I was in my downstairs bedroom, crying quietly because of fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of the uncertain. Fear of death.
I had been providing the homicide unit, which was investigating the “Gümbel”-murder, for the past four days via some “secure” e-mail account about every step my brother had taken and now the first day had passed without any feedback.
I was afraid they would just come, like to
arrest some regular murderer. A bunch of officers – unprepared for what would be going to happen – and we would all end dead in this godforsaken hellhouse.

When I first went there with my lawyer to make sure about a spot in the witness-protection-program and I had told them about the insanity of my brother, they accused me of a mental disorder, were laughing at me and let me cry. That lawyer wasn’t worth a penny of what I had to pay -.-

“Get us some proof like pictures and we will see…” was all I got in the end and this tho I had been able to describe the dead body of that old woman in detail and tho one of them officers already had mentioned that the criminal profile concluded the perpetrator to be of high danger and a very perverted, sick state of mind… (which also explains the 10.000 Euro reward…)

So, I had spent the last days acting my best ever act in life, setting up the most brilliant plan to trick this genius which was my brother, into a trap. But I had to save my son’s and my fucking life, so I did what I had to do and the way it worked out (that it worked out, is my pride til this very day and will probably forever remain).

Take pictures of the murder weapon, when the target is wearing that shit 24/7 in a holster close to his body…yeah right. I had it done and this was the god damn green light.

The Norinco NZ85B with custom made silencer. I know what the fuck I am talking about cuz he had me forced to learn every detail about how to put it into pieces, clean it, oil it, load it and make a use of it.

I had the barrel pointed to my face like every given minute and since he had told me to “cut the fucking fear – else I have to pull the trigger, cuz your anxiety is disrespecting my skills!” – I had done nothing but toke the bong and not give a shit – cuz he was right. He pull the trigger I be dead. He does not pull the trigger, anyways I am in shit. And I had not yet forget the blade of his Jim Wagner’s at my throat at night. (You know, just for demonstration purposes, to make me understand who was in charge of my life…)

That room he had claimed as his, was nothing but one hell of a deathtrap. There were knives, machetes, long swords (katana), short swords (wakizashi), the 9mm as mentioned, the tiny ass 22mm, etc. (Sometimes when I got on a tricky high, I feared to cut my damn self just by making a move on the couch and to bleed out…which was also much entertaining to joke about)

But again I am drifting away and getting lost in memories, so let’s just return to THAT SPECIFIC night.

It was around 22.30 pm when I got a call on my mobile without caller ID. As I answered it, the officer told me to “take your kid and get out through the backyard.”
“But I cannot go upstairs now and get my kid out of bed cuz he is sleeping already. What am I gonna say?” I whispered.
“We already have your brother in front of the house. Just take the kid, go and await my further call.”

That was it. I ran upstairs where everything was flashing blue from outside. We ran out the backdoor, across the garden, over the train tracks, over the fields – all the way to the next village where we were picked up by two of our security agents.

But we had to return to the house for one last time before we were taken to our destination for the night, because I had to show them around.

They fucked up and didn’t wait for the call, so when we got to our village we had to witness the whole shocking scene. The mainstreet had been blocked so no one was able to enter our village. And the closer we got to our home, the brighter and more intense the blue of the lights. Special forces all over the place.

We stopped and I got out of the car in shock and stunned about the presence of so many god damn people, as one of those ninja masked black figures had me pushed back into the backseat…”fuck, he is still here in that car!”, he said and someone had a blanket or something thrown over me and my boy.


sure to be continued


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s