Column | The kick of putting a squat

Paul Kassel (54) is ready on the couch. He is going to tell about his life. For the occasion he attracted his black suit and neat, black shoes. He lives in an institution somewhere in South Holland. His supervisor Frank is there too.

Paul Kassel grew up in Rotterdam, on Noordereiland, right next to the Erasmus Bridge. At the age of ten he stole toys from the Bart Smit and clothing from the Bijenkorf. This is how a long career in crime started.

His mother was a dear wife, he says, he never knew his father. For Paul and for his three older sisters there was little money, they lived from a social assistance benefit.

As a teenager he became addicted to the slot machine in the snack bar. His mother dragged him out of it again screaming. But it didn’t help. It was the rush. The adrenaline soot. He had to.

It became Holland Casino at the age of eighteen. Black Jack. Roulette. Those were his friends. He has gambled millions of euros. Real! Not in one go of course. In his entire life. Once a ton in two weeks. Everything he had earned. Earned? Yes, breaking in.

Paranoid schizophrenia was the diagnosis at the age of twenty. He received wrong medication: Prozac, while he should have had an antipsychotic. He often drank and a lot.

He was a fast cracking champion. Not to bluff, he was just faster than others. He did not like burglary. From expensive stores. Turn up and sell things. He did not think about bewildered or traumatized sellers. It was about the money.

He survived countless shootings and arguments. Once he was arrested by an arrest team. That was after he started shooting for a cafe in the Oude Haven. In the air, but still.

Another time, after a raised argument at the bar of café De Witte Aap, he stuck a man with a cardboard knife. He had heartache, he says now. He could not forget his son’s mother. Kassel ran away, came to my mind, called the police with a bloody hand to indicate themselves and also asked for an ambulance.

The victim barely survived the stab in the heart region. Kassel was sentenced to 48 months in prison. On appeal, nine went off. Afterwards the regret came.

A psychosis is a marathon in your head, says Kassel. The prison was therefore often a blessing. There he received the structure and regularity he missed outside. All in all, he was behind the door for thirteen years. His criminal record has 26 pages.

At the age of 40 he received the right medicines. Not that he suddenly became a neat guy. A kick kept putting a kick. Also a kind of addiction. Just like the drink and shag.

Always on the flight, enemies, debts, a note with a bullet in the letterbox: you have to pay, friend!

It had to stop once.

In the institution for people who need extra care, he has peace. He was converted to Christian and was baptized. He takes medication in time and has good contact with his son. The walls of his room are full of words, loose sentences, exclamations and statements in red marker. He puts Senseo coffee.

And on the advice of supervisor Frank, he wrote a book. Paul Kassel told. Frank typed. It took a year.

This week the book was published, in a small edition. For family and friends. And for his lawyer. It was festively presented. A book, says Frank, can be put in the closet. Then you don’t have to be busy with your past all the time. You can look ahead.

That’s right, says Paul Kassel. He hopes that the book will be filmed about his life. And that it then becomes a blockbuster. Then he still benefited from it.

Sheila Kamerman (Sheila.kamerman@nrc.nl) reports somewhere from the Netherlands every week.

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