What we can learn from Peter R. de Vries

A cold blooded murder in Amsterdam forces us to rethink our moral compass and how we build and maintain relationships

The past few weeks have been characterized by some tragic news from The Netherlands. Peter R. de Vries the famous Dutch crime journalist, writer and TV personality was shot in cold blood on the streets of Amsterdam on July 6. He was not just a celebrity to the Dutch, his covering of the Heineken kidnapping in the early 80s and his relentless efforts to uncover the evil behind the disappearance of American graduate Natalee Holloway on the beaches of Aruba in 2005 (which actually won him an Emmy award) gave him international fame too. His death last Thursday after nine days in a coma made international headlines. A public farewell in the coming week is expected to draw tens of thousands of mourners, a spectacle that may symbolize how the Dutch sense that their beacons of moral clarity are gradually disappearing.

What struck me in reviewing the man’s career was his clear and unmitigated belief in justice and uncompromising attitude in bringing it to those who had given up hope of ever finding it. Decades old disappearances, brutal murders without a trace of the perpetrator, even cases where the Dutch justice system had locked up innocent people for a long time and where only an outsider could pry open a stuck case with success, De Vries was there. It was of course made for TV work and De Vries grew as a media personality as he kept uncovering criminal mysteries. His presence in courts and endless consumption of court documents made him an unusually sharp and articulate debater. His language was often terse but brutally effective. Very outspoken, sharply dressed, at times somewhat arrogant and abrasive and certainly not afraid to even weigh in on controversial political issues. For instance, he openly attacked the emerging right-leaning populist movements in The Netherlands and lamented that his other celebrity friends found it safer to stay quiet about this. Not him.

He also pioneered a new and hybrid business model, a lot of what he did was not just pure crime reporting, he also advised certain convicts and appeared in many different media. The multiple hats he wore earned him criticism in a society where success is always a bit frowned upon, but De Vries was always clear in explaining where his interests were. He argued that having multiple roles in no way compromised his search for justice. He would take that attitude as far as ignoring a court order to not broadcast a videotaped confession of a serial killer (which contained some truly gruesome details) after conferring with the relatives of the victims. Their interest to have the story told in full outweighed the right to privacy which the killer had argued and seen validated by the courts. De Vries’ production company probably picked up the huge fine for violating that court order, but the voices of those that could no longer speak had been heard. Moral certainty and justice at any cost.

And in that you begin to see the essence of the man and the incredibly deep and long-lasting relationships he developed with crime victims. If he agreed to take on a case it was a commitment for life: no matter how long, whatever the time and cost, De Vries would help solve it. And in doing that he very often went over and above duty in the service of average Dutch people who had lost a dear one to criminal activity that had unexpectedly and brutally visited them. It was both moving and heartbreaking this week to see all the people he worked with and stayed in touch with, despite the time and the emotional cost. Here is one (in Dutch). And when these cases were discussed on TV, the cool and confident De Vries would at times break down, his investment was always more than just professional. The connections he forged through his crime work became deeply emotional and resulted in life-long friendships with those whose lives had forever been changed. His sense of justice was tattooed on his upper right arm with Burke’s famous “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” He lived that principle to the fullest.

And it was this clear sense of morality and humanity that paved the way to his death. Although hardly a stranger to threats and violence (he had barely escaped the lethal wrath of leading Heineken kidnapper Willem Holleeder), De Vries carried on despite the abundant signs that a lower profile would probably be much safer for him. The Dutch crime scene and in particular the local drug trade in recent years had gradually been taken over by ruthless Mexican-style drug cartels although their ethnic roots were not in Latin America, but in Morocco. One noted gang leader was recently apprehended and the Dutch justice system is building a case against the man with the help of a witness for the prosecution, in Dutch a ‘crown witness’, who goes by the name of Nabil B. (in Dutch courts the defendants last name is never used, it’s that weird privacy issue again). Turning witness for the state was not without risk and Nabil’s totally innocent brother was murdered, and in 2019 his Dutch lawyer, Derk Wiersum, died in a rain of bullets after leaving home for work early in the morning. Following these killings, few were willing to take on and help or advise the state’s witness, but when the request to act as a confidant to Nabil B. as part of the defense team came up, De Vries did not hesitate. On the one hand, he argued, there is a clear need for someone to be assisted in a dire time where justice needs to be served, on the other hand he made the point that if he would not take it on, his professional credibility could take a turn into negative territory. If he, Peter R. de Vries would not serve and assist the crown witness, how would that be seen? A victory for crime? Him shirking his responsibilities? The clear moral compass and unwavering believe in justice - and no doubt the suffering of Wiersum’s and Nabil B’s families - made it a relatively easy choice for De Vries to take on that role. It also in all likelihood sealed his fate.

The Dutch were frantically looking for answers last week and the obvious question as to why De Vries was not protected - something he himself had refused - came up many times. At the same time the discussion around the ability of journalists to do their work freely and the Dutch justice system to operate as it always had were debated ad nauseam. But these are issues on which the Dutch will have to chew for some time and in a way do little to directly remember De Vries. On one show however lawyer Carry Knoops-Hamburger made the point that if there was one thing we should take away from De Vries’ life, career and premature death it would be the long lost ability or duty of all of us to go beyond our pure contractual obligations. To go the extra mile and serve because we simply need to do the right thing. We have stopped doing this, she argued. De Vries followed that mantra to an almost extreme level and it reminded me how easily we often back out from doing exactly that. In business, in politics, at home or wherever in life, we need to understand that human relationships are always long term and for these to be successful we will have to go beyond what is reasonably expected. Go the extra mile, even if you do not initially like to do that. And even if we have to put in more than we are getting paid for. Only then can we see and feel success and help ourselves and others make real progress in life. The rewards lie in friendships and the very things that we qualify as ‘good’. Peter R. de Vries did that, endlessly, relentlessly, stubbornly and eventually dying doing it. May his memory be a blessing.