Quoting The Assassination of Symon Petliura and the Trial of Scholem Schwarzbard 1926–1927: A Selection of Documents, pages 435–6:
Culprit. The accused man, who not only admitted committing the crime but even boasted of it, was a young Jewish Ukrainian, now a naturalized Frenchman, Sholem (Samuel) Schwartzbard, a watchmaker by profession.
Short, ugly, he yet commanded the attention of the whole court, for he told his story, not as do many prisoners, shamefaced and haltingly, forced to reveal their crimes and motives by harassing lawyers — no, Watchmaker Schwartzbard openly confessed with gleaming eyes and hysterical mien, his body trembling with passion, how he slew “General” Simon Petlura to avenge the deaths of thousands of Jews slain in pogroms, which he charged “General” Petlura instigated.
Victim. Simon Petlura, in the opinion of many, was an adventurer. The son of a Russian cabman, he is said to have been active in plotting against the Tsar. In 1918 he entered Kiev, capital of the Ukraine, with the Austrian and German armies, under whose auspices he took the lead in trying to separate that province from the rest of Russia. He not only promoted himself a general but also declared himself ruler of the Ukraine. He failed and was obliged to flee.
Two years later he reappeared, this time under the Poles, becoming president of a short‐lived Ukrainian republic. He played off the Poles against the Bolsheviki and the Bolsheviki against the Poles and, eventually, again fell from power, this time to flee to France, where he lived in Paris until slain there by M. Schwartzbard. Under his régime, it is charged, more than 50,000 Jews were killed.
[…]
Crime. Simon Petlura was shot at the corner of the Rue Racine, and the Boulevard St. Michel, on May 25, 1926. As M. Schwartzbard described the murder to the court:
“Here’s my chance, I thought. ‘Are you Petlura?’ I asked him. He did not answer, simply lifting his heavy cane. I knew it was he.
“I shot him five times. I shot him like a soldier who knows how to shoot, and I shot straight so as not to hit any innocent passerby. At the fifth shot he fell. He didn’t say a word. There were only cries and convulsions.
“When I saw him fall I knew he had received five bullets. Then I emptied my revolver. The crowd had scattered. A policeman came up quietly and said: ‘Is that enough?’ I answered: ‘Yes.’ He said: ‘Then give me your revolver.’ I gave him the revolver, saying: ‘I have killed a great assassin.’
“When the policeman told me |14| Petlura was dead I could not hide my joy. I leaped forward and threw my arms about his neck.”
“Then you admit premeditation?” asked the judge.
“Yes, yes!” replied M. Schwartzbard, his face lit with fanatical exultation.
(Emphasis original. Credits to audrey White for showing me this.)
