All language subtitles for Ein.Leben.lang.kurze.Hosen.tragen

Subtitle: Manvagtoo

'Throughout My Life Wearing Short Trousers'

With notes and letters from Paul Moor's
book: 'J�rgen Bartsch: Opfer und T�ter.'

Most questions I can't answer nowadays.

A few years ago, in 1967 or 1968,
I still might have.

But today...

Don't ask me for the reason.

Maybe in due time I have
suppressed the details.

It's the same to me.

After the first time, there
was an extensive pause.

I had a real shock and I
tried truly to get away from it.

I spent a lot of time
sending a lot of prayers to Heaven,

what I would not do for God
if only he would free me from this shit.

For a fifteen year old boy, who is
devoted, it really means something.

Langenberg, March 1962

At that time I was convinced that God

could set me free of this compulsion.

Then I slayed the child with a gas pistol.

In the paper stood later that the boy was
missing.

And also where his parents were living.

Last week I drove there
and stood half an hour outside the house.

You wanted to state yourself?

I don't know.

Something pulled me into it.

Can you set me free from my guilt?

Only God can free you
and forgive you your sins.

But help me. You could
give me the absolution!

The absolution is only valid
if you sincerely repent

your sin and wish to
repair the consequences.

That's what I want.

Then you must devote from now on the rest

of your life to charity.

But, even more important...

You must surrender yourself
to the worldly justice.

The chaplain scanned with me the
books for finding a solution.

But he could not find one.

And was not able to redeem me.
The situation was like before.

I stopped going to church
and the confessing too.

If I only had told myself: 'God will not
forgive you if you don't surrender.'

But for surrendering, I was too scared,
and for ending it, I was too hooked on it.

Tja... so I had to continue, isn't it?

It took a while before success arrived,

but it went on.

The second kid, I took
at Essen Holzenhausen.

It was almost three years later,

and I was already capable of driving a car.

I had seen him and secretly
I drove after him.

I had experienced it as rather horrible,

because the boy had taken the wrong train.

And had wandered thru Essen,
not knowing which way to go.

When he was standing in front
of the police-station,

I stopped my car, got out of it, thought:

'Look if he is going in.'

He put a foot inside, is thinking,

He pulled his foot back and went on.

After about one hundred meters
I addressed him.

The kid had not eaten
anything all day long.

I still see his happy face in front of me

when I offered him my help.

But I did not drive him to Gelchenkirchen
as I had promised,

but of course, I wanted to
go with him to the cave.

On the way, I stopped
somewhere in a forest.

I forced him being undressed
completely nude by me.

I have gagged him, tied him up.

And left him lying at the right of the car.

So, as he were, I carried
him into the cave.

Then later, strangled.

That was Werner Schmitz.

Good luck!

Horrible that a week later I again...

When I think today that I was
ready again within one week...

Do you want to earn twenty marks?

You've already paid a lot for me.

I don't want to donate it at all.
Twenty you have to earn by yourself.

What do I have to do for it?

I'm detective of profession, you see.

I have to deliver something for my client,

but as detective, I sometimes
have to stay anonymous.

So that I'm able to guard
suspicious suspects better.

Do you understand?

So I need sometimes a
co-worker whom I can trust.

I was thinking that maybe
you could be my messenger.

It's quite harmless.

But I have to be home
again at seven-thirty.

I'll get you home punctual.

Word of honor.

Okay.

These kids. What a bad
luck they had, he.?

Unbelievable.

The boy now too.

He would have run away from me,
had he known that the door lock

of the bloody Volkswagen had
been put in the wrong way.

You had to push the handle upwards.

But well... he could not know that...

So... naturally, the game was over.

Then I had him.

Help!

Quiet!

Shut your month!

Open your mouth.

Give me your hands.

Keep it up and shut your fucking mouth.

Not now.

Come on.

Unbelievable.

Shit.

I drove around for an entire hour

before I was able to bring the boy in.

I was so exhausted that I
did not do anything to him.

In any case, I can't remember.

Maybe I have masturbated once or
twice in the kid's proximity.

I did not return to the
cave until the next night.

When I saw Werner's body again...

I have buried it together
with that of Hans.

The decomposition was distressing.

Maggots and creepy crawlies
all over the place.

Although...

His back, buttocks and legs

were completely unaffected.

This excited me in the end.

Werner had an outspoken beautiful body.

I was so pleased how beautiful it looked.

I always made sure not to
see the other damaged side.

I just imagined he was in tact.

When I had finished burying them

and remembered my deeds...

I was thinking that more
deeds could follow.

That was a good feeling.

I must not think of the poor worms.
That is not good.

Dear God. Why must there be
people who are like this??

What have they done before they were born?

Since I have been in prison,

things have gone smooth with my parents.

Maybe it's because nowadays
I'm an extremely good kid.

Maybe I am today again the nice
boy when I was nine or ten.

Well, it might be. I can't imagine being
separated from my parents.

Nor am I capable imagining that
one day my parents will die.

It is for me a totally unbearable idea,
I honestly tell you that.

I really like my parents.

I'm happy when they come
visiting me for fifteen minutes.

On the other side. To be honest, fifteen
minutes is also enough for me, you know.

I want to be honest. I don't
like staying in prison.

But it's better in jail than that my
parents reproach me throughout the day.

When we were the three of us together,
we were alone.

All the three of us were not able to say:
'I love you' to each other.

We have never done it.

It was always 'icy' in our home.

Father Christmas has been here.

Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas.

Letter: For Father. From J�rgen.
For Christmas 1962

For me?

Don't you want to sing a
Christmas song first?

No. Let it be. I am to old for that.

A child murderer who
sings Christmas songs...

It would drive you insane.

I thought I could for once
forget the bad atmosphere.

But there was always
some tension in the air

and you knew that eventually
it turns into shit.

Thank you.

Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas. Thank you.

Well. Are you coming or not?

Great. What are we doing now?

We will not do anything now.

Don't you want to see what
we have presented you?

I thought: 'Do you jump out
of the window or not?'

Why is hell here?

Why am I better off dead than
having to experience this?

Because I am a murderer?

Then I thought: 'That can't be it.

Today was not different than other years.'

Do you recognize it from
the television broadcast?

'The same as last year, Madam?'
'Same as every year, James.'

I can't imagining one could
have better parents.

But love, I did not get it from them.

For example, I can't remember
that my parents ever

played with me. Although they
stuffed me up with toys.

How can you give a game-magazine that is
intended for more than one player?

I don't get it.
Is it thoughtlessness, or what?

Nowadays, I receive every week
post from my mother, stating:

'When you want something my
dear, just write it to me.'

If I wish a car today, I would get one.

Probably it is her way to show love.

If my parents, when I was little,
had considered other possibilities

than arriving in some child home..
I don't know...

In theory, my mother could
have fully taken care of me.

But forgive me that I am laughing.

When I was dreaming of my mother...

Whether she had sold me or
was coming with a knife at me.

It can't be true!

You piece of shit!

How many times I have to tell you to
take your shoes off outside?

When is it that you finally understand?

Nothing but problems, you serpent.

Is does not go any further this way friend,
not with me.

Wait till your father comes home.

It could happen that the
next moment she came back

and suddenly, I was the nice boy again,

and she would hug and kiss me.

Then she wondered why I was afraid.

And if anyone suggests:

'He could have had everything, '

is wise to hold me back.

My mother has always decided

from top to toe what I had to wear.

Also with whom to be when I was outside.

Half of the kids were 'No good for me'.

My schedule was very strict.

Afternoon with my teacher,
some nights sleeping on grandma's floor.

The result. Everywhere and nowhere
a real home, mates or companions.

Until attending school,

I could not leave without grandma. Not
playing with any other kid for six years!

Supposedly because of the traffic.
And also one could make yourself dirty.

The case was that no one would find out
that I was not really their kid.

Adoption paper.

Illegitimate son.

Died.Tuberculosis.

Adopt.

Legitimate child.

Father is unknown.

The adopted child.

First name... J�rgen.

Because your mother, Gertrude -
Mama Bartsch - if you prefer,

could not have children of her own,
so we decided to adopt you, you see.

I took a long time with all
the papers and everything.

But then it was official.

And we were all very happy.

My father had been nice like never before.

In almost twenty years he has
never asked me something.

Anyway... not like between
father and child.

He spent all day at the butcher shop,

so he did not have to
take care of his family.

But on that day, he showed that
he possessed something like a soul.

And... regarding the twenty marks...

considering the circumstances,
I will forget it this time.

I do not think, you'll
do it again, isn't it?

Looking back. The adoption
was a relief to me.

Because I really thought:

'Thank God. They did not have to
do that 'filth' for having me.'

What women and men are doing together
was at that time for me appalling.

Your father told me that you
secretly looked in his bureau.

What will become of you?
What were you thinking?

Turn around.
You have everything you need.

You can give me back.

Don't be so naughty to your mother!
Ungrateful child.

When I am twenty one, I am out of here.

Yeah, you look like that.

First of all. You're to
stupid to live elsewhere.

If you really succeeding in getting out,

I swear, you'd be back
in two days at the most.

I knew I would not leave at twenty-one.

I did not trust myself in that.

It would have been absurd.

I just needed to let off some steam.

Hurry up, and go straight to bed.

I don't want to be a man.

I want to be a boy.

Point.

My dream of happiness: Throughout
my life wearing short trousers

I did not enjoy my work.

A knife can spalt the pig's head well.

With high precision through head and snout.

Mostly I was glad when
the chopping was over.

Like with the calves that
had licked your hand.

I always looked away.

It was all so disgusting to me.

After all. I had no sexual
tendencies for animals!

I could have given it up.

But in the end, the child of the
middle class gained upper hand.

After all, it was all for me.
I would inherit it some day.

To be honest. It seemed to me.

I was too small and too weak for the job.

And now. This crazy theory about butchers.

What is that supposed to mean?
Should they all be locked up,

because they are potential
child killers, or what?

I think everything would turn out the same
if I had had a different job.

Imagine. The drive is not
present and you are outside.

Then I surely would have had a
job which dealt with children.

That had been one of my biggest wishes.

As caretaker or something like that.

Even with sick kids, or orphans.

I mean. Nobody should hit a kid, you know.

Basically without punishment.
There is absolutely no need for it.

Also I really like an artistic profession.

For example, you can't be a good magician

without in advance having wondering some
more than most people.

Probably it is ridiculous.

But most folks don't feel safe at stage.

But once started, I felt
completely at ease on stage.

People are not nearby.

Not as close as in everyday life.

I can show them something nice for which
they don't have an explanation.

In the beginning, there was nothing

by which I really felt comfortable doing.

Only now, at the Institute I feel truly safe.
I can't hardly do anything wrong here.

I have and had giving up the idea of acting
in society like the others.

Because I knew...

that I could not be part of society
because of my emotional problems.

I would deny that I was ever really happy.

As the age of eight or nine year,

I had spread sugar on the window ledge so
that the stork would bring us another child.

It did not work. What could I do?

Nowadays, I prefer to be alone.

As for any boy, the
separation from my parents,

I have experienced as a nightmare.

It is always the same of
what you are thinking.

'They don't want to have you anymore.'

You must have felt it.

In the kids's home I was
treated better than at home.

Although the relationship with the other
kids was already fucked up like before.

I was always afraid of the new kids.

In boarding school Mari�nhausen,

my knees used to go week just because
I saw two boys I did not know.

There were hundreds of them on the yard.
All strange to me.

Some of them looked as if they
could not wait to beat me up.

Scared you are, you coward!

I admit, it was an awful dream
that you never want to experience again.

But for another reason as turned out.

Mari�nhausen was hell.

A catholic hell, but it did
not make things better.

Up at six a.m. and of
course, absolute silence.

Then in pairs down the stairs,

thru the kitchen, over to
church to celebrate mass.

Leaving the mass, still in
silence, in pairs to school.

Followed by a break.

We were not allowed to speak
until ten, half eleven.

Everybody had a number with
which you were addressed

if you had done something wrong.

And one could do a lot of things wrong.

Who was that?

That's not possible.
We've rehearsed this over and over again.

Are you idiots or something?

You're the best from your the group.
So behave like it.

It's a privilege.

Understood by everybody?

Start again from the beginning.

You could not say that
someone was disadvantaged.

He almost never hit me.
Others did that to me.

I would gladly been put up with this
hell again with the same patience...

Only for the solidarity of all the boys
in coping this sadist.

In those hours, we were
one being, one body.

Every day, Father Seidlitz warned us
against breaking the Sixth Commandment,

and threatened with penalties

Alone or with others...

It was the age, when one
starts masturbating.

In those day most kids
made some kind of 'mess'.

I had also preferred to lay
down in bed with another boy.

But that was of course the
most dangerous thing.

There could always another kid being awake.

Under such circumstances,
it's better to sleep.

But if I had had the
courage, I had done it.

Furthermore... The hugging...

the feeling of the skin of the other boy

would have been more
important than masturbating.

If you are ever looking for a
way to breed homosexuality,

I would recommend Mari�nhausen.

The normal patterns within those
boys you should recognise.

If you've got moist hands,
then you must be a homosexual.

And anyone who do such
disgusting things is a criminal.

And that these things immediately
follows on murder...

St. Paul have once said,
it was a deadly sin.

In class. Even Father Seidlitz has admitted

that he had to resist Satan
and other temptations.

But with God's help, he will be fine.

But the Lord was not willingly on
the camping trip to the Eiffel.

The boy would not leave his tent, Father.

Your forehead is very hot.

It does not feel well.

My boy. You'll have to stay in bed today.

Thank you.

Here. This will distract you
and speed up your recovery.

Thanks.

Time to turn off the radio
and going to sleep, my boy.

Bring it back to me, my boy.

Put it there.

Do you feel better?

Not so bad.

Come and lay down at my side for a while.

Come.

He took me into his arms,
like a father or mother.

At first, I did not think anything of it.

Up until now, it seems
ridiculous to mention it.

It was nothing because there does not exist
a comparison to the things I have done.

Then he turned me at my side, took my hand,

and he said: 'Here. Up and down.
Like this...'

And then I did it at him.

And he did it to me.

Ultimate cruel I thought, was, that he make
me do this, although I had strong fever.

But as said...

Compared to what I did,

nothing has really happened.

Funny enough. I even can't deny
some respect for him nowadays.

He was not the type which one
imagine as a 'child molester'.

He was not a man who followed children
trying locking them with chocolate.

He played football with us.

He organized movies, and a
fair for us every year.

His sexual drift just did
not fit in, you know?

I would like to forget the good man.

That's why I do not like to
talk about these things.

It is more difficult to say
what has happened to you,

than talking about what you have done.

When it concerns your own body,

it's even hard for J�rgen Bartsch.

In Mari�nhausen, I had for the
first time in my life a friend.

Not because I had searched for contact,

but because two loners found each other.

Friendships were forbidden.

Friendships like these were suspicious.

In every glance, they discovered
a possible sexual link.

Nah... Are you again with him?

That's the result if you
overfill your tray!

With Dirk, it was... How shall I put it?
I tried to monopolize him completely.

If he only looked at
another guy, I got angry.

If we argued, I felt down.

In church, I always prayed:

'Dear God. Help us that we
would be back together again.'

I loved Dirk,

without uttering it.
And that was exactly the problem.

What's up?

I'm not staying here any longer.
Do you come with me?

To where?

Simply out of here.
I still have money from my parents.

Come on, let's go. Alright.

You are crazy.

You did that on purpose.

You're insane. I just slipped.

Get away.

Leave me alone.

It was not a occasion of careful
considering, It went very fast.

I had only one thought:

'If I push him now under the train, he is
dead, and he can't defend himself anymore.

And then you can strip him naked.

That something was wrong with me, I noticed for
the first time. that something was wrong with me.

You must believe me!
Nobody was more shocked than me!

Just till the sexual thoughts returned.

After a few hours the horror was over.

What I had tried to do earlier...

I had forgotten.

Healing is what I need,

Because I'm sick, sick and again sick.

I discovered the cave when I
had returned to Mari�nhausen.

I fell really in love with it.

It was something that belonged to me,
and no one else knew about it.

It was my kingdom.

In my phantasy, it looked the
perfect place for my actions.

I thought: 'When I do it,
it had to be there.'

I thought at myself:

'You just speak to some kid, tell him
some story about a treasure in a bunker,

and for sure he comes with me voluntary.'

Then I spent a few weeks trying.

In those days, I tried looking for them in
the neighbourhood. In the forest and so on.

But it was not that easy.

'Thank God', one would say nowadays.

For me, the most attractive
are the male children.

What other kids also attract.

Thin, handsome face, dark
hair, big eyes etc..

They should not have a real beard.
That would have destroyed my lust.

Hours and days I have wondering
if he should have pubic hair or not.

If he should be developed or not.

I was very confused.

A boy could have good figure,

but should he have had red hair...

Only black or dark hair.

I do not know why, but I am restrained by
blond hair, and I seemed even more 'pig.'

They should be at between at least eight
and no more than fourteen years old.

That was obvious to me.

For me. Sex with a man...
I can't even imagine.

Lately, I am thinking lying of on the floor

And the boy must crawl over me, his legs
spread, with his face directed upwards.

His 'thing' would hang down a bit.

Then he had slowly to lower himself.

I'll would take his cock
and balls in my mouth.

It may sound strange, but it would be
a very affectionate act from me.

If I am allowed to express myself that way.

I'm not really drifting to homosexuality.

Just normal.

Normality is the most
desiring aspect I seek.

At the age of seventeen, when
everything became worse,

I tried it with women for
becoming sexually normal.

I went to Essen and got
myself prostitutes and so.

But it did not do me anything.

J�rgen? Why don't you arrive?
I'm coming!

Do not misunderstand me.

I am not prudish or prejudiced
against the female sexe.

But the often pronounced beauty...
I don't know where that might be found.

Happy birthday my boy!

I wish you the best!

Good fortune, health and happiness.

And that you will always
be a joy for your parents!

Thank you mother.
I have a surprise for you.

This is especially from your father.
Before going to work he handled it to me.

Congratulations! And you will need
it when you go from school to work!

Are you happy?

It is the first razor
gear from your father.

He used it when he was your age.

Nice, isn't it?

But the other things are nice too!

Don't forget, you have to leave soon.

When I got in puberty a beard...

I rejected from the first moment
this fucking display of masculinity.

Not as a tribute of masculinity

but as a sign of being an adult,
do you understand?

If I love someone personally,
like a boy loves a girl,

than it is much more than my ideal phantasy
of finding the perfect victim.

Of course, I would not have to
restrain myself. That's nonsense.

In such a case, the impulse
starts automatically.

For example, two or three years ago...

I fell really in love with a boy.
Even in prison I could not avoid him.

It was Heintje.
The famous singing Dutch boy.

I have heard him a couple
of times on the radio.

Then at some interview with him for
some afternoon magazine, I became mad.

It was so bad and unattainable...

The yearning was so great
that I said to myself:

'Now you put an end to it.
It can't go further this way.'

Two days later I have
tried to commit suicide.

It was a kind of hero devotion for me.

Still. Nowadays I tell myself
that the boy is a kid,

that he got no responsibility
what they do to him

He is not doing anything.
They are doing it to him, you see?

One should not forget that a
child needs a lot of love.

Not just from his parents. But also esteem
from school friends and his peers.

His best friends.

Those who has seen the images of
Heintje at D�sseldorfer Airport...

Greeting fifty orphan kids,
has to ask himself...

Who is basically worse off?

The orphan kids or Heintje?

What have you done with J�rg?

Which J�rg? Which J�rg, which J�rg?
From next door of course!

What am I supposed to have done?

Mr. Dell told you father you have
beaten the boy in some cave.

And has touched him indecently.

Is it true. Absolutely rubbish!

He said he was going to
report it to the police.

Your father is trying to smooth things.

It's absolute rubbish!

What have you done with the little Dell?
He said it was nothing.

That's not possible. Mr.Dell would
not going to the police for nothing.

He's lying, that J�rg.

We were just playing a bit.

What do you mean by 'playing'?

Playing...

Such a fairy tale. I'm going to Mrs.
Dell and give twenty marks for the boy.

I take it from your pocket money!

Why do you want to go there?

It's as good as admitting it. Leave it.

I won't let ruin our reputation by your son
with these children's hugs. It spreads around.

Then you have to educate my son better.

It was always the same. When I am looking
back nowadays, it appears to me 'amusing'.

They knew exactly I was
not their natural child.

Langenberger Police qualified rather quick
the occurrence as some 'child's accident.

My parents did not suspect anything bad.

Although they have to suspect that
something was wrong with my sexuality.

So..What has happened? Tell.

I have just undressed him, that's all.

Nothing has happened.
It's not half as bad as it sounds.

I wanted to see how he looked naked and so.

So... If you want to know something.

About girls and so...

You can ask me anytime, J�rgen.

Between men, isn't it?

No, let it be.

Maybe you're somehow sick, J�rgen.

Not normal when it comes
to sexual relations.

Maybe you can do something.

There are doctors who might
be able to help you.

Later, at the trial, I
discovered afterwards,

that he had went to Social
Service for advice.

He thought that my behavior was not normal.

But they had reassured him
and told it was not unusual.

Tja, and that was it.

Before this all started, I was rather nice,

and never needed to invent any excuses.

During that period it became obvious
a theme: 'J�rgen is lying.'

I said I had been in the cinema,
or that the bus was broken.

Then my parents became angry.
That's obvious.

My parents did rarely believe it.
But they could not prove it.

It did not matter how often
they screamed at me.

It got worse at school and

I got beaten up almost every day.

From pure despair I started stealing money
from my grandmother.

I paid the strongest boy in
class, so that he protected me.

During apprenticeship, I stole
regularly money from the store.

Spread over two or three years...
till the end...

it must have been about
at least 25.000 marks.

Everything went on taxis...
looking for kids.

And at the fair.

And of course to my 'love-boys',
like George, for example.

I met him during settlement.

I fell passionately in love with him.

One day I decided:
'Now you just take a chance'.

Waiting was no longer an option.

It was New Year's Eve.

Be quiet now.
I said nothing at all.

Don't you want to have money?

I'll give fifty mark if you're
playing dead for half an hour.

It means that you neither
see nor hear anything.

No, that's silly. And then?

Hundred.

Are you coming to see the fireworks?
We'll watch it from upstairs!

Hundred. And your mother?

One hundred and forty.
That's all I got.

Nah. Okay then.

I still don't know which a real kiss is.

What a real kiss is... Up until this day
I still don't know.

The difference between a kiss from a child
and a love kiss is,

that you have to practice a love kiss.
Nah... and much practicing I did not.

In the following weeks and months

I became with George more ruthless.

He always wanted to have money.

But I diminished the price to eighty
and later down to fifty.

In fact, I have no good
found memories of it.

In the end, it was just
sexual gratification.

Nothing more and nothing less.

We humans are stupid enough to think

that a little gratification
is better than none.

I noticed that my pants were often wet.

There was always something going on there.

A tough guy was always attractive.
A stiff one was always desirable for me.

My first orgasm was a completely
overwhelming experience.

It must be like Heaven.

Later on, I fantasized and
masturbated practically every night.

To the extent that it was not
any longer joy but torment.

But I could not control it.

Then I fantasied that a
boy was standing naked.

And I hit him a lot, at the stomach, back
and so on, so that he flies around.

'Come with me to the forest', I told Georg.

But he said: 'No. Than you'll
ride your dark horse again.'

I took him nevertheless with me
and violently forced him to strip naked.

Then I had a satanic idea.

'I hit you thirteen times on the back of your
head', I told him. Each one harder than the former.

And if you don't want that, I kill you.'

That killing was at those
days still an empty menace.

At least. At that period
I was convinced of it.

So I hit him. Harder and harder.

The boy was thrashing his legs like a madman.
Otherwise, he did not defend himself.

Just as I wanted.

But I did not do stop at thirteen. I stopped
when my hand started to hurt so much,

that I was not able to beat anymore.

Later I swore that I was terrible sorry.
That has also been the case.

The boy must have liked me.

Otherwise he would not had come back
to me over and over again.

Pretend that you're falling down.

No wait. Wait a minute.

And now. Scream!

That was good.

Did you see that?
At least six times.

We could kill boys.
Is that not something?

When I go home, you wait
for me at the courtyard.

I take one with me, bring him
to the cave and kill him.

I have really tried to find
boys, but I could not get any.

You know how it is.

After two or three times, he lost interest.

I really wanted to involve Georg.

I even thought about killing him.

After admitting my first act.

I thought I could not do
this shit anymore alone.

That I was not able to
control my impulses anymore.

Later I wanted to prove him that none

of what I had told him, was actually true.

You see. There's nothing.

I'm not sure. Maybe if he had found
the body, I might have killed him.

Or maybe not.

The thought of killing a kid is
a rather big step, isn't it?

At that age you can't imagine
what it's really like

when someone is doing something like that.

It's not like somebody says:

'I got nothing to do, turn around the
next corner, and kill a human being.'

It's not as simple as that.

There is some transitional
stage of some minutes,

in which one feels pressed. and
is trying to hold oneself back.

But it was rather hopeless.

How to prevent the inevitable?

Having the feeling, you just have to do it.

In the end, you can't stop.

The first time, I had tried
for weeks talking to boys.

It could have been fifty or hundred.

When it did not work out, I
became rather desperate.

Maybe it sounds stupid,

but I felt it as my duty
to carry on searching.

And then the time came.

In the beginning, I just wanted
to undress and touch him.

Just after the killing,
the cutting arrived.

At first I cut the stomach
and remove everything.

Nothing more than that!

Later I elaborated it.

What initially took minutes,
would now take half the night.

It suited me more than to masturbate.

When I masturbated, the victim
was at that time already dead.

And almost or completely torn apart.

The smell and the touching, was a kind of
sexual desire for power.

During the act I had orgasms of hours.

I could not have enough.

It was rather terrible.

It is as if in such a situation...

you physically collapse...

When everything is over...

I thank God.

Langenberg, March 1966.

They got fear and are screaming.
That's important.

Without that, it would not
have had any meaning for me.

They must beg and scream for mercy,
but not defend themselves.

The opponent can only move at my command.

That is the really devilish aspect of it.

The little one...

Wilfried.

I achieved at what I never did before.

He was still alive.

I strangled him later.

The terrible thing that has happened...

did not derive from my soul!

Because my soul did not grew up like I did.

No. It remained nice and tiny.

I can't say I had a desire to be caught.

But subliminally I thought
it would be the best.

But like a predator with a prey...
at that period,

At that time I rather prefer
to die than backing off.

Homosexuality was not a problem.

With some effort, I could control it.

But those secret crimes..I
could not stop myself.

My biggest wish is to write a small book.

The title of it might be:
'How to protect my child?'

As soon as I saw a boy, I
reacted in the same manner.

I would get warm, my knees
went weak, I would sweat...

and my heart would pumping fast.

Sometimes, from excitement, I
could not catch my breath.

I'm not sure, but if they set me free,
I'll be afraid of sliding back.

If the door now opens and a nice twelve
year old young boy in shorts came in,

I probably would vomit.

At any case, I would not be able to endure
it, because it would happen to suddenly.

At the back of my mind, I often thought that this
is so bad, that it can't be possibly normal.

I thought, of course, that everyone
would be terrible horrified.

But in the end, they would see.
Then everyone would try to help me.

I would like to ask for forgiveness
from the boy who is still alive.

My God. What would that look like?

Dieter Frisch was already fourteen.
But he looked younger.

And he was not my type.

But I was a little in distress because
I could not find another boy.

Arsehole! Defend yourself! No!

No one can hear you screaming here.

Go on. Go on.

He wanted to be kissed.
That's really true..

That was new for me. Since
George, I had nobody kissed.

It was explainable, because I
had hit him very hard before.

To him it was a question
what was more hard.

Being taken behind in the
trousers or be kissed?

What? Can't you have a stiff one?
No, I can't.

What time is it?

I'm off.

It's cold.
Can you put something underneath me?

I'll be back later.

Can you leave a candle on?

I left him behind in the cave,
because I had to be at home at time.

For eating that disgusting
soup we always had.

Before that I had with my father
to distribute meat to the estate.

I had to shower from 8.15 to 8.45.

When my mother had washed me,

I was thinking what I would
do in the cave with the boy.

(On television)
'Now we will blindfold you.

I'll care for your hair!'

It was such a disappointed feeling.

For minutes I was thinking:

'A miracle would happen.'
That he would return to the cave.

It was on a Saturday.

On Monday already I started
in M�llheim to search.

I was arrested on Tuesday.

So. Now I'll show you a magic trick.

That was the agreement.

And? What do you think of it?

It was a phenomenal trick, was it not?

J�rgen Bartsch spent
almost another four years,

almost without therapeutic intervention,

at the State Rottland
Institute in Eickelborn.

With the hope for re-socialization,

he married in January 1974 a nurse
from Hanover, who had contact him.

And two years later, he
asked for his castration.

On 28.4.1976 he died at
the age of twenty-nine,

after a surgical operation,
on the operation table.

Due to an anesthesia error.