The Dominici Affair

by Martin Kitchen

  The presiding judge called for order. Gaston was then asked what he thought of Roure’s testimony. He replied that he had not seen Roure when he returned to the Grand’ Terre that morning. Roure was somewhat surprised at this statement but remarked that it was true that they had not spoken to one another.

  Jean Ricard, the traveling salesman who had been camping at Ganagobie, was the next witness. He had arrived on the scene shortly after Roure had. He stated that Anne’s legs were uncovered below the knee, whereas Roure had said that her body was completely covered. The body was still parallel to the Hillman.

  Captain Albert then stated that when he arrived, the body had been moved so it was at an angle to the car. He imagined that it was because someone had been looking for spent cartridges.

  The fourth day of the trial began that Saturday with the cross-examination of Zézé Perrin. He created an exceptionally bad impression. His face was distorted by a rictus that resembled a hideous parody of a grin. His legs shook, his fingers drummed on the bar of the witness stand. To one journalist he looked like a cornered fox, ready to bite.14

  It was suggested that Zézé had spent the night of 4–5 August at the Grand’ Terre and that his perpetual lying was designed to disguise this fact. First, he claimed that he had worked all day long at La Serre. The judge reminded him that he had also worked for Mr. Delcitte, who had a field across the road. Zézé admitted that was indeed the case. He then said that he got home at about 7:00 p.m. and had supper with his mother. Gustave drove past on his motorcycle while they were eating, but he did not enter the house, as Zézé had previously testified. When asked why he had lied about this, he remained silent but was visibly nervous. The presiding judge then asked him why he had told the gendarmes that he had gone to Peyruis to get bread the next day. It was a false alibi because the shopkeeper in question, Mr. Puissant, had died three years previously. Zézé again remained silent when confronted with this lie. In response to another question, he said that he had borrowed a bicycle belonging to Clovis’s son, Gilbert, to go to the fete in Digne. He had then used it to go the Grand’ Terre on the morning of 5 August, but the gendarmes had stated that the only bicycle at the site was one that belonged to Gustave.

  Zézé admitted that Yvette had told him that the English had come to get water, but he added that she had asked him not to tell the police. Pollak, in his attempt to show that Zézé had been at the Grand’ Terre the night of the murders, made much of his statement that Sir Jack had been wearing blue pajamas when his body had been covered with a camp bed. This suggested that Zézé had seen Jack before he was killed, but a police photograph was produced that showed the pajamas were visible under the camp bed.

  For the civil suit, attorney Claude Delorme asked about Gaston’s statement that his grandson was a ne’er-do-well. Gaston looked perplexed. Zézé turned crimson. Gaston then blurted out, “It’s possible that he’s the murderer. I don’t know, but he could be. Honestly why would Clovis accuse me? He’s my son and I’ve always got on well with him.” The judge then asked, “Why would he accuse you? Is it because Roger (Zézé) is guilty?” Gaston replied, “To save someone else. As for me, I’ve never even killed a grasshopper at home. All the same, Mister President, have you ever seen anything like that, a son who accuses his father? It’s incredible!” He went on to say that it could very well have been Zézé Perrin, because he often went off poaching with Gustave during the night. “He’s a layabout, a poacher, always cooking up something shady with Gustave, fishing when it’s forbidden, catching rabbits and thrushes with snares.” Bousquet then asked him whether he thought that Gustave was guilty. Gaston replied, “I wouldn’t say no. Both of them were always out hustling.”

  At this point Delorme raised the question of the canvas bucket, asking that the Marrians be brought back to the witness stand. Mr. Marrian said that he had not personally seen the object in question, but his wife had. She confirmed this point.

  Zézé’s mother, Gaston’s daughter Germaine, was a thin-faced woman of thirty-eight. She created quite a stir when she took the stand. Well dressed, with some impressive jewelry and a fresh permanent wave, she did not conform to the typical image of a peasant’s wife. She said that she had spent the night of 4–5 August with her husband at the Cassine, a farm to which the family was about to move. When she got back to La Serre, she found a note from Zézé saying that there had been an “accident” at the Grand’ Terre. The previous evening she had had supper with Zézé. Gustave had driven past on his motorcycle and had honked the horn as usual, but he did not enter the house. She went on to say that Yvette had told her that the English had come to get water. When asked whether Zézé had spent the night at the Grand’ Terre, she said that he no longer went there because she had had a row with her father and was not on speaking terms with him. She had been very angry with her father for the previous two years. The judge interjected that she had previously stated that Gustave had entered the house and had taken Zézé with him to spend the night at the Grand’ Terre. Germaine denied this.

  Charrier repeated Bousquet’s questions by saying that she had told Sébeille that Zézé and Gustave got on well together and that Gustave had stopped at La Serre to take Zézé with him to the Grand’ Terre. Germaine continued to insist that this was not true. When asked why she had broken with her father, she said that he had accused her of being a slut. Thereupon, Gaston launched into a denunciation of his daughter’s morals but added that her husband was the one who had told him that she was sleeping around. At this point the court adjourned for lunch until three o’clock.

  The principal witness that Saturday afternoon was Paul Maillet. A voluble and vulgar braggart, he addressed the court as if it were a meeting of the Lurs Communist Party cell. He repeated how Gustave had said to him, “If you had heard the screams! It was horrible!” When he asked where Gustave had been at the time, Gustave replied that he had been in the alfalfa field. Pollak objected, saying that Paul Maillet had hidden this important revelation for months. Maillet replied that it was because he thought that Gustave had been involved in the crime. At this remark, Gaston lost his temper and shouted, “Maillet used to be a friend! Now he is accusing me. He’s been plotting with Clovis for the last eighteen months to get me charged. He’s a liar!” Pollak also accused Maillet of being a liar in terms that revealed the contempt of a party militant for one who had been excommunicated.

  At this point Bousquet turned to the question of why there had been no discussion of the supposed meeting of Communist Party members at the Grand’ Terre on the evening of 4 August 1952, as so much had been written about it in the papers. The answer was quite simple: there had been no mention of it in the dossier. This oversight proved once again that the dossier had some serious omissions. Was this meeting just a journalistic fabrication, a result of village tittle-tattle, and a collective hallucination; or had there been a concerted effort to hide a compromising truth?

  Commissioner Constant was then questioned about Gustave’s contradictory statements. He replied that he had never believed a word Gustave said. His story was simply unbelievable. Constant denied that he had met with a “wall of silence” in the community of Lurs. On the contrary, people had been cooperative and helpful. The one exception was at the Grand’ Terre, where he had often thought that Gaston was about to attack him. Asked about the meeting on the eve of the murders, he said that he had been unable to get any precise information. There followed a brief but inconclusive cross-examination of Inspector Tardieu before the court adjourned for a day’s rest on Sunday.

  The trial resumed on Monday, 22 November. The principal witness that day was to be Commissioner Sébeille. Before he could take the stand, Pollak, who was increasingly frustrated by the persistent lying of the Dominici clan, requested that Zézé Perrin be placed under oath. With a dramatic flourish he pronounced, “May the thunderbolts of the law strike all liars!” The advocate general professed to be in full agreement. He argued that all the Dominicis, not merely Zézé, sh
ould be placed under oath because the whole lot of them were liars. Lawyers for the civil case also supported this move. Bousquet then asked whether Gaston was agreeable. With a broad smile, he said that he would be delighted.

  The court then adjourned to discuss the proposal. They returned quickly, and Bousquet announced that the defense team’s request had been denied. The Dominicis would not be placed under oath. There was a murmur of disapproval in the courtroom. Pollak muttered, “That’s all right! The witnesses now know that they can lie without running any risk.” Bousquet ordered him to show due respect and spare such comments on a court decision.

  The defense’s motive for requesting that the Dominicis be placed under oath was obvious. If they could be trapped into committing perjury, there would be good grounds for an appeal or a retrial. This was precisely what that court wanted to avoid. The point in law was contestable. Paragraph 322 of the code of criminal procedure stated that the parents and relations of the accused were not to be placed under oath, but the code also states that the court could permit it, provided that the prosecution and the defense did not object. In this case the prosecution did not want to see fifteen months of investigation rendered worthless because of almost inevitable perjury by the congenitally mendacious Dominici clan.

  Most of the rest of the day was devoted to hearing Sébeille’s deposition. He gave a careful and detailed account of his investigation, explaining how he had come to the conviction that the murderer came from the Grand’ Terre and leading up to Gaston’s confession when he had blurted out: “I’m going to do you a favor, kid. I killed the English. It was a romantic misdeed.”15

  There was a cry of horror in the courtroom when Sébeille related his questioning of Gustave about his discovery of Elizabeth’s body. First, there was incredulity when he said that Gustave had thought that her parents had murdered her, then indignation when he claimed that he had thought that they had run away. This reaction turned to anger when Gaston reportedly said that he had gone to the Hillman to keep a watchful eye on the Drummonds’ property.

  Bousquet asked the commissioner why he had not questioned Clovis after he had obviously fallen apart when he was shown the murder weapon. Sébeille’s answer was hardly convincing. The scene had happened on the main road. He was surrounded by journalists. He had questioned Clovis for two hours later in the day but to no avail. He then went on the counterattack by complaining that Professor Ollivier had taken several months before delivering his report on the murder weapon. As for Panayotou, he was a storyteller, “to put it mildly.”

  Gaston listened to Sébeille’s testimony with lively interest. He leaned forward with his elbows on the box, his chin resting on his hands, a wry smile on his lips.

  Pollak interrupted Sébeille on several occasions, protesting that the judge was prejudiced against the accused. Bousquet condescendingly announced that even in the most difficult of cases, his impartiality had never been called into question. Gaston then caused quite a stir when he claimed that he had only made his confession because his coffee had been drugged. Pollak engaged in some swift damage control by assuring the court that he was convinced that his client’s coffee had not been drugged but that in his confusion he might have imagined that it had been. The commissioner indignantly replied that his conscience was clear.

  The court was then adjourned.

  9

  The Verdict

  Marcel Bousquet’s plan for the trial’s next day was to concentrate on the events of 14 November 1953, the day that Gaston Dominici confessed to the murders. Victor Guérino was the first witness to be heard on Tuesday, 23 November. He gave a sober account of events that led to Gaston’s making a confession. He stated that they had conversed in a friendly atmosphere, exchanging stories, for which Gaston had used the word “parabolas.” Gaston had rambled on about good times and bad: his snaring seven hares in one day, his military service, his years toiling at Ganagobie, his marriage, his discovery on his wedding night that his wife was carrying another man’s child, and his saving for years to buy the Grand’ Terre. Then suddenly he had blurted out: “Yes, they attacked me. They thought I was a prowler.”1 He next told Guérino that he wanted to see “the President.” The policeman assumed that by this he meant Commissioner Pierre Prudhomme.

  Shortly afterward Gaston told Guérino’s colleague Joseph Bocca that he was sacrificing himself for the sake of his family. In his deposition, Guérino said, Gaston had repeatedly muttered, “Oh, the little girl!”2 Léon Charles-Alfred for the defense pointed out that these words did not appear in the transcript. Émile Pollak added that it was unacceptable to have considerable differences between the statements made before the trial and the testimony made in court, especially from the same witnesses.

  Gaston claimed that he could not remember a thing because he was in such a confused state after hours of interrogation, but Bocca confirmed his colleague’s account. Gaston had claimed he would shoulder the blame to save his grandchildren’s honor, because he did not mind going to prison if he could take his dog with him. He loved that animal more than all the rest of the family. Bocca went on to say that Gaston had told him the following: Gustave bought the carbine at the time of the liberation, that it was he who did the deed, that Yvette had told him that three people had been killed, and that he got up two or three times during the night. “Now they are all putting the blame on me!”

  Commissioner Prudhomme was then called to the stand. He said that he could not remember word for word what had passed between him and Gaston, but it had been more of a conversation than a cross-examination. He had asked the old farmer whether the Englishwoman had anything to do with it, whereupon “the patriarch launched into a very compromising account of what happened.”

  Pollak and Pierre Charrier tried to show that Prudhomme’s statement contradicted those of Bocca and Guérino on several points. Pollak stressed that Prudhomme had not even mentioned the mulberry tree, even though the newspapers had talked about it for months on end. He also asked at what time Edmond Sébeille had joined Prudhomme at the law courts, because Gaston had made his formal statements to these two men alone. Gaston claimed that he could only remember talking about the carbine, whereupon the advocate general remarked that his amnesia was remarkably selective. Staff Sgt. Marius Sabatier testified next that on 14 November 1953 Gaston had said that he had run after the little girl and had hit her over the head with a rifle butt.

  Gaston’s wife, Marie, was the final witness that morning. “The Sardine” was a tiny, thin old woman, her face deeply lined. She said, “I don’t know anything. I didn’t hear any shots that night or any screams. I just heard the dog barking. At about six o’clock Gaston told me that there was a little girl dead by the bridge. That’s all.” Bousquet asked her, “Weren’t you upset? You have grandchildren; you are a mother and a grandmother. You didn’t think of going to help the little girl?” She replied, “Good heavens no! I didn’t think of it!” She maintained she had not seen the English people the previous evening; in fact, she had seen nothing, heard nothing, and knew nothing. When asked about her married life, she answered that she had never lacked anything, that she missed her husband since he “went away,” and that she rejected out of hand any suggestion that he might have been involved in the crime. Gaston was visibly moved by this demonstration of loyalty. He asked her, “Is it true that you saw my trousers covered with blood?” She replied, “Your trousers? They were dry. And clean. As usual.”

  Yvette was the first witness called that afternoon. Smartly dressed in a blue suit and a green and red pullover, with a gold heart on a chain round her neck, she was carefully made up and her hair was freshly permed. She made a gesture of acknowledgment to her father-in-law as she took the stand. Before she had a chance to speak, Pollak interrupted the session and insisted that she be put under oath. The presiding judge adjourned the court for longer than an hour to discuss the matter with his assistants, but again they denied the request.

  Yvette then gave her version of
events during the night of 4–5 August. She and her husband had gone to bed at ten o’clock but were awoken at eleven thirty by the dogs’ barking. They heard Gaston talking to three strangers, asking them where they were going and what they were doing. The strangers left, and she and Gustave went back to sleep, only to be awoken again at one o’clock by gunshots. Gaston got up at four thirty; Gustave, half an hour later. The courtroom was deeply shocked when she recounted her actions that morning: how she had failed to even look at a little girl whom she knew was still alive; how she had taken her baby and gone to Oraison to buy some medicine; how she had had a leisurely lunch with her parents, the Barths; and how they had all gone back to the Grand’ Terre “to have a look at the bodies.”

  She withdrew all her previous statements to the effect that she had heard cries in the night; that her husband had got up to “have a look”; that he had seen her father-in-law “looking distraught” while walking up and down in the courtyard; that she had ever said, “Gustave didn’t tell me why my father-in-law had killed the English”; and that Clovis was the one who had told them that Gaston had committed the crime. Now she knew nothing, remembered nothing, and denied everything. She previously had maintained throughout that she had never seen the M1, but she now claimed to have heard two cars immediately after the shootings. She insisted that “the English” had not come to the farmhouse to ask for water. She said that Zézé Perrin had confused them with three Swiss people who had come to the house with a canvas bucket three days before. This claim did not explain how Zézé knew that Elizabeth could speak French and her mother could not. Yvette’s was such an impressive piece of stonewalling that the public prosecutor, Calixte Rozan, said in his summing up, “What a kid!”3