05x03 - Episode 3

[bunniefuu]

*trembling breaths*

Krajewski, Franz, Corporal.

Buried alive on the Somme,
October 8th, admitted on the 16th.

[Forster] What civilian position
did you hold before the w*r?

*Krajewski stutters*
Policeman, Staff Surgeon, sir.

Well, let's see
if we can get you back on your feet.

At your command.

*occasional coughing*

Rath, Anno, Assistant Doctor,
buried alive on the Western Front.

A medical man, yes?

Yes, Staff Surgeon, sir.
- With whom did you study?

Professor Schmidt.

Which Schmidt?

Professor Ferdinand August Schmidt,
Bonn University, Staff Surgeon, sir.

Sports Schmidt.
*Rath nods*

Yes.

You won't be making a surgeon anymore.

Suggestive therapy.
- [Hildegard] Monday, six o'clock.

And who do we have here?

Hitler, Adolf, Lance Corporal,

corneal burn from gas attack.

Corneal burns in our psychiatric ward?

[Hildegard] The ophthalmologist
could find no chemical burns.

Let me see.

*patient coughs and clears throat*

Chemical burns?

Yes, Staff Surgeon, sir. Yellow Cross mustard gas.

[Patient] You're just malingering.
- [Strelow] Rear-echelon b*stard.

You've really had a rough go of it,
Lance Corporal.

Thank you, Professor, sir.

[Forster] And here?

[Hildegard] Kasabian, Edgar.
Sergeant. Doesn't speak anymore.

A mute.

And?

Wosniak, Karl, Private,

shrapnel impact, left temple, insomnia.

Consultation.
First thing tomorrow morning with the colleagues.

[Hildegard] Right away, Doctor.

Strelow, Paul, demolition specialist,

shrapnel wounds
and somatoform pain disorder.

*bells tolling*

*eerie music*

*rhythmic music*

*quiet murmuring*

*water splashing*

*suspenseful pulsing music*

Have you seen Wosniak?

Who?

Karl Wosniak.

*bearded man mumbles*

*music builds slowly*

There he sleeps.

Karl?

Wosniak, you old scoundrel.

Get up, soup's ready.

*music fades out*

*mysterious music*

*traffic noise*

*snoring, coughing*

*music fades out*

You've been drinking.
That is forbidden here.

Mind your own business.

[Böhm] Who are you anyway?
I've never seen you here before.

I am Marinus van der Lubbe.

I can get you something to drink.

I can get anything.
You can have Genever.

Not watered-down grain booze
like that over there.

Leave me in peace.

*Böhm vomits*

*Böhm coughs*

Want a taste?

*gentle music*

You're welcome.

*men speaking indistinctly*

[Grundmann] I have no idea
what gave you the impression

that I was authorized
to hand over patient records to you.

I hold an official order
entitling me to inspect records.

No, young lady,

these patient files may only
be inspected by a physician,

and even then, only
in justified exceptional cases.

A homicide investigation
is an exceptional case.

That may well be.

However, it must be ordered
by a court of law.

I am without doubt far better versed
in statutory law than you.

Is that so?

The medical file of the Reich Chancellor
is, moreover,

a politically sensitive document.

I doubt you will find a judge

who would legitimize your request.

Yet you could confirm
the existence of a file for me, couldn't you?

Not personally, no.

However, there is, of course,
a central register for that.

And would you be so kind
as to check it for me?

As a courtesy.

Pardon me?

*curious music*

*distant rumbling*

Right then, here it is.

[whispers] Medical file
of Lance Corporal Adolf Hitler.

If I am reading this correctly,
this file comprises 21 pages

and was checked out only three times,
correct?

Good heavens.

I worked in the archives
during my basic training.

Why, that makes us almost colleagues.

You wouldn't mind if I noted down
the names of the borrowers?

Not at all, go right ahead.

Thank you.

'Friedrich-Wilhelms-Universität
Berlin, doctoral dissertation.'

Twice by the same person?

Signature illegible,
and after that...

Curious.

Excuse me?

Look at this.

'Munich Public Prosecutor's Office,
checked out on November 20th, 1924.'

Truly unbelievable.

'Prosecutor M. Dresse.'

Well, the fellow has quite some nerve.

They never returned the file.

Prosecutor Dresse.

In black and white. Nine years.

This index card is evidence.
I must confiscate it.

I will sign a receipt for it,
and we will follow up on the matter.

As will we.

Such sloppiness must be brought to light.

Indeed.

[Jacoby] You are listening to a live broadcast

from the memorial service
at Berlin Cathedral

in honor of the deceased
SA man, Paul Strelow.

Hundreds of thousands of Berlin citizens
line the streets of the city.

The funeral procession is now getting underway

towards the Invaliden Cemetery.

High-ranking government officials
are attending the burial.

Do you plan on listening to that
the whole time, Frau Elisabeth?

I'll listen to it until I can believe it.

And so far,
that is not yet the case.

If this continues between you
and that wireless radio,

I will have to call
a vote of confidence.

Either that box or me.

*music from radio*

Well.
*he clears his throat*

Has Herr Heymann turned up yet?

No.
- Watch your step.

They have their eyes on you.

Right, I must hurry off
to the Reichstag.

Your humble servant.

Best of luck.

...of the comrades and the leader
of his followers.

*bells tolling*

[von Levetzow]
Good morning, gentlemen.

Herr Police President.

I have just arrived from the state funeral

for SA man Strelow
and Patrolman Hoffmann.

Goebbels delivered the eulogy,

and the Führer himself
was personally present.

You see the importance

the party leadership attaches
to the Strelow case.

The case is in my department.

The party leadership can count
on our thorough work.

Fully and completely.

That is good.

Minister Göring has entrusted this to me.
Here you are.

[Wendt] What is this exactly?
- A list

of enemies of the national uprising
to be interned.

Nearly 10,000 in Berlin alone.

That exceeds even our capacities.

Arrest the first hundred,

and select a credible number
of suspects

for the m*rder of Strelow.

A signal has been demanded by leadership.

A signal we shall send.
Gentlemen.

*door closes*

Herr Government Councillor,

the Strelow case
is no longer with us.

Excuse me?

It was handed back to Homicide.

*somber music*

Mhm.

*phone ringing
from adjoining room*

The same winding.
*he huffs*

*background conversations*

During the last roundup...

[Secretary] Herr Krajewski,
please follow me.

Yes.

Come on in.

[Krajewski] Thank you.
- Please.

I had you brought in because you found this...

this vagrant.

Yes,
one of my former comrades.

Is that so?

Wosniak, Karl, correct?
- Yes.

Soldier of the 34th

Corps of the Bavarian Guard.

We were at the front together.

Well.

Wosniak isn't the only one.

First Lieutenant Huber disappears
in Augsburg,

and now here in the capital, Strelow.

Buried with a state funeral.

Strelow, you say?

Paul Strelow?

Yes.

How do you know all these men?
- We are veterans.

*stutters* w*r-disabled.

Shared history.

*laughter in next room*

Hey.

*Böhm knocks*

What is your name?
- Krajewski, Franz.

I don't want to be next.

*dark music*

Protect me.

Please.
- *knocking*

Excuse the interruption.

Government Councillor Wendt

and Chief Inspector Gennat
wish to speak with you.

Right now?

Immediately, yes.

*Böhm sighs*

Wait here.

[Wendt] Make no mistake about it,

the case must be handled
by the proper department.

It is being handled there. With us.

We are dealing with two murders

at a single crime scene
with two different m*rder weapons,

and most likely two different K*llers.

And sitting over there is a witness
who testifies

that the Strelow case
is part of an entire serial k*lling.

Yet the primary motive is political,

and thus jurisdiction is indisputable.

Because you want to exploit the case
for your own agenda.

Would you care to repeat that,
Chief Detective?

You heard me.

You allow your subordinates
to speak to you like that?

Your case, Councillor.

Chief Inspector, I beg of you...
- Thank you, colleague Böhm.

You heard me.

Turn over all files
to the Government Councillor.

[Wendt] Thank you, Chief Inspector.

You take charge of this.

*tense music*

[Sebald] Where is
your star witness, then?

Where is the man
who was sitting right here a moment ago?

There, take it.
Now you have everything.

Thank you.
- Truly unbelievable.

Ridiculous.

Your name?
- Squad Leader Kummer, Herr...

Senior Detective Sebald,
Political Police.

At your service,
Herr Senior Detective.

Have you ever made an arrest before?

No, Herr Senior Detective.

Then it's about time.

*music continues dynamically*

What's gotten into Böhm?

Political Police meddling.

Reinhold, I have something here.

Will you help me find
a doctoral dissertation?

The signature is hard to decipher.

Search, yes. Read, no.

You're a darling.

*excited clamor of voices*

Ladies and gentlemen,
order!

Herr Reichstag President, please!

Order your faction to silence!

*indistinct shouting*

Please come to order!

Ladies and gentlemen!

*voices quiet down*

Today, the new forces of government
have attempted

to shamelessly exploit a m*rder
for political gain.

*boos, applause*

We shall confront such dirty tricks
with the voice of the people and their will,

and we shall assemble.

Tomorrow at noon
between the Cathedral and the Palace.

And our numbers will be greater.

Far greater.

And we will demonstrate to the world

that the majority of Berliners,

nay, the majority of all Germans...

Herr Chairman,

you are abusing parliament
for pure agitprop.

Such talk has no place
in this honorable house!

*agitated shouts*

[Chairman]
Such words from your lips,

Herr Reichstag President, are,
with all due respect, bitterest satire.

*applause*

Excuse me.

Well?

How are things with you?
- Wels has been talking non-stop.

Or whatever you want to call
that shrieking down there.

Have you heard anything from Heymann?
- Nothing.

Dozens were arrested yesterday.

Nobody knows where they're being taken.

These are facts that have nothing
to do with agitation,

facts that must be clarified publicly!

Deputy Wels, restrain yourself!

Or I will revoke your right to speak!

*applause*

Tomorrow at noon we shall see

who truly speaks with the voice of the people.

Bravo!

*uproar and shouting*

Who speaks with the voice of the people!

*indistinct calls*

*turmoil continues*

Ah, Deputy Thälmann.

*boos*

Glad you could find the time.

*indistinct shouts*

I know Wels, you can reason with the man.

The Communists seem like
the bigger challenge to me.

You might be right about that.

[Woman] Herr Reichstag President!

On behalf of the Social Democrats,
I move

for the expulsion of the National Socialist faction.

*roaring applause*

As well as that of the Communists!

Your conduct is unworthy
of this house!

Denied!

*indistinct roar of voices*

*arguments over the radio*

[Woman] Utterly disgraceful!
Inconceivable!

Orders from the director:
switch over, I'll take the mic.

Find something musical.
- Pardon?

Luigi Bernauer.

*voices fall silent*

Dear listeners at your wireless receivers.

Unpredictability is

an inevitable companion
of our new medium.

We therefore ask you to pardon

any occasional interruptions.

There now follows a midday musical greeting
from our orchestra

to all Berliners.

Luigi Bernauer.

*"Ich möcht' ein Würstchen mit Senf beschmiert"
by Luigi Bernauer*

*cheerful music*

# I'd like a sausage smeared with mustard #

# I need something warm, I'm freezing cold #

# I'll gladly forgo a lover's kiss #

# I want a sausage, I want a dog! #

# I'd like a sausage smeared with mustard #

# I need something warm, I'm freezing cold #

# I'll gladly forgo a lover's kiss #

# I want a sausage #

# I want a dog! #

Enjoy your meal.
- Enjoy your meal.

Well?
What does Forster's appointment book say?

We're checking out all the institutes

the doctor was connected with.

Here.

And?
- Mealtime. Nothing to report.

Do you have any idea how many dissertations
there were in 1923/24

in the medical faculty?

*she shakes her head*
Countless.

So far, no match

with the signature on the index card.

On the upside, they even have potato cakes today.

Say what?
- Dätscher.

He means potato pancakes.

Ah, Reibekuchen.

Yes, magnificent. With applesauce.
- Did you see?

There are pancakes.

[Czerwinski] You won't believe
where I just was.

The world is colorful. Very colorful.

Straight from the Institute for Sexual Science.

Hirschfeld's place?

Quite a crowd there, let me tell you.

And that Dr. Forster is well known there.

Right, what'll it be?

*hesitates* The...
- The daily special at the top, please.

For everyone?
- Yes.

Four potato pancakes, coming right up.
- Very good.

What did Hirschfeld have to do with Forster?

He wrote expert evaluations
for Dr. Hirschfeld.

What kind of evaluations?

Psychological or psychiatric.
Mostly prior to reassignments.

[Henning] Reassignments?

[Czerwinski] Transformations or whatever.

Whenever something isn't quite right
with someone,

up in the belfry, I suppose.

Could you be a bit more specific?

This Dr. Forster, he...

wrote down assessments of his patients.

It's required by law.

So he acted as an expert witness
for the institute?

Yes, exactly. An expert.

[Czerwinski] Ah, here comes the food.

[Czerwinski] Thank you.
Thank you.

*clattering silverware*

No appetite?

*Gräf breathes heavily*

Reinhold, what...?

Professor Forster wrote...

expert reports for people
wishing to change their sex.

What?

How do you know that?

My name was in Forster's appointment book.

I had an appointment with him.

I saw him
and alerted the police.

And I tore the page
out of his calendar.

There, it's out.

*she gasps in disbelief*

But why?

Professor Forster was supposed
to write an evaluation for me.

You want to...
I want to...

become a woman.

[Gräf] Yes.

And that's possible?

It is...

it's not without danger,
but it is possible.

I personally know two women

who have lived that way for some time.

But why?

Charlotte,
you don't do something like this for fun,

or just so a dress fits better.

I want it so that I can go on living.

Yes, now you know.

You can report me to the Buddha,
of course.

It's all ruined anyway.

Forster is gone, Hirschfeld's in Switzerland.

*gentle piano music*

Reinhold.

Nothing is ruined. Nothing at all.
Least of all for us.

And as for that stupid page, I think

it can just stay missing.

Yes.

Precisely.

[Henning] And we'll even keep searching for it.

[Czerwinski] Of course.
- [Henning] Naturally.

With the greatest zeal.
- Utmost dedication.

You know how it is:

if someone takes a swing at one of us...

*music fades out*

Gereon's father is Police President
of Cologne, after all.

Maybe you should simply
try reaching out to him.

At your command,
Herr Senior Detective.

What?

[Sebald] Where do our colleagues think
they're going?

Can't see how that's any of your business.

[Sebald] It is very much my business.

There are arrests scheduled
which these officers will carry out.

By law, the auxiliary police units

remain obliged to have sworn officers
accompany them during arrests.

You are those sworn officers.

He isn't our commanding officer.

Councillor Wendt is, however.

So let's move, as discussed.

Or should I report you
for refusal to obey orders?

Any day now?

[Langenberger] Let's go.
- Hey.

*dramatic music*

[Langenberger]
Here, number 32. Mandel, physician.

Two flights up, left side.

We're bringing the man out.

Understood?

*louder* Understood?

*Langenberger whistles*

*Langenberger calls out indistinctly*

[Henning] 'Urgent Appeal.'

'Uniting of the SPD and KPD
for this election campaign.'

*Langenberger whistles*
Let's move, colleague.

Henning, Berlin Criminal Police. Name?

Brock.

You are suspected of involvement

in the m*rder of SA man Paul Strelow
on the night of January 30th to 31st.

What, you too?

The Kripo is lending itself
to this piece-of-sh*t operation now?

[Brock] You're lending yourselves to this?

You're police officers, damn it!

You swore an oath on the constitution!

Get in there!

[Langenberger] Shut your face.
*Brock groans*

Cologne Exchange, how may I assist?

Detective Inspector Ritter,
Department A,

Berlin Police Headquarters.

Please connect me with Police President
Engelberth Rath.

Is this an official call?

Yes, it is an official matter.

*phone rings*

Yes, what is it?

Put them through.

Yes, hello,
Detective Inspector Ritter speaking.

Go ahead.

This concerns your son,
Inspector Gereon Rath.

He was last seen on January 30th
around 9 PM

on an operation in the company
of a m*rder suspect.

Since then, all trace has been lost.

What is your question, young lady?

Have you heard from him?

No.

Not for years.

Goodbye.

A Miss Ritter from Berlin.

[Engelberth]
She seems to miss you.

*tense music*

*background conversation*

Miss Ritter, for you.

For you.

Thank you.

[Grundmann] Esteemed colleague,
Prosecutor Dresse

has apparently become Director
at the Munich Regional Court.

Regarding the whereabouts
of the file in question,

they declined to comment to me.

Perhaps you will have better luck.

Respectfully yours,
Grundmann, Army Archivist.

Munich Regional Court.

Berlin Police Headquarters,
Inspection A, Inspector Ritter.

I would like to speak with Director Dresse.

No, Director Dresse is no longer in office.

Is that so?

A week ago, he requested to be placed

into temporary retirement.

And that request was granted
with immediate effect.

Just a week ago?

Yes, we are all a bit surprised,
young lady.

And...

could you perhaps give me his address?

You must apply for that in writing.

I understand.
Yes, goodbye.

Will do. Hearing from you again.
Goodbye.

*phone rings*

Yes?
Miss Ritter? Böhm here.

Herr Böhm?

It may surprise you,
but we need to meet.

On official business.

Where?
At the Colonnades. Right now.

*Böhm hangs up*

Herr Böhm?

*dark music*

*seagulls screeching*

Why are we meeting here?

I had to ensure
our conversation remains private.

As you may have gathered,

Political reclaimed my case.

So I heard, yes.
I'm a bit old-fashioned,

yet I will not cover up

these whitewashing operations
by Wendt and his cronies.

What do you want from me now?

There is a connection between our two cases.

What might that be?

The dead woman in the clinic,
Sibylle Nachtwey,

and Patrolman Hoffmann

were both strangled with a wire cord.

The identical winding of the wire,
the photographs prove it.

If there is a link between Nachtwey
and the patrolman,

then there is also one between your Dr. Forster

and the SA man Strelow.

This morning I had a witness who believes

there is a connection to yet another fatality.

We have a head start.

Political knows nothing of these ties.

Not yet.

I trust you to tell me everything
about Forster.

Everything that could be important to my case.

You want us to work together?

If it were up to me,
you could be working for the sanitation bureau,

or overseeing public parks in Stettin.

It just so happens that chance

washed you up into Gennat's Homicide Division
at Alexanderplatz.

And that you, much as I hoped
to be rid of you...

How do I know I can rely on you?

I laid out everything I know.

If it leaks out that I'm continuing to investigate,

I'm finished.

That's why I need your help.

Fine.

I'll check out Strelow's duty stations.

I'll get a car
and take a look around his circle.

*dynamic string music*

*murmuring*

*ominous music*

Comrade.

Is this the KPD headquarters?

District headquarters, yes.

I need to meet leadership.

Who's that?
- Völcker, she's inside.

Take me to her right now, please.

What's wrong with your eye?

I was a bricklayer.

Got slaked lime in my eye.

Comrades, I have traveled
all the way from Holland

to bring you an important message.

We must stop talking, we must act.

In action lies our hope.

Capitalism cannot be fought

in the shadow of fascism.

Comrade, who sent you?

I am a messenger from the CPH Leiden,
South Holland,

self-appointed, and my message is:

together we must send a signal.

The enemy wants to rule in Berlin.

Let us attack the bigwigs.

Let us destroy the parliaments.
Burn them to the ground.

Excuse me,
we have work to do here.

I haven't finished...
There is...

Alright, out you go.
- Let go of me.

Easy now.
- [van der Lubbe] Let go!

[Man] Fresh air will do you good.

[van der Lubbe] Let go of me!

Right, now beat it.

You will talk, talk, talk,

and then suddenly... too late!

Action! Action!

That is what we must take!

[Albrecht]
Your thoughts are sound, comrade!

Those folks just don't understand.

Come with me.

Where to?

I'll buy you a meal, a warm one.

Come on.

*somber music*

*bird cawing*

*she sighs*

*chaotic cawing*

Frau Strelow?

Good day. Gerlinde Sturm,
NSDAP Bereavement Care.

Do you have a moment for me?
[Berlin dialect] Nope.

Your party has his death on its conscience.

Now you want to turn him into a hero

with your state hullabaloo.

*music fades out*

*chickens clucking*

[Berlin dialect] If that's how it is,

I can talk straight with you.

The Nazis can kiss my backside.

I'm here because my fiancé is missing.

And the last person

who asked after him was your son.

I haven't seen my son in years.

*dog barking*

That's him, engagement photos.

His name is Gereon. Gereon Rath.

You're Gereon's fiancée?

You know him?

Certainly do.
He was just here the other day.

Picked something up for my son.

And when was that?

Well, when that loudmouth
became Chancellor.

I remember that day well.

Only what he picked up, I don't know.

I do.

expl*sives. In a cognac box.

Why didn't you say right away
that you knew?

*threatening music*

Well, you'd better keep a close eye
on your Gereon.

Lest something happens to him too.

He was a demolition man,
my son.

And what does Gereon have to do with this?

I thought you knew?

No, not about that.

And what is it for?

How should I know?

Now get out of here!

*bells tolling*

*sigh*

Good day, Frau Strelow.

Come on.

*music fades out*

*traffic noise*

Herr Heymann didn't happen
to leave a message?

No, not with me.

And how did your two party leaders
react, then?

With Ernst Thälmann, it took forever
before they let me in.

I hadn't even outlined my idea
before he cut me off.

Please, hear me out.
- They are born traitors.

I said 'no'!

[Litten] Deaf ears.

And on your end?

Similar.

Thälmann just wants to make a fool of me.

I held out my hand, nothing came back.

Deputy Wels...
- Oh, spare me.

The resentment runs too deep.

These top dogs don't trust each other,
and their parties even less.

Nobody grasps the gravity of the situation.

Frau Elisabeth, this soup of yours
is pure comfort food.

[Litten] Outstanding.

So, if I understood you correctly,

an electoral alliance between the two leftist parties

is the last chance to prevent Hitler in the election.

Correct.
- Yes.

Yet the chairmen of both parties

insist on past positions,

failing to recognize
that they must swallow their pride.

Correct.
- Yes.

Then you must speak with other people
in the parties.

With whom?
- With whom?

With the women.

Herr Katelbach.
- What?

Cross your heart now, Frau Behnke.

Women?
- Women, yes.

Who else would be capable,

beyond the shadows of the past,

of keeping a clear eye on the future?

Or was it because of you two
that you were turned away so abruptly?

Us?
- No, not in the least...

Who could such a woman be?

One respected by Communists
and Social Democrats alike?

The ideal figure of a united left?

*she nods*

A Social Democratic Communist?

Or a Communist Social Democrat?

Like Tussy Marx. Karl's daughter.

Not bad: 'Red Nobility', a good start.

Only trouble is, Tussy is dead.

Something like that, though.
Young, but not too young.

With a certain intellectual allure.

Yes, austere yet approachable.
- Moderate, yet radical all the same.

Yes, yes, yes.

I propose: a Luxemburg in the flesh.

Clara Luxemburg.
- Never heard of her.

Does she exist?
- No. But she could.

The long-lost sister.

The youngest of the five Luxemburg children.

Oh no. My God. The baby of the family.

Straight out of charming Zamość.

Clara.

She could pull it off. No one else.

*cheerful laughter*

*Katelbach clears throat and huffs*

Clara Luxemburg it is, then.

*boisterous piano music*

[Doris]
I was in a dance marathon once.

Collapsed right before the end.

Next year I want to compete again.
Care to join?

Anyone can dance.

Not with two left feet.
- Let me see.

Hopeless case with me.

It'll work out. I'll manage.

If you... if you say so.

I do.

Well, otherwise we can just go to the movies?

What kind of person are you...

What kind of guy are you, anyway?

What do you mean?

I need to know before we go to the movies.

That's usually just the beginning
of something, isn't it?

What can I say?

Ex-Communist trying

to remain a good person in wicked times.

A good start.

The ex-Communist?
- The halfway decent person.

Go on.

No, your turn.

I am a socialist as well.

Really?
- Yes. A National Socialist.

Oh.

Don't worry. We both want the same thing.

I don't think so.

Sure, for the working man
to have a voice again.

Hm.

Come on, what do you want to know?

You know how to dance.

You're politically unsteady.

Overall, very kind.

Overall, very kind.

And very handsome, too.

Those aren't questions.

You're right.

I just can't think of any question.

*romantic music*

*music fades out*

*background chatter*

*laughter, cheerful dance music*

Well, to what do I owe the honor?

Your old inspector?

Has he still not surfaced?

Has he once again told nothing
but the complete untruth?

Indeed.

Thank you.

You keep falling for the washouts.

The good ones always fall
for the washouts. Every time.

Nature intended it that way.

What do you know of nature?
More than you, my friend.

*man laughs*

Mark my words, one fine day you'll think:

Old Jacky...

*Jacky sighs contentedly*

...he would have been the one.

Yes, but by then? By then it's too late.

And what is that supposed to mean?

Glad you're here.

*door chime rings*

Reinhold. I was hoping you'd be here.

You know me.

Jacky.
- Good evening.

I wanted to say thank you.

Dance?

Sure thing.

'Rosa Luxemburg was conscious
of her Polish-Jewish heritage,

yet refused to be reduced to it.'

[whispers] Reduced...

'Her struggle was full of passion,
politically and personally.

A modern woman and a lover,

who courageously accepted the risk of failure.

She always made her political convictions
the benchmark...'

Are you still awake?

Sorry, did I wake you?
- No.

Can't sleep anyway.

After everything that's happened
these past few days,

I see dark times ahead.

Maybe we should pack our bags
and head to Vienna.

What would I do in Vienna?

Well, it's my hometown, after all.

Half my relatives are there.

It has the world's largest cemetery, too.
Nothing but advantages.

And then?

Then...

we get married there.

Like I said: nothing but advantages.

You'll get an Austrian passport.

And if things get worse here,
we'll take a trip.

Where to?
- Mhm.

Wherever you want, Elisabeth,
I'll follow you.

Prague, Rome, London,

Budapest.
- Zanzibar?

Zanzibar?

What would we do there?

On the radio, they say

you can swim in the ocean like in a bathtub.

Swim in the ocean?

I'm a Jew, I sit in coffeehouses.

He doesn't swim in the ocean.
Fish swim in the ocean.

Or does the fish sit in a coffeehouse?

And what will we live on?

Well, I'll write about our travels.

Just like that, it's possible?

Egon Kisch does the exact same thing
and makes a good living from it.

One simply has to observe the world
with an alert mind and sharp eyes.

*"Je rêve" by Zaho de Sagazan*

*melancholy ballad in French*

# I close my eyes, imagining the two of us #

# Intertwined, lips dried by love #

# Love for each other #

# I dream, I dream, mmm, I dream, oh yes, I dream #

# I turn over our memories in my mind #

# That time desperately tries to destroy #

# A smile and tears slip into the corners of my eyes #

# How to imagine the future, heal from yesterday #

# Oh, I dream, mmm, I dream, oh yes, I dream #

# I dream, I dream, I dream #

# That you are here with me #

# I dream, oh yes, I dream, I dream #

# But you are not, no, no, you're not really here #

*music softens gently*

# I feel my heart stopping in my chest #

# I dream and pretend #

# Not to have felt this reality pass by #

# That you will stay asleep, but never again by my side #

# I dream, mmm, I dream, ah, I dream, oh yes, I dream #

# All I do is dream, imagine what you might have become #

# If only they had left you the time to build it #

# I loved loving you so much #

# I will never cease to do so, for death #

# Does not stop one from dreaming, so I close my eyes again #

# And I dream #

# I dream, I dream #

# That you are here with me #

# I dream, oh-oh-oh... #

*music slows down*

*loud snoring*

Herr Böhm?

*music ends*

Whoops.

*she huffs embarrassedly*

Finally.

Thought you weren't coming anymore.

What are you doing here?

I was at Strelow's last workplace.

Should interest you.

Come along. Personally, too.

*phone rings*

Yes, hello?

Hello.

Damn it.

What happened?

I thought...
- Heard nothing yet?

I need electricity and a wall.

*projector flickers*

I got this from the Institute
for Suggestive Therapy.

Apparently Strelow's last workplace.

That one there.

He came to see me today,
Franz Krajewski.

And that one there, that's Strelow.

Spent years in this institute.

First as a patient,
later as a caretaker.

Then he joined the SA.

Just wait, though.

Now.

*somber pulsing music*

Gereon.

I seized the film right away.

Where is this institute?

Way out in the sticks.

Out in Johannisthal.

And who is that?

*Böhm snores*

*music builds suspensefully*

*eerie music*

[Man] Come in.

*music subsides*

*door closes*

*music turns more suspenseful*

Take a seat, Miss Ritter.