LEADING UP TO MY NEXT MEETING WITH BETTY, I WAS CONSUMED BY thoughts of what I should tell her. I cried a lot, slept poorly, and got edgier by the hour. I drove everyone around me crazy, but besides Sonja, no one knew what was wrong with me. Nobody could know what I intended to do, because what they didn’t know, they couldn’t pass on.
Then the day finally arrived. Michelle texted, “Hi, 4:30 p.m., second elevator. See you later.”
At four fifteen I was on my way to the agreed location when I got another text: “Betty just got sick and can’t make it. We’re here, though—is that all right with you? She’ll try to be back later this week.”
I was suspicious right away. First they had me come all the way over, and not even fifteen minutes before our meeting, the CIU officer cancels? I’d prepared mentally for this interview, and now she wasn’t going to be there. Was she really sick? Or was she thinking I would share my statement with Michelle and Manon so easily? I’d explicitly said I only wanted to speak with her, only with an officer.
Michelle was waiting for me.
“Am I being played here?” I asked, perhaps a bit too aggressively.
She was taken aback but recovered quickly. “Of course not, Betty just got sick.”
She sounded so sincere that I felt ashamed. This moment was so heavy for me, it was messing with my common sense. I had to relax. “Betty hoped she could be here until the very last minute—this meeting is important to her as well. But she couldn’t hold anything down and simply couldn’t come. We’re not playing you, honestly.” Michelle spoke calmly, and I could tell by her tone that she was telling the truth.
“Okay,” I said, feeling reassured. “Sorry about my behavior, but I’ve been feeling really apprehensive about this.”
“I understand,” Michelle said. “Would you like to set up the next meeting anyway?”
“Okay,” I said.
“Back already?” Sonja asked. “That was fast.”
“She wasn’t there, she’s sick,” I said.
“Ah well, shit happens.”
She didn’t suffer from paranoia. Then again, she hadn’t gone through the hell of interviewing yet. She hadn’t had to rake everything up again.
“I think I’m starting to lose it,” I said.
“Then you have to stop it, As. If you can’t deal with it, you should get out.”
“No, I’ll be fine. It’s just so heavy. Recalling everything, going through these emotions again.” I started crying.
Sonja hugged me. “Cut it out, Astrid, you’re making me cry too,” she said through her tears. “Listen, regardless of whether we go through with it, Cor is proud of us.”
A week later, I had another meeting with Betty.
She started by saying, “Sorry about canceling last week, but I was really sick.”
“I know,” I said. I couldn’t say “I don’t mind,” as it had been pretty clear to the other two that I most certainly had. I still felt a bit ashamed about it. The past week I’d tried to get more sleep, and I had been able to get used to all the horrible memories. It made me slightly more pleasant to be around.
Betty got started. “What can you tell us?”
Oh, no. I’d resolved not to cry, and I was tearing up at the very first question. The hurt was so intense that even after ten years I couldn’t speak about it without shedding tears.
“He did Cor,” I said, and automatically made Wim’s customary gun gesture.
“Did” can mean anything, but the gesture makes the meaning absolutely clear.
“He had Cor murdered, his own brother-in-law,” I said. I’d said it. After a decade of silence, I’d finally said it aloud!
I was startled by how good it felt to utter those words at last.
I no longer felt torn, and, most important, I no longer felt like I was betraying Cor. Suddenly I found myself talking about the other liquidations Wim was responsible for. I was engulfed by an enormous sense of peace. At last, I could do what I wanted, what I considered just and righteous, what matched my norms and values. At last I could tell the truth about him. I no longer had to lie for him.
What a marvelous feeling.
Whether I was ready to make this statement to the whole world, him included, was a different question, though. I would only do it if Sonja did.
The fear of leaks and retribution remained. But now that I’d made the very first statement, it was irreversible. As of now, I knew my life was in the hands of these people. If they betrayed me, or were careless enough to let someone else do it, I was dead.
To take the edge off this idea, I told myself I might just as well walk under a bus tomorrow and not take life and death so seriously from now on. Besides, it felt so good to actually be able to tell the truth that I took the anxiety in stride.
When I got home, I told Sonja everything.
“I told them I’d testify if you would. Will you testify?”
“Yes, I’ll do it too,” Sonja said.
“I’ll go first then. No sweat. We’ll take turns. See how things unfold, and if they’re really trustworthy.”
The appointment for my next statement had already been made when we informed Gerard we were going to testify against Wim.
Gerard was vehemently opposed to it. There was a case in the media that demonstrated that highly confidential statements didn’t always have to be kept secret, even against the witness’s wishes.
This changed Sonja’s mind completely. Gerard had fueled her distrust of the Justice Department and the law so much, she didn’t dare go through with it.
This changed my position as well, as I’d be left on my own, and I had to reconsider thoroughly. I canceled the planned meeting for making the highly confidential statements.
But I couldn’t let go of it. There was plenty of reason for pulling back, but every time I met Wim and saw how he treated and talked about others, how he shamelessly referred to his previous crimes, something inside me seemed to explode.
By now the three ladies had gained my trust. Betty seemed driven but cautious concerning our interests. I figured Sonja herself should be the judge of that, and I asked her to talk to Betty about it. She agreed.
On March 29, Sonja came with me, and I told Betty we were both really scared that once our statements were put on paper, they would be used regardless of our wishes.
“That’s not how it works,” Betty said. “If we don’t reach a mutual agreement on the use of these statements, they will be destroyed. It happens on a regular basis; there are many examples of cases that could have been wrapped up a long time ago. We had all the information, but eventually we had to destroy those statements because the witnesses didn’t want to go through with it. Those statements never got out, either. You’ll always have the possibility to pull out, until the very last moment.”
But what about this case we’d seen in the media? “That was a completely different situation,” Betty said. “The decision whether the confidential statements will or won’t be used is entirely up to you.”
“All right, we’ll think about it,” I said, to end the conversation.
We drove home. We didn’t discuss anything in the car, afraid of bugging devices placed by either the Justice Department or Wim.
Once outside the car, Sonja said, “I don’t know, As. I’m having doubts. Her explanation doesn’t entirely convince me. It’s happened in other cases. Why is ours different?”
“I don’t think she can give any guarantees, she’s got to deal with other people, too. The risk remains. In fact, we’ve already taken the risk, and all things considered, I think it’s probably better if you go through with it. You want to refrain from testifying to prevent your children from ending up on their own, but that’s your fate now—he’s already started with you, and you know how it is: once he starts with you, he won’t let go. Based on the past, I know how this is going to end, so I would actually do it, for the children’s sakes. You should decide for yourself, though.”
We walked to her house in silence. When we got upstairs, she said, “You’re right. I know. I’ll testify. We’ll have to take the risk.”
At that moment the lights in the room began flickering.
“Look,” Sonja said. “Cor is here again. He thinks it’s a good decision.”