The Yellow Hibiscus Chapter 4
"You want me to mourn for two people who may have helped to commit genocide?"
Illumination Book Chapters
Chapter 4
I raced for the door, but these words stopped me.
"Ignorance forces many of us to repeat history," he warned.
The pain of knowing nothing of my parents' past swirled around in my head, making me dizzy.
He continued as fear immobilized me.
"Your father was one of the many SS men who served as core leaders. He helped send thousands of Jews to their death. Your grandfather got word that Allies were advancing. So, they destroyed as much evidence as they could. Your father, mother, and SS Joseph Muller fled to Rio using fake passports.
Muller oversaw the records at Treblinka. He was in love with your mother, and they were to be married. He is the soldier in the picture with his hand around her waist. And your mother was your father's sister."
I turned and dragged myself back in, sitting down facing him. My head drooped in penitence as a sheep before its shearer. He had something. I had nothing, not an iota of family history, to contradict anything he had said.
"Franz Stangl," he continued. "Is your grandfather. He commanded the Treblinka death camp and is the oldest soldier in the picture. Your father has been hiding here for over sixty years, according to the Justice Department Office of Special Investigations, or the OSI as we called it."
"The Justice Department knows about this?" I asked, shocked.
"Yes."
"How can that be?" I was enraged. "With all the media coverage, the extensive work the Anti-Defamation League and the FBI does, how is it possible?"
"Easy. By lying to the Red Cross about their past and using Jewish names. Since most records were unavailable, the Red Cross unwittingly aided in their escape by issuing passports in Jewish names. Others got help from Escape Organizations through 'Rat Mines,' that's an underground escape route," he explained. "Regrettably, some of them escaped the hand of justice by making deals with CIA agents, both in the US and Britain," he whirled in anger.
"Others received help from even the church and their families. We have no fingerprint records from WWII and not many photographs. That makes our chances of capturing any SS officer next to impossible. We sometimes have to rely on ship logs and immigration entries, which aren't always accurate."
"Are you saying that Nazis lived here under the protection of our Government?"
"Of course," he replied in disgust. "And the USA and Britain aren't the only countries," he added angrily.
"Are my parents one of them?"
"I don't know yet; a lot of information is in the process of declassification," he disclosed. "But they lied to the Red Cross."
"The declassified information tells you that they aren't only brother and sister; they are criminals too?"
"Only your father. Women weren't allowed to be members of the Nazi party. However, she aided and abetted a fugitive. Mr. & Mrs. Simon Shade are the fake names they used when entering the US. There were a lot of Jews in Rio. When the war ended, Jews from worldwide were searching for their families.
My theory is that your father and SS Muller had the Jew's loot when en route to Rio. He ripped off Muller. We don't know what happened along the way, but somehow Muller got separated from your father. We have unconfirmed reports that Rio's 'Third Reich' is clandestinely regrouping.
They need money. I also believe that SS Muller may have died recently. We aren't sure since we have no corroborating evidence. I am sure he has been searching for your father. Now his heirs may have found him or the descendant of any Holocaust survivor who experienced Treblinka. All my information points to Muller as our prime target."
He continued passionately, "I think that someone connected to SS Joseph Muller found your father, and if they don't find what they are looking for, they will come after you! Many SS soldiers escaped prosecution; most of them captured and prosecuted were lower-ranking Nazis. The Nuremberg Trials in 1946 took care of them.
The remaining soldiers provided the Allies with information on what Stangl and Muller did with the Jew's bounty. Even though they were ordered to ship all of the Jew's belongings to Germany, they pillaged for themselves."
"Oh God, this can't be true! Lies, they are all lies! Please!" I begged. "Please stop these lies!"
He stopped talking and gave me some papers with the Justice Department's seal. They were official declassified documents from the Office of Special Investigation (OSI) of the United States Justice Department. After reading them, I handed them back to him, wiping away my tears.
"But how can this be? She gave birth to me. She nurtured me. They loved me; they always said so," I sobbed uncontrollably.
"Yeah, now it is our mission and beholden duty to find out who killed them and why."
"I don't understand. If the Office of Special Investigation is privy to all of this, why didn't they do something?
"Ma'am, in our 'civilized society,' our Government can't arrest our citizens without evidence. Even if they are suspects, we still need proof."
"Doesn't that seem 'uncivilized' to you that our 'civilized' Government declassified all this information after the suspects were dead? I assume that my parents were suspected of being Nazis?"
"Only your father and declassification takes time," he clarified.
"You don't think this is 'uncivilized'?"
"There is a process that classified information has to go through before it's declassified."
"How did you find me?" I asked, suddenly remembering that he asked me to confirm my address.
"One of your parents' neighbors gave me your telephone number and address."
"That's impossible! My parents kept to themselves!" I exclaimed defiantly.
"What are you saying?"
"I am saying that no one in that neighborhood knew me or my address!" I proclaimed, fighting to subdue my rage.
"Well, as the saying goes, 'it's not who you know, but who knows you,'" he remarked with a winning smile.
Still flaring in anger, I questioned, "Two people are dead! Don't you care?"
"You want me to mourn for two people who may have helped to commit genocide?" was his callous retort.
"No, I want a little compassion, a little understanding, and a little more respect for the dead!" I yelled, feeling angry enough to pluck his eyes from their sockets.
"Wrong place; there is a church a few blocks from here," he informed, his head buried in a file he had picked up from the desk.
I allowed my anger time to simmer, then I asked, "Which neighbor gave you my phone number and address?"
"He said his name was Mr. Solomon, and he lived across the street," he answered while still reading.
"My parents kept to themselves!" I repeated defiantly.
"Somebody lied," he said, looking up at me. "I did find you, didn't I?"
"You didn't ask him for ID?"
He beheld me strangely, then said, "No I . . . wait a . . . ," he stopped. "I am the one asking the questions here."
"It's my parents who may have been murdered. I have every damn right to know everything!"
He glared at me in anger. I fired back, and he slowly simmered down, then said, "I had no reason to ask him for IDs."
"So, he could have lied about his name and address. Heck, he could be the one who started the fire that killed my parents?"
He notified again, "The fire is still under investigation!"
"But you said . . ."
"It's my theory. That's what I said!" he quickly clarified, his index finger banging the air.
"Are you sure nothing was saved? I mean, how is it possible for a house as big as my parents' to be destroyed so quickly?"
"If my theory is right, the murderer has something to hide. Did your parents own a safety deposit box?" He asked, holding two sheets of paper in his right hand.
"I don't know; there are so many things I don't know."
"They left you a wealthy woman. Now that's strange! Your father worked in a factory earning twelve dollars an hour, yet he owned a $550,000.00 home, with the mortgage paid. They also managed to leave you 1.5M in trust. How about that for being strange?" he smirked, giving me the papers.
They were from the Brazilian Imperial Development Bank.
"They probably won the Lotto?" I suppose, desperately trying to conceal my surprise after reading the bottom line of their bank statements.
"Nah, we checked."
"I can't believe money means more to you than the death of two innocent people," I snarled, handing them back to him.
"Excuse me for not respecting the deceased, but innocence does not apply here!"
"Are you finished crucifying my parents' reputation?
"Is your stomach full? If it is, I would like to leave! I am very distraught and exhausted. I need time to absorb all this tragedy and the attendant pain."
"Okay, one more question," he said apologetically.
He took another set of papers from the file in front of him and continued reading with a stunning look, raising his brows a couple of times, still seeming astounded. Then asked, peering up at me, "You were born . . .. .no!" he uttered. Surprise and doubt lined his forehead. Eyes aimed at me, he stated, "According to the Justice Department's information, and that which they furnished to the Immigration & Naturalization Service.
"Supposedly they were twins who were…" eyes glaring at me, "Today that would make them. . ." pausing, furling and unfurling his brows nodding in uncertainty. Still reading the document in front of him, then he continued, "but the Coroner states that they were about . . . . . ..!" He paused again, still wrapped up in disbelief, then released, "No matter which direction I split this pea, she couldn't have been your mother!"
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