Cold Victory

“It would be best if you told me what happened, Charlotte. If you’re charged with murder, you will be facing the death penalty, and I can’t begin to build a defence unless I know what provoked you and why you reacted the way you did.”

Charlotte looked down at her hands and broke her silence at last. “I don’t want a defence. I want to die.”

“Why?” Alix asked without a trace of shock or outrage.

Charlotte shrugged. “Because I hate myself.”

“Why?”

“I’m weak and disgusting.”

“There is nothing weak about shooting a man between the eyes,” Alix countered.

Charlotte was confused by her tone; it sounded almost admiring. Then Charlotte realised that she didn’t understand and tried to explain. “Perhaps it wouldn’t have been weak if I’d done it sooner…” Her voice faded away as she became lost in her thoughts. Why hadn’t she done it sooner? She’d had the pistol. She’d envisaged using it against the Soviets many times. Why hadn’t she shot Fritz the first time he came into her bedroom? Why had she let him abuse her again and again before she finally had the strength to put a bullet through his head?

“Did Fritz von Bredow try to assault you?” Alix asked into the silence.

Charlotte nodded and looked down.

“Did he succeed?”

Charlotte nodded again.

“On the night you killed him?”

Charlotte shook her head.

“Before that?”

She nodded.

“More than once?”

Charlotte nodded again.

“When was the first time?”

Charlotte closed her eyes and thought back. “About two weeks after Christian moved out, just before Christmas.”

“Did he come every night after that?”

“No. Sometimes he was too drunk or — I don’t know. Sometimes he just didn’t come.”

“When did you decide to stop him?”

“I don’t know. The pistol was there the whole time. I don’t know why I didn’t stop him earlier. That’s the point. I could have. I should have. But I didn’t. I was too weak, helpless, lame.” She shook her head. “After the first time, I didn’t even scream and plead as I’d done with the Russians. I just lay there and let him do whatever he liked with me because I loathed myself so much.”

“You let him do what he liked with you because you loathed yourself or you loathed yourself because you let him do what he liked with you?”

“Yes.”

Alix paused to absorb that and then asked her next question, “And then, last Monday night, for no particular reason, you took a pistol that you’d had in your possession the entire time, and you shot Fritz von Bredow dead.”

“Yes,” Charlotte agreed, impressed by how calm and detached Alix sounded. The police had shouted at her, insulted and berated her because they had been outraged and shocked by what she had done. It wasn’t as if Fritz was a stranger, an intruder, they told her. She had allowed him to live in her house. She was engaged to him. She had led him to expect sex, so she had no right to say no. Christian, on the other hand, had been gentle and understanding. He’d pleaded with her to tell him what had happened because he wanted to help her. She understood that, but she couldn’t be helped. She didn’t want Christian to get dragged down into this nightmare with her.

Alix seemed neutral or at least objective. She continued her interrogation calmly, “Did you give any thought to what would happen afterwards?”

“No, because I planned to shoot myself too. The last bullets were meant to be for me. I wanted to, but — I don’t know. I went numb. I couldn’t move. I just stood there and stared. The pistol seemed too heavy to lift. I waited for something to happen. I don’t know what I expected or how long I would have stood there. Then Herr Sperl came, he called the police, and they brought me here. But none of that matters because even if I failed to shoot myself I still want to die.”

“Why?”

Charlotte felt she had answered that question already and responded testily. “I told you! I hate myself. I don’t want to live with myself another day! I’m worthless and disgusting and don’t want to go through this all over again when the Russians come!” Without intending to, Charlotte was getting angry.

Alix remained calm, “Christian tells me that this past summer you asked him to kill you. Is that correct?.”

“Yes, that’s true. When the Blockade started, I knew I couldn’t face the Russians again. Christian convinced me that the Allies might win — or I might escape. For a while…” She thought back to those months with David. So enchanted. So unreal. She shook her head. “I never imagined that a German, a young man who had once loved and cherished me and treated me like a princess, would treat me like a worthless, soulless and brainless thing that he had the right to hurt and pollute….” Suddenly, Charlotte was so furious she was gritting her teeth and clenching her fists.

“It’s a pity your shot put him out of his misery so quickly, but maybe the Church is right and there is a hell,” Alix observed.

Charlotte looked at her astonished. She wasn’t neutral after all. Or at least she understood how a woman felt about rape.

Alix continued, “Almost the first thing Christian said after telling me you’d been arrested was that Fritz von Bredow got what he deserved. Thankfully, he is dead, and God will be his judge. Meanwhile, you will be judged in a human court, and the question is whether you want to let Fritz von Bredow’s judgement of you stand?” She paused to let Charlotte think about her words and then continued. “Or do you want to prove that he was wrong, that you are neither worthless nor unworthy of respect, but rather a courageous and valuable human being entitled to the full measure of human dignity?”