Defense may begin closing statements,” said the Judge, his right elbow on the arm of his chair, his fist pushed into his fleshy cheek.
“Thank you, your Honor,” said Rittenouer, rising from his desk. He approached the jurors, and stood in front of them, arms folded tightly across his chest, eyes fixed on a point at the base of the low stained wood partition. For a long time, he said nothing.
All eyes were trained on Rittenouer.
“Apparently the deceased,” he continued, “the prosecution, our honored legislature, along with well over half the people in this country and the vast majority of all our subordinate nations would say ‘no.’ Indeed, I think it’s safe to say, most people on the planet would say ‘no.'” Pulling his hands from his pockets, Rittenouer stepped up to the jury box and gripped the rail.
“But the defendant,” he said as turned and pointed to the man sitting at his desk, “the defendant had the same idea. Only it wasn’t with those we have deemed legally terminable. It was with the deceased! Yes, the deceased, Mr. Feldt. According to my client, he had no right to life.” Turning back to the jury. “His reasoning, ladies and gentlemen, was that the man whose duty it was to eliminate the government regulated number of terminables, had taken many, many of what my client called, ‘innocent’ lives.”
The judge sighed, but Rittenouer ignored it.
“Those with whom my client are aligned, believe it to be justifiable homicide when one such as the deceased is, as they would say, executed. They, along with my client, have the idea that when one of those whom they would consider responsible for the termination of what they would call ‘innocent life,’ is removed from society – terminated, as it were – it saves many more lives that would otherwise be extinguished. Terminated. Killed.” He leaned over the railing. “Murdered!”
Rittenouer straightened himself and stood tall and still, his hands again in his pockets, head lowered. “These that are designated for termination, these, ‘innocents,’ say the Christians, a religion of which my client was and is a member, were people, people just like you and me.”
Several murmurs came from the audience and the judge looked up, silencing the room.
“The state has handed down its just decision. Termination is legally allowed under the law, there is no dispute about that. Now, this cult known as Christianity would claim that these young ones are guilty of no action against anyone, they have hurt no one, they have committed no crime. But the state has declared them to be without personhood. I am a patriot. A good citizen of this nation. I have no argument against such operations. After all, anyone who looks at the issue objectively would have to agree. For the most part, the only ones opposing this law are the Christians who worship a sad, self aggrandized, pathetic Jew.”
“PRAISE THE LORD,” called one of the observers.
The judge’s gavel came crashing down. “Another outburst like that and the one responsible will be brought up on charges.” He looked at Rittenouer. “You may proceed.”
“These Christians,” Rittenouer resumed, “argue that all human life is precious, no matter the origin or ethnic heritage. Regardless of anything, all are worthy of life. They fail to see that just because one is of the human species, that doesn’t automatically make them worthy of life. Our beloved Furhur, Dr. Mengele, Herr Goering and the Reich lo’ these many years after this great nation won the war against the allied forces, have put into law that no infants or children under the age of twelve, born of Jewish, black African, aboriginal American, or other non-Arian decent will be allowed to thrive under the law enacted semper vincentes, as stated in section 118 of the ‘Fatherland Code of Racial and Genetic Purity.’ If I’m not mistaken, I believe our learned honor here presiding over these proceedings today was one of the authors of that law, am I correct, your honor?”
“You are correct,” said the judge.
“The law further states that all those over that age allowed to live will be subject to sterilization and that such a procedure should be safe, legal, and painless. And laws must be followed. The proliferation problem of the non-Aryan races must be controlled. No one would disagree with that. But my client’s crime is not one of malice, nor is it one of arbitrary and heinous homicide. Rather, it is one of ignorance, weakness, a simple disconnection from his heritage. He was indoctrinated, brainwashed, taken psychologically captive by the traitorous Jewish cult of Christianity.”
Rittenouer paused, letting his eyes drift over the jury.
“This is a very dangerous group, ladies and gentlemen, one that, along with Judaism, was outlawed shortly after we defeated Britain and America, two powerful nations that were poisoned with the lies and misinformation that this cult promotes. Our own beloved Furhur has said that Christianity is merely an extension of Judaism, and must be extinguished. This cult accepts the Jewish bible, practices Jewish rites, even has a Jew as the object of their worship, holding him up as God Himself. This cult sees no difference between the Jew, the Black, the Indian, or anyone of any race. Their bible explicitly declares this.”
Reaching into his breast pocket, Rittenouer pulled out a small, black, leather-bound book.
“Right here,” he said, opening it to the book-mark he’d placed in it earlier. “In . . .” he paused, searching the text, “Yes, in Romans, uh, chapter 10, verse 12, it says,” he looked up at the jury, “I’m quoting, For there is no difference between the Jew and Gentile; for the same Lord is Lord of all.”
He closed the book.
“This cult believes in the myth of equality. It believes in the myth of a resurrected man, Jesus Christ, a descendent from Israel. Himself, a Jew.”
He held up the small book.
“Upon these writings, they deny the scientific Darwinian proof of the natural selection process, the same process that gave us our superior Teutonic race setting us above the Jew, the Negro, the Asian, and the Indian, and any hybrids there-of. This Christianity holds to moral absolutes, denying the logical and justified subjugation of those of the under-developed breeds, lesser intelligent and inferior classifications.”
Ritternouer turned the book over in his hands, gazing down at it. Stepping over to his desk, he tossed it onto his papers.
“I ask you now. Should my client suffer for their hypnotic and nefarious psychological grip on him? Should he be held guilty when he himself,” he pointed to Feldt, “is a victim of their maleficent and treasonous deceptions? I say no! No, he should not! He is of pure Aryan stock, he is a high ranking official, he has served his country for many years and done his duty with honor. Grant him the chance of Deprogramming and Re-induction. If we want to rid ourselves of these dangerous cults, then we must do with its followers as we did with the Jews and the other lower races and pass the legislation that is currently held up in parliament by those weak and insipid politicians that haven’t the courage to pass it, beginning the process of cleansing Euro-Deutschland, Reinafrika, and the United States of Neudeutschland, and the rest of our Reichwelt.”
Rittenouer brought his hands together in prayer fashion.
“We must continue the cleansing process, rid ourselves once and for all of this disease so that we can thrust this great nation into those prolific millennia that were decreed by millions of years of evolutionary perfection.”
He paused, long and quiet, simply breathing for several moments.
“But, my fellow Aryans. In order to achieve that, we must not, Kill-Our-Own.”
He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“My client, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is our own. I beg you, do the responsible, the just, indeed, the right thing and give him back to the Fatherland. Do not punish him for merely being deceived. We, the German people, are destined to reign for eons, bringing to the world the gift of our perfect and luminous progeny. But we can do this only . . . only, if we preserve our pure, great, and proud Aryan race.”
In the hushed quiet of the court, Rittenouer walked back to his desk and sat next to his client, Johannes Feldt, gathering his papers and documents and began stuffing them into his briefcase.
Walter Feldt quietly cried.
for part two, click here