A violent confrontation inside his Munich apartment left a journalist who had considered himself a peaceful person contemplating an act of revenge with a hammer. The incident, followed by months of anger, fantasies of retaliation and an eventual court hearing, became the starting point for an examination of revenge as a deeply personal human impulse that can persist even when the state has taken responsibility for punishment.
The confrontation began in March, when the journalist and his wife were preparing their new apartment ahead of the birth of their child. They had arranged for a tradesman, identified in the article under the pseudonym Gernot Wichmann, to remove their old kitchen and install a new one. They had selected him after finding his website and being impressed by his professional presentation. He was expected at 9.30am on a Saturday but arrived at 12.30pm, explaining that he had suffered stomach pains, had gone out to eat and had taken his son to the hairdresser. His son accompanied him into the apartment.
Wichmann initially appeared competent as he sorted through the boxes containing the kitchen components. After allowing him to work for about half an hour, the journalist returned to ask whether everything was going well. The exchange quickly deteriorated. According to the journalist’s subsequent statement to police, Wichmann complained that the journalist’s wife, whom he described as insolent, had pressured him into undertaking the installation despite being ill. He also referred to the recent death of his great-grandfather and said he was nevertheless being forced to work.
The journalist replied that he did not want to hear details of Wichmann’s private life and that nobody was compelling him to continue working. Wichmann then approached him carrying a retractable utility knife, repeatedly extending and withdrawing its blade, and a staple gun, which he fired towards a wall. The staples scattered across the kitchen floor.
The journalist said he initially struggled to comprehend that he was being threatened. He asked Wichmann to leave, believing the situation might be brought under control. Instead, Wichmann put away the knife, extended his hand and, after the journalist accepted it, pushed him from the kitchen into the hallway. He then shouted: “I won’t let myself be made a faggot in front of my son. I’ll come back privately, and then I’ll fuck you.”
Wichmann continued shouting, kicking boxes and punching the wall. His son repeatedly pleaded with him to stop. The journalist called the police, using his mobile phone’s loudspeaker, but the threats and aggression continued. When his wife returned home, Wichmann began throwing cardboard boxes around the apartment, striking the floor with a hammer and threatening to do the same to the couple when he returned. He also said he wanted them to drown and burn inside their home. The couple barricaded themselves in a room until police arrived.
Officers recorded the details of the incident and repeatedly warned Wichmann that he could be taken into custody if he refused to co-operate. The journalist subsequently filed a criminal complaint for threats. A police officer had already noticed that Wichmann had previous encounters with the authorities. Yet the prospect of an official investigation did little initially to contain the journalist’s anger.
After the police left, he searched for Wichmann’s address, questioned whether he was fit to drive in his emotional state and decided that he was. He picked up a hammer and was almost out of the apartment when he stopped to consider what he was doing. The journalist later recognised that his desire to retaliate had become sufficiently powerful for him to contemplate taking matters into his own hands, despite having reason to believe the police would pursue the case.
Mario Gollwitzer, a professor of social psychology at the University of Munich who researches revenge, explained that retaliation serves a regulatory function. By demonstrating that violations have consequences, a person signals that similar behaviour should not be repeated. “Revenge, unlike the legal system, is always something personal,” he said. It communicates resistance and can serve as a means of defending one’s status when someone feels disrespected or humiliated.
Gollwitzer rejected the idea that revenge was simply an irrational instinct belonging to humanity’s animal nature. “Revenge has a certain rationality; these are often well-planned actions,” he said. Its irrational element, he argued, lies in people’s tendency to overestimate the effects of retaliation.
The journalist recognised aspects of this in his own behaviour. His contemplated response was not an uncontrolled pursuit of Wichmann in the street. He had deliberately searched for an address and considered taking a hammer. His subsequent fantasies ranged from publishing a damaging online review to reporting Wichmann to social services in the hope that his son’s custody arrangements would be examined. At other moments, he imagined physically hurting him.
The article also draws on philosopher Fabian Bernhardt’s book, Rache – Über einen blinden Fleck der Moderne (Revenge: On a Blind Spot of Modernity). Bernhardt argues that modern legal thinking has largely excluded revenge from serious philosophical examination because it challenges the state’s monopoly over punishment and the use of force. This has narrowed the understanding of revenge to uncontrolled and violent retaliation, overlooking less conspicuous forms that occur within everyday relationships.
Gollwitzer cited research involving couples in Canada in which participants initially denied engaging in revenge when asked directly. However, when researchers described situations involving perceived injustice and the desire to retaliate, respondents acknowledged behaviours such as giving partners the cold shoulder or responding with deliberate hostility. Such measured acts, he suggested, can communicate dissatisfaction and sometimes restore balance within relationships.
Months after the confrontation, the journalist received a summons to testify against Wichmann at the Munich District Court. During the hearing, he saw the defendant wearing a turquoise prison uniform and described the events to the judge and defence lawyer. The judge read out Wichmann’s criminal record, which included repeated prison sentences or periods of probation since he turned 18, for offences including theft, bodily harm and grievous bodily harm.
Wichmann had been on probation when he entered the journalist’s apartment. He had subsequently received another sentence and was already serving two years and seven months in prison. The judge described him as someone who went through life without taking responsibility for his actions, noting that the apartment incident represented an escalation because his previous aggression had been directed mainly at police officers. The journalist was the first civilian to become a victim of that behaviour.
The court imposed a further six months’ imprisonment, bringing Wichmann’s total sentence to three years and one month. Leaving the courtroom, the journalist felt relief but also discomfort at the prospect of Wichmann spending additional time in prison because of an incident lasting less than two hours. His anger had subsided, replaced by guilt and concern about the defendant’s repeated imprisonment and unsuccessful attempts at rehabilitation.
Weeks later, while driving past Stadelheim Prison, where Wichmann was being held, the journalist found himself imagining the defendant’s anger towards him. But another thought followed: next time, he would not remain so calm. Next time, he would defend himself.
