A NETFLIX ORIGINAL SERIES
Jochen Müller?
Thanks for stopping by. I'm Ms Borchert. Good morning.
Good morning.
We'll have to make this fast. I couldn't find a good parking spot.
- It all sounded rather mysterious somehow. - What did, exactly?
Yesterday, when your colleague called.
A witness statement?
I'm sure my colleague will be able to get that sorted.
Ms Keller?
Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea?
No, thank you.
Just a moment, please.
Sure.
Can we get on with it?
Please take a seat.
I'll have to ask for your consent.
Can we record your statement, so there are no misunderstandings later?
Later?
Well, if that speeds things up.
We'll begin the interview. It's Friday, November 2nd, 2018.
9:05 a.m. Present are Detective Chief Inspector Nadine Keller.
And you're Jochen Müller, born May 6th, 1963, in Cologne?
Yup.
Do you have any ID with you?
Have you lived in Berlin for long?
Since early '91.
Can we get to the point, please?
We're in the middle of it.
Currently, you live...
In Zehlendorf.
How about back then?
In '91?
On Husemannstrasse.
In Prenzlauer Berg?
Yes. There happened to be lots of space in the East.
Is something wrong with the apartment?
Do you remember any of the young men in this photo?
Schulz is on his way.
Who's this motley cast of characters?
It hasn't been two minutes, and he's already hung up on the apartment.
Could they be any more East German?
That's the only picture we could find.
We don't even know which one of the men it could be.
Who could be who?
Jens Krahl.
In the early 90s, he looked for work as a handyman by placing ads in the paper.
Krahl...
Yes, of course...
Is that the only photo you have?
Yes, he did all sorts of things back then.
But here in the photo...
"All sorts of things"?
He plastered, painted, did windows, doors...
At the place on Husemannstrasse.
And how did you find him?
I must have read his ad.
I needed to have the work done fast, and he must have been available
or wasn't too pricey.
Is this about him?
Did you part on good terms?
Well...
I certainly paid him.
Well, since you're asking, I didn't invoice...
- And he didn't want me to. - Illegal work? Too late to charge you.
Did he do good work?
Well, he wasn't a professional, lacked formal training...
That's what I thought anyway.
You see, the Easterners did what they could to get by.
They didn't have it easy.
People like him?
Yes...
Raised in the East, but left to find your way in the West.
Of course.
Following reunification, you bought and rented out many empty apartments,
and then sold them on, correct?
Yes. It all began with the apartment on Husemannstrasse.
I practically got it for free.
I had it renovated, and then sold it for more than double the price.
With that money, I bought two apartments, renovated and sold them, then bought four.
That's the way it was.
Wouldn't it have made sense to keep working with Mr Krahl
who'd done such good work for you?
Yes, but he worked alone.
With the amount of work to be done all of a sudden,
I had no other option but to hire a proper company.
Is he in trouble?
Did you have the impression he was the kind of guy to get in trouble?
No, he was OK.
Like I said, he bit off more than he could chew, I'd say.
Is he in trouble now?
I don't know.
Because all of our efforts to find him lead to dead ends.
There's nothing.
Anywhere.
What do you mean, nothing?
Nothing.
Since '91.
He disappeared when many people left for the West.
That's what his former neighbours have to say.
The Wall came down, which meant freedom.
Someone your age might not get this, but it was a clean break.
After everything people had been through.
How old was he back then? Twenty-five or something?
Maybe he left the country?
Did he ever mention anything like that to you?
Listen, he was doing some renovations. We weren't chatting over coffee.
But I don't really understand why I'm here.
Can you clear it up with my office, assuming I'm in any position to help you?
This weekend, we're opening Georgenpassage, at Alexanderplatz.
There's a lunch with the investors, then there's the press.
I'm happy to accommodate you if it's something important,
but I haven't seen the man in 30 years.
Would you like to look at the photo again?
No, thank you.
Do I have to sign something, or are we done?
What's that?
Hackescher Markt.
In '91, a retirement home was under construction there.
Now it's being torn down to make space for a mall.
Workers found the skeleton under the foundations.
Leave it. It's working, just like you predicted.
What's working? Nothing here works without me.
Who is that? What's she doing?
Hold on, I have to...
Müller brought up the apartment himself.
- This is my case. - Not anymore.
So... what's this all about?
We're almost certain this is Jens Krahl's skeleton.
Her name is Keller. She comes from the very top.
They want to review us.
Why?
"Almost certain..." What does that mean?
Take this, for example.
This was found on the body.
The person or people who buried him back then didn't think much of this watch.
Hundreds of thousands of them were manufactured in East Germany.
The lab was able to identify an inscription on the inside of the band.
It was written in ballpoint pen,
and had already faded before he died.
Jens Krahl had written his own name on it.
The foundations' cornerstone was laid
during the same month in which Mr Krahl worked for you: March '91.
As you've confirmed that Jens Krahl was renovating your apartment at the time,
you are one of the last people to have seen him alive.
What happened to him?
That's exactly what my next question to you would've been.
You can't be serious.
I'll put it clearly:
Following his renovation of your apartment on Husemannstrasse back in March '91,
there's been no sign of him whatsoever.
You can't be serious.
When I last saw Jens Krahl, he was in perfect health.
He came to a sad end.
No one deserves that.
Starting now, I'm going to question you as a suspect.
Suspected of what?
Murdering Jens Krahl.
Is that what you think? I did that?
Why would I do that?
Because he forgot to paint the interior frame of the double glazing?
Is that what happened?
Shortly after his disappearance in '91,
Krahl's apartment was broken into and completely ransacked.
The rest was cleared out by neighbours and waste collection.
This was the only thing left, and it was pure coincidence that we found it.
It's from high school.
Maybe the intruder was just someone who thought the apartment was abandoned.
That's what the police thought. They didn't do anything.
Look. Things like that happened every day, you know.
Yes.
But considering that we have a possible murder on our hands,
we're wondering if the break-in might be an indication of something more.
What was in the apartment that was so important?
And that leads you to me?
Would you like to speak with a lawyer?
About what? Murder?
Or burglary?
- What are you accusing me of? - Do you want a lawyer?
This is ridiculous.
Utter nonsense.
If this will take much longer...
I need a smoke.
Listen up. Apart from the fact that you're letting him go before he opens up,
giving him plenty of time to think of a way to weasel his way out,
or drag in some charlatan lawyer, leaving us sitting here until Christmas,
you just waltz in here and mess with something I've been working on for weeks.
Müller came an hour earlier than expected. I had to make a decision.
Now, if you'll excuse me...
I'm the only one who makes decisions around here.
What are you doing here anyway? Evaluating us?
More like harassing us.
It's called a review.
I'm also authorised to step in where your work is concerned at short notice
if I see irregularities or violations.
For instance, if you go swimming while the suspect is ready and waiting.
Write it down then. "Schulz went swimming."
- But I'll ask the questions from now on. - No.
That's no longer your call. If you'll excuse me.
Mr Müller.
I'm Mr Schulz. We spoke on the phone.
When are you due?
In four months.
Is it your first?
Interview resumes at 9:23 a.m., Detective Chief Inspector Keller,
Detective Chief Inspector Schulz and Jochen Müller are present.
You see, I think you're wasting both your time and mine.
The two of you look like Laurel and Hardy sitting there like that.
Am I really your only lead?
How frequently did you and Krahl meet?
I gave him a key. He came and went as he pleased.
You gave him a big job. He must have been there a lot.
As I said, he had a key and knew what he had to do.
At the time, I had a lot to take care of.
May I interrupt?
I get it, Mr Müller.
Sometimes I can't even remember what happened a month ago.
I'm interested in knowing more about how you built up your company.
Maybe that will help us understand.
You're from Cologne, right?
Do I still have an accent?
Why Berlin?
Well, the East was a clean slate. You could really make things happen there.
What about capital?
I got it from my father. He'd just died.
Sure. It was worth more here than it was over there.
It wasn't a lot of money.
I think what counts is making the right decision at the right time.
Boarding school, university entrance exams...
Did you and your dad get along?
He was from a different generation.
One that didn't approve of gay relationships?
In the late 80s, you were pretty active in Cologne. In the gay scene.
Who dreamed that one up?
You do know that I'm married and have three kids?
And the last time I checked, my wife was a woman.
Anything's possible.
There's nothing wrong with it: gay one day, straight the next...
Or was it hard for you to deal with it?
Krahl must have been an attractive man, right?
I'm not gay.
BODY LANGUAGE 100 % GUILTY NOT GAY?
What about the statements we have from your former sexual partners?
What are we to think about those?
We could have them pick you out in a line-up.
What would that prove?
That we can rule out financial motives.
Instead, your sexual orientation
compounded by unrequited love, jealousy or blackmail as a motive,
could have easily culminated in violence, couldn't it?
If you deny your gay past, in spite of the fact we have proof,
it stands to reason we'd want to look closer for a potential motive.
It's none of your business.
I'm a public figure.
People talk in the real estate world.
Do you understand?
I was young, trying to find myself.
And I don't just mean sexually.
I was figuring out what to do with my life.
Who I was, what I wanted to be.
What opportunities were there? What could I pursue?
I found all that here in Berlin.
I found meaning.
What sort of meaning?
- Are you from Berlin? - Yes. From Oberschöneweide.
- Were you here then? - After the Wall came down? Sure.
It was basically gold rush territory.
At least for us
from the West.
I mean, anything was possible. It was all virgin territory.
And then there was real estate, once owned by the state.
- And suddenly... privatisation. - Robbing Easterners.
That was your national pastime back then. Those were tough times for us.
Well, the West had the advantage.
You did a good job.
Yes, those were good times.
And if I'm honest,
people like Krahl...
I wouldn't have hired him if he hadn't needed help.
Guys like him, two years of reunification:
The West chewed them up.
Huge debt.
I paid him well.
I know what I got from it, and I pay well to this day.
I didn't try to get into Krahl's pants.
Can you remember the people
you did business with back then?
Who are you talking about exactly?
The notary Mr Schwarz, for example. In Charlottenburg.
- Schwarz in Charlottenburg. - Let me read a few key points.
They kept meticulous diaries: an elephant never forgets.
These are about you:
"unusual business practices", "missed meetings", "ignored phone calls",
"never got back in touch."
Incidentally, that was in March '91.
Doesn't sound like the amazing guy from the West that you described, does it?
Or did something happen?
Architecture firm. They also have a good memory.
- "After multiple..." - Stop it!
No, you stop it!
Stop telling us you were drowning in work
when you couldn't even answer phone calls or go to meetings,
and here you are now playing the workaholic.
What was wrong with you?
Were you having problems?
Bombarding people with faxes and calls from Cologne for months.
You just can't wait to part with your money.
And then, in March '91 you just disappear?
Or was it cocaine?
It surprised us, too, when we asked around in Cologne.
There were people who said, "Müller's overdoing it.
He's losing touch with reality."
It's enough to make you wonder...
The gay past...
Struggling to come to terms with it...
The cocaine...
And Krahl wasn't gay, according to what we found out.
- Perhaps he was fighting you off. - Was there a fight?
It's strange.
They do well together, but him...
It's as though he's surprised to hear about the time in Cologne.
You're accusing me of things from half a lifetime ago.
Rumours. Cocaine, stories about men...
And then you let your imaginations run wild.
Do you have anything concrete?
You...
It's not fair of me to judge you.
Given how young you are and your condition.
But you...
Did you always live up to your own expectations?
When you suddenly have money in the bank, you spend it on a ton of ridiculous stuff.
And it wasn't just the drugs. But...
In spring of '91, I was in Spain, Italy, France.
To distance yourself from the situation with Krahl?
No.
Because I was in love.
With Jens Krahl?
With my wife.
In the spring of '91.
March '91. I think about it every year.
But not because of Jens Krahl.
Because it's our anniversary, mine and Wiebke's.
Back then,
I sat in the apartment, alone, everything renovated...
And you're right:
I asked myself what I was doing
in this shitty city with all these miserable Easterners.
And then the doorbell rings.
There was hardly anyone living in the building.
And there she was.
Asking for flour.
At 9:30 p.m.
Using what we had at home, we cooked together.
It was one of the loveliest evenings Wiebke and I ever had.
She had just moved into the building.
By the end of the week, Wiebke and I were on a plane together.
And now we've been married for 27 years.
Wiebke took pictures the entire vacation.
If you want to know what I did that spring
and how I was doing, just take a look at my photo albums.
After that, I focused on my work,
which is exactly what I'm going to do now.
Might it be a good idea for us to speak to your wife?
You have absolutely no proof.
I've been working like a dog for 30 years.
There are more than 250 people around the world working for me.
That's based on absolute trust.
What we sell is where people live.
We have responsibilities.
Seeing as you've been snooping everywhere, why don't you go and ask other people?
I would rather help people like Krahl, people who have potential.
- "Potential"? - Whatever.
Other people would run your operation into the ground for shit like this.
When you ask other people...
your neighbours, your employees...
you really do get that impression.
They all think the world of you.
"Generous contracts for employees,"
"donations"...
Who did you talk to about all this?
Behind my back!
You call me in here for some witness statement,
then ramp it up like this?
Is this even legal?
Maybe I don't even know this man, if you're going to talk to me like this.
Now that I think about it again,
Husemannstrasse... did I even live there? What would you do then?
Then we'd start again.
But what with?
Do you know who this woman is?
Who's that supposed to be?
Jens Krahl's mother.
The photo is from November '97.
Her 70th birthday. A neighbour took it.
The woman said she could hardly bear how Mrs Krahl was always so lonely.
She died a year later.
The neighbour had just moved in back then.
Ms Kürten. Originally from Bavaria.
She liked to have the old lady over, as a kind of surrogate grandmother.
It was a pretty sad story.
After a cup of coffee or two,
the old woman always talked about Jens, her only child,
and how he wouldn't abandon her.
That she was certain her dear son would come back for her one day.
We went there. Nice little house.
With a barn for the 20 chickens she kept there.
It's empty now and rotting.
Nothing but coal heating.
She put blankets over the draughty windows.
It must have been exhausting.
If you ask the neighbours, her son was hardly perfect.
Moving to the West: fine.
But not checking in on his mother,
letting the old lady live on a very small pension,
only 670 marks a month.
That doesn't leave any money for repairs.
The old washing machine from the cellar is still down there.
It was broken for years.
She washed clothes by hand.
What do you want from me?
When you dig up a corpse after 30 years, we police officers don't have high hopes.
But when the dead person's name can be determined thanks to his watch,
and when you check his relatives
and suddenly realise that someone is paying for the old woman's gravestone,
plus the flowers every year,
you ask yourself, why does Mr Müller pay for the gravestone and flowers
of someone he couldn't possibly know?
And why does he make such an effort
to conceal that he's paying the bills and where the money is coming from?
Then we found out about the renovations Jens Krahl did for you.
And we just can't help but wonder,
what happened between Krahl and Müller?
There must be a misunderstanding.
What do you think that misunderstanding is?
There are many Jochen Müllers in Germany,
even in Berlin.
Do you know what all this tells us?
The person who buried Mr Krahl in the foundations
isn't cold-blooded.
Congratulations.
Carrying a dead body from an apartment to a car
is almost impossible, single-handedly, I mean.
And Husemannstrasse, three flights up...
Then all that way to the construction site on Rosenthaler Strasse.
I mean, you saw the corpse.
And then paid for the mother's grave.
You showed sympathy.
As we see it, burying the body fully clothed only puts you at a disadvantage.
You didn't know that 30 years ago, did you?
You didn't know we'd find a whole lot of DNA
that doesn't belong to the body.
That's why you'll help us by taking a DNA test.
According to your story, we won't find any trace of you, will we?
Why would I have done it?
It's nonsense.
Did you do it?
You really believe the gay story, that I took coke and then... what?
He blackmailed me? And I flipped out?
Do you want a lawyer now?
Even if you refuse to talk now,
you'll be charged with the murder of Jens Krahl on circumstantial evidence.
And if we find your DNA on Jens Krahl, you can count on a conviction.
All that can help you now is your motive.
Explain yourself.
Maybe a lawyer would be a good idea. What do you think?
If you look at him closely,
behind his professional facade,
is a very emotional guy.
Whatever went on between those two back then,
it wasn't cold-blooded or premeditated murder.
Softening him up and then revealing the photo of the mother...
Not bad.
This is all nonsense.
He didn't kill Krahl.
What about his reaction to the woman? What's that if not guilt?
Maybe...
...he thinks she's hot?
You've been working out how to best confront him for weeks.
He's about to confess to everything.
Can your ego let me finish this alone?
It is finished.
Just relax.
And use the bathroom as often as you want.
Are you OK?
I forgot.
Your lawyer?
I couldn't reach him.
This is strange for me, too.
I'll be honest:
The way you saw East Germany back then through your Western eyes.
I remember like it was yesterday:
November 9th.
I was driving my father's Trabant,
but I couldn't get through to Bornholmer Strasse.
So I walked.
My first time in the West.
There were so many people on the streets. So many.
Yes...
Do you know where I slept?
In Tiergarten Park. On a bench.
Almost froze to death.
"When they close everything up again tomorrow, I'll stay here."
Or so I thought.
The reality check came later.
Land of opportunity, my arse.
Not for us, anyway.
Do you know why that is?
The West had an advantage.
It's simple.
I mean their mentality.
But they also had a practical advantage. "Cash".
Many good people got a bum deal
because they didn't have those same advantages.
I agree.
Krahl, for example... and this is very interesting...
His father was at the forefront in '53.
The national uprising, strikes.
The family never recovered.
Krahl had excellent grades,
but the wrong politics.
High school graduation, university...
no chance of that.
Poor guy.
After reunification, he was in huge debt because he got talked into buying things.
A car, new furniture.
He lost his job.
After that, he struggled to make a living.
I think he could have made something of himself.
If they'd given him the chance.
Written off his debts and given him a second chance.
Did he steal from you?
He wasn't a criminal.
That was 30 years ago,
but one thing never changes:
You can always tell an East and a West German apart.
I totally agree.
You're not from the West.
It would be absurd to take me to court for the murder of Jens Krahl.
I know you didn't kill him.
Who are you covering for?
No one.
Jens Krahl is still alive.
I'm Jens Krahl.
That's Jochen Müller.
He was a dentist in Cologne, 1988.
If his old office is still around, you'll find X-rays there.
It'll prove that I haven't gone off the deep end.
What you said before was right.
My father didn't take anything lying down.
And that was good, but not really very smart.
We all paid for it.
I would've loved to have gone to university,
but I had no chance at all.
When I was 18, I moved to a place near Zionskirchplatz.
Things were pretty screwed up there,
but I found people there who thought like I did.
We applied for visas to leave the country
and sold T-shirts with logos from the West on the black market.
Just after I had my visa approved, after I'd already packed, the Wall fell.
All of the nonsense I went through...
Having to go to government offices a hundred times...
It was all pointless. Do you understand?
Then all that shit afterwards. I simply fell for it.
The debts mounted up. My father was dead.
And you saw my mother.
Then people like Müller showed up.
Big shots.
He just bought that apartment like it was nothing.
He was my age,
but it was like he was from another planet.
- He called you? - Of course.
I was supposed to renovate the apartment.
From top to bottom. Money was no object.
A total arsehole?
Arsehole?
I don't know.
He blathered on endlessly about his father,
about what kind of a guy he was, not in a good way.
That he was glad he was dead.
What I wouldn't have given to have my old man back.
Was it like that in the West, that they all... their fathers...
I don't know.
So you knew Müller was alone, that he didn't know anyone in Berlin?
Yeah...
Not really. I wasn't really interested.
I did my job, and he paid me.
Right.
It's not what you think. He wasn't an arsehole, just spoiled.
An only child who'd been let down by life.
He blew through the cash and didn't even notice.
If you ask me, he wouldn't have amounted to anything.
Did Müller... come on to you?
- That gay story, you mean? - Yes.
Today is the first I'm hearing of it.
At the end of my last week at work, he told me he might be taking a trip.
So, I said OK, fine.
I'll continue once he's back.
But instead he gave me the key and 200 marks, told me to go ahead.
He couldn't have cared less.
At the time my attitude was such that I thought he wouldn't notice anyway
if the window frames get one or two coats of paint.
So I didn't go there for a day or two.
On the third day, I thought to myself...
I guess I had a bad conscience...
So I went there
and painted the window frames. Three days.
Then I get to the bathroom.
He must have been lying in the bathtub for at least five days.
Heart attack, stroke, who knows.
He'd lit candles that had melted right down.
On the toilet lid
was coke, speed, heroin...
I don't know, no idea.
And I'm painting the window frames.
When something like that happens, ten out of ten people call the police.
Don't tell me you didn't have that in the back of your mind.
No, I wasn't thinking about anything.
I went into the living room to use the phone.
And truthfully, that was the first time I noticed
the key to his car lying there.
And his wallet in his coat in the hallway.
Full of hundred mark notes.
And then I thought,
he's been there for a while.
Another day or two won't make any difference.
I packed a bag for myself with his stuff. Took some of his clothes.
Some things from the kitchen for my mom. There were some good brands.
"I'll call the police tomorrow," I thought.
So I took off my paint-splattered clothes and put on some of his.
And then the doorbell suddenly rang.
And you answered? Why?
Wiebke is persistent.
She knocked and shouted that she'd heard my footsteps,
that she just had a quick question.
And of course I panicked.
What if she calls the police, for whatever reason?
How would that look?
So I opened the door.
- It was your current wife? - Wiebke, yes. Asking for flour.
While I was rummaging around, she came in,
and I almost lost it completely.
But the thing is...
She thought you were Müller.
Of course. What else would she think?
We flew to Spain.
Wiebke and I.
I didn't get a wink of sleep for nights to come.
Not in the way you're thinking.
I saw my fellow Germans.
Some came in their Trabant cars to Valencia.
They were sleeping on the beach.
Wiebke and I... She had it in her blood, the West.
We stayed at a hotel, paid with credit card,
had breakfast in our room.
There you go, Mr Müller. Please, Mr Müller. Thank you, Mr Müller.
Who would want to give up on all that?
One morning, I went to the consulate and said,
sorry, I've lost my passport.
A few weeks later it was official.
Do you think Wiebke would have gone to Spain with a handyman?
An Alexander Puschkin High School student, with a pile of debt?
So...
It's my lawyer.
Krahl.
Leaving already?
You still need to get some regulation lights there, buddy.
Is the boss here?
About the review...
My time sheets...
You'll see I'm sometimes a little sloppy.
You mean you bill more than you should?
I'm sure it pretty much adds up,
but I meant to mention it to Human Resources.
We already know. It's OK. That's not what it's about.
So what is it about?
Don't worry about it.
OK.
Martin.
What a crazy thing.
Krahl, Müller... Boy oh boy.
And that chick, the pregnant one?
That's her, isn't it?
Word has gotten around already?
What's the deal?
Do you think she has something on us?
Subtitle translation: Blondah Fritaud