He introduced himself as a Syrian refugee in imperfect English, explaining that he had walked halfway across the continent and lost his papers. Law enforcement officers took his photo and fingerprints. In the following year, he would receive housing and have a hearing for asylum, as well as be eligible for regular benefits. He identified himself as David Benjamin. He was actually a lieutenant in the German army, but prosecutors believe he attempted to disguise himself as a refugee in a far-right plot to carry out assassinations. He denies these allegations. He claims he was attempting to reveal weaknesses in the asylum process. However, his complex deception, which lasted over a year, was exposed when he was apprehended by police trying to retrieve a loaded gun he had stashed in an airport restroom in Vienna. Aydan Ozoguz, a lawmaker who was in charge of refugees and integration, described the moment as shocking. The focus should not only be on catching fraudulent individuals, but also on how someone like him could serve as a soldier in Germany. The arrest of Franco A in April 2017 came as a shock to Germany. Since then, his case has mostly fallen off the radar, but this will likely change when he goes to trial early next year. Germany will also be on trial, not only for the administrative failure that allowed a German officer to pose as a refugee for so long, but also for its long-standing complacency in fighting far-right extremism. The investigation into Franco A's case has uncovered a complex network of extremist groups within Germany's security services, revealing a threat that was more extensive than previously thought. The New York Times reported on two groups in Germany, one led by a former soldier and police sniper who hoarded weapons and kept enemy lists, while another led by a special-forces soldier named Hannibal focused on the elite KSK force. Following the discovery of explosives and SS memorabilia on a sergeant major's property, an entire KSK unit was disbanded. The author interviewed members of these networks, including Franco A., whose story of a double life and transformation into a potential terrorist reflects the complexities of modern Germany. One nation was created following its loss in World War II and was raised by a liberal agreement that shunned nationalism and taught its people to feel remorseful. As Germany's past fades and a far-right movement awakens in response to a more diverse society, the country is becoming more unsettled. The postwar consensus in Germany is now uncertain. When I initially encountered Franco A over a year ago in a Berlin restaurant, he brought along various documents, including notes and excerpts from his police file, appearing self-assured at the time. A terrorism case against him was dismissed by a Frankfurt court due to insufficient evidence, but was later reinstated by the Supreme Court following an appeal by prosecutors. Franco A, who faces a potential sentence of up to 10 years in prison if found guilty, contacted me on my cellphone in a state of distress. Even though he was awaiting trial, he agreed to do a series of exclusive recorded interviews and welcomed me and two New York Times audio producers to his childhood home, where he still resides, to talk about his life, beliefs, and various aspects of his case. I visited multiple times over the following year, most recently right before Christmas. Occasionally, he would share videos of himself in disguise as a refugee. On one occasion, he took us down a creaky staircase, through a secure metal door, into his "prepper" cellar, where he had hidden ammunition and a copy of Hitler's "Mein Kampf" before they were seized by the authorities. Franco A denies any involvement in a terrorist plot. He claims that he pretended to be a refugee in order to expose Chancellor Angela Merkel's decision to allow over 1 million refugees into Germany, which he viewed as a danger to national security and identity. He believed that the system was unable to handle the influx of refugees, allowing anyone to enter the country. He argued that he was actually defending the Constitution, not working against it. He stated that he never intended to commit any violent acts, and in fact, never did. He questioned why he would not have carried out violence if that had been his intention. The accusations against Franco A., as outlined in the Supreme Court decision, include possession of a loaded gun at the Vienna airport, illegal possession of an assault rifle, and a trip to a presumed target's parking garage. Additionally, prosecutors have used Franco A.'s voice memos and diaries as evidence in his prosecution, in which he expresses admiration for Hitler, questions Germany's atonement for the Holocaust, believes in global Jewish conspiracies, argues against immigration for ethnic purity, praises President Vladimir Putin, and advocates for destroying the state. Military uniforms are found in Franco A's basement in Offenbach, Germany on July 9, 2020. Franco A, who is now 31, believes that his extreme views on immigration and national identity cannot be prosecuted as they are private thoughts. These views, although shared by neo-Nazis and far-right circles, are becoming more common in Germany, Europe, and the United States. In the generation that came of age after the events of September 11, 2001, during the resulting wars and global economic crisis, there has been a rise in distrust of government, far-right messaging, and belief in conspiracy theories. These ideas have not only permeated parts of the security services but have also become more mainstream. Thomas Haldenwang, the president of the domestic intelligence agency, the Office for the Protection of the Constitution, expressed concerns about the shift of far-right extremist messages into the middle of society, even reaching the halls of Parliament where the far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD) leads the opposition. The agency is considering placing the entire AfD party under observation due to its perceived danger. The struggle for Germany's democracy is evident in the ongoing tug of war. During my interviews with Franco A., I have witnessed a shift in the attitude of senior defense officials from initially dismissing my questions about extremist networks to now openly expressing concern. In March 2019, I inquired with a defense ministry official about the number of far-right extremists identified in the military, to which he responded with a surprising "four?". Yes, there were four extremist networks. He mentioned that they did not notice any networks. In the past, German authorities had ignored the issue. Despite detailing his extremist views in a master's thesis, Franco A.'s superiors still promoted him. He ended up joining extremist networks that included many soldiers and police officers. He publicly spoke at a far-right event that was monitored by security services, but it was a janitor at the Vienna airport who ultimately discovered a hidden gun in a maintenance shaft in a disabled restroom. The gun, a black 7.65-caliber Unique 17 made by a defunct French gunmaker between 1928 and 1944, was loaded with six bullets and puzzled Austrian officers who had never seen anything like it before. It was discovered that German officers favored this pistol during the Nazi occupation of France. The police set up an electronic trap to discover who had hidden it. Two weeks later, on February 3, 2017, Franco A. was caught trying to open a door with a tube of hair gel. A dozen police officers quickly surrounded him with guns drawn, asking him what he was doing. Franco A. remembered saying, "Yes, I concealed a weapon here." He explained that he had returned to retrieve it and hand it over to the police. He mentioned that he believed someone had laughed when he mentioned it. The account he provided to the Austrian police during questioning that night was so unbelievable that he was hesitant to recount it when we spoke. However, ultimately he did share the story. A picture of Franco A. was taken at a ceremony at the Saint-Cyr military academy in France, as well as at his home in Offenbach, Germany on July 9, 2020. This information was reported by The New York Times. 

During the ball season in Vienna, Franco A. claimed to have found a gun while barhopping with his girlfriend and fellow soldiers. He had put the gun in his coat pocket and only remembered it when going through security at the airport. He concealed it in order to not miss his flight, but later chose to go back and deliver it to the police. A picture of Franco A. was taken at a ceremony at the Saint-Cyr military academy in France, and at his residence in Offenbach, Germany, on July 9, 2020. In a conversation with The New York Times, he expressed feeling foolish for sharing his story, as he knew no one would believe him. Franco A. was released that same night. However, authorities retained his phone and a USB drive discovered in his backpack. After taking his fingerprints and sending them to German law enforcement for confirmation, officers were surprised to discover that Franco had two identities. His identification indicated he was a German officer stationed with the Franco-German brigade in Illkirch, located near Strasbourg. However, his fingerprints matched those of a migrant who was registered near Munich, causing concern among investigators. They wondered if Franco A. had hidden the gun with intentions of carrying out an attack in the future. He was apprehended on the evening of the annual fraternity ball, organized by Austria's far-right Freedom Party, which typically drew militant counterprotesters. One hypothesis was that Franco A. had plotted to shoot someone that night while posing as a leftist. When German authorities took control of the investigation, they discovered two documents on his UBS stick: the “Mujahedeen Explosives Handbook” and “Total Resistance,” a manual for urban guerrilla warfare from the Cold War era. Through his cellphone, they uncovered a vast network of far-right Telegram chat groups comprising soldiers, police officers, and others preparing for what they referred to as Day X, the collapse of society. The phone also contained numerous audio memos in which Franco A. had documented his thoughts over a period of several years. On April 26, 2017, during a military training exercise in a Bavarian forest, Franco A. was once again arrested, this time with ten federal police officers escorting him away. Ninety additional individuals were carrying out coordinated raids in Germany, Austria, and France at the same time. During these raids, law enforcement officers uncovered over 1,000 rounds of ammunition, as well as numerous handwritten notes and a diary. As they delved into the writings, they uncovered a man who had been nurturing radical ideas since his teenage years. In interviews with Franco A., he revealed details about his childhood and family background, which closely align with Germany's history. Echoes of History Franco A recalls purchasing his first German flag at the age of 12 or 13 during a family vacation in Bavaria. In a country where national pride was frowned upon due to its Nazi history, this act of rebellion held significance for him. Franco A expressed his deep connection to Germany, showcasing photos of his childhood bedroom with the flag prominently displayed. He grew up in a working-class neighborhood with few German flags, as it was predominantly populated by guest workers from southern Europe and Turkey who played a crucial role in rebuilding postwar Germany and reshaping its society. Franco A's mother, who lived upstairs from him, mentioned that there were only a few children with migrant backgrounds in her class during the 1960s. By the time Franco A attended school, children with two German parents were in the minority. His own father, an Italian guest worker, left the family when he was young, and Franco A refers to him as his "producer" rather than his father. In an audio memo from January 2016, Franco A later referred to the guest worker program as a deliberate tactic to weaken German ethnicity. He viewed himself as a result of this twisted racial animosity, explaining that his grandfather was born in 1919, the year the Treaty of Versailles was signed, marking Germany's defeat in World War I. This treaty led to the belief in the "stab in the back" legend, suggesting that Germany had actually won the war but was betrayed by a group of leftists and Jews in power. This propaganda helped foster anti-democratic factions in the military who stored weapons, planned coups, and eventually supported the rise of Nazism - similar to the accusations Franco A faces today. He mentioned that his grandparents frequently looked after him, giving him soup and sharing stories about the war. His grandfather recounted his experiences in the Hitler Youth, and the police confiscated a copy of "Mein Kampf" that belonged to him. His grandmother, who was 20 at the time, fled with her sister from the Red Army in present-day Poland. She recounted a tale to the boy about their wooden cart breaking down, leading them to take a break in a field near Dresden. That evening, she recounted how the sisters witnessed the destruction of the city in a tragic bombing that claimed the lives of up to 25,000 civilians and has since been used as a symbol by the extreme right. Years later, Franco A recorded a fictional conversation in which he questioned the guilt of Germans over the Dresden bombing and the Jewish people's expectations. His teachers encouraged him to challenge authority and think independently, influenced by the liberal values of the 1968 student movement - including a skepticism of nationalism and a desire for reconciliation after the war. None of the teachers I spoke to noticed any signs of extremism early on, instead remembering his love for debate and curiosity. They were unaware that during that time, he had become involved in a vast online realm of conspiracy theories that would impact him for many years. These beliefs started to form in his teenage diary, where Franco A described them as exploring ideas rather than showcasing a firm ideology or any specific plans. These musings included thoughts on altering the trajectory of German history, such as becoming a soldier and rising to a prominent role in the military to eventually lead the German armed forces. In 2008, during the financial crisis following Lehman Brothers' collapse, Franco A, who joined the army at 19, was chosen as one of the few German officer cadets to attend the esteemed Saint-Cyr military academy in France. His five years of study included time at universities in Paris, London, and Cambridge. In 2013, he wrote a master's thesis on the role of immigration and subversive minorities in the downfall of civilizations. He stated that Europe and the West would be at risk if they did not protect themselves. He mentioned that ethnically diverse societies were not stable and that nations allowing migration were committing a type of "genocide." In his final section, he suggested that the Old Testament was the basis of all subversion and a plan for Jews to achieve global dominance, which he believed could be the largest conspiracy in history. The French military academy commander was shocked and reported it to Franco A's German superiors, stating that if it were a French participant, they would be removed from the course. The German military hired historian Jörg Echternkamp to evaluate the thesis, which he deemed as a "radical nationalist, racist appeal" combined with an "insecurity due to globalization" that made it socially acceptable but also "dangerous." Despite this assessment, Franco A was not removed from service or reported to the military counterintelligence agency responsible for monitoring extremism in the armed forces. Instead, on Jan 22, 2014, he was called to a German military branch office in Fontainebleau, near Paris, where an officer from the internal disciplinary unit informed him that his thesis did not align with Germany's values. Franco A explained that he felt pressured to excel as the second-ranked student in his class, leading him to become consumed by his own thoughts and lose perspective. After being questioned for three hours, a senior officer concluded that Franco A had become too caught up in his own intelligence. He was reprimanded and required to submit a new thesis. Upon his return to Germany in 2014, he was described as a model soldier by his superiors. In November 2015, he received praise for his handling of ammunition duties. "The Magic Eye," a book on Franco A's bookshelf, features vibrant images that transform into entirely different ones when stared at for a long time. Similarly, Franco A presents himself as a peace-loving critical thinker in interviews, blaming his situation on a political environment that punishes dissent. However, records and interviews reveal a different side of him. After returning from France, Franco A aligned himself with soldiers who shared his beliefs. It was easy to locate them in the end. He was introduced to a nationwide online chat group by a colleague and friend, consisting of numerous soldiers and police officers worried about immigration. The group was led by an officer from Germany's elite special forces, the KSK, stationed in Calw, known as Hannibal. Hannibal also managed an organization called Uniter, providing paramilitary instruction. This organization is now being monitored by the domestic intelligence agency. Franco A was present at a minimum of two Uniter meetings and was in possession of badges belonging to the group. Police interviews indicate that he was considered intelligent by his peers at the KSK base. According to a witness statement from a soldier, several soldiers were familiar with him. Many members of the chat group were "preppers" who were preparing for what they believed would be the downfall of Germany's social structure. Franco A started gathering food rations and supplies in a "prepper" cellar, along with obtaining illegal guns and ammunition, according to prosecutors. This occurred during a time when Russia had invaded Ukraine, there was a rise in Islamist terrorism in Europe, and Angela Merkel had welcomed numerous Muslim asylum-seekers from conflict zones in the Middle East. Franco A remembered feeling the genuine threat of war or civil unrest in Germany, which led him to start considering violence, according to prosecutors. He believed that the state's fight against terrorism was actually a fight against him and others. He thought that in order to reveal the truth, it needed to be presented in a compelling way. To achieve this, he began searching for potential trigger events or targets. He refutes the claim, but just before starting his first assignment in the Franco-German brigade near Strasbourg in 2015, he pretended to be a refugee. While waiting for his first interview as David Benjamin, his refugee persona, at the police station, Franco A looked at a world map on the opposite wall and debated whether Damascus or Aleppo would be a more believable birthplace. Gradually, he fabricated an extensive family background. After completing his military training in France, he became fluent in French. During interviews, he claimed to be a Syrian Christian with French heritage, stating that he had gone to a French high school and worked as a fruit farmer in a small village near Aleppo. Franco A mentioned that he had tried to be as prepared as possible, although it turned out to be unnecessary. He added that German authorities did not question his story, as they were overwhelmed at the time. Two days after arriving at the police station, he applied for asylum and was transported to various temporary group shelters. Franco A was eventually stationed in a small residence in Baustarring, a Bavarian hamlet located 250 miles west of his army base. He filmed multiple videos of the shelters using his cellphone camera, expressing doubt about the true neediness of the asylum-seekers. He observed that many Syrians, who had fled cities destroyed by conflict, appeared more like tourists than refugees. "I chose to get a low-quality phone because I didn't want to draw attention with a good one," he explained. "But ultimately, I ended up with the worst option." He criticized the system for being too lenient and forgiving. Despite rejecting job offers, he still received his monthly allowance. He only visited the shelter occasionally and missed two consecutive appointments. According to Franco A, Merkel's government had contributed to the humanitarian crisis by getting involved in Middle Eastern wars. It felt as though he was witnessing a real-life version of a case study from his former mentor's discredited thesis. He reflected on the millions of people who had migrated from a troubled region, which he believed could have been prevented from destabilizing. During his asylum hearing, the Moroccan interpreter expressed concerns about his ability to speak Arabic, but hesitated to question him due to his Jewish-sounding name, fearing she would appear anti-Semitic as a Muslim. Franco A was eventually given "subsidiary protection," which permits asylum-seekers without identification papers to remain and work in Germany. As his refugee status continued, he gained notoriety in far-right circles. Franco A claimed he participated in debates at bars and was eventually asked to speak at a gathering called the "Prussian Evening" on December 15, 2016, organized by a publisher associated with Holocaust denial, held at Hotel Regent in Munich. His presentation that evening was about "German conservatives - a minority in their own country." As the year went on, his voice messages became more urgent. In one from January 2016, just three weeks after becoming a refugee, he mentioned that those who spoke out against the government were often killed. He also expressed a desire to take action, stating, "Let's not hesitate, not to murder but to kill." He seemed to fear for his own safety, warning, "I know you will murder me...I will murder you first." Prosecutors believe that Franco A, who had been leading a double life for almost seven months, traveled to Berlin in the summer of 2016 and may have been a potential target. He was seen taking four photos of car license plates in a private underground parking garage near the Jewish quarter. Investigators found the images on his cellphone. The building was home to the offices of the Amadeu Antonio Foundation, led by Anetta Kahane, a well-known Jewish activist who has faced far-right hatred for many years. Prosecutors believe that Kahane, 66, was one of several prominent figures targeted by Franco A. for their support of refugees, based on notes they seized. Other individuals mentioned in the notes were Foreign Minister Heiko Maas, who was serving as justice minister at the time, and Claudia Roth, a Green lawmaker who held the position of Parliament's vice president. Kahane's name was mentioned at least twice in the notes, once at the end of a list of seemingly ordinary items such as "fridge" and a reminder to call the bank where his refugee alter ego had an account. Franco A showed me the notes and described them as a typical to-do list. On one of the pages, he detailed Kahane's background, age, and work address. He meticulously sketched a map of her parking garage's location and made a note on the same paper indicating that they were not yet able to act as they desired. Prior to and following his trip to Berlin, Franco allegedly purchased a mounting rail for a scope and handgun parts, and was observed at a shooting range experimenting with these items alongside an assault rifle. Additionally, he visited Paris, where he reportedly met with the leader of a pro-Putin Russian think tank associated with France's far right and is suspected of acquiring the French handgun that was later discovered in Vienna. Prosecutors assert that there is sufficient evidence to suggest that Franco A was preparing to commit a murder. Franco A denies nearly all of the allegations. He claimed that the prosecutors' statements did not show any intention to harm Kahane. During a six-hour interview, he mentioned having pictures on his phone but said it didn't prove his presence. Despite initially refusing to discuss the matter due to his upcoming trial, he eventually spoke about it in "hypothetical terms." He suggested that if he had gone, it would have been for a conversation, but he would have found that Kahane was not there. He could have gone to the parking garage with the thought of learning more about the car. He mentioned the possibility of finding the person through luck. He denied planning to kill Kahane and argued that even if he had visited the garage, it would only be preparation for an assassination, not terrorism. He questioned how this could be a threat to the state since Kahane is not a politician. I interviewed Kahane to gather her opinion. When we first met, she had just received another neo-Nazi threat in her email. These threats were a common occurrence for her. The message threatened to harm her in brutal ways, but what was even scarier to her was the lack of awareness from German authorities. She remembered the day the police informed her that they had apprehended a neo-Nazi who was plotting to kill her. The conversation was about Franco A. and two of his companions. The person laughed and asked if they had caught all three of them. She mentioned that people often underestimate the number of Nazis involved. The German Constitution, specifically Article 20.4, includes a provision for citizens to resist in the event of a threat to democracy, inspired by Hitler's 1933 enabling act that abolished democracy after his election. Far-right extremists, who criticize Merkel's government as unconstitutional, have a strong interest in the Constitution, which holds a prominent place in Franco A's library. He frequently references it. Before Christmas, I visited him again and he was unhappy that I had transcripts of his voice memos. I questioned him about certain statements he had made, such as his claim that Hitler was "above everything." I asked how he could justify that statement, and he explained that he meant it in an ironic manner. He played the recording for me, and the tone was casual with some banter, with both voices chuckling. However, it was not clear if it was meant as a joke. I also inquired about another recording from January 2016. Franco A. stated that anyone who helps to destroy the state is doing a good thing, claiming that laws are meaningless. This statement raised questions about how he could simultaneously claim to defend the Constitution. After a long silence, Franco A. looked at his own words on the transcript. He looked through the notes provided by his lawyer, but he was unable to find a solution. This content is copyrighted by The New York Times Company in 2020.