A Murder in Auschwitz by J.C. Stephenson Read Free Book Online Page B

facing you for you to have seen the colour of his eyes.”
    “Perhaps he did see me, it doesn’t really matter, does it? He was hurrying to get out of the house,” replied Färber.
    “Oh yes, Herr Färber. It does matter. In fact, this whole case rests not on whether you saw someone running from your house, but whether they saw you. For you to be able to determine the colour of someone’s eyes, or the type of eyebrows, or the length of nose, then that person needs to be facing you, with their eyes open. You said that you were ‘unsure’ if he had seen you, but to be able to give such a detailed description you must have been staring into each other’s faces. Would you not agree, Herr Färber?”
    Färber began to stumble over his words as he said that he did not know.
    “In fact, Herr Färber, I suggest to you that you did not see Herr Weide in your parents' home. I suggest that there was no breakin on that day. I suggest, Herr Färber, that in fact it was you that required the money from your parents to cover gambling debts. The very same gambling debts which had only recently meant the loss of your home and, subsequently the loss of your wife. You chose a Gypsy to blame this crime on, but unfortunately for you, the police found a man fitting your schoolboy description of one; Herr Weide, thereby requiring a trial and full investigation...”
    Fuhrmann the prosecutor jumped to his feet and exclaimed, “Your Honour, Herr Färber is not on trial, he is as much a victim as his poor departed parents.”
    Deschler continued to talk through the interruption, his voice rising above both Furhmann’s and the judge’s.
    “It would have been much better that this go as an unsolved crime, especially at this time of uncertainty while the police have much more on their plates with communists and fascists fighting in the streets!”
    Finally, Judge Koehler’s voice rose above the melee.
    “Herr Deschler! You will desist! Herr Färber is not on trial; this is conjecture on your part!”
    Deschler apologised and sat down, while Judge Koehler indicated to the jury that they should ignore the last few statements from Deschler and asked the stenographer to strike them from the record. But the damage was done. Meyer was in awe of Deschler’s ability to manipulate the witness and the jury, twisting the story to fit his needs. He had given the jury everything that he had told Meyer they required, even an alternative suspect.
    Once everything had calmed down again in the courtroom, Judge Koehler asked Deschler if he had any more questions. Deschler pushed himself back up on his stick.
    “No more questions, your Honour, and no more witnesses. The defence rests.”
    Fuhrmann did not follow with any questions. Meyer looked over at the prosecution bench to see Fuhrmann sitting back in his chair, flicking through the contents of a cardboard folder. Meyer was sure that Deschler had won the case and had expected to see the prosecutor furious, especially with that final ambush at the very end of the trial, but he seemed serene, possibly even resigned to the loss of the case.
     
     
    Meyer sat back in his chair as if winded by a blow to the stomach. He turned his head to see Deschler’s reaction and was surprised to see calm placidity across his face. Meyer could not understand how Deschler was able to accept the verdict.
    The jury had been out for two hours before returning with a majority verdict which found Prala Weide guilty of the murder of Herr and Frau Färber but not guilty of theft. The judge read out the verdict of the jury and then dismissed the court to be reconvened in four weeks’ time, at which point he would give sentence.
    Prala Weide’s face had not changed when the verdict was read out. It was as if he was not in the least surprised to be found guilty. Even with Herr Deschler’s defence, which Meyer had thought was masterful, even though Herr Deschler had shown that there was no real evidence against him and had