- So far, I have received only two letters from Ernst.
I translated and posted portions of the first - the second one is actually
more interesting, somewhat of a political projection treatise for America
and the world. However, there is just no way I can translate this 8-page
letter. The gist of it is that the world scenario is such that everybody's
cards are going to get re-shuffled - and soon! It is a fascinating letter!
- I can already feel a second "Setting the Record
Straight" prison memoir coming on!
- I should also put on the record something I have suspected
for years and finally heard it reaffirmed - there is an arrest warrant
out for me as well, which means that I can't go to Germany, probably not
even to Europe.
- Poor Germany, about to be destabilized by Ingrid! Bizarre!
- Below are excerpts from various letters to friends, who
have faxed them to me for my archives. As I have done before for the sake
of readability, I have combined them by content and chronology. Therefore,
these segments are EZ composites, written to more than one person, about
the middle of March:
- Please forgive the lateness of this letter, but I had
no stamps. A staff member lent me a pen, but it ran out of ink after 1
1/2 pages to Ingrid. Since I did not know a soul here, I had to first
make acquaintances - and then was able to trade some sugar for the rental/borrowing
for a pen. A real, full length, common-sense ball point pen! Things are
looking up already!
- You most likely were told [of my deportation] by Canada's
Chief Removal/Enforcement Officer, Mr. Morris, who arranged my removal
via executive jet and accompanied me all the way to Europe. With that
arrangement of a "human shield" I felt safe! I really was concerned
about an Air India scenario. Since these people have shown such vindictiveness
I would put nothing past them!
- [Ingrid's comment: The Air India scenario has to do
with a passenger plane that crashed several decades ago under highly suspicious
circumstances due to a parcel bomb, strongly implicating involvement by
CSIS. I don't know the details, except what I glanced from the controlled
Canadian media in passing.)
- Mr. Morris told me that the Lindsays [Canadian lead attorneys]
were supposed to be notified by approximately 10 a.m. as soon as we were
airborne. I don't know if that promise was kept or not. My sister would
have informed Ingrid, so poor woman - she at least knew I was safe!
- They allowed me to call Rieger, but of course it was
after midnight, so I spoke unto his tape to let him know I had arrived.
Then I was briefly allowed to tell my sister, who had stayed up. She
only lives an hour from the airport and the prison.
- The German police made a mistake saying I arrived on
the 1st of March. German handcuffs closed about my wrists at 00:01, 2
March '05. There were lots of police cruisers/police buses which swarmed
around the plane and encircled it. Photographers, TV cameras were everywhere.
The police thought they should apologize, because they could not shake
the reporters. Little did they know! I was rearrested two steps away
from the gangway, just like in the movies. It will make a great film one
- I was accompanied by German border police, the German
version of the FBI, the Staats-Schutz - sounds suspicious when you [use
only the initials] - all of these people looked at me with wide-eyed curiosity
because of course the media had been informed and it was all over national
TV and daily papers.
- Then I was put into a cell, no toilet, no sink, just
a wooden box with a sloped board for a pillow. Morning came. Even though
I slept on that plywood bed, the policeman gave me two blankets, which
was nice. I was beat, having written letters till 2 a.m. and asked my
guards to awaken me after less than two hours to write some more and pack
my things. So I fell asleep quickly.
- The Canadian prison doctors had given me my blood pressure
pills and my multivitamin. The German [police] got me some water, and
I asked for a piece of bread, which needed to be consumed with the pills.
No problem! The most wonderfully crusty and tasty German Rye bread was
handed to me, which I had longed for for 25 months. I ate it in a police
cruiser to court, slowly, like a religious celebration. Finally German
- Within minutes, I was uncuffed and faced the judge, who
had to decide whether to give me bail or keep me in investigative custody.
I had no illusions.
- Since no one had told me what, if anything, I could take
on board with me, I opted to send you some of my personal photos, drawings,
etc., in a large envelope. I saw [one of the prison captains] tape it
shut before my eyes. I had addressed it, put stamps on it, and asked you
in a note to send it to Jurgen Rieger [German lead attorney] for temporary
safekeeping. As soon as I meet him, I will tell him what to do with it.
- I have not seen him in the two weeks I have been here
because the Chief Prosecutors have so far refused for months to allow him
to look at the charges and documents against me, which is customarily done
in Germany before a person is in investigative custody - in other words,
held without bail pending trial. A lawyer in Germany is supposed to be
shown these things so he can appear before the judge to argue for bail
or the amount of bail, sureties etc. Otherwise, we once again have a Canadian
type secret evidence/sectret witnesses situation. Rieger advised the court,
and me, by fax that I would not respond to the police, prosecutor, or judge,
unless he is given some insights - and he strongly advised me not to talk
- I would [assume] that they are playing hardball with
him, and that he will have to make some motion for disclosure - like in
many of my cases. The same old pattern rears its ugly head. With one
difference - any time I serve in here in investigative custody will be
deducted from my certain-to-be-lengthy sentence. So I am in no rush.
- [One fax line unreadable] --- or Thorold and Toronto
West with all its humiliations, inconveniences, indignities etc. - I can
take this. The only worry is Ingrid, because I am not allowed to make
any calls while in investigative custody, not even to Rieger, I was told!
I can write. All mail has to be sent for censoring to the court, to the
judge who decided to incarcerate me. I have no idea how long this takes
before you get this letter.
- As you can see, I write with a real ball point pen, not
a sawed-through pencil stub. I have gotten so used to those German art
pencils for my drawings that I now actually miss them. There is one artist
in this prison who, according to the prison newspaper, has made over 500
paintings! Imagine! I think he has been here for many years. I saw several
of his paintings on the institution's wall in the visitor area. He is
a very good artist - better than I - when it comes to horses, people etc.
- Things are different here! We cannot buy pre-stamped
envelopes from the prison or color pencils, pads etc. Here they have a
real store, self-serve, where the prisoners buy a large variety of items,
like in any supermarket at home. Imagine that!
- In that store one can even buy fresh eggs, grapes, lettuce,
chives, parsley, onions. Unfortunately there are no fridges, so things
will wilt and spoil, but at least one can get some fresh stuff every two
weeks - better than once in two years. Some of the old-timers insist that
it is a well-stocked supermarket. I'll report to you on that in the future.
- I am no longer locked in under three-men guard with every
male and female guard seeing me naked while I shower behind bars. There
are also large clothes racks and hooks to hang our pants, underwear etc.
like civilized people. There were no clothes hooks "for security
reasons" in Toronto, which meant the clothes often got moist or wet.
In Toronto I was given a towel, and it was taken from me the moment the
iron gate was unlocked. Here I walk from my cell to the shower, not under
guard, with my clothes on, with my own soap, my own shampoo. There are
four to five shower stalls, all gleaming white porcelain tiles, like in
Mauthausen [one of the well-known concentration camps] or elsewhere - same
architectural layout. It's uncanny, as if I was living my trials. I often
think of the film we made with Fred [Leuchter] - it's all so similar.
- In Toronto I was taken to a small, 20 meter square cemented
interior court yard, alone, outside, while two to three guards watched
me from the inside at all times. I was given ten minutes. Many days,
when it snowed, I could not go out because the snow was ankle- or knee-high.
I asked for a snow shovel. In two years they could not organize one.
Here the loudspeaker alerts the prisoners to the "Hofgang" which
means "yard walk". Then the guards unlock our cell doors. I
still am allowed to wear my own clothes and my Tennessee Mountain boots
and my jacket.
- The judge agreed with the prosecutor that I represented
a flight risk, even though I have no passport or credit card. I represented
myself and told them I would refuse to answer any questions until I had
spoken to Rieger, since I did not know what my rights were. They wanted
me to sign a paper that would have transferred the right from the Judge
to the Chief Prosecutor to determine when I could see whom, and he would
send the police to interrogate me in prison. Both Judge and Prosecutor
seemed to me too insistent for me to sign it, so I remembered Shakespeare
and the Lady protesting too much, knowing that these people were not exactly
looking out after my best interest. I firmly refused to sign that authorization.
- As soon as court was over, I was brought back, processed
in, DNA sample taken, photographed endlessly, finger-printed, handball-printed
- then I was allowed to take some things from my suitcases. My pictures
of my grandchildren and our gallery and place in Tennessee have vanished.
I don't know if they were confiscated or what, but eventually, once I
have settled in, I will make inquiries. The staff so far have been correct,
professional all of them.
- That's where things rest today. Rieger has not seen
me - maybe because of my actions they are jerking him around, maybe he
has a full calendar - it makes no difference to me. I have years in prison
ahead of me whether I see Rieger in a week, a month, or a year. That's
one thing I have learned - don't be in a hurry in this line of work and
- I can't call Ingrid while I am in investigative custody.
That will be hard on her, but to be the wife of Ernst Zundel is not easy.
Ingrid knows this by now. And we will overcome this, too, in due course.