Transcript: 29. New Year’s Massacre at Narsaq | Greenland

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Boas Klemmensen of Narsaq, a town in Greenland, was enjoying New Year’s Eve of 1989, going into 1990. He was celebrating at home with his wife, Cecelia and their two grown sons, Kristian and Abel. 

The four of them had dinner together, followed by sampling some of Boas’ homemade beer. Boas knew his sons were eager to go out and party with their friends, so he didn’t keep them. Kristian went to his home; a housing complex in town. Abel went to meet up with some friends. Both promised to be home before midnight. Boas and Cecelia watched TV and kept an eye on the clock. 

As promised, Kristian and Abel were home around 10 minutes before midnight. Excited to call in the new year, the family lit candles in the house – all the candles they could find. Then they went into the snow outside to enjoy the neighbourhood fireworks. Abel found a big rocket somewhere and proudly fired it up. 

For Boas, the party was only getting started – he poured champagne for everybody – his family, friends and neighbours. He was a little bit tipsy and his youngest son, Abel, was amused by his silliness. 

Shortly before 1am, Abel’s friend Enok dropped by. After joking around and singing songs about being happy, the youngsters start making tracks. Boas was touched by his son’s positive attitude and wiped away the tears of gratitude.

Kristian, Abel and Enok said goodbye, and left to go to Kristian’s. A drunken Boas went to sleep at 3am, looking forward to 1990. But that was not destined to be a happy year after all. As he stood in the kitchen, drinking his first coffee of the new year, he saw two police officers walking towards his house. They seemed uncomfortable and awkward. He frowned as he opened the door and they asked him where his youngest son, Little Abel, was. Boas had no idea why they were looking for him. 

What did Abel Klemmensen do in the early morning hours of January 1st, 1990?

>>Intro Music

Greenland is the largest island on earth as well as the least populated area on the planet. It has a population of just over 56,000 people.

Three-quarters of the island of Greenland is covered by a permanent sheet of ice. Ironically Iceland is greener than Greenland, and Greenland has more ice than Iceland. But a name-swap is probably not on the cards anytime soon.

Even though geographically it is located closer to North America, it has associated with Europe for more than a thousand years. Although it governs itself, it is still a part of the Danish realm. It controls its own monetary policy and even hosted the 2016 Arctic Winter Games.

80% of the population have roots in indigenous Inuit culture. Much of the population lives from fishing and hunting seal. The fishing export industry is the pulse of Greenland’s economy.

Inuit had no choice but to embrace modernisation and today they work for wages to earn income for electricity, running water and other modern comforts. The hunting culture is still very much a part of their culture, however, so firearms and weapons are widespread all over the country.

Narsaq is a town located on the southern tip of the icy island – about 250 miles (that’s just over 400 kilometres) from the capital city of Nuuk. As towns and villages are mostly NOT connected by roads, the best way to get there is by boat. The name ‘Narsaq’ translates to ‘Plain’. It is a town that was built on a flat clearing, next to the water’s edge in Tunilliarfik fjord. 

The surrounding area is mountainous with many fjords cutting deep into the land, making for breathtakingly beautiful scenery.

The town of Narsaq is dotted with wooden buildings painted in bright colours: yellow, blue, green, red… Some are small, two-bedroom cottages, others are larger halls or multi-room buildings. Icebergs float in the distance and the jagged cliffs of the mountains keep vigil over its inhabitants. It’s a peaceful place with a strong sense of community.

Home to 2000 people, mostly of Inuit ethnicity, Narsaq is one of the more sizeable towns in Greenland. There is a small police station, a fire station, some education facilities, a two-storey-14 bed hospital and one hotel. 

Although it had been a settlement for centuries, Narsaq was only established as a trading colony in the 19th century, as its natural harbour allowed large ships to cruise deeper into the land’s interior and dock easily. It was a thriving fishing village in the early 20th century and population boomed in the 1950’s when a prawn and fishing factory was built.

Unfortunately, Greenland is country with many social problems, and Narsaq is not immune to it. Not only does Greenland have one of the highest suicide rates in the world, it also is one of the countries where most rapes occur. Then the murder rate is very high too – the year before the Narsaq massacre took place, there were 18 homicides in Greenland in a 12-month period. Bear in mind the population was only about 55,000 at the time.

That means a homicide rate of 33 murders per 100,000 people, which is high, considering that the average homicide rate in the US is less than 5 per 100,000.

The smaller villages are more prevalent to rape incidents, as it is difficult for victims to report it. Not every village has a police station, so cases need to be reported to the closest town and accessibility is problematic. Police rarely follow up, as they do not tend to go to the smaller villages to follow up. Even if a rape is reported, it takes a long time before the perpetrator is charged.

People living in villages also all know each other and accusing someone of rape could make a victim’s life very difficult and uncomfortable. They all shop at the same grocery store, the go to the same restaurant and they have the same circle of friends. Besides, the maximum penalty for rape is only 12 to 18 months in prison, so some victims feel it is not worth the stress of reporting it.

Many people blame the rapid onset of modernisation for social problems. Sociologist Christina Viskum Lytken Larsen from the national institute for public health in Denmark, feels that:

“The changes happened very rapidly. Many have been forced to give up being hunters and fishermen to forge a new life in modern society, which has created massive problems, including alcohol abuse and sexual assault.”

The potent cocktail of alcoholism and violence leads to suicide. Growing up and living in an environment where abuse is seen as ‘normal’, it probably is no surprise that the suicide rate is so high. Interestingly, most suicides do not occur in the long and dark winters, but rather in summer, when it is only dark for a couple of hours a day. Chronic insomnia has also been considered as a contributing factor in suicides in Greenland. 

Then there is the high crime rate. Perhaps one should consider how they deal with criminals. In Greenland, there are no closed prisons. Murderers, rapists and other offenders walk free until they are transported to Denmark until they have been processed through the Danish legal system. 

They are held at a prison-like facility, but they are only required to be there from 9:30 at night until six o’clock in the morning. Some inmates have keys to their cells, for their own privacy. Granted, the privilege of freedom is earned after some time – each prisoner is evaluated based on the crime he or she committed and behaviour while incarcerated. Torben Thrue, head of the correctional institution in Nuuk made a statement that explains it somewhat:

"During the reindeer season we take the convicts out hunting – even the murderers. Obviously, we don't take the mentally unstable. They get to go fishing."

The notion of open prisons would seem outlandish to most civilisations. But living in one of the world’s harshest environments means that every member of the community is needed to survive – even criminals. Solya Olavsstovu, the director of a commission that was established to review the judicial system in Greenland, claims:

"Murderers and rapists will still live among us. It might be an unusual system - but the criminals and society accept it."

It was only as a Danish colony, that a police force and a lay-judicial system was implemented. But as Greenland is autonomous, law is still practiced differently than in Denmark. Mille Pederson, a lay-magistrate at the high court in Nuuk said:

"We don't believe in punishment. We achieve more by trying to re-socialise people. Locking someone up for 10 years isn't going to make them a better person."

Convicts have to pay the correctional facility 735 Danish krone (about 100 US Dollar) a week for their board and counselling is compulsory. They are also required to send money to their family. So, to ensure an income, they are required to work when they leave the prison every day. 

In a town like Narsaq, minor offences are rarely reported to police and some people get away with a lot. Like 18-year-old petty criminal, Abel Klemmensen. By his own admission, he had committed some crimes, but nothing serious. He has been caught drinking on the street and he was guilty of vandalism. Abel later said that there wasn’t much to do in Narsaq, so they smoked weed and drank and got into altercations. This is what they did for entertainment.

Most parents drank heavily and Abel’s dad, Boas was no exception. Abel avoided bringing friends home, as his parents often quarrelled – mainly about his dad’s drinking.

Abel was the youngest of seven children and he was always quietly his mother’s favourite. She showered him with attention and he usually got his way. Being part of a big family, Abel was always seen as the baby – even as an 18-year-old young man, people referred to him as ‘Little Abel’. That was also in part because he bore the same name as his maternal grandfather, Big Abel, a larger-than-life character who lived in a village nearby.

His parents moved to Narsaq in 1969, a couple of years before Abel was born. During this time, Danish influence in Greenland was strong. Native Inuit communities had to start learning Danish at school and adapt to Danish customs. 

In Abel’s home, they only spoke Greenlandic. He was very Greenlandic in his way of thinking and did not like Danish teachers at school, which often led to conflict. Overall, he wasn’t a very strong student. There was a sense that he didn’t quite ‘get’ what he was learning. But he was headstrong and seeing as he was used to calling the shots at home, he assumed he could do it at school too. But that didn’t go down all that well. When he was in the 4th grade, Abel and some other boys had constant friction. They all went for counselling and were placed in a separate classes for a while.

Abel’s friends would get tired of him, because he always wanted to have things done HIS way. He would break pencils when he acted out as he found it hard to formulate his feelings. As Abel got older, his shyness got the better of him. At social gatherings he wouldn’t dance and socialise like other teenagers, he would cower in a corner or hang around outside. Because of his social awkwardness, he hung out with his older brother, Kristian a lot. 

Kristian did not live at home anymore. He had a room at Ungbo, a housing complex for single young workers in the town of Narsaq. Kristian was more sociable and didn’t mind his little brother tagging along. 

Abel did have a couple of friends though. There was one guy that took Abel under his wing. For legal reasons, his name cannot be made public, but we shall refer to him as T. Abel idolised him. In many respects, T was everything Abel was not: he was gifted and outgoing. People commented on the fact that he was eloquent and could speak Danish fluently. Even though all kids learnt Danish at school, at the end of his school career, Abel could hardly string two Danish words together. 

On New Year’s Eve, December 31st, 1989, Abel ushered in the new year with his family and neighbours. Just after midnight, his brother Kristian fired an emergency flare (as is custom in Greenland on New Year’s Eve) and everyone cheered. Then the two brothers went to Ungbo, where residents were having a New Year’s Eve party. With a little imagination, one can think that there was a radio in one corner, blaring with music by Madonna, Milli Vanilli, Roxette – perhaps Alice Cooper’s Poison played.

When the brothers arrived, Abel ran into his friend, T. Earlier that day, Abel had had a disagreement with a female friend. T heard about this and was furious – he felt that Abel was way out of line. When he saw Abel at Ungbo, he told him so. The friends argued and at one point, T pinned Abel up against a wall. He said that he did not want to be his friend anymore, in fact, he never wanted to see him again. 

T left the party and Abel was deeply hurt. He felt alone and abandoned. He would be nothing without T, he felt that the end of their friendship was the end of the road for him. In the heat of the moment, Abel decided the only solution was to end his own life. He would kill himself in front of everyone at the party, that would be the only way to get back at T for ending their friendship. 

Abel left Ungbo in a rage. Kristian and his friends assumed that they wouldn’t see him again, that Abel had called it a night. If only that were true…

In the early morning hours of January 1st, 1990, Abel Klemmensen marched home, to the house where he lived with his parents. He fetched a semi-automatic rifle, which he kept in his room and filled the magazine with ammunition. Then he went straight back to Ungbo. 

When he returned, he went upstairs to room No 6 on the first floor, where the party was still buzzing. The door was open, and he could see his brother, Kristian Klemmensen standing in the doorway. There were some more young people in the room behind him, drinking, laughing, partying.

Kristian saw his brother’s face and realised something wasn’t right. Abel had completely changed, he looked like he was possessed. Before Kristian could do anything, Abel lifted the gun, aimed, then fired the first shot: aimed at his own brother’s head. The bullet hit Kristian in the face and he immediately dropped to the floor. There was chaos as the other party-goers looked on with shock and horror. Abel could not hear anything, he felt like he was floating on a cloud. Mechanically, he carried on his rampage, pulled the trigger again and fired randomly into the room.

On the first floor, spread over two rooms, he shot three women and four men. When he was done, Abel simply turned around and walked downstairs, not looking back at the carnage. As he reached the downstairs lounge he saw another woman, whom he didn’t know. Without hesitation, he shot her too. 

All up, Abel Klemmensen had fired 11 rounds. He had planned to end the shooting by killing himself, but he couldn’t go through with it, he didn’t have the strength. Once he was outside Ungbo, on the street, he could hear again. He knew he had done something terrible and he fell to the ground. After a while, he dragged himself upright and walked home in the blistering weather. Once he got home he went straight to sleep. 

At the scene in Ungbo, five young people lay dead. Two young women were seriously injured with gunshot wounds to their heads. There was only one victim who was still conscious – it was the gunman’s brother, 22-year-old Kristian Klemmensen. The only reason he survived was because he remained on the floor and pretended to be dead. When Abel was gone, he managed to get up and run to the local hospital. Hospital staff informed police of the situation. One of the nurses on duty heard what Kristian said and realised that her son had said that he was going to Ungbo that night. Sadly, it turned out that her son was one of the victims killed that night. 

At 11am on New Year’s Day 1990, Abel Klemmensen was arrested at his parent’s home. He confessed to the murders and said that he was inebriated when it all happened. He was detained while law enforcement waited for support to arrive from Denmark. Due to heavy snowfall, Danish investigators were delayed. All the while the scene inside the housing complex remained untouched. Remnants of a party gone horrifically wrong haunted the villagers who tried to make sense of what had happened.

There was hope that the two female victims in hospital could be saved, but they would need specialised care. Plans were made to transfer them to Denmark, but then the weather came in, and no one was able to travel to or from Narsaq.

In the end, the two young females died at the hospital, making Kristian the sole survivor of the attack. The seven victims ranged in age between 18 and 34. The small community of Narsaq had lost three young men: Jakob Grønvold, Egede Tittusen, Henrik Barnabassen. The female victims were Kathrine Broberg, Tove Isaksen, Paarnannguaq Godtfredsen and Bibiane Kristiansen. 

In the days following the shooting, police prohibited the use of semi-automatic rifles and restricted alcohol sales. 

After forensic testing was done on the victims, their bodies were taken to the local gym hall. Families of the victims wanted to see them, to be with them. Police officers and the resident priest facilitated the viewings. Each family had 30 minutes to say their goodbyes before the bodies were taken to be prepared for the funeral.

The whole town attended the mass funeral. To accommodate everyone, the memorial service was held in the gym hall. All seven caskets were lined up next to each other at the front of the hall. Abel and Kristian’s parents and their other children also attended the funeral. They had flowers which they placed on each casket. 

On that day, the community of Narsaq did not ostracise them. After the funeral, however, some villagers were understandably upset and protested in front of Boas and Cecelia’s house. They had their curtains drawn for a long time, as they dealt with the guilt and shame of their son’s actions. Ironically, the most supportive members of the community were the families of the victims. They felt sorry for the Klemmensens – nobody would ever have thought that Little Abel would be capable of committing such a heinous crime. In a way, Boas and Cecelia also lost their son that day.

In March 1991, Abel Klemmensen was sentenced to indefinite detention at a psychiatric institution in Herstedvester, Denmark. He was diagnosed with narcissistic personality disorder. This means that he would not be able to take criticism or rejection. The fact that T ended the friendship with Abel, left him feeling humiliated. The only way to boost his own self-importance would have been a grandiose act. Like killing himself in front of a crowd. Unfortunately, he decided to kill the crowd instead.

In December 2015, Abel was granted weekend release. That means he can leave the psychiatric facility, but as his home isn’t in Denmark, he is placed in a government sponsored apartment in a rural area.

Many people have spoken up against the fact that serious offenders from Greenland are obliged to serve their sentences in Denmark. Most of them, like Abel, cannot speak Danish and they are treated as second rate prisoners. The punishment is contrary to Inuit tradition and people in Greenland feel their offenders should be serving time in their home country. That would mean open prisons and a lot more freedom. 

The question remains – if all prisoners were made to face harsher consequences for their actions, would Greenland’s crime statistics perhaps look better? 

Or would it be wiser to consider what is at the root of the problem? Abel Klemmenen’s dad, Boas, is a simple man, but he is a proud Greenlander with roots steeped in Inuit tradition. The challenges of modernization and cultural displacement have not gone past him. When asked why young men in Greenland resort to violence so often, he answered pensively:

“The change has taken place too fast. We could not follow. We cannot teach our sons to become men. It’s not the joy of being young, like when we were young. We went hunting and fishing. Today there is not much to catch. There is unemployment and economic crisis… There is no reason to get up in the morning. It is very difficult for us as parents to look at.”

On New Year’s Day 1992 – two years after the massacre, a ceremony was held at the Narsaq cemetery.  A big memorial was unveiled that had all the victims’ names and their ages. It’s a small comfort, knowing that the victims will not be forgotten, although no one in town wants to remember – what people refer to as ‘the episode’. The incident that scarred the scenic town of Narsaq forever. 

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