Satellite People - [26]

In short, I found nothing of any relevance to the current investigation, but did make a note of the chequered family history.

As for the two Resistance men who were murdered during the war, I first made a phone call to Petter Johannes Wendelboe. I felt no need, however, to press him for names this time, and in the end I went through the archive of unsolved murders from 1941. The armed skirmishes from the 1940s were a thing of the past, and the fight against the occupying forces really became fierce only in the final year of the war.

I quickly found the two cases in question, but could not see of what relevance they might be. The names were Hans Petter Nilsen and Bjørn Varden, who were aged thirty-eight and twenty-eight respectively, and lived in Bekkestua in Bærum, and Grønnegate in Oslo. Both had indeed been found shot dead in their bedrooms in the morning, Nilsen on 12 May and Varden on 5 September. Nilsen had lived alone and was found by a colleague when he failed to turn up to work. Varden was married and was found by his wife, who had been sleeping in another room with their small baby. No physical traces of the murderer were found in either case, and it was presumed that he either had keys, or managed to get in and out through an open window. The fact that both victims had been shot with the same weapon, a German-manufactured 9x19mm calibre Walther pistol, strengthened the theory that they had both been killed by the same person. The case was closed in spring 1943, however, due to lack of evidence, and there was nothing to indicate that it was ever followed up. A complaint from Bjørn Varden’s wife, which had been filed without comment in 1949, was the only document from after the war. The word ‘dead’ was now written across both files in red letters.

The file concerning Ole Kristian Wiig’s death on Liberation Day in 1945 was somewhat thicker. There was a death certificate that confirmed Wiig had died as a result of two bullet wounds to the head. There were also statements from two police constables at the scene of the crime who both said that they had been standing outside the house when they suddenly heard a shot on the first floor.

They saw Magdalon Schelderup at the window, who gestured to them that they should come up. They stormed up the stairs and found Wiig dead on the floor of the Nazi’s study. A few feet away, a young member of the Resistance was standing, paralysed, with a gun in his hand. Just as they came into the room, Magdalon Schelderup had snatched the gun from his hands and then declared that he had seen the murder. Bratberg was apparently too confused to give a statement there and then and was arrested on the spot.

Magdalon Schelderup’s written statement was an accurate account of his explanation given at the scene of the crime. Bratberg had seemed distressed and confused all day and had suddenly shot Wiig without warning. Schelderup had added a rather sad sentence at the end to say that Bratberg was obviously mentally disturbed and that he and the others in the group should have noticed this earlier. The gun belonged to Bratberg and had his and Schelderup’s fingerprints on it, as could be expected, given that Schelderup had taken the gun from him.

Bratberg’s written statement was a chapter unto itself. I did not know whether to laugh or cry when I read it. According to Arild Bratberg, Wiig and Schelderup had been arguing when he came into the room and Wiig had been waving a piece of paper furiously in Schelderup’s face. Schelderup had suddenly darted over to Bratberg, snatched his gun from him and shot Wiig. Schelderup had then opened the window and waved to someone. After which he walked calmly round the table whistling, swinging the gun loosely in his hand and breaking into the popular song ‘Better and Better Day by Day’. When Bratberg said in horror that Wiig had been hit, Schelderup had, in his words, initially replied: ‘Yes, but that’s not so strange; after all, there’s a war going on out there!’ He had then commented that it was not unusual to have a lie-down in the early afternoon, and added with a smile: ‘And anyway, it’s only a toy gun. Try for yourself!’ Schelderup had then passed the gun to Bratberg, only to grab it from him again when the two policemen came into the room. As to the critical question of where the piece of paper was that he claimed to have seen, Bratberg stated that Schelderup had swallowed it before the policemen entered.

Of all the many strange statements I had read, this was the most confused and desperate. The psychiatrist appointed by the court declared that Bratberg was mentally unstable, and he was sentenced to indefinite detention. According to later attachments, he had been detained in a closed prison ward until 1954 and had then been transferred to the mental asylum at Gaustad. He was released on probation in 1960, but had then been sectioned again following relapses in 1962, 1964, 1965 and 1967. The picture of a seriously mentally ill person who had committed a tragic and meaningless crime was clear enough. It was not difficult to understand why the case had had such a devastating effect on Ole Kristian Wiig’s sister and her family. But I did find it hard to see what relevance it might have to Magdalon Schelderup’s death.