LOCKED UP TIME
JUNE 1990, BORDER CROSSING HERLESHAUSEN, INNER GERMAN BORDER
When we were building it...
we couldn't go anywhere we wanted to. Now we can.
- We helped to build the border. - We were pan of the team.
It was a dream for us, simply being able to drive through here.
- You were able to pass through? - Now, yes. Last year we couldn't.
- I mean when you were building it. - No, no.
We could go as far as the bridge...
and then we had to go around the outside.
With special permission only, with green cards.
Special l.D.
We got red cards here, green ones for up front.
And now they've called you back to pull it down?
And is it fun pulling it down? Or are you sad, because you built it?
As long as we get paid we don't care.
The work has to be done.
- Feels good to tear it down? - Yeah, it beats building it.
The border guards who always worked here, where are they all?
- They're gone. - We don't know where to, either.
They were already gone when we got here.
They've probably been transferred
to the Polish border or whatever.
- Is nobody here at all anymore? - Yes, yes, some are still here.
We want to ask some questions, young man.
- We're filming about... - I'm not interested...
We were wondering... what you are still doing here.
We're guarding the building, you can see that.
Isn't it going to be pulled down?
- Of course, it'll be pulled down. - Sorry?
I don't know.
- Then who are you guarding it from? - From you.
A beautiful, peaceful day at the border to the GDR.
Where the barbed wire ends, a white line straight across the motorway marks
the exact position of the border.
One kilometer to the west is the border checkpoint Herleshausen.
And then something extraordinary:
The traffic lane is cleared and a blue and white coach
crosses the border before our camera is up and running.
No reaction from the customs or the border guards.
We catch up on the bus some five kilometers past the border.
They come from the assembly camp
of the GDR State Security Police in Karl Marx Stadt.
Ransomed prisoners on their way to the transit camp in Giessen.
Approximately 8000 GDR citizens
have come over to the Federal Republic this year.
About a third of them either fled or were ransomed.
These people are pan of this third.
Everyday German life that's still anything but routine.
PRISONER RELEASE PAPER
What strikes me about this nice file, is its title:
"Amnestied Prisoners from the GDR" and, in brackets: "potato beetle".
We proceed from the assumption that prisoners wear stripes.
Black and white.
As the potato beetle is the same,
the operation was codenamed "potato beetle" from the onset.
Everybody understood.
You said only a small group was informed about this...
Yes. For example, when our boss got a phone call,
he said to the officer in charge:
'Today at 4 p.m. operation "potato beetle".'
And I'd know what was meant.
But the other colleagues didn't necessarily.
- Did you have to make preparations? - No. Everything was ready.
It always went through the same channels.
The same staff. So it always worked.
- Routine. - Routine, right...
Here: July 17, 1985. 4.05 p.m.
One bus. 41 persons.
I was the 41st.
One Wednesday at 12 noon sharp they took us from our cells
checked our names off on a list and put us in this coach.
We were all women.
They brought the men later.
After almost a year of separation I saw Hannes again.
I remember exactly, how quietly and quickly,
how incredibly smoothly, the bus glided across the border,
the fatigue and the sadness,
the torturous certainty
of having to wait weeks or months for our children.
I remember the landscape opening up and the silence in the bus.
I had forgotten how a meadow smells,
how wonderful it is to wear a dress
how stunningly beautiful the sky is,
how tender a caress can be.
I had forgotten almost everything.
That was in the summer of '85.
For five years I was not allowed to set foot on the ground of my old homeland.
Now, with the Wall falling,
the "great protective wall",
that also protected some people from my questions,
I am returning to finally say goodbye.
Hohenleuben in Thuringia, GDR.
When did they build this prison?
It's been there for a long time.
But the wall, they always called it "the Berlin Wall".
They said that?
Plans have been halted due to all the changes.
It was supposed to be expanded
and around here, all the houses were to disappear.
Your houses here?
You've no idea what beautiful houses stood down there.
They all had to make way.
Did you know what kind of prisoners were inside?
My nephew was here yesterday. He said:
"Do you know that the prison is to be expanded?"
But the city council hasn't given its consent so far.
The most modern prison in the whole of the GDR.
- Will it be? - It is.
The interior.
Do a lot of people who work there live here?
They have an extra "police" block of flats out there.
Are they nice?
Well, they say nothing about inside.
What kind of people do you think are in there?
At present, no one's in there.
- But those who were there. - Mainly political prisoners.
Did you know that as well, yes?
I was in there once, too. That's why I'm here now,
to have another look at it all.
- You did time in there? - Yes.
But it wasn't that large then?
- It was as large as it is now. - Was the wall already there?
Yes, it was there.
And the reason I've come to the cherry tree is...
When I came here I always thought I wouldn't be here long.
The tree was still completely bare
and I said to myself, "When it blossoms, I'll be gone."
And it blossomed, but I was still here.
And then I said, "When it bears fruit, I'll be gone."
It was exactly five years ago that I left.
Did you always know there were political prisoners here?
Only now.
You didn't think that before?
You didn't know?
No.
Anyway, it's a special feeling to get these cherries from you
and to be able to eat them.
Because I always only saw the tree from above...
When you're up on the ladder you get a good view in there.
- Really? Did you have a look? - Yes.
And what did you see there?
Did you take part in sports as well?
Or weren't you allowed into the garden?
It was all stones then.
I haven't been inside yet.
Well, go on up and have a look over.
The view's good.
- Did you use to stand up here and look? - Of course.
And did you see what they had on?
They all had different things on.
Their own things?
They must have looked strange, didn't they?
- With headscarves in winter. - Yes.
In the winter they had to shovel away the snow.
During the summer they swept the roads, chopped wood.
They were out a lot.
The view's amazing.
- Maybe you saw me as well, back then. - There were so many.
I always said, "Such pretty girls, how did they end up in there?"
And what did you think?
I didn't think anything at all.
Sometimes you didn't have to do much.
Just needed to say something.
"CARING FOR ONE'S PLACE OF WORK
IS THE SAME AS CARING FOR ONE'S OWN BODY." LENIN
It's so heavy.
- How do I hold it? - Pass it here.
I used to be able to do this.
But not anymore.
How long did it take me to learn it back then, Mr. Kaminski?
- Five or ten days at the most. - And now?
Through here? Like this.
And then back again.
I don't think I can manage to fold it over any more.
You think that one doesn't forget things like this?
Did you give us the grades back then?
No, that was those responsible.
I just conducted the competition and did the evaluation.
And do you still have old competition books from '85?
- I should have them still. - Would you take a look?
Schönemann... what's your Christian name?
Sibylle... Schönemann.
- With an "a"? - With an
I should still have it.
Schönemann, Sibylle - "With praise"
Schulz, Cornelia.
Suciu, Eva-Maria,
Wieczorek, Ilona - "With praise"
Buffi, Linda - "Refused the award"
Dunkel, Silvia - "5 marks", Impressive!
Annegret Gonda - "With praise"
- What's that? - The telephone.
Ah, telephone. It sounds so different to a telephone.
Captain Kirst... "educator".
She wore a uniform back then.
She disposed over my life here.
- You got changed for us? - No, I've finished work.
Of course. It's late.
Have you got a moment to spare?
You haven't seen the library?
It was built much later.
When I took over the "education and culture" section.
- You weren't here then. - You remember me?
- Yes, of course. - Yes? What do you remember?
Certain personal fates, you don't forget them.
What do you remember then? I'm curious to find out.
Your appearance for one thing.
Everyone who works here builds up memories.
It was clear to me, especially as I knew
you were the only film director imprisoned here.
And it was clear to me that you would make a film one day.
Did you think I'd come back sometime?
It was possible that you would have made a film in West Germany about this.
Do you think I'd have been allowed in here?
I think things have changed a bit in the meantime.
What do you want to know? Ask your questions precisely.
No. Yes. Just what you remember, how it was then with us.
What would you like to hear?
The personal fates?
I know them, the fates.
One likes to remember certain people.
There were a lot of prisoners
who brought something of their personality along.
One could learn things from them as well...
Like in everyday life.
One likes to think back about certain people.
Despite there having been good and bad memories.
In your case, I remember that you had two children. A boy and a girl?
Two girls.
My children were roughly the same age...
one always compares then.
I can still remember your sister, she was a pediatrician,
My sister-in-law.
One doesn't remember all the details.
I would be interested in knowing what you thought of me then.
One can't recall it all in detail anymore.
I mean, in life, only extreme situations sticks in one's memory.
Don't you think it was extreme?
The situation? Yes, because it was unfamiliar for us.
For me, too.
We needed the dialogue with the prisoners.
If you have a collection of prisoners, you need dialogue.
You can't just say "hello" and then go on with your work,
you need more.
Then something always develops.
Then you remember something about one person,
something else about another person.
Do you have only good recollections of me?
Actually I have... I can say with a clear conscience,
I hardly had any negative experience with the prisoners.
I remember, and it was incomprehensible to me at the time,
- my mother wasn't allowed to visit me. - I can't really remember that anymore.
How did you come to have this job in the first place?
One person feels drawn to technology,
another feels the need to work with people.
And I felt that very early on.
I was aware that I'd need assertiveness at a penitentiary.
In my own interest and in the interest of the prisoners.
Did you sometimes feel sorry for us, or...
A doctor whose patient has just died during an operation
feels sorry for the children that are left behind as well.
But he can't feel sorry in every case.
Because otherwise it would drain his physical resources.
I remember waiting a very long time
for my husband's first letter. He was in a prison hospital,
and you didn't hand it out to me.
I don't remember that in detail.
If I didn't hand it out to you...
According to the prison code,
no doubt you've made inquiries by now,
prisoners are to be informed
when a letter is not handed out.
It wasn't against the law.
And what son of reasons were there?
That's in the law. You can look it up.
I've got it somewhere here.
What could have been the reason?
I had waited six weeks for it, and it was the first one.
Can't you remember?
I mean, you know more or less what reasons you applied...
Not applied, but how they were laid down.
Security reasons... that's an item in the prison code.
Why didn't you inform yourself before? The prison code is available.
Here it is.
Are prisoners' letters not read by the institution?
The letters I wrote, you read them, didn't you?
They had to be censored, yes. But not anymore.
Thank God. It was strenuous and nerve wrecking.
And basically, nothing came of it for the prisoner.
The time we spent censoring letters
we could have been talking to the prisoners.
Can we then assume that the letter my husband wrote back then
- was censored by the other institution? - I don't know.
You told me you couldn't hand me out the letter
as my husband wrote about the future.
What did you think we felt?
What you felt...
The same that I myself
always wanted to prioritize in my life, and did indeed prioritize:
That lots of situations can be mastered with an intact family life.
They called us "Spezis", special prisoners.
Potsdam. We lived here.
Our children were born here.
We loved and celebrated here, enjoyed everyday life and felt at home.
We wanted to make films here.
Films in which people recognized themselves.
We wanted to tell of happiness and sadness,
of boredom and of being locked in.
One project after the other was turned down
and we realized:
These kinds of films were not desired, and we were not needed.
It was a long time before we decided to apply for an emigration permit.
Today I know that with this decision
State Security began to intensify its interest in us.
The usual surveillance turned into operation "Doubter"
and the wheels of the machinery began to turn.
We had no idea that a come-together with friends,
a conversation in a café, a phone call, a visit, a letter,
was always noted and evaluated.
This work was carried out by people who also lived in Potsdam.
Anonymous civil servants in offices,
but close friends and confidents as well.
Informers were assigned with gathering information
that could be used against us.
We must have known them all, maybe even very well.
The file of our trial.
For the first time I match the names to the faces I remember.
Custody judges, interrogators, judges, lay assessors.
They all willingly followed a preset process.
They came at 6.00 a.m. on a Tuesday in November, 1984,
ordered us to come with them for a "talk",
promised our distraught children we'd be back at noon.
They stood threateningly in the flat, observing every move,
and quickly and inconspicuously stuffed us into their cars.
It was cold and dark.
Their building was in a street I knew very well,
that I had often walked along.
Behind it was a prison, the existence of which
I'd known nothing for twelve years.
The "talk" ended sometime during the night
and I was informed
I'd be brought before a custodial judge in the morning.
I awaited the daytime in a cell,
convinced that the judge
would order my immediate discharge.
ARREST WARRANT
The custodial judge, a Mr. Weide,
dictated to his secretary with routine relish
a text I couldn't understand.
Formulations such as: Mrs. Schönemann is accused,
penal offense, expected prison sentence, nothing mitigating against imprisonment,
article so-and-so, article so-and-so...
He signed the document, pressed a bell,
an officer came and took me away.
I was a prisoner.
Where you heading?
HEARING ROOM
It's closed. We can't get in.
Knock.
I wanted to ask Mr. Weide when he has a case tomorrow.
- Come in, Mrs. Schönemann. - Ah, you know me?
I'm surprised how matter-of-factly...
how and the way you keep your promises.
- What promise? - Courtroom filming is forbidden...
- No filming during the trial. - No, in the courtroom.
Nobody said that.
Come, forget it Mrs... Mr... what's the point?
It was agreed with your colleague yesterday.
- I was present during the conversation. - A-ha.
I find it interesting how you proceed...
Okay, that's your business.
I was told to shoot in the front building, not in the back.
That's what I'm doing. And we're leaving now.
I wanted to see you as it's been a long time.
- Very well. - I wanted nothing more.
You wanted to know when I have a case.
I really just wanted to see you.
So it was a pretext?
- Sorry? - For your coming in here.
- Yes, I wanted to see you. - I knew that.
- But my need has been satisfied now. - Good.
THE WARRANT OF ARREST IS ISSUED AT 11.45 A.M. - JUDGE WEIDE
List of the personal belongings in my possession
at the time of my arrest.
The interrogator could now get to work.
You said earlier that you wished
you could interrogate your interrogator.
Under which circumstances?
I'd like to, what's the expression, turn the tables on him.
I would like to sit with him.
Me behind his desk and him in front of me.
He is brought...
and I ask the questions.
Though I don't know what I'd ask him.
Very likely whether he had given the matter any consideration.
During the interrogation, in his spare-time...
At all...
I don't know if I would really go through with it.
It's just an idea of mine.
Because I can't get this person out of my head.
The face, the way an interrogation is conducted,
the calm and steady way you can break someone down,
without physical torture, but psychologically.
And they managed that well back then.
How did they manage that?
By means of complete isolation,
by an almost total news blackout,
by leaving you alone,
and by the fear you yourself had.
But what was one afraid of?
Afraid of being locked in here.
It's a totally strange feeling, being in a prison.
Helpless, powerless, defenseless.
They can do everything with you, but you can do nothing.
What they felt then, that would interest me, too.
You were completely in their hands,
they didn't just achieve that by locking you up in a cell,
they achieved that by calling you number 30
and number whatever... 41
little things.
You simply didn't lead a human existence.
You were a number.
You obeyed every word they said.
You'd go down the corridor:
"Come, go, stop."
You didn't resist.
- One couldn't resist. - No.
One was only allowed to go out when they wanted,
one had to come in when they wanted, eat when they wanted...
go over to them when they wanted.
One had to be continually at their disposal...
What they felt then would interest me, too.
They censored everything, they censored your whole life.
Every letter, every conversation.
They knew one's whole life.
And they used that.
You were in the dark, didn't know what they knew.
What they wanted to find out.
Then they lied. "Your husband said this and that."
"Your acquaintance said this and that about you.
We know as much."
And you never knew whether it was true or not.
You were left totally on your own.
Hello, Mr. Hollwitz, I'd like to have a talk with you.
- Who are you? - Our paths crossed once.
- I don't remember. - No?
We should take a little time to talk about it.
But I can't today.
I couldn't once either.
And I still had to take a lot of time for you.
That was five years ago.
You had me snatched from the street, brought to your institution,
and locked me in a cell.
And now I'm making a film about it.
And I'm glad I've found you because it was a long search.
And I thought that you could explain a few things to me
and tell me about what happened back then.
Because I didn't understand a lot of things.
And I would like to arrange a meeting with you.
So we can take time to talk it over.
Maybe it's good for you, too,
to explain a few things.
I've nothing against talking to you.
- Can you tell me your name first? - Schönemann.
My husband was here, so was I. We were from the DEFA studios.
Article 214...
Very vaguely, yes...
- We were the only DEFA directors... - Yes, now... yes.
When would you like to have a talk with me and where?
In your house or somewhere in the park,
or we could go back to the old building,
- and sit in the old room. - I'd rather not, no.
But you liked being there back then, didn't you?
We'll talk about that at our appointment.
When would suit?
We could do it tomorrow.
- The weekend isn't convenient. - But tomorrow is Friday.
- I have to work. - What do you do?
I'll tell you that then, too.
When do you have to go to work, then?
At 2.00 p.m. I'd like to eat lunch first.
- And if we concentrate. - We always did that.
Do you recognize him?
Yes. Oh, my God.
So mean.
And what memories does it bring back?
A kind voice.
Look at his eyes.
Slits.
He has nothing to reproach himself with.
That is one of the faces I won't forget for the rest of my life.
The others are all a blur.
You feel completely innocent.
And they riddle you with questions.
About everything you've ever done or wanted to do.
About your most intimate things.
They had nude photos of me here and showed them to me.
And they all acted in the name of law and order.
- Him, too. - Of course.
And I ask myself, how does one explain to people what went on here?
You can't. I can't, Billi.
I don't know if you ever thought
about how I felt at the time.
- Yes. - Yes?
That wasn't a definite yes, but a hesitant one.
I did, yes.
- All right. - Let's meet Monday morning.
You're doing the wash, you have a family, too?
- Of course. - You have children?
- And how old are they? - Ten.
One? Then it was still quite small back then.
- Five years ago. - Yes.
Do you find my being here strange?
A bit peculiar.
Were you ever afraid that sometime or other,
- you'd be recognized? - Not "afraid".
- But what, then? - I'd term it differently.
How, then?
An uneasy feeling in the stomach area.
But your reaction just now was very cool.
That would certainly feature in our conversation on Monday...
I don't really have any grounds for reproaching myself.
To put it in simple terms.
Perhaps you see things differently, from your viewpoint.
But under the circumstances,
this was five years ago, as you say.
I don't remember... it being so long ago,
but I acted, I believe, lawfully, I believed.
I believed or I believe?
- We'll leave that till Monday. - Good.
I can't understand how they could stand
to sit opposite someone,
asking the stupidest damned questions
or branding him a criminal although they knew exactly:
He hasn't done anything.
- And they knew that, didn't they? - Yes, that's the perversity of it all:
That they knew all the facts about someone who'd been branded a criminal.
And all the people who did the ground work.
How many informers, how many full-time employees somewhere?
How many friends?
They'll all be earning good money now, I imagine...
Nothing will happen to them, of course.
They'll get by somehow.
They'll be compensated, or have been.
A bonus, settlement... A pension.
And no guilty conscience.
Apparently not.
To them we were just criminals, of course.
According to GDR law back then.
What did they feel after "work"? When they went home to their children,
having seen photos of ours? They read the letters.
Those were letters from criminals, Billi.
No, I really believe that maybe you can explain it that way.
Either they had that imprinted on their brains
or... I have no other explanation.
I remember when we saw each other for the first time.
You were already here. I came in with my bundle...
I thought they'd release me, that they would apologies.
I was that naive. And I came here...
For two weeks you believed that they'd apologies.
I reckoned with an acquittal up to my trail...
You also always said that they would let me go.
That is was nonsense as they had even less on me than on you.
And then I came here and you were sitting there
already, laughing, and I thought:
So that's what they look like, murderers.
That's right, I saw it in your eyes.
I put down my bundle.
I sat down and you said, "Who are you?"
"I'm Punkt."
And then I said, "I'm Sibylle."
Remember what was next?
You asked me, "Why are you here, then?"
Ah yes, that's right.
And then I said, "You won't understand, anyway.
You wouldn't believe me if I tell you."
One sentence in an emigration application!
You said: "Ah, an emigration application."
And I was dumbfounded.
I said, "It's different in my case. My husband is here, too."
- And what did you say then? - "Mine is, too," I think.
Then I said, "But I have children outside."
And I said, "Me, too."
And then you asked who is next door to us.
To me they were just dead walls. There was just my cell and outside...
interrogators and wardens.
And then you sat down and... what did you do?
I knocked immediately.
Then you knocked,
and you found out that Jörg was next door.
"Who's on the other side?" I said I didn't know how to do it.
And then you taught me how to knock.
- Right. - And then I learned it.
And that was the beginning of being able to live at all.
Then it was us here and them there.
As then we started to speak together.
And the funny thing was with the children,
- We asked each other their names. - Josephine.
- Two Josephines. - Right.
It surprised us that they left us together so long.
- Over eight weeks. Till they took me off. - And we feared separation.
That's how it was. You came in here,
and were at their mercy.
And in my opinion the worst for me was,
after sharing the cell with a woman for four days who then got taken away,
I had neither heard any news from my mother or from my child,
nor did I know if my husband was here.
And then I was put into a solitary cell.
I didn't understand it at the beginning, it only struck me afterwards
as I got the first letter from my mother.
And my mother is a Party member.
She didn't know why I was in here, that I had applied for emigration.
Merely.
And she wrote to me, without reproaching me,
saying I had underestimated the enemy of the working class,
along the lines:
"Birgit, I think you have made a mistake."
And I sat for days with this letter
without any other sign from the outside world.
Only that this letter was there assuring me
that my child was well and that was it.
Did they ask you then if you wanted to withdraw your application?
No, they did that later.
At a later interrogation. They didn't come for me at that time.
So I sat with this letter for four or five days in the cell.
And nothing happened. No interrogation,
not one other person, nothing.
- That was tactics. - That was very clever.
Now I know that.
At that moment I was simply totally confused
and all I wanted was to see my child.
I wouldn't have gone back on anything or signed anything.
But you noticed something had crumbled: Oh God.
Now you're sitting in this cell all alone, perhaps for weeks to come.
Can you remember the situation when my father came?
What do you remember?
That you were at the end of your tether. Your father reproached you.
- He used the children to blackmail me. - Yes, that's right.
We only been together a short while.
They came and fetched me, said I have a visitor,
and then he said:
You have a duty to your kids, leave your husband,
withdraw the application and then you can come home with me.
He never understood that I couldn't do that.
They all worked to that end: That we withdraw our applications.
And we would have got out if we had accepted.
On 26.10.1984, defendant Schönemann drew up a statement
addressed to the Council of the City of Potsdam.
He wrote the text on a typewriter and gave it to Mrs. Schönemann.
She sanctioned and signed the statement.
In it the defendants claimed
they suffered oppression in their careers in the GDR
due to state decisions in their field of work.
By discussing and both signing the said text,
they were both party to it.
Therefore the conditions of article 214, paragraph 3, are fulfilled.
This indicates that the defendants
disregard state authority and openly transgress against Socialist lawfulness.
In the name of the people, Potsdam criminal court
has adjudged in the closed trial of 15.2.1985,
that defendant Hans-Jürgen Schönemann be sentenced
to a term of one year and two months' imprisonment,
and defendant Sibylle Schönemann be sentenced
to a term of one year's imprisonment.
Public Prosecutor Schulz,
Lay Assessors Mr. Alter, Mrs. Kovarnick,
presiding judge, District Court Director Schröter.
During the trial I didn't have the feeling
that you were searching for the truth, Mr. Schröter.
You mean in your specific case...
I must say that...
on account of conflicting feelings,
I wanted to avoid one thing in any given case:
Introducing polemic, polemicization into a trial
of the son: Socialism versus capitalism,
the way it was always present in the press.
If it was a matter of what you call searching for the truth,
there was only the question:
The offense, as defined by law,
and the guidelines specified therein,
had it been committed,
this transgression? There was no going into things
in the course of a trial
that possibly involved social problems, causes...
because that certainly and rightly would have developed into...
I would say...
a political dispute during the trial...
When we faced each other back then,
I had already been in jail for three months,
I hadn't seen my children for three months.
You knew quite a lot about us.
Why didn't you acquit me?
Let me add this:
Prison, loss of liberty,
when I look at it from a personal viewpoint,
it is a terrible thing for a person
to be in pre-trial detention or in prison afterwards.
Acquittal was not possible
because of the Supreme Court of Judicature.
If acquittal had resulted,
given that conditions of the offense had been met,
then, in the case of an objection by the public prosecutor,
the ruling would certainly have been overturned,
and there would have been not inconsiderable consequences...
for all involved, the lay assessors, too...
I'm asking you now personally.
What would have happened to you, if you'd acquitted me.
If you had said,
"The case has not been proven. You are acquitted."
I couldn't have said that.
At best I could have taken the view:
The law, as it is stipulated, is wrong.
That relates to constitutionality, or lack thereof.
I take the view that there was no constitutional legitimacy in the GDR,
because the judge had no opportunity to state his case
at the Constitutional Court, as he does in West Germany.
You couldn't pronounce an acquittal?
I could pronounce it.
Not on the basis of existing legal provisions,
if I remember correctly it was article 214
in your case, this so-called impairment of state activity...
In the judicature... I don't recall the details precisely.
Your statements were interpreted by the Department of Interior
as "intimidation", an attempt to influence their decision,
defined by law as "threat".
So acquittal was impossible.
It would have only been possible by my insisting:
I will not deploy the charge.
That, I must say, would have required
a good deal of civil courage, on account of the possible consequences.
And, to be honest, I didn't have it.
Who could have protected me, then?
You? Protect you personally from the whole apparatus?
- Or what? - From my sentence.
From the sentence?
I have to ask a question first:
There was a lawyer present, wasn't there?
- Mr. Horn. - Mr. Horn.
So. Then the lawyer, for example,
could have pleaded for acquittal on the basis
of perversion of justice...
whether the conditions of the offense had been met or not.
As a lawyer, he could have applied for an acquittal.
That was the whole thing...
Even the lawyers...
I can't remember a single case,
that one ever applied for acquittal.
They always assumed conditions had been met.
Lay assessors: Lay judges,
given status equal to that of a judge at a trial.
Schönemann, am I speaking to Mr. Alter?
- Yes. - I have a request, Mr. Alter.
I'm making a film, partly about lay assessors.
And I know that you worked as a lay assessor for years,
and I wanted to ask you if we could have a conversation.
I don't do any of that anymore.
No?
But maybe you can still remember a few things.
I mean, the work was important to you.
We could talk about that. It's a bit stupid over the phone.
- It is. - And then we can think things over.
I can't be bothered, to be quite honest.
I've retired from the whole thing, you know?
- Kovarnick. - Schönemann.
I don't know the name.
I'm calling as I would like to talk to you
about your work as a lay assessor.
Ah, it's about a film and so on?
Yes. I'd like to make an appointment with you now.
No, Mrs. Schönemann, I don't want anything to do with that.
I'm going into retirement soon. I want to go on holiday.
I want peace and quiet at last.
The sentence came into effect and we were handed over.
They transported us along obscure winding roads
to the sites of our penal servitude.
They brought me to Thuringia. To Hohenleuben.
To the most modern prison in the country.
Hannes landed in Bützow in Mecklenburg,
in a German jail rich in tradition.
The DEFA film studios, Potsdam-Babelsberg.
I know every building and every sound here.
I was content here and sometimes exhausted.
Angry and full of hope,
unhappy and wildly determined to carry out my projects.
General Manager Made, member of the SED Central Committee, resided here.
He managed people according to Party and government guidelines.
Our assessment reports came from these studios.
They were important for interrogators and the court
I have an assessment report from the DEFA film studios
about me and my husband
that was of crucial significance to my life.
It was signed by you.
That's why I'm here. I wanted to ask
how that came to be because there are a lot of lies
and incorrect assertions in it.
I am not in a position to judge whether or not there are lies in it.
And I can't tell you...
how it came about, either.
I know that I signed it.
I have already told you that I put my signature to it.
I'd only been here some few days,
I was new to the studio, new to this kind of function.
I received a telephone call,
and was charged with signing two assessment reports.
And who was the phone call from?
From the then-General Manager of the studio.
- Mr. Mäde. - From Mr. Mäde.
That's the way it was. As you know,
the institution was managed
according to the principles of single management.
Everything was by order.
I was very little familiar with the handling of such matters, anyway.
I signed the assessment without knowing the people, yes.
That's a fact.
I would like to add that it was a one-off occurrence.
Hello. What can I do for you?
My name is Schönemann. I'm not sure if you remember me.
Of course I remember you. Hello.
I would like to have a conversation with you.
Shall we arrange an appointment?
We're only here now, we'll have to leave soon.
I tried calling you, but to no avail.
I don't understand that, I was here the whole time.
It's not possible now, of course.
- Then we'll have to make a date. - Yes. When are you leaving?
We'll have to come back. This was the last opportunity.
- And when will you be back? - Next Friday.
Call me early Friday, then.
- You won't have my new number. - It's changed...
I'll give it to you.
Ah, you've written it down.
Couldn't we fix an appointment?
I have to put my team together for the occasion.
So could we agree now on Friday?
I can't do that because next week I have two hospital visits.
I have to go for a complete check-up on Tuesday...
When can you let me know? I could call in advance.
Then you should call on Wednesday.
I'll know on Tuesday what's in store for me.
I'm in hospital all day Tuesday.
From Wednesday I'll know how things stand.
Wednesday or Thursday. Would you be so kind?
- Yes, I will. - All the best, goodbye.
775528
Yes, Schönemann. Hello, Mr. Mäde.
Hello, Mrs. Schönemann. I am in a state of health... that
of my own volition,
and at the urgent advice of my doctors,
I am keeping myself out of all kinds of public activity.
Anyway, I know too little to be able to say anything.
I really only heard about everything after it had happened.
I do not want to and cannot say more.
But the thing must have been plotted somewhere, Mr. Mäde.
Who wrote the assessment report at the time, for example?
I can't answer that. It certainly wasn't me.
Then you must at least know who wrote it.
No, I've no idea.
Made was in regular contact with a department head
at State Security who was responsible for the DEFA:
Peter Gericke.
He must know the real connections and background.
People from State Security are hard to find.
You can't inquire about their address anywhere.
It took a few days but then I found a trace
of Lieutenant-Colonel Gericke.
It led me to the forest administration at Rathenow.
Manfred Gericke? Peter Gericke...
I don't think he has been working here for very long.
I've only been here for four weeks, too.
Thank you. So, at the Friesack forestry.
Can you establish where exactly and as what?
There he is.
He's a forester. In a forestry.
- Forest warden? - Forester.
Forester, in what...
Wood production in Friesack.
- What does that mean? - Rough wood production, forest renewal.
I see, new trees. Forest renewal. He plants them.
He has just left... gone to hunt.
Tell me, how long has he been living here?
Since 1980.
Though just as a weekend home.
- But he lives here now? - Yes.
- Yes, he used to live in Potsdam. - Yes.
And is he a nice neighbor?
We don't get on with him anymore... No contact, nothing.
- You don't talk to him much? - He doesn't show himself that much.
The car isn't there, the green one. They have three.
And what kind was the one he could have gone off in?
The green one? A cross-country car, a kind of jeep.
First I did his house here for him.
Everything was so neglected and dilapidated.
Inside and outside, I did everything and then...
Why did he threaten you?
- It had to do with the children. - Because of the children?
Yes. They were a bit drunk and they went over there...
and made a bit of trouble with him.
And then they both landed inside, him and another one.
- Ah, those are your children? - Yes, that's our son.
- Then they both did time. - How long?
He got two months, the other one five.
And he said, "If this happens again, I'll have my pistol." Right?
He didn't say "pistol". He said a weapon would be employed.
He had a weapon for a long time, too. Maybe he still does.
He didn't have just one.
He has such a laden conscience he can't move at all.
One might almost pity him.
Not me. What with all the shit he got up to.
Do you think he has a guilty conscience, feels he did wrong?
He does not!
He wonders how things could have come to this:
His working at a forestry with his education!
If I'd been there, I'd have said:
"Education? Who needs that to drive people mad
or beat them to death during interrogations?"
They didn't beat anyone to death, but they did drive them mad.
I was imprisoned with guys who jumped up at night in bed
and told such stories in their delirium.
Here he comes, you can ask him.
He's more burdened than anyone...
Hello, Mr. Gericke, can I talk to you for a moment?
- You are Peter Gericke? - Yes.
Does the name Schönemann mean anything to you?
- If you think of the DEFA? - Yes, of course.
- I would like to talk to you about it. - Go ahead.
Are you convinced that, given evidence submitted vis-à-vis article 214,
- your sentence was unjust? - Yes, without a doubt.
Then you have to file an appeal.
I mean, we don't have to argue now
about article 214's validity, or lack thereof.
- It is very open to interpretation. - Of course.
But it is the yardstick for the person conducting the inquiry...
no ifs and buts about it.
These are basically always two things you can do:
Either you accept the existence of these articles
without reservation, and do this work,
or you stand up and say, "No, that's not on."
But you can't do things by halves. You can't say:
Okay, I'm in favor of article 106. Or article 97.
I recognize it. But not article 213, not 214 or 215,
or whatever.
That won't do.
It's like that in life in general, you know that as well as I do.
You know, if you love someone, say, you love him the way he is.
With his 1000 good aspects and his 2500 bad aspects.
And if you love a cause?
If you live in the conviction that it is necessary,
to punish all those who attack Socialism in order to protect it,
then you won't find this particularly problematic.
You know exactly how this system functioned.
You've already mentioned informers.
Whether Mäde played a role or not, for instance, is not clear to me.
I can't confirm or deny it.
What was procedure with informers?
It was the same as when anyone else picks up a piece of information
and passes it on.
Were they not asked to find information relating to specific areas?
How did you work with them?
Very constructively.
They were, of course, acquainted with their fields of work or research.
When I was working for an operation, regardless of what it was,
I wasn't interested in any old thing:
Timetables, football match programs, such things.
I wanted specific material.
Proceeding from this aspect we looked for "partners",
and then selected those of whom we were convinced:
Yes, these are the people who have the personal aptitude,
who possess the qualifications and characteristics
to fulfill this assignment.
- The assignment you charged them with. - The assignment I was charged with.
And who charged you with it?
The Party and the government, to put it in global terms.
So, in the name of Party and government,
you told informers what to investigate in our case.
You're placing too much importance
on the Schönemann case.
It is important for you, yes...
But you can't focus on this case like that.
Then we won't answer the question you've raised.
At the beginning there is always the question,
the question that I want to elucidate.
- And in our case that was? - Not your case.
There wasn't any question in your case.
Nor were informers recruited in your case
and assigned, say, or goodness knows what...
- I'm better informed in this. - You're nothing of the sort.
How was it in our case,
if you say there were no informers involved?
I didn't say that. You have to listen.
We're talking now about selection and instruction of informers.
I did not say there were no informers in your case.
Though I don't know for sure.
But I can safely presume
that partners did pass on information,
on the basis of which the investigation was then carried out.
That is a completely normal affair.
Listen, regardless of that, it's a matter of a principle
I have respected and will continue to respect:
You can put me on red-hot coals...
I will neither make statements of any kind about former partners,
nor will I say anything about people that could be to their detriment.
And what did you do?
- What do you mean? - I mean, in connection with us,
- what role did you play? - We talked to your parents.
With your father, for example. He visited me.
That's what I did...
- That was before my arrest? - It was, yes...
Of course, he was extremely worried
because you had set out on a path
which he thought was not your actual free choice,
that you were influenced...
My wife, by the way.
After the application?
In connection with the application.
You can't remember Mäde's attitude towards us?
No, as I just said, I don't want to remember so exactly, either...
Mäde would have to tell you that himself.
And what was your relationship to us?
To you? I hadn't had the pleasure of your acquaintance.
I had no relationship to you.
Didn't you find it necessary to get to know the people?
No, as I said, that wasn't my objective.
You wrote to me...
Your husband wrote on 28.11 .'84,
and you yourself wrote on 30.11 .'84:
"I herewith request your counsel for my defense.
It is my sole wish to be with my children again as soon as possible,
to whom I could neither say goodbye nor explain anything."
And sentences like this motivated me
to employ all the possibilities I had at the time,
and they were modest enough, to help you.
As you may know, I then reported your case,
in a secretive but effective way,
to the State Secretary Dr. Priessnitz in Bonn.
I wasn't actually allowed to do that.
But I did it.
I don't say this to emphasize the action.
It was the only way.
And you should bring him flowers if the opportunity arises.
Who decided when one was allowed to cross the border?
Now, you don't expect me to reveal
that which I am saving for a book
I am going to write.
The time to tell all hasn't yet arrived.
The West German government isn't doing so yet, either.
And I don't intend... to preempt this.
But State Security played a major role
in the decision because you told me at the time
that you had tried several times to put us on the list.
There were various dates for which...
I tried it on 1 .4.'85, 29.5.'85,
on 24.6.'85 and on 1.7.'85.
- And that's when it worked. - Then it worked.
There must have been reasons for the previous refusals.
I don't know them, I can only guess.
But they must have originated at your former place of work.
That is my assumption.
Because it worked in other cases.
Whenever this took so long, in your case as in others,
this was predominantly for workplace reasons.
At the DEFA they weren't supposed to know
so-and-so was arrested and released so quickly.
Yes, it was that simple.
Could you show us the file cabinet so that we can see
how much you did over the years... where my card is between them all?
- I'll show you. And then we've finished? - Yes. Thank you.
I wish you all the best, hope you get over it.
I already have got over it. More or less.
You haven't got over it mentally yet, I can see that.
It's a long process.
I know clients who weren't inside for months and years,
but for decades...
They wake up in the middle of the night. They can't get over it, it remains.
And it is passed on to their children.
And how many are there?
How many papers? How many cards?
That's 250,000 family reunions
and 35,000 political prisoners.
- In that cabinet? - No.
In such cabinets throughout the building.
- That's an awful lot. - An awful lot.
It had been going on from 1962.
When you think that every card is a fate.
And more. And more. It isn't only that one fate.
It's the friends, acquaintances, work colleagues.
I'm sure colleagues of yours
were discriminated against on account of your case...
Or weren't they?
I have found the file on my trial.
It contains interrogation records, the accusation, the sentence.
But behind these walls are our State Security files
and they contain the answers to all my questions.
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