AFTER MAKING OUR STATEMENTS, SONJA AND I WERE TOTALLY DRAINED.
For two days, we’d gone through memory hell. The grief about Cor that we’d been suppressing out of fear for the last ten years turned out to be as intense as on the day he’d died. The denial that our brother was his murderer had been blocking our mourning process: every single day we’d had to make sure not to betray him through our behavior, actions, or the things we said for fear of a repetition of what he’d done to Cor.
After two days, we didn’t just feel exhausted and empty; we were also glad we’d finally told the truth.
We expected Betty to snatch the statements from the hands of her employees the very same day and to start reading them immediately. So two days later I called and asked her if she thought the statements provided enough relevant evidence to use against Wim. We needed to know. If not, we wanted to get off this emotional roller coaster as quickly as we could.
She said she wanted to discuss it with us in person, and we made an appointment for May 1, 2013.
Before we got there, though, the next catastrophe occurred.
I’ve been out and I had my phone switched off the entire evening because I didn’t want him bugging me. The mere sight of his number on the display makes me feel tense.
On my way home, I switch my phone on to check if anything crazy has gone down. The missed calls come flooding in. Wim has called a number of times; I know something is up. Sonja has called, too, confirming my suspicion.
I don’t return Wim’s call, knowing I’ll have to show up somewhere right away.
I call Sonja. She’ll probably know what’s going on.
Sonja answers the phone and tells me Wim went berserk. “Why this time?” I ask.
“First he called to bully me, and then he drove over to Peter’s house to threaten him.”
It was unusual for Sonja to be speaking negatively about Wim. We usually don’t badmouth him over the phone. This worried me right away. “Okay, and now?”
“Peter has filed a report.”
“Oh, God, that’s not smart. Does Wim know?”
“I don’t think so,” Sonja says.
“This is going to be bad.”
I know there’s no way he’ll put up with this. For him, talking to the police calls for the death penalty. Peter doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into.
How am I going to solve this?
The morning after, Wim calls me early and says in his usual manner, “Meet me at the Maxis store in Muiden.”
He doesn’t know I’ve already heard what happened last night, and I am well aware that my seeing Wim is of vital importance to Peter. I get in my car and drive to Muiden.
When I get there, he’s waiting for me. He knows Sonja calls me whenever there’s trouble, so I say right away:
A: “Did you fall out with Sonja?”
W: “And with Peter. I went to his place last night.”
A: “Yeah.”
W: “He’s called Stijn Franken all stressed out because he feels threatened.”
A: “Yeah.”
W: “I went over to his house last night to tell him: Listen, you’re not using my name, you’re not using my character, you’re gonna take it out and if you don’t, you’ll see what I’ll do to you. His bitch was there, too, and he said, ‘I feel threatened.’ I said, I don’t threaten, I just do what I say. I’m done with you, you’re taking my name out, my character. I will fuck up that movie, I’m fucking done with it.”
Wim was after Peter about the American film being made based on Peter’s book. He was being played. How could they put him in a movie everybody is profiting from without talking to him first? He should get money out of it, too. I try talking Wim down.
A: “Why don’t you talk to Peter again?”
W: “If I go there and he says no, I’ll just gun him down. Another one bites the dust.”
I’m starting to sweat bullets. If he finds out Peter talked to the police and filed a report, it would only add to his list of reasons to kill Peter.
I’m really worried about Peter. I have to let on that Peter might file a report, so Wim can get used to the idea and won’t blow up entirely if he gets the message.
A: “What if he files a report?”
W: “Well, he’ll just have to do that.”
He is confident that Peter won’t have the guts to actually do it; he knows how much he scares people. Nobody dares talk about him to the police, and those who do come to regret it.
What was Peter thinking, filing a report?
Meanwhile, I’ve been talking to the police for quite some time now. Once again, I’m afraid he’ll see it written all over my face.
Right now, his focus is entirely on Peter, so he isn’t paying attention to me. Not in the least, since I’m the one actively trying to work out the situation in his best interest.
I try to get Wim to talk to Peter. He refuses. It’s all on Peter, and that’s what he’ll say if the police interview them.
W: “I’ll tell them he’s banging my little sister. It’s only natural it’s pissing me off, right? Do you really think they can’t see that?”
To Wim, every interaction between a man and a woman is about sex, one more way in which he resembles our father.
A: “Well, Wim, if that’s what you say, they’ll commit you to the asylum.”
W: “What for?”
A: “What do you think? They are adults, they’re free to decide who they’re banging, right? You can’t be the one deciding it for your fifty-three-year-old sister. You’re not her husband, you’re just her brother. If you bring that up as a reason, it will sound really crazy. You won’t win. By the way, you know it’s not true, either.”
W: “It isn’t? Didn’t Thomas claim that, too?”
A: “Oh, Wim, you really have to bring up Thomas now? Come on.”
Poor Thomas. Making statements against Wim cost him his life.
Wim has often bitched about those statements, about how they had been used as supporting evidence leading to his conviction. Now he is using them to his own advantage. It disgusts me.
I try to prepare him for Peter’s report.
A: “What if he does file a report?”
W: “Let him! Then what?”
A: “You’ll get more hassle.”
W: “What can he do? I’ll just say, ‘Yes, I went to his place, I asked him to leave me out of the movie. I can’t afford a lawyer because I’m broke, I can’t sue him, that’s why I told him myself.’ Done. And if he says ‘You threatened me,’ I’ll say he might have taken it that way.”
A: “What did you say, though?”
W: “Doesn’t matter! I’ll take out all the shit he’s giving me on Sonja. Listen, I’m in the right. As, they can’t make a movie about me and the others, keep the money for themselves, and not pay the people it’s about.”
A: “Hmm.”
W: “It’s just not right!”
A: “No, but you can talk about it, can’t you?”
W: “No! ’Cause, Astrid, how many times have I told you things are going wrong?”
A: “Hmm.”
W: “Assie, I’ll tell you this: I can’t handle this. I’m losing my mind here. This shit is…[incomprehensible] I won’t accept it, you know? [Gun gesture again.] Yeah!”
A: “Calm down, please! There’s no reason to lose your mind. Nothing’s up, and everybody means well.”
Wim gestures me to come outside as if he’s going to tell me something that can’t be said indoors.
W: “If I go to him and say, ‘Listen, how can we fix this?’ and if he says, ‘I don’t care, I’ve already got my money’…If I took this step…”
A: “Yeah?”
W: “There’s no way I’m leaving with my tail between my legs. [whispering] I’ll shoot him to death.”
A: “Yeah, but—”
W: “It’s going down, ’cause I’m fed up!”
A: “No!”
W: “Astrid, I’m through!”
After our talk at the Maxis store, I go over to Peter’s.
Once again, Wim has burdened me with information that forces me to get involved. I tell Peter how Wim is threatening to kill him. He should be prepared for the worst, but he must never say that I warned him.
Peter hears me out and feels uneasy about it, but he stands firm behind the report he’s filed. Wim has gone too far, and Peter will wait and see. What else can he do? The damage is done.
With a knot in my stomach, I drive to the office to get some work done. Damn Peter and his principles. Why won’t he yield a little, just once? He’s so hardheaded. I feel he is being unwise, but at the same time, I admire his taking a hard line with Wim.
I’ve been afraid to do that for more than fifteen years. Peter just did it. Why couldn’t I? Has he brainwashed me this completely? Am I this afraid of Wim because his terror resembles that of my father during my childhood?
Whatever it is, I have to keep my eye on the facts: Cor, Endstra, Thomas; they showed what Wim was capable of. My way of dealing with him might not be the bravest, but at least it isn’t suicide.
That same day, I hadn’t been at the office for more than an hour when Wim called me again and told me to meet him. “Come to where we were last time.”
I drove back to the parking lot at the Maxis store.
“He filed the report, that pervert,” he said in a chilling tone. “As, I need to know exactly what he told the cops. You go and listen.”
His lawyer, Stijn Franken, had told him that if he was convicted based on Peter’s report, he’d get in trouble regarding his parole, and it meant he’d be serving his three years’ probationary jail sentence after all.
All because of Peter.
He whispered into my ear that if he had to do time, he’d hire a gunman before he went in. Peter would go, as Thomas had.
I had to warn Peter and see what I could do.
“You’ll go now?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’ll call him from the car to see if he’s home, and otherwise I’ll find him someplace. It’ll be fine. I’ll let you know when I’ve talked to him.”
“Okay, talk to you later.”
Peter was at home, and I drove over there. I was pondering what to tell him. I wanted to protect him, but I had to be wary of what I said.
Of course, we’d already confided in Peter a long time ago, so he knew what Wim had done and what he might do again. I just couldn’t fathom Peter’s reaction to this stressful situation, and I didn’t want to cause him to panic, making him unpredictable. For all I knew, he’d get so scared he’d let on to the police that we’d been making confidential statements. Call me paranoid, but I couldn’t take that risk, and in the moment I already regretted ever having confided in Peter. I felt so worried.
I parked the car right in front of Peter’s house, and he came to the door.
“Sorry, Peter, it’s me again.”
I told him that Wim was extremely nervous about his parole and that he was making threats. I felt it would be inappropriate to ask Peter straight out what exactly he’d told the police, but I did get a general idea of what he and his wife, Jacqueline, had said. I decided to downplay their statements a bit to Wim to keep him from hiring a gunman for Peter.
That evening, I reported to Wim. He was at Maike’s, and I spoke to him on the corner of her street. Wim had to report to the police the next day at ten a.m. in Hilversum. He’d been summoned for an interview at the precinct, but he still feared getting arrested in the meantime. “Let’s see where I have to be tomorrow. Drive along with me,” he said.
We drove past the precinct and afterward we hung out at Maike’s place. Wim remained enraged and agitated. He thought it was a shame Peter had gone to the police. Wim’s double standards are striking. The second something is done to him or he’s got the slightest suspicion in that direction, he’ll scurry to the police. Like the time he stood on Westerstraat with my mother and a gunman appeared to be coming at him to kill him. He left my mom standing there and drove straight to the main precinct to file a report. But the rules he imposes on everyone don’t apply to him.
Naturally, Sonja got all the blame. The logic behind his conclusion was hard to fathom. But then, his aim is not to reason; he just wants to put the blame on somebody else. Whatever misery he causes, it’s never on him. In that respect he’s just like his old man. It’s always someone else forcing him to threaten, abuse, and in Wim’s case, extort and kill as well.
“All right, good luck tomorrow.” And I said goodbye.
The next morning he called me early, at seven a.m. He wanted to see me and told me to come to Maxis in Muiden at eight. He told me he was getting pretty scared about his parole being withdrawn and the possibility of being held there. Wim had figured out what to tell the police to prevent imprisonment. He was still planning to tell them he’d been at Peter’s because supposedly Sonja was having sex with him. He didn’t have the faintest idea what a weird impression this would make.
I knew he’d be released if I came to his aid now. Just four days before, I’d been making confidential statements with the exact goal of putting him away. But I also knew Peter would be in big trouble if Wim had to go back inside. I didn’t know if he’d made arrangements for Peter yet, but I didn’t dare count on the opposite. I had no choice but to help Wim.
“If you want to walk out of there, you’d better admit to it, talk Peter’s story down a bit, and tell them your version of what went down.”
The day before, the very word “admit” had caused an outburst of rage, but in his stressed state of mind right before the interview, he seemed to listen to my idea. I thought he should resolve the fight with Peter before the interview started.
“Just call Peter and talk about it so you can say it’s all been resolved during your interview,” I urged him.
“You call him and see what he wants,” he said.
It was one hour before the interview. I reached Peter in time and told him Wim was in the car with me, and I really wanted them to sort it out together.
“Can I just put him on the line?” I asked with sweaty palms, thinking, Please don’t refuse.
To my great relief, he said, “Put him on then.”
Wim acted really nice on the phone, of course taking the piss out of himself, for this gives people the impression he knows himself, and he told Peter it wasn’t meant that way.
That settled the issue.
Wim told his story to the police and pointed out how they’d resolved the issue. The police wanted to hear this from Peter himself and called him. Peter confirmed it, and Wim could go home.
He called me right after his release.
“Would you come to that same place?” he asked.
I went to Muiden, and we spent the entire day together. I’d done well in advising him. For now, the parole issue was solved. I’d rather it had been different, but this seemed to me to be the safest solution for everybody. We concluded the day at Maike’s house.
“I’m heading home now,” I said.
“I’ll walk you,” he said. He’d managed to stay out of jail, and his fear of being inside again had been replaced by smugness.
Outside, he told me, “See, that’s how it’s done: scare them first, talk to them later. Now I want to see Peter about those movie rights.” I couldn’t believe my ears. He was going to keep extorting Peter. And he had involved me; he’d trapped me by calling on my protective reflex toward Peter. Now I was someone who could get close to Peter to carry his messages. I had to tell Peter that Wim didn’t want his character to be in the movie and that this was in fact his reason for being upset. Wim forbade me to say it was about the money, for that would turn it into extortion.
There were some advantages to Wim asking me to take this position. I’d try to record the extortion. It may sound opportunistic, but when disadvantage is all you’ve ever experienced, you learn to see advantages where you can.
The next Monday morning, the misery continues. Wim calls me to order me over to the Viersprong in Vinkeveen. When he comes walking up to me, I can tell he’s upset. After the initial tension regarding his parole lifted, Wim apparently realized delay didn’t necessarily mean cancellation.
W: “Did you talk to Stijn yet?”
A: “No, why?”
W: “Well, the parole thing. If I am convicted, I’ll get trouble with this parole business. The fucking trick he pulled on me, that piece of shit. He’s playing games—why can’t he just shut up! I’m not sure if he’ll blab, act all smart.”
A: “Should I go see him again?”
W: “I think he wants to go through with this criminal case. As if it isn’t enough everyone is getting shit over that fucking movie, I should go inside for three years over it? It’s the best promotion there is for that movie. You know what I’ll do, right? Not just some threat. If I have to go inside for three years, he’ll get it. My children get hurt, he gets hurt! Astrid, I can tell you this, I gotta do what I gotta do, and I will do it, too! [whispering] Assie, if I get put away for three years… [gun gesture]”
A: “No.”
W: “Yes!”
A: “No, don’t! Just find a solution.”
W: “I’ll try to fix things with Peter. It works for him if both parties are kept undamaged. If he really wants a fight, that’s fine with me; I’ll speed things up and arrange it tonight.”
I immediately rush back to Peter’s to try to get him to change his statement enough so that Wim won’t suffer any consequences.
However, Peter is not the easiest person to deal with, and he sure as hell won’t be scared. I’m stuck between two strong egos. Peter won’t take anything back, and I feel nervous about his reaction. If Peter digs in his heels and I take that message back to Wim, he’ll have him killed.
I’m worried Peter isn’t realizing how serious this is, that Wim actually will carry out his threats. Then again, if anyone knows what Wim is like, it’s Peter—this won’t make him revise his statement, though.
Speaking with Peter, I can tell he’s willing to bury the hatchet, but he won’t retract his version of events. I propose they meet up to talk. Peter consents, and Wim’s lawyer, Stijn, arranges a meeting for the next day.
I beg Peter to comply with Wim’s wishes. He says he’ll do his best to meet him halfway, but no more. He’ll approach him calmly, willing to talk. I go back to Wim and tell him everything will be fine.
After the meeting, Wim asks me over to tell me what happened.
I arrive at Sandra’s, and Wim is lying on the couch. “He’s not happy, is he?” I ask her.
“You think it’s me?” she asks.
“Never, you’re a darling.”
He grunts, “Hmm, come with me.” As always, we go outside to talk.
W: “I called him yesterday, or rather, he called me. He thought it wasn’t that bad, or at least he thought it was a laid-back conversation.”
A: “Yeah.”
W: “So, he was glad we did this.”
A: “He was?”
W: “Yeah.”
A: “Yeah, he’s also written to Stijn that it was a good talk, he’s okay with it.”
W: “That’s good then, right?”
A: “And Stijn wrote a letter on your behalf.”
W: “And that I apologized, this apology stuff again, that’s fucking bugging me.”
A: “Yeah, well…”
W: “It’s bugging me, because, well, it makes me wonder: What the fuck, that retard files a report for no reason at all, and then they make me apologize?”
A: “Well, Wim, if that’s what you gotta do to prevent three years inside, what’s the issue? What’s bugging you?”
W: “I guess that’s true. Yeah, Stijn tells me, ‘It’s almost impossible for them to give you those three years. They can’t give you three years if the problem is gone.’”
That was the only reason he’d apologized—with the utmost reluctance. He still wasn’t happy about it, but it was worth it. According to Stijn, they couldn’t give him the three years he was facing, so he could drop it for a while.