Original subtitles

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.