13 ch

13. CHAPTER THE TAMING OF THE SHREWD I received the decision of the European Commission on Human rights at the end of March 1995 The manuscript for this report was very nearly completed. I was simply waiting for the Commission's decision to finish it. After I had taken sight of that decision, it was just a matter of days.

I sent a letter to the Cantonal Supreme I expressed all my bitterness. Through also withdrew my murder threats. I told I would never rest before the world informed about the case and about the our Justice at all levels.

Court in which this letter I the Court that at large was sorry state of

A few days later I sent a copy of this manuscript. The Court thanked politely. And summer came and went.

I had to find a publisher for that manuscript. I was decided to have it published at all costs. I sent it to ten, to twenty publishers. A great many showed quite a bit of interest, but not one would really take it. They always had good excuses: They were booked solid until next year or longer, this was not their line, or whatever publishers use to say to turn down an opus which is not to their taste. I wasn't discouraged, but time went by and I could see that the Courts would want to complete their work of destruction, sooner or later.

I became right once more. At the end of September 1994 there came a summons to appear before the Canton's Supreme Court on account of these famous murder

threats. The date was set on Wednesday, December 14, 1994, 8:30 a.m.

The charge was compulsion, in application of article 181 PC. Time was running out and I to the problem. This book public had to be informed. moral duty, and a matter of

still had found no solution had to come out. The broad It was for me a question of survival as well.

Among our guests there is a teacher, a grizzled man with whom I occasionally have some small talk. His name is Sepp and he writes a weekly column about people and things for the local free advertisement paper. He is quite nice under his rugged looks and he has a sound outlook on life and is quite well read. We came to talk about this problem of mine. He asked to see the manuscript. I gave it to him to read. He showed a definite amount of interest and told me that he wanted me to see a former editor of the Solothurn daily. Only after he had received the man's opinion did he want to give his own.

I got in touch with the journalist. He was a very nice person too, well-educated and experienced. He is German born naturalized Swiss, and he speaks with a charming Bavarian accent, after all the years spent in this country. The man got hold of the manuscript and offered spontaneously to correct it for free. This was a big favor, and I was grateful for the offer. I submitted the corrected manuscript to a number of German Swiss publishing houses. I was politely rejected everywhere.

The reasons were about everywhere the same: We are very busy, we have no time and for the most part, this is not our line of publishing.

I presently know that I was not completely innocent on

account of these refusals: The manuscript was written in a type difficult to read for the reading machines, the pages were written on both sides, But still, this gave me an idea of how immensely difficult it is really to arouse a publisher's interest. And yet I was firmly determined to have this book appear before winter. I could not and would not keep silent. The elementary principles of Law and Justice and Democracy which were being violated by every single judicial instance had to be upheld, and the scandal had to take place.

And also it was an act of self-defense: The people of our acquaintance who were informed of the situation were outraged and mostly deeply cynical about the administration of Justice in this country. The loss of respect for and confidence in this institution is indeed appalling. The numerous examples of miscarriage of Justice appearing in the country's newspapers and periodicals may be interpreted as a proof of this.

These reports do not seem to affect the judges' attitude at large, however.

The solution was provided by another guest of ours who simply mentioned the possibility that I could be my own publisher. Just like that.

I found a printer. He runs a local business and we came to terms, also financially. I scraped the money together for a down payment, the rest coming in installments as the book would be selling.

And so, in the middle of November 1994, one thousand copies of the book were in my proud possession. They just had to be sold.

The printer was also in charge of printing a local

advertisement weekly which is being distributed free of charge in every household of the town. He had an article appearing on the front page. It was rather slanted, bent on the murder threats variously expressed in the book, but publicity it was, the book was to be found in the town's and in Solothurn's libraries and was on sale at our place as well. And we sold quite a few copies that way. But it had to be made known nationwide and once more the distribution companies, large or small would have nothing to do with it. The same reasons were invoked once more: We are busy, we are booked solid, this is not our line of diffusion.

The people who read the book were impressed, many of them said and even wrote so. The finest compliment was paid by those who, having bought a copy, bought another copy for someone else. But, let's face the truth, this initiative of mine was effectively a financial flop.

And yet the interest was there.

The Mayor of the Commune was the first person to buy a copy. The cantonal library in Solothurn bought two copies. And so far as I can judge the whole "classe politique" showed plenty of interest, sometimes openly, sometimes covertly, All the persons mentioned in that book have read it, although many of them will deny it.

At the beginning of December there came a member of the cantonal Parliament: Jean Pierre Desgrangchamps is the Honourable's name, a German Swiss despite the French sounding name. This frequently happens in this country, in French or Italian or Romanche speaking areas as well. This representative of the people belongs to the Freedom Party, formerly the Automobilists' Party, a right wing democratic party whose aims was at first to

protect the rights and privileges of automobilists against the encroachments of the State, and which changed its name to Party of Freedom. This party's proud program includes the defense of the basic freedoms of the individual, the exposure of scandals of all kinds, the limitation of the power of the State and the limitation of alien presence in the country. All the aims that can have a certain appeal upon a broad mass of people. In the United States the Freedom Party would probably pursue the aims of right wing Republicans, in England they would associate with right wing Tories. Mr. Desgrandschamps was accompanied by a police officer.

The policeman and the politician had taken place at a table for themselves. The police officer, so I got to know that night, is active in that party on local level. I guessed that they wanted to have a talk with me, so I stood up and went to their table to greet them. I was invited to a drink, and so we came to talk.

Desgrandschamps: So, Mr. Simonin, it seems that have published something. Is it for sale here?

you

Simonin: It sure is. Would you like to buy a copy?

D.: By all means. It is of great interest, what people do and think.

S.: Oh! is it? Well, isn't it so, that I have sent you the copy of a letter last year, a letter containing murder threats addressed to public officials. I have sent a copy of this letter to twenty four other members of the cantonal Parliament, and not one person has shown the slightest reaction. Is that a proof of interest for what people are doing?.

D.: First of all, Mr. Simonin, we all sternly disapprove of these threats of violence. Anyone who is resorting to that sort of methods places himself out of the democratic rules... I always have had much sympathy for you personally, but as I read this letter I thought it would be better to keep out of a bad quarrel.

S.: Mr. Desgrandschamps, do you really have the feeling that I'm resorting to that sort of method for the thrill of it? I have resorted to that sort of method after everything else has failed Let's be quite plain about it: These murder threats are no trifle. It is one of two things: Either they have been proffered abusively and the assertions contained in that letter are false. In such a case the letter's author is to be punished severely for attacking and threatening brave and decent justice officials who are only doing their duty.

Or the assertions contained in that letter are true, this is a case of emergency and the judges, at all levels, who have been involved in that mess have to be removed from office. Without pardon.

D.: Now, tell me, Mr. Simonin, honestly and truly: What were you trying to do, when you sent these letters?

S.: I was trying to provoke a scandal. What has taken place with this cooling system is a justice scandal.

But do you know what's the biggest scandal in that scandal ridden country, Mr. Desgrandschamps?

The biggest scandal is that no ordinary citizen is in a position to provoke a scandal. Wherever we turn - we are confronted with that big, happy family ruling over

this country.

D.: Well, honestly and truly... I don't think situation is that bad... honestly and truly...

the

S.: If you really want to know how our Courts are working - or rather: not working there is a simple solution for you: I'm summoned to appear in Court on December 14, at 8:15a.m. You are welcome to attend, as a spectator. The session is public. So you'll get an idea of the problem. Will you come? It may prove interesting.

D.: Okay, if it is so, I certainly promise. I'll manage to get free, no problem.

The police officer had hardly spoken a word during the whole conversation. I know him from sight and always have wondered about the guy. He certainly is a policeman to the tip of his fingers. He is tall and still looks boyish with his forty five years. I guess he joined the cantonal police force out of fun and curiosity. It must have been a joyous adventure at the time. In his youth he must have cut a dashing figure in his well-tailored uniform, and I don't doubt for one second that he must have taken his duties seriously and with plenty of interest and good will. He must have had a rather agitated private life, for what I heard. We have become acquainted with the time, but we never have discussed anything of this. Swiss people are very reserved, and with some of them this reserve sometimes borders to frigidity.

Presently, twenty years, two divorces, and ten kilograms of bacon around the waist later the policeman was rid of most of his illusions. I strongly suspect

that he has been overtly critical of the developments in his line of work. Be it as it may, his career is behind him. All that remains is the perspective of marking time until retirement, and a basic decency that protects him from being ashamed of the face he sees every morning in the mirror when he is shaving.

The two guests left. Mr. Desgrandschamps reiterated his promise to attend the Court session "honestly and truly."

And then came that fateful morning.

Klara, my wife, had wanted to accompany me, and I was glad she came. We arrived early, shortly after 8 o'clock. We sat on the bench next to the Court room entrance. Two young men came to us and showed their badges: criminal police, "Please follow us." I rose politely and followed them in a small room nearby. The older man said to me: "Mr. Simonin, we have to search you. It is on account of those murder threats of yours." I looked at him and was shaken by a real fit of laughter. The two men looked irritated.

"Look," I said "I want to apologize if I am annoying you. I'm definitely not laughing at you. You have been ordered to do a job and you just do it. Period. But the people who ordered you to do the job..."

The older jacket..."

one

said:

"Well,

you

just

remove

your

I did as required and was frisked the way they do it in those American whodunits. I put my jacket on again and

we came back to the

Court room entrance.

There was a young guy there with a copy of the book under his arm. He presented himself: Daniel Fuchs, journalist with the Granges Daily. No trace of Desgrandschamps.

We were requested to go in. There were three judges sitting at their desks, and a young lady as Court clerk.

Court President Bannwart opened the session: "We are dealing with the criminal case of compulsion, committed by J.C. Simonin through a letter sent to District Attorney Klaus Koschmann."

Judge Portmann reported the facts and questioned me about my former life and our establishment. He requested me to take position about the charges against me.

"Look," I said, " you have nothing at all to say to me, nor I to you. These murder threats are the direct consequence of three suppressed criminal charges, two charges of perjury before a Court of Law, and after that a charge against Koschmann on the count of misuse of authority and also of having suppressed those charges. You know of all this and so you have made yourselves accomplices of those felonies - for felonies they are, in any constitutional State. You are nothing but a bunch of vulgar criminals and you have no right to pass judgment upon me. I refute the authority of this Court."

"So,"

said

President

Bannwart,

"

you

refute

the

authority of this Court, just like that. Well, we have to find about it. You all are requested to leave the room."

We all left the room. We waited outside, minutes. Then we were summoned in again.

for

five

"This Court finds itself competent, " said President Bannwart, "the session continues. Mr. Simonin, you have refused to cooperate with the cantonal police. Why did you do that?"

"Mr. President, " I said, "I want it to be put on record that I still do not recognize the competence of this Court, and this, whatever you may think or do about it. The sentence in this Richard affair has come about and is resting upon false testimonies and false declarations of which you know, and have always known, that they are false. And a sentence based upon false declarations and testimonies which the judges all know are false is morally as well as legally of no value whatsoever. Any attempt to enforce this judgment of yours will be understood as a case of armed robbery upon our establishment and shall be dealt with accordingly. You are warned.

As for my not cooperating with the police, it is plain that this is a lie. Sergeant Burkhardt has been requested by the D.A. to do a certain job, and then the D.A. has sent another man to do the same job, Corporal Hänsli. Corporal Hänsli has refused to do the job once more, and I perfectly well saw his point. But I did not refuse to cooperate with him."

"Well," said Judge Portmann, "the fact is that you have threatened to kill Koschmann on account of this story."

"That's right," I said, "These threats take five or six lines of a five page letter. Could you read this whole letter aloud, so we all can hear what's in it?"

The President fumbled through the files on his desk. He did not find, or did not produce the letter. I realized the situation at once: "I formally request you to read that letter aloud, so we can see what the whole contents are," I said.

The President fumbled even more. I pressed the point: "So, you have received this letter. You are pressing charges on account of it. You have extracted five or six lines out of a five page letter and are building a prosecution on these five or six lines.

The rest can disappear, it is not needed, it is encumbering the earth. Is that the way you are working in those parts?"

"Well," said Judge Montanari, "The fact is that you have written those five or six lines." He turned to the two other judges: "Who dealt with these three charges against the Richard brothers and Giger? Wasn't it D.A. Blaser who did?"

"And what difference does it make who dealt with those charges." I said. "I could not care less about who is dealing with them, as long as they are dealt with. But the point is that you haven't found that famous letter, and we still don't know what Sergeant Burkhardt has found at our place."

"Never mind," said Portmann, the fact remains that you have written it."

"Yeah," I said, "I have written it and now it has disappeared for all eternity. That's the way you people are working in that joint. You are bound to no evidence, to no testimony, to no expert report, to no law. You are above the Law, you are the Law itself.

"This process is rigged. The sentence has been decided before it even took place. Goddamnit, let's face it: What kind of show is that? A criminal process without prosecutor, without witnesses to the prosecution, with no evidence presented. You taking me for an imbecile or something?"

"Have you ever received a bill from Richard's lawyer, " asked Montanari.

No, I said, "I haven't".

"Do your murder threats extend to Richard's successors, and especially to his lawyer?"

legal

"To his lawyer... what's the big idea? A lawyer is paid to win processes, and if lying is admitted by the Courts as a means of winning, I don't really see what that lawyer has done in order to deserve such a rash treatment. As for Richard, the poor bastard has gone broke twice already. He is a poor devil and surely a victim as well as a villain..."

"What do you want precisely," asked Judge Montanari.

"What do I want? I want my right. I want a due process of Law, and not the sorry show you are putting up. I just want my right."

"Well," said Montanari wearily, "I guess you are going to get it."

"There is one thing," said Portmann, "as you have received the Commission's sentence you have retired your threats. Now you're threatening again. Why is that?"

"Why," I said "That's simple to understand. As I read the Commission's sentence I realized fully and for the first time with what kind of powerful and excellently organized Mafia I was involved.

Suppose I had done something irreversible at that time, I would have been sent at once to the fruit farm, pumped full with drugs until I became a jibbering idiot and subsequently presented to the world as criminally insane, as a vicious person, and the truth would have been buried so deep, with the active complicity of all legal instances that no one would have had a second thought about it. But now a book is on the market, and if I kill one of you, that book is sure to become a best seller, and I do not believe that you - the survivors among you are likely to find twelve Swiss citizens to keep me in jail once the full truth about your methods have become known. It is now a gun and a book against a powerful and admirably organized Mafia, and I wonder who's gonna win."

"Well," said President Bannwart, " The session is closed. You are entitled to hold a plea, Mr. Simonin."

"What for?" I replied. "The sentence has long since been decided. Besides I tell you once more, I do not recognize this Court's competence."

"The sentence is due in one hour's time. You are

requested to appear then. " "I don't give a damn about your sentence." I said.

"Next time we meet it will be before a Court with jury. And I'll be on trial for murder. For the murder of at least one of you."

President Bannwart looked at me. I said: "It is just like a Greek tragedy, right? Everybody knows the tragic outcome, and no one does anything in order to prevent it."

"Yeah, " he said pensively, "Iphigenie, Climnestre..."

I have at all times wondered about our Justice officials. I have tried to find out what's hiding behind those distinguished masks, those good manners, those well cut suits, behind this restraint. I have tried to imagine them in their family circle, working, playing, getting along with other human beings. I have come to no conclusion, to no picture. Their faces are nondescript, their clothes are a distinguished nondescript, their manners are nondescript, so far as I can judge their outlook on life is nondescript.

I do not believe that they are capable of passion, they are not capable of friendship, but rather of clannishness. They might get angry - to the extent that their privileges are threatened. I do no believe that they have any moral sense and therefore they cannot be evil. To be evil means that one knows that what one is doing is evil, it means one knows the difference between good and evil, and is provided with a conscience. These people can quietly sign an order of deportation and send refugees to their deaths, as it has happened again and again during the last world war. They could quietly sign a death sentence. Their manners will be just as distinguished, just as quiet. They certainly think of themselves as

genial; According to my point of view they are just indescribable.

We left the room, Klara and I. The two cops were perplexed. On the sidewalk outside the administrative Building, we bumped onto the young reporter.

"Okay," I said, "now you know... If you should have any question about the case, if you wish for instance to visit our house, you have quite welcome to do so. All I want is that you stick to the truth, I want no favors, only the naked truth."

The man looked at me as if I was a little green man from Mars. He did not reply.

His report appeared the next day in the Granges Daily, over three columns. I was made to appear as a grotesquely quarrelsome individual and Justice as a pure symbol of virtue. Richard's claim was fully justified.

The next day the notification of the sentence was brought to me by police officer Hänsli. The sentence was reduced to two weeks in jail, and the costs of the procedure, about Fr. 1.000,00.

Again a big article in the Granges Daily, about the sentence, over three columns and a big title. Again Justice was bravely defending the Law against the cowardly villain. The facts were distorted, the report could just as well have been written by the Court clerk or even one of the judges. I could not let this go unanswered. Our guests were wondering, the first sarcastic remarks were fusing, I had to react.

In every public place in the world we find steady customers. And some of these steady customers are excellent transmitters of news, as they steadily frequent a number of public places, where the latest news is being discussed. And so I wrote two letters to the chief redactor of this local - oh! so local paper, one following each article. and I requested the permission to express my view of the problem in his columns. This was refused. I politely expressed the wish to have a reader's letter appear in his paper.

This also was refused.

The nearest conclusion is that the press in this country isn't free anymore and has been made the subject and tool of the powers that be. That young man had a copy of that book under his arm as he entered the Court room. As has been related already the original German edition is stuffed with original documents.

Finding the truth under those conditions is a cinch, but our press is censored.

The whole correspondence was simply photocopied half a dozen times, distributed to those guests of whom I had excellent reasons to know that they would distribute it further. and so the damage was held within close limits. I would even say that the damage was just about nil. We gained by that publicity, in turnover as well as in the esteem of our fellow citizens.

The sentence has been appealed before the Swiss Federal Supreme Court. To the appeal I have joined a copy of the book. The Swiss Federal Supreme Court acknowledged the appeal and is studying it(the appeal and possibly the book). The murders threats are not withdrawn. There is no reason to withdraw them.

Dated February 6., 1995 I received from the Solothurn insurance Court following DECISION: 1. It has been ascertained that the decisions of Federal Insurance Court pertaining to the administrative complaints of plaintiff concerning the judgments of cantonal insurance Court of Solothurn of February 4. an 14., 1992 are present.

2. The suspension in this case is therefore rescinded.

3. The counter party is granted a delay until February 28, 1995 to submit its point of view along with the means of proof.

The Court clerk illegible Does the honorable reader understand something of this gabble ? Well, neither did I, And so I wrote to the Federal Insurance Court in Lucerne. In a not uncertain tone I requested them to specify their intentions or, to put it more familiarly, to explain me what they were up to. I joined a copy of the book. (That method of distribution was getting into money) The Federal Insurance Court answered soothingly that they understood that my reply to the Cantonal Insurance Court's letter was not an administrative complaint, and that they would close the just opened H 62/95 file.

At the end of April 1995 I got notification by the Cantonal Insurance Court that the adverse Party

(HOTELA) had dropped all claims against me. I as plaintiff was granted the opportunity to express my views until May 12,1995. It is clear that I would not do anything of the kind.

This quarrel had cost me and my wife an immense amount of nerve and time and had been the cause of countless nights without sleep. The affair was such a mess, so entangled that no one actually can follow. its developments. I have done my best to explain it. If the reader did not understand it, is not his/her fault.

Neither is it mine.

We have lost some five thousand francs with this Compensation Fund. A final settlement would have meant that I had to produce the complete bookkeeping of the last seven years. Again countless hours of drudgery and contention with hard boiled, cunning lawyers and accountants. It just wasn't worth it.

At the end of May of this year I received notification from the Cantonal Insurance Court that the case was being definitely taken from the dockets "on account of lack of contention", whatever that means. I was given another thirty days to contend before the Federal Insurance Court in Lucerne. It seems that the buggers were loath to part with me. But my decision is taken once and for all, and this also is Klara's decision.

We do not want to fight. We have averted a disaster for our establishment, and the missing money shall be recuperated elsewhere. Period.

The day I received this notification from the Cantonal Insurance Court was a fine day for us, we almost could say a day of triumph. But it was a day of deep distress and humiliation for Democracy and the constitutional

State. Let's be realistic: I did not carry the day because I was right, but only because I had bluntly and brutally threatened to kill a few people.

My argumentation in this affair was sound and properly presented. It has been disdainfully set aside to the extent that it has been examined at all.

Once upon a time, in Central Europe, there was a kingdom ruled by a cruel and arrogant king. This king required absolute obedience from his subjects, and in order to enforce this obedience he had every year a parade organized in his capital. And all his subjects had to appear and stand at attention on the sides of the streets were the parade was to take place. And everyone had to stand with the eyes cast down when the king appeared at the head of the parade and rode by. No one had the right to look up to the king under the threat of severe penalty. And then the people would go home and tell one another of the splendor of the king's crown, of the richness of his clothing, of the glitter of his jewels, of the proud and magnificent steed which he had been riding on that fine day - all things which no one had seen, since all of them were forced to keep their eyes fixed on the ground.

And so it went on for a number of years, until some fateful day some little boy standing on the sidewalk raised his eyes to the king as he was riding by and exclaimed in juvenile candor and naivity: "But Mommy, the king is naked!!!"

And all the people raised their eyes and were then confronted with the appalling truth: The king, their magnificent king, was a potbellied old geezer riding naked on an old nag limping on three feet, his crown

made of tin lay askew on his bald head, and he was cleaning his teeth with a broken toothpick.

May be I am that little boy.

Chapter 14 The End of it all ? _ The cantonal Court's decision to sentence me to two weeks in jail meant, in strict application of the Solothurn catering law the loss of the catering license.

Consequently the loss of our establishment, the end of all professional activities.

The Court could definitely argue that I had refused to plead my own cause. It has been shown that the Court had suppressed the letter containing the murder threats.

The letter explained the reasons for those threats. The Court sentence comprised only a few lines. No reason was given for my deed. No newspaper would publish a rectification pertaining to the slanderous articles published about this affair. No politician would come through the door of our establishment in order to ask for an explanation. We stood alone facing an almighty administration, a censored press, a totally rotten justice and a bunch of political hacks. We felt alone, desperately alone.

It is perfectly certain that the only valid solution was to execute the proffered threats. Klara was resigned to see me do it. I only had to see how to proceed about it.

The first thing was obviously to get a decent gun. My revolver had been confiscated. This should not have been a major hindrance, some specialized magazines publish full pages of ads for firearms of every caliber and even war guns:. Kalashnikovs, Uzis and the like. One only had to get in touch with a seller.

And this I did.

A mere phone call to a private person to order a 9mm pistol, ten shots, a second mag, We agreed on the price. To be sent C.O.D., on the double.

After a week the gun hadn't arrived yet. I called again, the gentleman answered.

And I felt at once that something had gone haywire: "Actually, Mr. Simonin", the guy asked, "what do you need that gun for?"

"What for," I replied innocently," well, simply because I would like to own a gun. I enjoy doing some shooting or plinking every so now and then and presently, it's also a matter of security in the house. One never knows, sometimes it can be useful."

"Yeah", he said, and the tone was really skeptical, "Is that really all?"

"Well yes, what else is there?"

"Well" - this time the tone was frankly doubtful - "one never knows..."

"Gee", I said laughing, "you don't think I'm gonna shoot someone with that gun. Is this really what you're thinking? " I heard distinctly the man catch his breath and he said in a muffled voice: "Listen, Mr. Simonin, I'd rather not sell you that gun". And he hung up.

I strongly suspect that the police had plugged our phone. Of course I can't prove it, but the point is and remains that a few days later I ordered from another source a large caliber hand gun by using an outside phone and the deal took place without a hitch. I'm presently the proud owner of an enormous cal. 45 revolver with a laser guidance, of excellent precision and capable of digging impressive holes. I paid Fr. 800,-, with 50 rounds of ammo as a premium.

And how did Klara and the children feel in the face of these developments? Well, they were suffering silently. Suzy had started an apprenticeship as a commercial clerk in a large plant located in French speaking Switzerland. Sylvia was completing her last year of junior college in Granges. The relationship with our children has at all times rested on mutual confidence and respect. We have never concealed our difficulties. We have at all times shared everything, our joys as well as our sorrows. We have at all times exposed our problems and taken their advice

largely into account. Presently they kept silent. I don't think that they have ever prayed. Religion has never been a factor in our lives. I think that they were trusting me. Undoubtedly, they hoped that the worst would not come to pass, that fate would dispose differently.

Klara remained quiet. At no time during this period she addressed me the slightest blame. She was and remained loyal, simply, without pathos, without the faintest afterthought.. Maybe there was a certain dose of fatalism in her attitude. I knew that whatever I might do, whatever might occur, she'd remain true to me to the bitter end. And it was precisely Klara's and the childrens' attitude which made me so terribly conscious of the seriousness of the deed which I was about to commit.

It might be at this point useful to remind of the conflict's origin. A contested payment to the amount of SFr. 4.000,00, a lawsuit which had begun seven years earlier, a simple affair which could have been settled within a few hours by a judge inspecting the site in our restaurant’s kitchen. An affair of elementary simplicity which had gone through all possible legal instances, and whose amount had swollen along with the time and the proceedings to Fr. 13.000.00, on to Fr. 17.500.00 and of late to more than Fr. 20.000.00. And which presently was likely to claim the lives of a few public officials.

Of course, I had to exhaust all possible means of appellation before I came to the final solution. And so I appealed to the federal Supreme Court once more. This would give us some more time to think the situation over.

One morning, as we were drinking our first cup of coffee, Klara said to me: "Say, why don't you send that book of yours to Professor Mark Pieth in Basel ?

You have cited him freely in your book, you defend his ideas. Why shouldn't you ask him for advice ? It won't cost you anything. It's just a try..."  And why not, after all? What did we have to lose under the circumstances? This very afternoon, the book was on its way to Basel.. One month went by.

One fine morning, I received a few lines from Prof. Pieth, an invitation to get in

touch with him. This I did on the spot. A few days later, we found ourselves sitting in his office. Prof. Dr. Mark Pieth had just been elected dean of the Faculty of penal Law of the University of Basel.

It may be of some interest at this stage to devote a few lines to this person. Prof. Dr. Mark Pieth is a pure product of May 1968, and he did not think at first to study the Law. He was definitely more interested in history or archeology. He dreamt of becoming a journalist. A foreign correspondent for a news agency. Then there came may 1968 and an encounter with a certain Prof. Stratenwerth. He busied himself the longer the more with the problems of law and justice. And he registered at the Faculty of Law of the University of Basel, his hometown.

The dissertation with which he obtained his doctor degree deals of *The right of the accused person to produce evidence". A rather dry matter. But behind that title we find a rather unusual demonstration in those days. Pieth was defending the thesis that "a counsel is at all times moving on the razor's edge. For the Authorities and the public at large he is taking the risk of being considered as the accused person's accomplice. And at the same time of being accused of complicity with the Court by the accused person.. "Whoever takes over an accused person's defense has to admit rather soon the relative pointlessness of his task."

Words of heresy for most jurists in those days.

"This is how I demonstrated in some 500 pages the similitude existing between a criminal trial and the Inquisition, insofar as both institutions grant a key role to representation."

"I'm against a Justice of revenge and intimidation . In that sense, I'm certainly a lefty and a nice guy, as Mr. Blocher would say."

With that kind of outlook he did not make himself very popular. Not only the professors of the Law, but also our witch hunters, our federal police took him under scrutiny. It is with a definite distrust that they registered his participation to demos against the South African apartheid. "Marching, solidarizing" was the 68ter's motto.

His name figures on the federal police's list of suspected persons.

After a practical stage in a Basler Law office he wanted to change sides and applied for the job of examining magistrate (assistant district attorney) in the Canton of Baselland. He was turned down. He wasn't respectable enough.

This changed fast. After some complementary studies at the Max-Planck-Institute in Freiburg in Breisgau and a job as an extraordinary professor at the Cambridge Institute of Criminology, he found himself in close vicinity of the office which had spied on him ten years earlier: In the federal department of Justice and Police.

There they were looking for someone capable of solving the problems related to money laundering. This branch of activity was to keep him on the ball and have him visit all of Europe and a number of overseas countries. And this is how Pieth became an integrated part of the system which he had once criticized so severely.

I had expected to meet a solemn and majestic personality installed in a swank office. I found myself sitting on a plain chair in a rather cramped and nondescript office. We did not have to wait for long. The professor showed up soon, greeted us simply and cordially, asked if we had had a good trip. Quite soon, I felt that we were on the same wavelength. He commented the book in exceedingly flattering terms and then came to the point: "Look, Mr. Simonin, he said, I think that you have fought magnificently, but you cannot win. I'm going to tell you frankly what I think: The Canton Solothurn is just a goddam banana republic, ruled by a real Mafia. I have had to solve a case similar to yours, also in the Canton Solothurn. The affair lasted for twelve years. Have no illusions concerning the judges' sense of justice. A Court proceeding is there only to make the good people believe that justice is done. It's all phony, and you, alone, do not count for much.

We can help you and we are willing to do so. but you have to fulfill definite conditions: First of all, you have to abide the Law, which means that you have to give up those threats of physical violence. Moreover you have to submit to the Court sentence of two weeks in jail. And pay the bill presented by lawyer Gerber. If you do all this, we can help you. But if you resort to violence, nothing and no one can help you out of this mess".

A tall young man had joined us in the meantime. Prof. Pieth introduced him: "Mr.

Ruckstuhl, my assistant."

The newcomer sat down on a chair. The professor went on: "There's only one possibility to reactivate this affair: you have filed criminal charges against HP. Richard and M. Giger. These charges have never been taken into account. We can do so as to have these files reopened, which would in turn provide the evidence that the Court decisions rested on false testimony."

The professor's reasoning was absolutely limpid. And he concluded: "If you accept, I'll see to it that the costs of the procedure be taken over by the University. Think it over and inform me of your decision".

Well, there was not much to think over. My decision was taken on the spot, but I chose to go home before I told him.

It is perfectly plain that after such an interview, all the plans aiming at the physical integrity of judges had to be put aside. One doesn't kill out of rage or for revenge, but definitely in order to attract attention on the disastrous shape of our judiciary.

But killing is an ultima ratio, justified only after everything, absolutely everything else has failed I called the same day, just after we had arrived .in Granges .Prof. Pieth expressed his satisfaction and informed me that the affair would be entrusted to Mr. Ruckstuhl, his assistant..

A few days later I received from Mr. Ruckstuhl a form to be signed and which granted him full power before the judiciary. I never saw Prof. Pieth again.

So pleasant and easy the contact with Prof. Pieth had been, so difficult and even unpleasant the relationship with his assistant was to be. Mr. Ruckstuhl has shown right from the start his contempt and his arrogance towards us, towards me .in particular. He has given me to understand at once that he was in no way interested in this affair. I felt thankful for the help, I wanted to demonstrate patience and diplomacy, but some day as we had been requested to go to Basel in order to

discuss the case and that instead of a pragmatic discussion I had been confronted with reproaches on account of the suffering which I was inflicting on those poor judges, I had to blow my stack: "And those people whom I have threatened to kill”, so I had asked, “how much misery, how many divorces, how many bankruptcies, how many suicides would they have on their conscience if they had one? How many people have started drinking after a denial of justice? How many have died from a heart attack? Can you tell me?"

He stared at me silently for a moment, then he turned away.

The first thing to do was evidently to get in touch with the district attorney in Solothurn, so as to reactivate the proceedings against Giger and Richard. There already Mr. Ruckstuhl dragged his feet. The bugger never missed an opportunity to make me understand that I was a burden for him, that he cared about this affair just about as much as about his first pair of socks. But the proceedings got started at last.

It was notified to me that the jail sentence would be administered in the form of a semi detention. In other words, that every evening after work I would have to drive to Solothurn in order to spend the night in a cell. This, six days a week. The seventh day I would have to spend in the cell, as our establishment was closed. The chief of the cantonal police in person, Mr. Jaggi, had turned up in order up in order to settle the modalities of the detention. This was a great honor indeed and I definitely doubt that all the offenders would be so delicately treated. There was indeed very little to discuss, insofar as the sentence didn't interfere with our business in any way.

All the same, it was with mixed feelings that I rang the bell of the Oberschöngrün penitentiary at the beginning of February 1995. Jail is something frightening to the ordinary citizen. The very notion of jail is fraught with sinister thoughts. In point of fact, these notions have little or nothing to do with modern reality. Today's jail has little in common with our ancestors' gaol. It is a rather neat and well kept place, the wardens are courteous, the beds have no lice, TV is to be had in every cell. This contact with jail, however brief and superficial, has definitely taken from me the fear of this institution. No doubt, a longer stay in such a place limits the

possibilities of travel. This restriction put aside, I'm certain that some form of social life is possible behind bars, as the prisoners are in no way treated as convicts.

The district attorney in charge of the Giger-Richard affair was dragging his feet. It was perfectly plain that he didn't want to reactivate the affair. Moreover Mr. Ruckstuhl did nothing in order to speed up the proceedings. Eventually and after a few unsuccessful reminders, I found it useful to send a little note to Prof. Pieth. In just a few lines, I informed him that I had just served my jail sentence, that the experience had been by and large positive and that I could perfectly visualize spending the rest of my life there. The jail sentence rendered in order to intimidate me had been a complete flop. Consequently there was nothing to refrain me from gunning down a couple of judges since our legal system wasn't working any more.

I showed thankfulness for the help already granted and reminded him that a country's judiciary power was the conscience of just that country. And that whenever that power proves unable to assert itself any longer the way to brutality is open and then people need guns, landmines, artillery and armored cars but they certainly need no lawyers any more. As he decided to help me he was certainly doing me a big favor. But he was also serving his own interest as a professor of the Law. And by fighting as I did I certainly was defending my own interest. But I could be presented as the spokesman of all those people whose rights had been ignored in Court. All in all, I didn't worry too much about spending the rest of my life in jail.

The reaction wasn't long in coming. From Mr. Ruckstuhl I received the copy of a letter to the district attorney and the latter's reply, informing me that the affair had been reactivated. And that Richard and Giger had been subpoenaed. As an appendix, a hand written note by Mr. Ruckstuhl imploring me not to commit an irreparable deed. And also a pamphlet by Prof. Pieth ith the title: "The defense in a penal procedure - what for?"

And so our procedure was moving forward. It was moving forward under duress but it was moving forward. A new district attorney was put in charge, Mr. Ravicini.

I got summoned in his office for an interrogation. Klara also had to appear. The questioning was minutely done. I was able to persuade Mr. Ravicini to take a personal look at the site and so he found himself in our kitchen and was confronted with the evidence that I had told nothing but the truth. He inspected my

bookkeeping painstakingly, including the bank account, searching for the evidence of a banquet on the day when that bloody cooling system had quit for good. No trace of a banquet. There was not the slightest piece of evidence of a dismantling which would have justified that inflated bill. Eventually he summoned me to his office and told me that he had transmitted the file to District Court. The charge of false testimony against Giger -Richard stuck It seems superfluous to tell about the further developments of this criminal case.

The judges' mentality and their methods of work have been described all along.

Suffice to say that the Court session definitely took place, that Mr. Ruckstuhl's role limited itself to a harmless question timidly asked, that Judge Frank Urs MĂźller found in a fourteen page sentence that my bookkeeping had been falsified, that Klara was a certified liar, that Giger and Richard were shining examples of virtue and honesty. And that consequently the former judgments in this affair were to be enforced. The judgment was dated September 14. 1997. Mr. Ruckstuhl let me know that his practical stage with Prof. was to end in October and that he gave up the case.

I appealed to Cantonal Court. Through a polite letter I was advised to withdraw the complaint as the appellation had no chances to be taken into consideration. I complained to the cantonal parliament. The cantonal Parliament replied that that the separation of powers made impossible a meddling into judiciary affairs.

We have never paid Richard's bill. It has never been claimed. We have impatiently awaited June 23. 1998. On this date the time for recovery had elapsed. The creditors have never had the guts to take advantage of the claims which Justice had granted them.

I did not lose my catering license. Through decision of Police of commerce this measure was not taken as the case was judged too menial to justify such a drastic decision. No one wanted to pour oil on the fire...

The introduction of the Added Value Tax carried a mortal blow to our finances.

This tax took 5.2% of a turnover whose clear profit amounted to 1.5% on national average. This tiny profit was also transformed into an operative loss commensurate to the development of the business. In other words: the more you work and the

more you lose... the alternative being to institutionalize cheating on the State... I think this notion is getting the longer the more popular. Shadow economy is a phenomenon affecting all the industrialized countries to a greater or lesser degree.

There is a lot of talk about those fiscal paradises, always in a critical manner. But who eve is going to break a lance against those fiscal hells which industrialized countries have become?

The wish to withdraw was the longer the more present. But how? Selling had become impossible since the real estate crash of the early nineties. Renovate, well, and where was the money? The banks did not invest in gastronomy any longer.

Finding fresh money looked like an impossible bet. I searched everywhere and found nothing. No more investments in gastronomy.

Eventually I stumbled on an economic adviser specialized in gastronomy. André Gosch was the name and he was heading a consulting firm in Münsingen BE. This young and handsome man paid us a visit. He promised to provide us with the necessary capital for the purchase and the complete renovation of the establishment. And indeed he landed a few weeks later with investors from Hamburg Germany, who were disposed, after a brief inspection of the house to invest up to one and a half million Swiss francs into the business. The sole condition being that we'd have to develop a concept or, to put it differently, to present detailed plans along with the estimated costs and a detailed description of the business policy. All this was terribly tempting, the guy had us visit a number of in-places in Thun, in Aarau, Zürich, to colleagues who had tried a new approach to the trade.

The trend was to theme restaurants with exotic food.. Those were the days when Planet Hollywood had just opened with a big bang in Zürich. The time when traditional place such as the "White Cross" or the "William Tell" were declared obsolete and the future lay with the "Magic Hut" or the "Firing Dragon". The days when restaurants in financial trouble were trying to regroup like MacDo or Mövenpick. All this feverish activity concealing at best a self evident truth, the tremendous number of superfluous public places and the inability of the professional associations to bring some improvement to the existing structures and their resistance to necessary change.

We have taken a large number of public places under close scrutiny and got in touch with many caterers. We have ordered estimates of costs and drawn plans. We have paid Mr. Gosch Fr. 16.000,- for his trouble. As soon as he got the dough he withdrew, hiding behind business conferences, business trips and the like. We have taken the remaining clientele into account, figured out the prices which we could demand under the pressure of a crazy competition and have come to the conclusion that the only reasonable decision was to let the corporation slide into bankruptcy and to withdraw our capital insofar as this could be done. And we succeeded in this respect, no fear.

The decree of bankruptcy was issued in July 1998. We have, with the blessing of the cantonal Office for Debts Recovery, pursued our activities until the end of the year. All the help and every supplier has been paid down to the last centime. Only the bank and the Added Value Tax went to loss. I'm presently retired and very happy about it. Klara has found a job in town, the kids are out in the world, we are all in good health, everything's OK. .

And this has been our life for the past twelve years. We might have reasons for being angry and bitter; we are not. After everything is said and done, we come to the conclusion that we are rather well off. But we have been quite against our will actors in a series of farces which could very well have turned into so many tragedies. We have been the involuntary witnesses of the cowardice and the failure of a whole political class, we have been forced to admit, along with a famous German journalist and writer, that "there is no censorship in Switzerland, but it work very well." We may have understood what Max Frisch meant when he said that "Switzerland is a prison whose key is detained by the people."

This affair has taken a good turn, but we realize the distress of a person who is the victim of a denial of justice. According to my opinion, there are no "big cases" or "small cases". There are only cases which are more or less published. Anyone who realizes that he is right before God and before the Law and can prove it and who pleads his cause honestly and finds himself cheated and put off as we have been realizes that the denial of justice is more damaging to his soul than the material loss. I put myself in the place of the innocent person who has tried without success to demonstrate his innocence and is sentenced to spend many years behind bars.

Simply because our judges enjoy the inconceivable privilege to put into a file, or

take from a file, quite as they see fit, any evidence and to enforce the law or not to enforce it and this, without the shadow of an external control.

A student is being controlled by his teacher, the teacher is being controlled by the school board, the school board by the Government. A worker is being controlled by his boss, the boss by his clientele, a journalist by his readers. ... but who ever controls a judge? Another judge! In other words, no one insofar as all the judges come from the same hatchery. They won't annoy one another. The separation of power, as has been formulated by the Marches of Montesquieu constitutes a major breakthrough in the development of the State of Law. But the Founding Fathers of the great American Democracy also had imagined a system of checks and balances, of an executive, a legislative and a judiciary body controlling one another.

This system no longer works, to the extent that it has ever worked.

In order to assume his crushing responsibilities, a judge under the present system ought to reunite the wisdom of a Buddha, the intelligence of an Einstein, the mentality of a Gandhi, the experience of life of a Solchenitzin together with the knowledge of all the libraries in the world. According to my experience with those people we are far, very far from the count...

A judge is a human being, subjected to human laws and these laws are everlasting..

They are from all countries, of all times, of all races. These laws say that power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. This corruption, in casu, won't show in too crude a way. I do not believe, for instance, that it would be possible to any little-Joe-in-the-street to approach a judge and to "buy" a sentence. This corruption is far more subtle, it is the corruption that makes that one hand washes the other. We find there people from the same social class, a social class where life is pleasant; where people speak the same language, share essentially the same vision of the world. The worries, the suffering of the people upon whom they pass judgment are not their worries, a mistake in a judgment or even the deliberate sabotaging of a case will only seldom affect their careers. They even can take upon themselves to be judges in an affair where they are directly involved, such as this memorable session before the Solothurn Supreme Court. For it was those judges whom I had threatened to kill, along with Koschmann.

This is really the end of the story. But it cannot be the end of all things. We are all

supposed to use our talents in order to make a better world.. I have written this report in order to relieve my heart, my liver, my stomach and other organs as well whose exact functions aren't quite clear to me. I have written in order to sell and make a profit. But I also have written in order to provoke a reaction, the realization of the terrible problem with our judiciary.