A woman who was held captive in an apartment, threatened with a gun by three men, and raped over several hours describes in the courtroom what she suffered.
She talks about the life she led before the crime, and when the judge asks her about her interests and dreams. She talks about how the crimes haunt her everyday life, about recurring memories and nightmares, about what was destroyed within her. She has to recall and recount each crime in detail: which of the defendants did what, with which of their body parts, on which part of their body, and for exactly how long. The witness is fighting to maintain her composure. She is fighting against revulsion, disgust, and shame. And to bear the memories and put them into words. I sense she is also fighting for respect, recognition, and dignity.
The only thing that can be heard in the courtroom is the woman's voice. When she reflects or fights back tears, you could hear a pin drop.
Something unusual happens after 30 minutes. A bailiff stands up without being asked, walks from the back of the courtroom to the witness table, and places a glass of water in front of the witness.
I'm experiencing this situation in a Berlin courtroom as a psychosocial counselor. It touches me because I've never before witnessed such a show of compassion and humanity in the strictly orderly course of a court hearing, where the presiding judges dictate every step.
I have been working as a psychosocial litigation supporter since 2017. This form of support provides particularly vulnerable victims affected by serious violent and sexual crimes with intensive support from specially trained professionals. Children and adolescents, as well as adults (survivors), are considered particularly vulnerable in cases of serious crimes. These crimes can include child sexual abuse, rape, aggravated bodily harm, or homicide. Psychosocial litigation support provides victims with professional support throughout the entire criminal proceedings, which can sometimes drag on for several years.
Psychosocial support during a trial is partly defined by what it is not: it is not legal advice, it is not clarification or discussion of the crime, it is not therapy. But: it is a very good way to educate, accompany, and support victims of a crime in an area that is very foreign and unknown to them. I can explain to them how the criminal proceedings work in each of its stages and what to expect. I inform them about an interrogation at the State Criminal Police Office and what rights and responsibilities they have. I can be at their side when they are questioned. I can also tour the courtroom with them before the main hearing begins and explain which parties are involved in the trial. If they are testifying as witnesses in the court hearing, I can sit next to them. The conversations with those affected before the respective interrogations aim to alleviate their (often significant) existing stress (e.g., sleep disorders or recurring memories). The discussions focus on the consequences of the crime(s), their fears and anxieties (for example, before meeting the defendant), and also their expectations of the criminal proceedings. Examining these can lead to personal clarity, potentially a more realistic assessment through the transfer of knowledge, and psychological relief.
My tasks also include showing them ways how and where they can get further help (such as protection in the event of continued violence, legal assistance, trauma clinics, (women's) support facilities, social and financial compensation, etc.).
For people who have been deprived of any right to self-determination as a result of a crime, it is important that this right is tangibly restored. Therefore, I generally leave it up to them to decide what steps they take and what support they seek.
If the right to physical integrity, enshrined in the Basic Law, is violated, even the rule of law cannot adequately compensate for the injustice suffered. Through psychosocial support during criminal proceedings, I can help make the rule of law more transparent and understandable for those affected. And every gesture, attitude, and action by all those involved that demonstrates compassion and respect can help them cope with such stressful situations.
For me, the photo of the spiral staircase in the Berlin criminal court symbolizes the process that victims of crimes go through: They have a long, confusing path to travel, at the beginning of which the end is invisible to them. The spiral staircase doesn't lead to the shortest and most direct route to the goal; it can create the feeling of going around in circles. But there is a railing that limits the path—which the victims must navigate themselves—that stabilizes, that provides orientation, support, and security.
