criminals, except for one female spy who had been in
the employ of the Democratic Republic and who took her walks alone. Most of the
women were prostitutes. They were even allowed to wear transparent blouses and
tight pants. There was a lot of talk during our walks, which allowed them to
keep in shape. Plenty of advice on techniques and prices was exchanged.
They also asked me for legal advice. Generally speaking, they were all
very nice to me and knew very well who I was. I had slapped the fellow at the
top. I had not been afraid to attack the S.S. and, to top it off, I had been in
The thing that bothered me most was that there was no
handle on the cell door. I kept wondering how I would get out if there were a
fire. In spite of everything, I felt cut off from the world.
first days I had no contact with anyone from the outside except my lawyer,
Klaus Himmelreich, a young CDU member whom I had chosen by chance when I was
arrested. Horst Mahler, my usual lawyer, could not recommend anyone to me
because he himself had been in Berlin's Moabit Prison for six months.
The first time my lawyer visited me, I felt there was little
communication between us, for he wanted to submit a colorless brief. He
specialized in automobile accident cases, and although he was very dapper and
pleasant, he took a dim view of my case. He changed his attitude after he met
with Serge in Belgium, because there was also a warrant out for Serge's
arrest. Himmelreich once got a death threat over the telephone with a shouted:
"How dare you defend that Klarsfeld woman!"
I had no contact with Serge
and really felt a little lost, for I had never been away from Paris for any
length of time without telephoning him once a day. Now suddenly here I was, cut
off from the rest of the world without any idea of what was going on or if
anyone was trying to get me out. I could consider the whole thing a rest cure,
and indeed I did relax after so many weeks of tension. But I was afraid I might
have to stay in jail for a long time, and I was worried about Arno, whom I had
left in Paris with chicken pox.
One or two days after my arrest, I was
summoned into court for examination. Facing me sat Bellinghausen and his
assistant, Wissborn. Bellinghausen was forty-five years old, short, and very
well dressed; Wissborn, who was perhaps thirty-five, was sloppily dressed in a
jacket and pants that were much too small for him. Wissborn's chief
responsibility was pornography, and he was in