Prudhomme entered the library shortly before 8:30 p.m. Gaston immediately stated that although he was innocent, he had decided to confess to all three murders and save the Grand’ Terre from misfortune. Quite how he imagined that he would achieve this aim by such means remains a mystery. He then asked Prudhomme to write a statement to this effect for him to sign. Prudhomme refused, whereupon Gaston became increasingly flustered, begging him for advice as to what to say. Prudhomme pointed out that he could not possibly invent a story on Gaston’s behalf, but if he wished to make a confession, then Prudhomme would be prepared to write it down for him. Gaston, saying he was innocent, still asked Prudhomme to write that he was guilty so that he would be able to keep his farm. Again it is difficult to follow his logic.
During Gaston’s trial Gustave testified that shortly before he and the policemen went to have dinner, one of the policemen, possibly Sébeille, had said to him that either he or his father was guilty. If it were Gustave, he would get the guillotine; if it were his father, he would be sent to a nursing home. Shortly before Christmas the Lurs postman, Francis Perrin, had told Paul Maillet that Gustave had confided in him that were he to be charged with the murders he would be executed, but his father would only receive a prison sentence. Maillet found this assumption extremely foolish. Perhaps Gaston also had been presented with this alternative and, in his confusion, imagined that he could take the rap while persisting in accusing his son of the murders.
Prudhomme grew increasingly impatient with Gaston, whom he accused of haggling. Getting nowhere, he suggested that Gaston might now want to have a word with Sébeille, who was waiting outside in the corridor. Surprisingly, given his intense hostility toward the commissioner, he agreed. Sabatier, Guérino, and Bocca left. Sébeille entered with Inspector Ranchin. Gaston asked Ranchin to leave, and Sébeille agreed. Prudhomme remained in the room. Gaston’s attitude then changed completely. He was now relaxed and cooperative. The concierge again brought him some food, which he ate with a healthy appetite. He then dictated a statement, which Prudhomme typed. It reads as follows:
I am the author of the drama which took place during the night of 4/5 August 1952, in the course of which a family consisting of three English people—father, mother and a little girl—were killed. I am going to tell you how it all happened. At about eleven thirty on the evening of 4 August I left my house to have a look at what had happened to the landslide in one of my fields, which had been caused by excessive watering and which threatened to obstruct the railway line bordering it.
When I set out I changed my mind because when I brought my goats home that evening at about seven thirty I noticed those English people who had parked their car on the side of the road in order to camp there. I already knew these people by sight because I think it was the day before that I saw them camping below the watercourse, just past the curve in the road and near a path that leads to an olive grove. That day I had a conversation with the lady and the little girl. We talked about the weather. The girl listened, while the man was reading and did not speak to me. In the course of this conversation I learnt that they had come from Lurs or Ganagobie.
Getting back to Monday evening, 4 August, I ought to tell you that I went directly to the campsite by walking along my field along the side of the road. Before setting out I took a carbine in the hopes of killing a badger or some other beast. I took this carbine from one of the sheds. It was hidden between two planks, which are shelves on the right-hand side on entering the shed towards the rear. I think I took two or three cartridges, which were beside it.
I went as far as the mulberry tree, where I stayed watching for quite some time, perhaps about twenty minutes, while the lady undressed. She was wearing a short transparent chemise and a dark grey or blue dress. I went up to her. We exchanged a few words in a low voice, after which I touched her on several places on her body. She did not object. At this point the man, who was lying on a camp bed sort of behind the car, heard us and got up. He started to shout in his language. I did not understand and he lunged at me. We took hold of one another when I got my carbine, which I had left on the ground beside the woman’s bed. The man, who was very tall, tried to disarm me by grabbing the carbine by the barrel. I lost my head at this juncture and I pulled the trigger. The bullet went through his hand, forcing him to let go. The man ran away across the road and I fired two or three shots at him. He must have been hit behind or at the side. The woman was screaming during this time. I think I only fired one shot. She fell on the spot. Then I noticed the little girl, who got out of the car by the rear doors and was running towards the Durance. I fired one round in her direction, but I did not hit her because she was still running. I saw her hurtling down the slope on the other side of the bridge and I ran after her to catch her. When I got beside her I saw that she was on her knees. I hit her once with the butt. I was completely crazy and did not know what I was doing. I descended directly towards the Durance in the direction that the girl’s body was lying, where there is a gap that gives access to the river. I had blood on my hands. Having washed my hands, I took my weapon and threw it a few metres away to a spot where I knew the water was deep and which is wide open. I went along the path and got back to the farm having gone along the railway line. I sat down for a moment on my garden wall, and then I went back to bed. I got up at about four o’clock and took my goats to pasture on the Giropey side.
In answer to a question: I did not go back to the campsite that night, and I did not pick up any cartridges. I did not see Gustave when I left and afterwards I never said anything about what I had done that night. In addition, I never said anything to any member of my family.
In answer to a question: I have no idea whether Gustave went to the area afterward to see what had happened. I repeat once again that I am the perpetrator of this drama and that no one helped me. I sincerely regret what I did and I only fired at the man and the woman and hit the girl on the head with the rifle butt when I was utterly crazy. I completely lost control of myself when I saw the man leaping at me. I pulled the trigger out of fright. I stunned the girl so that she would not talk.10
There are many oddities in his statement. First, had his intent been to examine the landslide, he would not have walked along the side of the road to the campsite. Second, all other testimony indicated the shots were fired shortly after 1:00 a.m., so he obviously did not get up at 11:30 p.m. In a previous statement he also had said that he was awoken by a motorcycle at 11:45 p.m. Third, he could not have seen Anne undressing, because Gustave had testified that he had seen the Englishwoman and her daughter preparing to go to bed at about 8:45 p.m. Further, Lady Anne also did not possess clothes of that description. That Gaston said that he had left the carbine by her bedside at one point also suggests that she was already in bed. Fourth, since Jack Drummond was wearing shoes when he was found, he could not have been in bed at the time. Also, no bullet went through his hand. Fifth, Anne was hit by more than one round. Next, it was highly unlikely that Gaston had had much of a conversation with the Drummonds. The adults’ French was very poor and his was barely understandable. Seventh, it would have been impossible for Elizabeth to open the rear door from inside the car. And finally, the sexual motive for the crime is simply not credible. Prudhomme, with a nudge and a wink, had suggested a prurient motive to Gaston, who had eagerly seized upon this opportunity to boast of his virility.
(During the trial Sébeille would be taken to task for failing to address the inconsistencies, incongruities, and anomalies in Gaston’s confession. He gave the lame reply that he was frightened that if he had pressed Gaston, then he would have retracted his statement.)
Gaston then asked the commissioner to bring him 80,000 francs ($230) in cash and 200,000 francs ($575) in share certificates, which were in two tin boxes at the farm. He also asked for some wine and to be allowed to have his dog with him in prison. Having let loose a series of imprecations against his wife, then he announced that he felt as if he would be able to have a good night’s sle
ep.
Sébeille returned to the law courts at 9:30 a.m. on 15 November. Although Périès was already in his office, he went first to see Gaston, who appeared utterly exhausted. He stayed with him for three-quarters of an hour but astonishingly made no notes. All we know is that Gaston appeared distraught, burst into tears, and again confessed the crime.
At 10:15 a.m. the examining magistrate went to see Gaston rather than calling him to his office. Gaston was sitting in an armchair and gestured with his hand that Périès should sit beside him. Given that he was accused of an exceptionally brutal crime, it is remarkable that the police treated him extraordinarily gently throughout the proceedings. Gaston repeated that although he was not the murderer of the Drummond family, he was prepared to confirm the statement he had made the previous evening to save his grandchildren’s honor. He went on to say that his son Gustave was the assassin, but as he was the oldest member of the family, it was his duty to sacrifice himself on everyone’s behalf. After a frustrating quarter of an hour, Périès, having explained that he could make no use of such statements, left the room accompanied by the clerk of the court. Gaston shouted after them that if they did not note this down, “there would be a misfortune at the Grand’ Terre.” No explanation can be found for this strangely empty threat.
Sergeant Sabatier then told the crowd of journalists waiting in the courtyard in front of the law courts that Gaston Dominici had begun to confess the crime, but the version he gave was unsatisfactory. When pressed for details, he said that for the moment he had nothing to add.
Périès resumed his questioning at 11:15 a.m., intent on getting Gaston to drop the claim that he was sacrificing himself for the family’s honor. He was sullen and resentful, moaning about his misfortune. Now he claimed that he could not remember at what time he had left the house on that fateful night. He went on to say that he had talked to Lady Drummond and her daughter just before nightfall and that he had been tending his goats at the area known as Saint-Pons when they approached him. He said that Anne spoke very poor French, but the little girl was quite fluent. They talked about the beauty of the landscape, while the husband sat some distance away, reading a book. Some time later, after he had returned to the farm, he noticed that the English people had established a campsite on the turnout at the edge of his property.
Gaston went on to say that he had left the house shortly after a motorcycle with a sidecar had stopped outside the Grand’ Terre. He went to get the carbine, which was in the “garage” between two planks that formed shelves at the back of the building on the right-hand side. The magazine was on the carbine. Although he knew that it was fully loaded, he took a few extra rounds that were lying on the shelf nearby. He took the gun with him in the hope of seeing some badgers or rabbits. He had left the house with the intention of going to look at the landslide and then to do a little hunting. Contrary to this assertion, he said he approached the mulberry tree, near which the English were camping, by walking along his alfalfa field. The man was lying on a camp bed, which was up against the car. He appeared to be asleep. The woman was taking off her dress. He could not see the child but learned later that she was sleeping inside the car. He hid behind the mulberry tree and watched the woman undressing. She “had what it takes.” He went on to say, “Suddenly I felt that I wanted to fuck her. I went up to her. I put down the weapon just before I got level with the front of the car. The lady was not scared when she saw me. Immediately I put my hand on her cunt. She did not react. I did not hesitate. I got out my dick. The woman lay down on the ground and I started to fuck her.”11
Gaston said that they must have made a noise, because the husband got up shortly afterward and came up to them in anger. Gaston got up and went to get his gun. The man grabbed the gun by the barrel, which went off without him having pulled the trigger. He insisted that this first shot had been by accident. The bullet went through his adversary’s hand, whereupon he grabbed Gaston by the throat. Fearing that the man was getting the better of him, because he was much stronger, Gaston fired another round at point-blank range. Jack then ran away, going around the rear of the vehicle. Gaston ran after him and fired another round while he was crossing the road. He fell down “for good” on the other side of the road.
The woman then started to scream. Gaston went back to her and fired a shot in her direction. He could not remember whether he fired at her once or twice. At this moment the little girl got out of the car by the rear door. She cried a bit but not much. She ran away in the direction of the bridge. Gaston followed her, firing one round, but it missed. He fired again. Again he missed. At this point he realized that the magazine was empty.12 This he could not explain, because he thought it was full. He imagined that he must have lost some cartridges on the way. He also seems to have mislaid the two or three cartridges that he had put in his pocket when he had taken his carbine from the garage. Then he saw that the girl was crossing the bridge and hurtling down the slope toward the river. He asked himself how it was possible that he had been able to catch her. When he caught up with her, she was on her knees. She looked at him but said nothing. “I was plastered. I did not know what I was doing. I was mad. I maintain that the carbine broke with the first blow. The child collapsed immediately without even a moan.”13 He then went toward the Durance and threw his carbine into the river. He added that he had chosen a piece of high ground, a promontory about 22 yards from the place where he had hit the girl, from which to throw the rifle. Then he washed his bloodstained hands.
Gaston next retraced his steps. He thought that the little girl was dead because she did not move. He went to the campsite to see whether the parents were indeed dead. He covered up the woman’s body with a rug that was lying on the ground beside the car. He then took a camp bed and covered the man’s body. He did not rummage around in the car or in the stuff that was lying around all over the place.
Going back to the bridge over the railway, he turned right, without going to have another look at the little girl. He went along the railway line, crossed it, and returned to the farm by the path that led to the yard. He went back to bed at about 2:30 a.m. and got up again at 4:00 a.m. and left with his goats. He did not see Gustave when he went back to bed, nor when he left, but he did not go back to sleep and heard Gustave leaving the house on three occasions. He claimed not to have spoken to anyone about what had happened. He told neither Gustave nor Clovis what he had done.
When asked about the murder weapon, Gaston said that he kept it in the shed, on a shelf at the back on the right-hand side. He could not remember how the weapon came into his possession. All he knew was that they had owned it since some Americans had passed by. The early morning of 5 August was the first time that he had used the gun. He never made any repairs on the weapon, but he noticed that the barrel was attached to the handguard by means of a Duralumin collar.
His statement was read to him, and he signed it. He then said, “I hope that you understand. I have not got along with my wife for twenty years. I am too old to get divorced. I had here an opportunity to get out of this situation. I did not let it escape me.”14
Again, a number of inconsistencies, contradictions, and obvious lies in this statement would seriously weaken the case against Gaston. In part they were due to Gaston’s very poor French, which gave rise to a series of ambiguities and imprecisions—many of them deliberate—that the judicial police and the examining magistrate did not see fit to clarify. They claimed that they did not want to question him too much for fear that he might withdraw his confession. Faced with mounting pressure to secure a conviction, they preferred to go ahead with a weak case rather than prolong the investigation.
This statement about Gaston’s meeting with the mother and child differs in several ways from his earlier version. Previously he had said that Elizabeth had remained silent and that he and the girl’s mother had talked about the weather. He had earlier given the precise location of the encounter, but now he spoke of the general area. The only thing that was the same in b
oth versions was that Sir Jack had been reading.
Gaston now claimed to have left the house just after the motorcycle with a sidecar had stopped at the farmhouse. He had previously stated that this was at 11:45 p.m. Were this true he must have been wandering around for an hour and a quarter before the shots were fired. The claim that he took the carbine along with him in the hope of doing some hunting is preposterous. No one would ever shoot rabbits with a .30 caliber gun. Furthermore, it was said that Gaston had not gone hunting since 1947 at the latest.15
One witness, Ode Arnaud, had spotted a motorcycle with a sidecar on the road to Manosque that night. He stated that the sidecar was on the left, suggesting that it might have been British. A man was driving; a woman was sitting in the sidecar. He was unable to see whether a child was also in the sidecar. Despite extensive investigations, no trace was found of this vehicle, but André Désirée, who ran a bicycle repair shop in Peyruis, stated that he had delivered a punctured motorcycle tire he had fixed to the Grand’ Terre at eleven thirty the night before that of the murders. He had taken it on his scooter and had dropped the repaired tire off in the courtyard; so it may well be that the Dominicis had used this incident as the basis of their story of the strangers on a motorcycle. In any event Gaston only claimed to have seen a man, not the motorcycle. Gustave, however, could not have seen anything unless he had gotten up to investigate. (Further, in Gustave’s defense the punctured tire on his motorcycle may explain why Yvette, although pregnant, had to ride her bicycle to Giropey to telephone the gendarmerie on 5 August 1952.)
The Dominici Affair Page 14