Vag Vikernes Blogs in Detail About His Recent Arrest in France
Varg Vikernes, fresh off his release from a French prison after being held on suspected terrorist charges, has posted a series of three blogs detailing his arrest, time in prison, his subsequent release and the paparazzi storm that has followed.
Varg starts by painting a negative picture of the SWAT team that broke into his home and destroyed and confiscated personal property (including several weapons), but ends up painting a fairly positive picture of the French police who he describes as “professional” on multiple occasions. He routinely compliments the French police, jails and court system for their expedient handling of the manner after bemoaning the violent treatment of his pregnant wife and the disregard for his two children. It’s a strange contradiction.
Given Varg’s violent and racist history, I think it’s very fair to ask: what the hell are we reading here? Varg’s account (no surprise) paints him as an innocent man guilty of no wrong-doing, but it also seems to relieve the French police of all culpability, or at least put the blame on some mysterious government higher-ups. I see no reason not to believe Varg’s account since he was ultimately found innocent and let go — and he appears to have done nothing wrong here — but these blogs are just very odd. Here’s a sample:
Thuesday I woke up a bit earlier than I normally do. Yes, I normally wake up because the dog wants to take a leak on our lawn, around 7:00, but this morning I woke up because of a loud bang. I more or less jumped out of bed and saw that somebody was breaking into our home. Thankfully I immediately saw that it was actually the police, so I did not reach for any means of defence, and instead just raised my arms and waited for the police to enter. “Ah, it’s just the police”. My second thought was “What on Earth are they up to? Are they actually smashing our entire entrance area just because of my blog?” I was not sure whether or not they were shooting into our living room or actually flashbanging our living room. After a total of three explosiones (that later turned out to be gun shots) and a lot of breaking of glass and door frames they entered.
My pregnant wife, not yet aware that it was actually the police, tried to cover our youngest son and — she told me later — was about to reach for her 22 LR Browning lever action rifle, when she understood from my reaction that it was the police. Our youngest son, who was sleeping in our bed during that night (because my mother-in-law was visiting), and was therefore directly behind me and in front of the muzzles of the police’s assault rifles.
Sorry to digress, but some times when you buy underwear you get three underpants in one package, and for some reason at least one of these are always in some horrible colour, and of course I was wearing such a pair of underpants on Thuesday morning. A pair of strikingly orange underpants. Having been repeatedly dragged out into the street or prison hallways or similar in my underwear before, by the Norwegian police or prison guards, I thought to myself that this was going to repeat itself and I would be photographed with my little belly, my thin hair, my tanned arms in great contrast to my pale body and — wearing horribly orange underpants. (Everybody would believe that I was actually Dutch…)
When I had completed my little intelligent string of thoughts, about orange underpants and everything, the police had climbed the staircase and — simply put — arrested me, laying me face down in the bed with hand cuffs on my back. To my great surprise they also arrested and put hand cuffs on my pregnant wife, leaving my shocked youngest son sitting there alone without his mother’s protection. A whole lot of DCRI police officers in civil clothes arrived and the apparent chief said “Yes, that is Vikernes”.
Read the rest of Part 1 here, then read Part 2 and Part 3.
