Wednesday, January 18, 1984

Where we’ve ended up here I want to know from Jürgen. Our prison is in Domstraße, practically in the center of Greifswald, he tells me.

Conveniently, there is a beautiful courthouse right next door, to which the prison is connected by at least one corridor. There is another part of the building for women next to ours. Hans Fallada is said to have served time here. That was long before the Nazi era.

Travelers who get off the train in Greifswald, step out of the station building and look in the direction of the ZOB are the first to see our creepy building. I never noticed that before. When I saw the gloomy walls when going to the bus stop, I thought – oops, there are bars in front of the windows. It looks a bit like a prison. I never thought about the fact that people were sitting here waiting to be sentenced. And if they are – who knows what they’ve been up to.

That’s what Jürgen predicts will happen to me too. In a few days or weeks, a public prosecutor will introduce himself. If he’s a fox, he’ll accuse me of faking a crime. That would make me a criminal. If he’s a concrete head, he’ll get me for attempting to flee the republic. Then I’d be a political offender. In both cases, I’ll end up in court and be sentenced to at least a few months to jail. No lawyer will be able to change that.

My only chance of being ransomed by the West is if lawyer Vogel takes on my case. That might be possible if the West finds out about me. That’s why it’s damn important not to withdraw my application to leave the country, no matter what they do to me. And they will. 𝓣𝓸 𝓑𝓮 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓾𝓮𝓭

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