Page 51 of Views
“I think I’m hungry again, even though it’s only just after four,” Michael says. As always, he’s driving. Is that a problem from an emancipatory point of view? But Yasira has no desire to drive herself. Let Michael play chauffeur if he wants to.
“You know exactly what I want to hear,” says Yasira.
“They obviously think their shit is good enough to produce a video like this,” admits her colleague. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean someone actually did it.”
“I know, I know.”
Silently, they drive toward the headquarters. As so often when Michael doesn’t feel like talking, he turns on the local police radio. Something unusual is going on, that’s immediately clear. But it takes them a few moments to make sense of the situation from the many reports. In addition to the large registered demonstration on Alexanderplatz, there is apparently one, that’s smaller and unregistered in the government district. The participants must have coordinated themselves secretly via Telegram. The reports grow increasingly frantic. Things seem to be getting out of hand.
“This is the operations center! All available units are instructed to come to the Reichstag building immediately. I repeat: all available units to the Reichstag building immediately! Demonstrators are attempting to breach parliament. Caution is advised. Some subjects are armed.”
Michael and Yasira look at each other. Technically, this is not within their jurisdiction. But they are in agreement. In the broadest sense, it’s related to their case. So Yasira grabs the mobile blue light, opens the window and attaches it to the roof. Michael makes a U-turn at the next opportunity and races back toward Berlin-Mitte.
Yasira checks her smartphone for news. All the sites are full of it. Right-wing extremists are obviously trying to reenact the storming of the US Capitol. Drone footage shows chaotic scenes. Shots have been fired. More and more people seem to be gathering. How the hell did they manage to organize themselves without the security forces catching on? But maybe it’s like so often. The security forces got wind of it, yet the information was ignored or got lost in the official channels or the officer in charge is on vacation.
Unfortunately, Yasira and Michael can’t even get through to the Reichstag. Dorotheenstraße is full of demonstrators. Many side streets are already closed. Others are blocked by barricades. Michael backs up, trying to find a better way. But their blue light doesn’t go over well.
On Schadowstraße, they are surrounded by demonstrators. Yasira flinches as the car is hit by the first blow. Protesters shake their car on both sides. Almost in sync, their mirrors are kicked off to the left and right. A baton crashes against Yasira’s window. But it holds. Michael revs the engine. He tries to get the car moving, but the crowd doesn’t budge. A woman in a hoodie steals the blue light from the roof and tears at it until the power cable breaks and the light goes out. Yasira draws her gun. She immediately wonders what she actually wants to do with it. Open the sunroof and shoot into the air? Is she actually willing to shoot at the protesters? Of course not. Or only if necessary? But how can you tell if it’s necessary? When is it too early for self-defense? And when is it too late? Someone bangs on her window again. Yasira grabs the radio with her left hand. They came to help, but now they need help themselves.
Yasira sends out an emergency call. Michael backs up the car. Very slowly. But he has to stop again. Yasira feels like she’s in a zombie movie. One of the protesters, a guy in camouflage pants and with some kind of war paint on his face, jumps onto the hood of the car and pisses on the windshield. Michael turns on the windshield wipers. There is simply nothing that can upset her partner. Several demonstrators are wearing some variant of the Active Homeland-Protection logo. Luckily these people don’t know who they’ve caught, Yasira thinks. She’s probably very high up on their hit list.
As discreetly as possible, she pulls her scarf slightly over her face. As if she was the criminal. The world’s turned upside down. Once again, someone bangs on her window. But this time with a rock. The second blow causes cracks in the window pane. Yasira moves as far away from the window as possible and points her gun at it. Michael has also pulled out his gun. The rock hits the car window again.
Suddenly the mob starts to move. A police squad is charging down the street in full riot gear. Following them is a water cannon. Their rescue.
The demonstrators retreat. Michael drives the car onto the sidewalk to make way for the water cannon. He crashes over a couple of e-scooters parked there. The water cannon rolls on and makes its way toward the Reichstag. The squad marches after it. Of course they didn’t come to save Michael and Yasira. They were just lucky that their colleagues wanted to get to Dorotheenstraße via Schadowstraße.
Yasira takes a deep breath. For a moment, she was genuinely scared.
“We’re completely out of place here,” Michael says.
Yasira nods. They’re not wearing any body armor, no helmets, no shields, and she definitely doesn’t want to be recognized by any homeland protectors in this dicey situation. But on the other hand...
“We’re the police,” says Yasira. “We can’t run away when things get rough.”
Michael sighs and gets out of the car. Yasira follows. They grab their protective vests from the trunk and put them on. A platoon leader from the police squad approaches them. Before he can ask any questions, Yasira shows him her badge.
“How can we help?” she asks.
The platoon leader hesitates for a moment. He would actually like to send them home, Yasira suspects. But in this situation, which speaks volumes about the gravity here, he simply says: “Follow me.”
So they join the squad and march to the Reichstag. There, the water cannon clears a path for them to their colleagues who have formed a ring around the parliament building. The reinforcements are most welcome. The officers are far outnumbered by the crowd in front of the barriers. Yasira and Michael keep in the background due to their lack of equipment and training for such situations. They climb a few stairs in front of the entrance to the building for a better overview. Chaos reigns on the Platz der Republik. The police give orders via megaphone, but they are lost in the cacophony of the crowd.
Fireworks and rockets are repeatedly set off.
“What are we even doing here?” Michael shouts in Yasira’s ear.
She just shrugs.
“We’re here,” she shouts back.
Rocks and bottles are hurled at the police. And then Yasira sees one of the protesters pull something out of his rock before he throws it. Except, as she immediately realizes, it’s not a rock. It resembles the items that were seized en masse three weeks ago in the basement of the Reichsbürger.
“Look out!” she screams as loud as she can. “Grenade!”
The explosive device lands less than ten meters away from them, and again Yasira screams: “Grenade!”
EXPLOSIVE
