws that violate fundamental human rights are, in themselves, unlawful,” Rosenblum said. “I agree with this view.”

“But I would add this: when a person’s actions, while technically in violation of a regime’s laws, substantially promote human rights and justice, then we must recognize those actions as possessing a supra-legal justification.”

“That is my client.” Rosenblum walked over to Werner’s side. “He is no saint. He acted out of self-interest and accumulated wealth for himself. But at the very least, he still has a conscience, and he did his best under the circumstances.”

Rosenblum returned to his seat. The courtroom was silent, save for the occasional cough and the rustling of paper.

The judge glanced at the clock. It was already five in the afternoon.

“This court is adjourned,” he said, striking his gavel. “The verdict will be delivered in three days.”

The sound of the gavel echoed through the courtroom.

Werner stood up and took a deep breath.

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

「May 18, 1990, nine in the morning.」

The Berlin sky was a rare, clear blue. Sunlight streamed through the clouds, illuminating the gray stone of the Berlin Higher Court.

Werner stood at the courthouse entrance and lit a cigarette.

“Nervous?” Rosenblum asked, walking up beside him.

“I’m alright,” Werner said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “We’ve done everything we can.”

“Yes,” Rosenblum said, watching him. “We’ve done everything we could.”

Three days earlier, after the court had adjourned, Werner went home and lay in bed, unable to sleep the entire night.

He replayed the last thirty years in his mind—from his first time smuggling coffee beans in 1961 to standing in this very courtroom today. He had taken every step with extreme caution, knowing each decision could mean the difference between life and death.

Now, it was time for the reckoning.

An even larger crowd had gathered at the courthouse entrance.

There were more reporters than three days ago, their cameras set up in a dense forest. Tickets for the gallery were being scalped at astronomical prices; some were willing to pay a thousand West German Marks for a single seat.

“Mr. Betelich!” the reporters called out, swarming him. “Do you think you’ll win?”

“Are you confident about the verdict?”

“If you’re found guilty, will you appeal?”

Werner didn’t answer. He simply stubbed out his cigarette and walked into the building.

The courtroom was already packed. In the gallery, Werner saw many familiar faces—Lucas Becker was sitting in the front row with Peter Weber beside him. Harviman was there, too, as was Bettina Wegner.

Anna sat in the back row, wearing sunglasses. When she saw Werner, she gave him a slight nod.

At nine o’clock sharp, the judges entered.

Everyone rose to their feet.

Judge Schultz sat, flanked by the three lay judges. His expression was stern, betraying no emotion.

“Please be seated.”

Everyone sat. The courtroom was so quiet you could hear people breathing.

Judge Schultz picked up a document and put on his glasses.

“The special tribunal of the Berlin Higher Court will now deliver the verdict in the case of Werner Betelich.”

He cleared his throat and began to read.

“The defendant, Werner Betelich, is charged with three counts: one, violation of the former East Germany’s Foreign Exchange Control Act by illegally transferring assets abroad; two, embezzlement of state assets; and three, improper cooperation with state security services, with suspected involvement in political persecution.”

A hush fell over the gallery.

“Following a three-day trial, the court has heard the arguments from the prosecution, the arguments from the defense, and the testimonies of numerous witnesses.” Judge Schultz turned a page. “The court will now state the grounds for its verdict.”

He looked up, his eyes sweeping across the courtroom.

“First, regarding the third count: improper cooperation with state security services, with suspected involvement in political persecution.”

Werner’s fingers tapped lightly on the armrest, a nervous habit of his.

“The prosecution’s primary evidence was the testimony of the witness, Reiner von Brown,” said Judge Schultz. “However, upon review, the court finds that this witness has a clear conflict of interest with the defendant and was unable to provide any documentary evidence to support his statements.”

“On the other hand,” the judge’s tone shifted, “the defense provided extensive witness testimony demonstrating that the defendant helped numerous political prisoners escape to West Germany, funded dissident activities, and even supported the democratic movement of the Solidarity Union of Poland.”

“These witnesses include the writer Lucas Becker, philosophy lecturer Peter Weber, dissident leader Robert H. Harveyman, and a core member of the Solidarity Union of Poland, Adam Michnik.”

“Their testimonies corroborate one another and are supported by a 1975 report in *Der Spiegel* magazine.”

Judge Schultz paused.

“After the court’s deliberation,” his voice became firm, “the third count is found to be unsubstantiated by the evidence and is hereby dismissed.”

A murmur rippled through the gallery.

Rosenblum clenched his fist beneath the table. ‘The first hurdle is cleared,’ he thought.

“Second,” Judge Schultz continued, “regarding the first and second counts: violation of the foreign exchange control act and embezzlement of state assets.”

The courtroom fell silent again. This was the heart of the matter.