Puppet Show

"Hotel Manager here." Melanie opened the door of the hotel room that she was sharing with her brother, just a crack. "Can I speak to your father, please?"

Of course you can, Melanie thought to herself as she unlatched the safety chain and opened the door wider. Her parents had booked two rooms at the Holiday Inn in the famous tourist area of San Francisco known as Fisherman’s Wharf. The rooms were side by side, with connecting doors. This arrangement made it easier for the whole family to interact. It was already evening on the third day of their Spring Break vacation. The family was relaxing, and getting ready for bed. Gerry and Irene were watching television in bed. Richard was wandering in and out of their room watching TV on and off as he busied himself with other things, such as teasing his sister. It had been a nice day. They had taken a walk across the famous Golden Gate Bridge, eaten dinner at a quaint restaurant and done a number of other touristy things.

Just as Melanie opened the door, she realized that the hotel manager was not alone. Five US Marshals stormed into the room and slammed the door back against the wall. Melanie had seen US Marshals portrayed Hollywood-style in many movies. Her recollection fit – burly men in blue jeans and baseball caps. Some were still wearing their dark sunglasses. But the drawn weapons were what really got her attention, as she was thrown against the wall and a handgun was shoved in her face. Richard, curious about what was going on in his room, walked in to find a gun pointed at him as well. He made a quick retreat back to his parents’ room with three of the Marshals close behind, still brandishing their weapons. Obviously Irene and Gerry were no longer relaxing.

"Grrr...grr dus..."

The Dutch name was clearly giving one of the Marshals some difficulty. He tried again.

"Grr...rar...dus de Klerk?" It was pretty close. De Klerk acknowledged with a nod.

"We have a warrant for your arrest."

The Marshal had just whipped something out that had been stuffed into the back pocket of his jeans. It appeared to be a wrinkled document. As he began to read, he gave the impression that he was actually reading it for the first time.

"I am ordering you to hand over any and all business related documents. Where are they? ... No briefcase?" Meanwhile Gerry had gotten out of bed and started to get dressed.

"I don’t have any business related documents with me. I’m here on vacation with my family."

He was barely allowed to put on a shirt and pants before the Marshal barked:

"Hands behind your back!" – and slapped on the handcuffs.

De Klerk was escorted into the hallway as Irene and the kids watched in total disbelief.

"Your husband will appear in court tomorrow morning, Madam. You can be there if you wish." He scribbled down an address, strongly objected to showing her the warrant, and exited, slamming the door behind him. As the vision of the back of his jacket with the words ‘US Marshal’ lingered, the feeling remained surreal.

De Klerk was taken downstairs via the freight elevator. Once outside he was thrown face down onto the pavement. One of the Marshals smashed his knee into the small of his back, and applied new handcuffs. Four police cars were standing by to escort him to the pre-trial detention center somewhere in San Francisco. When they arrived, some thirty other arrested individuals welcomed the newcomer and immediately tried to relieve him of his new shoes, which he had just bought that same afternoon.

******************************

Place at the Pier no longer exists. The restaurant in Richmond, one of Vancouver’s suburbs, was sold somewhere between 1995 and 2002 and transformed into the umpteenth location of the Elephant & Castle. The new owner has added a balcony and a fresh touch with red and white umbrellas. One can order fish and chips or tortillas. The view over the marina has not changed much, and still, sometimes the odd eagle will circle high above the boats. It’s quite a pleasant place to eat, but it is no longer Place at the Pier, the restaurant where more than twenty-five years ago Gerry de Klerk and Irene Nelson had their first dinner together as newlyweds.

However, there is something positive about the fact that the name has changed, because for Gerry and his wife there are not only fond memories of Place at the Pier. This was the same restaurant where, years later, their lives would be threatened. These were not just idle threats, but were deemed so serious that the police became heavily involved. The reason de Klerk is still able to recount these events of 1995 in the minutest detail is twofold: firstly he had to give a concise and meticulous report to the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP), and secondly, the whole scenario was too absurd ever to forget.

Gerry remembers it vividly. "On August 9, 1995, Irene answered a phone call from a man who told her his name was Mr. X. (For reasons which will become clear in this chapter, this is the only name in the book that will not be revealed, P.S. & G.dK.) He said that he was from Israel, and told her that an old friend of ours, Les Peterson, had suggested he call me. He wanted to discuss a business opportunity of mutual benefit, which he claimed Les had approved of. I wasn’t home, so Irene asked him to call back.

I tried to call Les to check him out, but he wasn’t available until after the weekend. I figured if Les thought he was OK, I saw no reason not to meet him. So, when he called back, Irene invited him to my office at home. Instead he insisted that I come for lunch at Place at the Pier restaurant at the Delta Hotel in Richmond. He said it was customary in his country that the person initiating the business contact be the host. We agreed to meet there at 12:00 Noon on Friday, August 11, 1995."

Gerry had already gone in when Irene pulled up and circled the hotel parking lot just a few minutes later. She recounts, "I don’t know why, but I felt uneasy after Gerry had left for the meeting. I asked Melanie to come along and we drove to the hotel. Gerry’s car was parked in a fire zone that was clearly marked as a no parking zone. That was so unlike him. I could do one of two things: go in to see what was going on, or assume that he knew what he was doing and could handle himself. I was extremely anxious, but chose to drive back home."

Her husband also felt uncomfortable. He had already had an uncanny feeling when he arrived, and purposely parked in the no parking zone. If his Mercedes was in the way, they would page him so he could move it. However strange it may seem, he took comfort in the idea that someone would look for him within hours if he were to vanish. And when he had the opportunity to see his luncheon host eye to eye, the uneasy feeling got even stronger.