43
GERLICH TOOK THE FIFTH envelope and shook out a single piece of paper. Stationery again, but this time bearing the name A. Hitler. It was obviously written with a dip pen, as smudges of ink appeared by some of the words and elsewhere on the parchment.
“‘My dearest Geli,’” Bauer read aloud. “‘I am writing this letter because I know how difficult it is to speak of these matters.
“‘What you see as private and disgusting, I see as you in your most natural, vulnerable, and intimate state.’”
“My God,” said Gerlich. “He’s talking about what they do when they’re alone.”
The letter was nearly a full page. Bauer could hardly believe it, much less read it. In graphic and literal detail, the leader of the Nazi Party was admitting to deriving sexual pleasure from his young half niece urinating on him.
“He makes her do it,” Gerlich said, “even though she says she hates it.”
As the letter wore on, that became the theme—a domineering uncle, a young niece eager to elude the prison he built around her.
Bauer read: “‘I cannot deny that you dominate my thoughts, even that my obsession with you has become unhealthy.’”
And this line that, in Bauer’s opinion, stated that theme all too starkly:
“‘You and I both understand that you can never be with another man. As much as I have tried to tolerate the idea, I cannot permit it.’”
When he was finished, Gerlich looked at Bauer. “Who can now claim it’s far-fetched that Hitler might have killed Geli to stop her from leaving him?”
“Nobody.” For the first time, Bauer allowed himself optimism. This felt different. This was as close to conclusive as he could hope for. “And that’s not the best part,” he said. “Look there in the corner.”
Gerlich leaned forward. “Just another ink smudge, no?”
“It’s a lot more than an ink smudge, Fritz.” Bauer pointed. “It’s a thumbprint, dipped in ink!” He gripped Gerlich’s jacket and shook him. “We can prove it’s his handwriting and we have a fingerprint to back it up. He won’t be able to deny this.”
The room went silent again as the men took in the gravity of everything they’d seen. They paced, looked at each other, stared at the ceiling, shut their eyes, and considered the possibilities.
“It’s still not airtight proof of murder, though,” said Helldorff.
“No, Peter. No, no, no.” Gerlich waved his hands.
“You’re not seeing this on a wide enough scale.
Quit being a cop for two minutes. This exposes the man for the monster he is.
The people need to know this. Of course I care about solving a murder, but don’t you see?
Didn’t you just read those same memos about how they’re going to take total power and eradicate the Jews from this country?
This is about more than a murder, Bauer. This is about the fate of our nation!”
He was right. Bauer, slowly nodding, knew it, too.
They finally had something they could use to take down Adolf Hitler.