ON MAY 30, 2015, THE STORY APPEARED IN NRC HANDELBLAD ABOUT the lurer. To involve my mother in what we were doing as much as possible, which she’d insisted on after we came out with our statements, I went to her house to bring her the newspaper. On the way there, I stopped off at the car wash.
I parked my car in a stall and got the coins from the machine. Coming back, I saw a car drive toward the stalls, coming in from the wrong direction; two young men were in it. They drove past me and reversed. They looked at me while doing so, as if they wanted to be sure of my identity. They parked two stalls away and stayed in the car.
Meanwhile, I had foamed my car. One guy kept looking at me while the other one bent down and appeared to take something from the floor. Something wasn’t right. I wanted to leave, but first had to spray the foam off my car or I wouldn’t be able to see through the windshield.
That same moment, a second car parked next to the car already there. A slim guy wearing mirrored glasses got out and came my way. I froze inside and hurried to get the foam off.
I had to get out of there.
The man walked up to me and asked, “Are you Astrid?”
At that moment I felt the blood drain from my face. I immediately thought of a line that was used at the Mieremet liquidation. “Are you Johnny?” When he said yes, they opened fire, and the assassination my brother had wanted for so long was accomplished.
I didn’t know what to say.
“Are you Astrid?” he asked again.
I said yes and expected my life to be over then and there. “I am Makali,” he said. “How are you doing?”
“I’m doing well—how about you?”
Makali, I knew that family name. He could be a client of one of my associates, but I didn’t recognize him. He was being friendly so I assumed he wouldn’t hurt me, but the other two guys were still there in the car, and he walked in their direction. Maybe he just came over to check that I was the right one to kill, and they would soon open fire?
I threw the hose down, got in my car quickly, and drove away as fast as I could, the foam still on my roof. I was shaking all over. This is what he’s always aiming for.
“He’s so scared,” he’d always say about his targets. “They know what I’m like, they know what I’ll do, and if they see someone running at them toting that thing, they know: it’s over. And then they think: I wish I hadn’t done it.”
Yeah, I know that, too, I know what you’re like and what you’re going to do. I will also know, the moment they come running toward me toting that thing: it’s over. But I won’t think, I wish I hadn’t done it. Because I know, brother, that when they set fire to my coffin, you’ll be slowly rotting away in your cell, without the celebrity you’ve known, because I have taken that away from you. Without the privileges you’ve always had, because I have taken those, too, and you may wonder: What is worse? To set me on fire, but count on me coming back to haunt you? And when all your victims and I come to visit you in your cell, without surveillance, you’ll run out of oxygen.
What happened that afternoon gave me a reason to talk to my daughter. I would be seeing her that evening.
“Sweetie, this afternoon I thought for minute that my time had come. You know that could happen any moment, right?”
“Yes, I know, Mom,” she said. She bit her lip, but tears were flowing anyway.
“That’s why it’s important to talk about my funeral and how you’ll go on without me.”
I couldn’t stop myself from crying, either. But I pushed through it, because today had shown yet again that I needed to talk about this with her as soon as possible.
“I don’t want an open casket so people can see my soulless face. I want a closed casket. And I want to be cremated. Nice and warm. I can’t bear thinking about lying in cold earth. Just set me on fire, a full urn, and put that in a cozy room. Nice flowers, a couple of framed pictures, nice and warm. Not a grave you need to visit, which you won’t anyhow. No, I’ll be here at home with you and the kids. That’s what I want.”
“Me too, Mom,” she cried.
“Okay, sweetie. And you need to go on without me. You have to stay who you are. You have had enough experience to know you’ll always return to yourself. That’s you, so I’m not worried about that. And the little ones soon won’t know any better. Point out a star and tell them I live there and that I am with them every day.”
We both cried.
“But I will miss you so much, Mom,” she whispered through her tears. “Your voice, your scent.” She stood up and started collecting pieces of clothing. “I need to keep your scent. I need to have as many items as possible with your scent still in them. At least I can smell them when you’re not here anymore.”
My heart broke. What a life. Death almost feels like a reward to me, but I have to leave behind such sorrow.
Still, I have to discuss this with her, because I don’t know how much time I have left. And, of course, it’s not the first time we’ve talked about it: before Sonja and I decided to use our testimony, we discussed the consequences with all the kids. But we also told them we’d run the same risk if we didn’t testify. They knew that risk.
I explained to them that I was going to die either way, and I’d rather my death mean something. If he was still out there, having fun, despite all the victims he’s harmed, my death would be pointless. Now when I die, at least I will have had the satisfaction of bringing out the truth about him and knowing he will pay for the suffering he’s brought on Cor and many others.
“You just go to bed now. Tomorrow things will look different,” I said to Miljuschka. “I’ll be here for the time being.”