Over a hundred journalists and photographers jostled with police, court officials, grieving family members, and as many of the curious public as could squeeze their way in. A low-level hum of background chat permeated the entire proceedings. People snuck in drinks and brought out dog-eared novels to read during the recesses, rustling in bags with furtive intensity. It was more like a theatre spectacle than a judicial process. And the undisputed stars of the show weren’t about to miss their opportunity to bask in the spotlight. In the dock, Daniel Ruda and his wife Manuela played to their audience. The two had dressed for the occasion with elaborate care and attention to detail. Daniel, with his close cropped hair and neat goatee probably wouldn’t have attracted a second glance had you walked past him in the street. True, the 26-year-old car parts salesman’s dark clothes gave him a slightly sinister air, but nothing more than any of the other tens of thousands of young people in Germany who follow a certain type of music and loosely term themselves Goths.
