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April 1970, Pierre Goldman is charged with four armed attacks,
one of which led to the death of two pharmacists.
December 1974, the trial court sentences him
to life imprisonment,
but he proclaims his innocence in the pharmacy case.
October 1975, publication of his book in form of a plea, written in prison,
"Obscure Memories of a Polish Jew Born in France".
November 1975, the appeal court cancels the initial ruling
and transfers the case to the Amiens Criminal Court.
Paris, April 19, 1976
Mr Chouraqui is here.
Thank you.
Hello, Mr Kiejman.
Thanks for coming so quickly.
I'll read something that concerns you.
"Mr Kiejman,
My defence will henceforth be handled by Messrs Bartoli and Chouraqui
who will ensure it without you.
I'm sure you would have fought hard to obtain my acquittal,
but I also believe
you delight in what harms and disorientates me.
You take pleasure in it.
Disinclined as you are to discuss client-lawyer relations,
this carefully considered decision,
whose impact I measure one week before my trial,
lets me assert my liberty, given your attitude.
With sincere thanks for all your work. Pierre Goldman."
Did you know?
Yes, he wrote to me a few days ago.
Why didn't you tell me?
His letter seemed too ludicrous.
Do you have it here?
It's at my office.
Can someone bring it over?
No one's there now.
It's important. I'd like to read it.
Call.
Since you insist...
I'll read a few extracts for the tone.
"Francis,
I wish to calmly explain the hostility I feel towards Kiejman.
If someone declares his friendship and I give mine in return,
it implies a genuine relationship.
But I see now that Kiej remains in the foul swamp of society life.
That matters little as I believe he can defend me well,
but I swear, Francis, I cannot stand the guy now..."
- Shall I go on? - Yes, go on.
"One:
because of him, the sick errors in my book's 1st edition
still exist in subsequent impressions.
He had to find a legal way to keep my dough safe.
All his solutions were crap.
Two: I asked him to get me work in the press.
Not only didn't he do it, but he jokingly replied,
'They can always hire you as a runner.'
Three: he hasn't said if Christiane will attend the trial.
She must not testify and be subjected to the law's sick voyeurism.
Four: instead he talks of a premiere with Signoret and Montand
or seeing Depardieu and Adjani in Amsterdam. Screw that."
I'll spare you the rest.
Spare me nothing. Go on, please.
"I can't stand the guy's irony frivolity and armchair Jew's pettiness.
He pulled every string,
even using my friend Régis Debray, to get this case,
while pretending to do so reluctantly. It sickens me.
The paranoia of prison may magnify this but the sad truth
is that Kiejman plays sincere
when I'm his chance to hog the legal spotlight.
What a fine stage for him!
I hate him possessing me. He demoralizes me
and that's bad before my trial.
Contact with him is unbearable.
I want to dump him,
but I won't make any decision without your opinion.
Answer me soon. Your friend, Pierre."
How did you reply?
That it'd be a huge mistake.
You see, he didn't listen.
He did, I just saw him. He'll write to you today,
asking you to ignore his letter.
An armchair Jew!
How dare he? Who does he think I am?
I had to work hard to get here.
I'm from a poor background.
My illiterate mother raised me and my sisters alone.
He's the armchair Jew with his bestseller and leftist groupies.
Ignore his words. He's on edge with the trial.
That's too easy. Who isn't on edge?
It's huge for me. I've done few trials.
I've worked on this case day and night for weeks.
The idea he could be guillotined makes me sick and keeps me awake.
And now he insults me?
Quite frankly, I feel like quitting.
No, don't abandon him, for pity's sake.
Why not? Give me a reason to go on.
He won't manage without you.
I know how much you care about the case.
Why defend someone so reluctant to win? He's suicidal.
For him, the charge is a curse,
linked to his people's fate.
He sees himself as a martyr.
An excuse not to answer the charges.
No, he wants to answer them all, point by point.
He believes he can defend himself better than anyone.
As his first trial showed.
Try to understand, he feels he's the victim of an injustice.
You don't ask yourself if he's guilty?
I won't consider it.
I want to help a friend, a brother in difficulty...
- A brother? - Yes, a brother.
A Jewish brother.
Bring the scapegoat in from the desert.
Please. Where did you meet? At a Talmud class?
No, at karate.
Being from a good family, it's hard meeting a specimen like him.
So? What do you plan to do?
I'll defend him, not for the reasons he thinks.
Help me control him.
We need to work serenely to succeed.
THE GOLDMAN CASE
Amiens, April 26, 1976
Mrs Signoret!
Mr Debray, please.
Over here...
Mr Goldman, Mrs Goldman...
To the right.
Miss, look over here to the right.
Young man...
Look at me. Again, look at me.
Mr Garaud!
The plaintiffs' bench. Have a seat.
Thank you.
Goldman, innocent!
The photographers must leave the courtroom now.
All arise!
The court and the jury.
Please stand and confirm your surname, first names,
date and place of birth, profession and address.
Goldman, Pierre Bernard,
born in Lyon on June 22, 1944,
no profession, no fixed abode, and held in Fresnes Prison.
You may sit.
We'll move on to the indictment.
Pierre Goldman, these are the charges against you:
on December 4, 1969, at around 8 PM,
the armed robbery of the sum of around 2,500 francs
from Mr and Mrs Farmachi, at their hardware shop,
25, Rue de la Butte aux Cailles, in the 13th district of Paris.
On December 19, 1969, at 8:10 PM,
the armed robbery of a pharmacy in the 11th district of Paris,
and the wilful murder of Simone Delaunay
and Jeannine Aubert, the two pharmacists,
and the attempted murder of Raymond Trocard and Gérard Quinet,
both wounded by gunshots at point-blank range.
On December 20, 1969, at around 7:30 PM
the organized attack on VOG, in the 8th district of Paris,
by three men, two black,
for a sum of 22,675 francs.
On January 16, 1970, at 7:45 PM,
Passage Ramey, in the 18th district of Paris,
the theft from Social Security
of a sum totalling 7, 800 francs,
again with a black accomplice.
We note that Pierre Goldman recognizes all the charges against him,
except the pharmacy attack
for which he has an alibi.
He claims that on December 19, from 7 to 9 PM,
he was with a friend, Joël Lautric,
who resides at 47, Rue de Turenne, in the 4th district of Paris.
We also note that his sole prior criminal offence
was avoidance of the draft,
and that the defence has not called character witnesses.
Gentlemen,
can you explain that?
It's our client's decision, Your Honour.
Mr Goldman,
can you explain?
I shall call no witnesses for my defence
as I am totally innocent in the case of the pharmacy attack.
Therefore, I stand before you with my sole innocence,
without the means usually employed in trials,
that add to the pomp and theatricality, which disgust me.
Silence, please!
I should add that, concerning my moral character,
it is clear that, for the law and society,
I am rather lacking in it after three armed robberies.
It would therefore be absurd
for anyone, however prestigious or honourable,
to tell this court I am drowning in moral qualities.
I am innocent because I am innocent,
not because others testify to my character or my behaviour.
It is well-known that many murderers
were often very kind men
with seemingly fine morals and a peaceful nature.
In short, I wish this case to be judged on the facts alone
and I intend to help, as best I can, to rid this trial
of any artifice clouding the issue.
Thank you!
Mr Goldman, we shall begin by recounting your life.
My life?
My whole life?
- Yes. - It'll take a while.
We have plenty of time.
You were born June 22, 1944, in Lyon, to Israelites of Polish origin,
Resistance fighters and Communists.
In 1945, suspected of spying for the USSR,
your mother was expelled
and returned to Poland.
Your father entrusted you to an aunt for a year
until he married Mrs Ambrunn, Ruth.
Your father and stepmother recognized you in 1949
and you didn't see your birth mother until 1959
on your first trip to Poland.
Your entourage talks of a very disturbed childhood.
Can you tell us more about that?
I won't discuss such private matters in public.
So, to put it differently,
did-your birth mother live only for her ideas?
No, as I am here today.
Your primary education went smoothly.
You then attended a boarding school,
of which you say in your book, in a premonitory manner,
"I loved that carceral and virile warmth."
In high school, things were more chaotic.
In your penultimate year, you organized a student rebellion.
Yes, I was ten years early!
You enrolled at the Sorbonne in social sciences.
And, in 1962, you joined the Communist Students' Union
and were even its head of security.
At that time, everyone described you as active and very aggressive.
During the same period, you had bouts of depression
with several stays in a psychiatric hospital.
We have psychiatrists' letters
about the electroshock therapy you were given.
Can you tell us about these depressive periods?
I refuse to do that. I wish to stick to the facts.
Very well, let's return to the facts then.
You subsequently avoided your military obligations.
- You were a "draft dodger". - Yes.
What happened exactly?
I set off to go to the Nancy barracks,
but, instead, went to see my mother in Poland.
That time, you stayed longer than on your summer holidays there.
Yes, I made up for lost time.
I wanted to discover my parents' country,
its history, the war,
the Holocaust... My mother guided me.
I often went to the ghetto cemetery.
I went back to Auschwitz, which I first saw at 13.
You say you finally got to know your mother.
Yes, exactly.
I was old enough for real discussions,
and I saw how, despite poverty, Stalinism and the Gulag,
she remained loyal to herself, an activist and revolutionary at heart.
I asked her about the Resistance, her war years with my father.
Their story haunted me.
I wanted to be like them,
know that atmosphere of revolt, that pride and honour.
I wanted to be a Jewish warrior too.
- A Jewish warrior, you say? - Yes.
To free myself of the stigma of being a Jew.
Is that why you wanted to join the guerrillas?
Absolutely.
Your mother introduced you to Cuban revolutionaries.
Yes, but she refused at first.
She said it was madness.
Yet she did it.
I insisted so much she gave in
and arranged a meeting.
I went to Havana to see them
and returned ready to leave when called.
Back in Paris, you took part in the May 68 events.
Yes, but from afar.
For me, it was an imaginary takeover,
a parody of urban guerrillas,
where rioters head home to Mum and Dad at night.
I just wanted to return to Latin America.
And indeed, in June 1968,
you left for Venezuela to join an armed group of six fighters.
How did that go?
It was the best period of my life.
Combat training, comradeship the covert life,
all I dreamed of.
How did you get by?
With what funds?
We slept rough, got fed by farmers, and lived with very little.
Your group's leader was a certain Oswaldo Baretto,
an erudite Francophile, a sociology graduate, but also
a man with a murky past,
accustomed to the armed struggle and the use of weapons.
In your book, this man seems to fascinate you. Why?
He was Latin America's greatest writer, despite never having written.
You returned to Paris suddenly with him in September 1969,
along with two comrades from your group.
- Why this hasty return? - We had other plans.
A rumour says you and your group took part
in a major robbery at Venezuela's biggest bank,
and that you were all wanted by the police.
Could that explain your hasty return to France?
As you say, it was a rumour.
True, it's flattering, but I'm afraid it's false.
We need to ask ourselves
if you did not abandon your ideals in Venezuela...
and turn to crime.
No, certainly not.
Yet, on returning to Paris, you did nothing,
neither studies, nor work.
But I wanted a revolution.
I bought arms, and even wrote a manual for urban guerrillas.
My old union comrades called me mad.
Your old comrades, as you call them,
described you at the time as spineless, profiteering and volatile.
True, but I don't think that constitutes an offence.
The truth is, you had become totally idle.
You did nothing, you slept all day,
went out nightly
to Caribbean clubs,
and drank heavily.
True, I was a pain at the time.
I don't deny it, but I don't see how these undeniable facts
connect to the foul murders I'm accused of.
The connection is your situation at the time.
Listen,
it's true I was like that,
but I would never have opened fire on two unarmed women!
We shall ask you about that later.
The same friends say you had expensive tastes.
If you like.
You spent all your money.
- You were what they call a big spender. - Yes.
I paid for a lot of drinks.
I spent a lot on prostitutes too.
I bought a lot of shirts. I sweat and hate doing laundry.
That lifestyle obliged me to become a thief.
You had no other way to make a living?
- I probably did. - But less easily?
Thieving isn't easy, Your Honour, there are risks.
- Such as? - The death penalty.
You knew armed attacks entail the death penalty?
Absolutely.
- It didn't scare you? - Less than prison.
You were scared of prison?
Horribly scared, yes.
Isn't it contradictory, opting for a life of crime
when you fear prison?
Yes, probably.
So explain to us.
I was desperate.
I felt I was in a political void.
And I needed money, that's all.
I don't want to dwell on this.
- Why not? - I'm not very proud of it.
Mr Goldman,
can we call you a gangster?
Yes.
- And a killer? - No, certainly not.
If I had carried out the pharmacy hold-up,
I'd never have shot two unarmed women who had done nothing to me.
It's against all my principles.
Goldman, innocent!
Thank you!
Silence, please!
Thank you!
We have finished with your curriculum vitae.
You may sit down.
I quote from Pierre Goldman's book.
"I was surprised to have good relations with the court-appointed psychiatrists.
Notably one of those doctors, a woman, Mrs Boitelle.
My talks with her did me good.
In talking to her, I saw my crimes were a form of delirium,
and that I had been close to madness.
I made a banal but major discovery:
I was mercilessly punishing myself.
A court sat within me, ruled by a pitiless law
striking me in relation to my dreams and ideals.
The law couldn't punish me for, in my crimes, I had punished myself.
Those crimes were not the fraudulent armed robbery of money.
Instead I punished myself for not being a partisan like my father,
for not facing a firing squad,
for not fighting with El Che,
for not hunting down Nazis to eliminate them."
Madam, can you confirm Pierre Goldman told you all that?
Not in those exact words, but yes.
How do his words on self-judgement strike you?
I'd say they resemble him.
Could you see them as an admission of guilt?
No, they simply reveal his complexity.
He thinks a lot about what happens to him.
What was your impression when you met Pierre Goldman
for the first time in prison?
He was in a state of deep solitude, unable to relate to others.
His thinking was incoherent, he couldn't control himself,
and his anxiety was such I found it hard making contact with him.
In your first expert report that day,
you almost declared him schizophrenic.
That's right.
Why didn't you?
Because I wasn't sure.
Yet, in these initial reports, you describe him as dangerous.
Yes.
Why?
I felt his mental fragility could make him
dangerous in certain situations.
Over time, my opinion has changed
and my initial conclusions are no longer valid.
Would you say he found fulfilment in prison?
Yes.
Would you even say he's happy in prison?
The prison framework reassures him anyhow.
And you, Goldman, what do you think?
I would say I like prison in a way.
But, earlier, you said the exact opposite.
Before going. Now I'm there,
I'm almost afraid of leaving.
Is Goldman's personality compatible with the crimes he is accused of?
I cannot answer that directly,
but I can say that, in my many conversations with him,
I did not detect a penchant for the aggressiveness
described in the pharmacy attack.
And the attacks he has recognized?
They are different.
Really? In what way?
I have seen, in my work with prisoners,
that the act is often preceded by a violent family past
and inherent mental instability,
which is not Mr Goldman's case.
Thank you.
- Your Honour? - Go on, Mr Garaud.
Madam,
before his first trial,
to show his great esteem for you,
did Goldman offer you flowers picked within the prison?
He did, but I don't see how that is related.
I see very well how it is.
Goldman could have charmed you and made you lose all objectivity.
Silence!
Mr Garaud, please...
Your Honour, may I read a letter from Dr Oury,
of the La Borde clinic
where Pierre Goldman stayed for several months when he was 18.
Please go ahead.
"On arrival, Pierre Goldman displayed
a dissociative condition and anxiety
manifested in sudden violent fits
and suicidal ideas.
Such episodic psychotic moments
began at an early age, with periods of depression
due to latent paranoia
and a poorly structured personality.
He should have had treatment long before,
but it was hard to intervene as he was wary and felt persecuted."
Madam, unlike you, Dr Oury does not rule out psychosis.
I read that letter too.
Dr Oury speaks of psychotic episodes,
not psychosis, and, on that point, I totally agree with him.
For you, Pierre Goldman cannot be deemed irresponsible?
Absolutely.
Thank you, madam.
Miss, please confirm your surname, first names,
date and place of birth, profession and address.
Miss Sucab, Christiane,
30, born in Guadeloupe,
currently unemployed,
and residing at 66, Rue Daguerre in Paris.
Your relationship with the accused means you are not under oath.
Yes.
Can you tell us how you and Pierre Goldman first met?
It was in early 69 at a Caribbean party.
A friend introduced us.
- Joël Lautric? - Yes.
- Mr Goldman's alibi? - Yes.
How did that first encounter go?
We danced a little and then
we left the party, took a long walk in Paris
and spent a few weeks together.
And then?
Then he vanished overnight.
I went back to Guadeloupe.
Where you got married?
Yes.
Yet you contacted Goldman again
on hearing he had been arrested.
How did you contact him?
We wrote to each other,
then I came back to see him in prison.
What did you write to him?
- Do I have to answer? - No, you don't!
Mr Goldman describes your relationship in his book.
"I was overcome by love for this woman
who came from a key moment in my past.
I fought to destroy this love, to annihilate it,
to rid my body and soul of it, but I couldn't.
I had told her, on December 21, 1969,
that I'd succeed one day and see her eyes.
I had succeeded and saw her eyes, I had not forgotten them.
I wrote that I loved her, wanted to marry her and live with her.
I told her we'd have children.
I didn't see them as dark Jews with Negro blood,
but Negroes with Jewish blood..."
Madam, how do you explain Goldman's passion for Caribbean culture?
I don't explain it.
Goldman, how do you explain it?
I'm a Negro too.
Of course.
Jewish and black is the same.
- Your Honour? - Mr Prosecutor.
Madam, in your first statement to the police,
you said that the accused was very interested
in newspaper articles about the pharmacy case.
I don't recall saying that.
But you said it, it's in your statement.
Can you confirm it?
Answer, please, miss.
As I said, I have no memory of saying that.
Goldman, did you read every article
on the pharmacy case in the days after the crime?
Yes, I did.
Why such an interest in the case?
Maybe I wished to be accused.
Your wish has been granted.
Really, Goldman,
be sincere in your replies.
Answer frankly, please.
This double murder seemed to attract me.
I can't explain why,
but I felt drawn to the murders somehow.
And so committed them?
Not at all!
Please, Mr Garaud, await your turn to speak.
Madam, to quote you,
you describe Pierre Goldman when you met
as "unbalanced, drinking a lot
and dreaming of dying, gun in hand, after shooting a few policemen,
the representatives of the bourgeois order in his eyes."
Would you say the same now?
Certainly not.
Why, because you're his partner now?
- No, it's not that. - So why did you say it?
The police made me say it.
Claiming the police intimidated you is a serious accusation.
- It's scandalous! - It's the truth!
She is not alone in having said such things.
At the time, all of Goldman's Caribbean friends
describe him as violent, aggressive, dangerous
and disreputable.
To quote Mr Caprice, Mr Lautric's brother-in-law,
"I had the chance
to hear him express his political views
and, from his words, it was clear
human lives were of no concern to him
if they were an obstacle to his goals. He was an extremist."
If everyone you quote spoke ill of me to the police,
it was for the same reasons!
All of them are black and, for that reason alone,
they were abused and intimidated by the police.
Silence, please!
Do you imply the French police are racist?
I imply it and assert it.
That is shameful!
Silence, please!
Your Honour...
my client meant some officers may have racist attitudes,
not the police as a whole.
No, the police are racist as a whole.
Silence, please.
Silence, please!
Sit down!
Thank you, miss, you may sit down now.
Alter Moïse Goldman,
born November 30, 1909, in Poland,
residing at 36, Rue Pierre Valette, in Montrouge, shopkeeper.
You're the father of the accused, born to a poor shtetl family,
and you emigrated to France in 1927
to flee discrimination and the anti-Jewish pogroms.
During the war, you were a hero of the Resistance.
Thank you, Your Honour.
Sir, let's talk about your childhood in Poland.
Do you really believe I'm that interesting?
The main subject here is my son.
Very well.
Tell us about your son's early years.
The conditions that his mother and I knew in Lyon
were trying and even appalling.
We got along very badly.
We argued a lot.
What did you argue about?
Politics most of the time.
But, actually, we argued about everything.
You refer to Janka Sochaczewska, the accused's birth mother?
You were in the same group in Lyon?
Yes, she was the Resistance's secretary
for the Lyon region.
You fell in love and, despite the war, decided to have a child.
She wanted that more than I did.
She saw it as defying death.
A child would continue the fight
and sing for all the oppressed.
Can you tell us more about her?
Janka is Polish like me,
but comes from a much more religious background.
Her father studied the Torah all day. He was a sort of fanatic.
She rebelled against him at an early age
and became a Communist activist,
even though her father predicted that Communism
would only lead to misfortune.
As Communists were hunted down, she was arrested by the police.
Her mother came to see her in prison and told her,
"It's Passover soon, we'd like you to accept matzah bread."
Janka stood up without answering,
leaving her mother all alone
in the visiting room.
And when she got home,
her father threw her out.
The next day, she left Poland for France.
I'll quote your son from his book...
"After the war, my father left her, or she left him. They split up.
I stayed with my mother who worked at the Polish embassy.
In 47, for various reasons,
she had to leave France. I remember.
We were due to go but, while my mother was out,
my father, with old Resistance comrades, came to kidnap me.
My mother couldn't stop it,
unable to prove I was her son
having given birth under a false name during the war.
She went to Poland without me.
Maybe my father kept me because he loved me,
but I know he didn't want me to live in a land
where millions of Jews had been killed,
an anti-Semitic land, anti-Semitic and Stalinist.
A cursed land according to him.
That's all I know.
My father never expresses his feelings."
Mr Goldman, are your son's words true?
I admit that I may have said such things about the Poles,
but I always wanted the best for my son.
I always made sure he lacked nothing.
And when I remarried to Ruth,
we took him into our home right away.
My wife recognized him and raised him
like her own child.
He was never a problem?
The problems came later, with adolescence.
Several high schools expelled him for being unruly.
We sometimes had arguments at home too,
but I swear
he never raised his hand to anyone,
neither to his brothers, nor to his sister,
and even less to his stepmother.
My son could not kill a woman.
If he had done, there would no longer be any bond between us,
and I'd have never gone to see him in prison.
Yet you waited two years to go to see him.
Why?
You wanted to be convinced of his innocence?
How did he convince you?
He wrote me a letter
in which he swore he was innocent on the head
of a comrade decapitated by the Vichy regime police in 44.
- And you believed him? - Yes.
Until he wrote that letter, did you think he could have done it?
No, because I know that, even at the worst moments,
he kept his respect for life.
Enough of all this!
What does it matter what my father thinks?
Who cares if I could have done it?
The fact is I'm not guilty, ok?
Goldman, be quiet.
Let's continue.
As for the other attacks,
could he be capable?
Those neither.
- Yet he has confessed. - I know.
How do you explain that?
Perhaps it's a form of suicide.
At 16, for example, in boarding school,
after an argument with a classmate,
he threw himself out of a window through a glass canopy.
He had a serious head wound.
Perhaps it's all my fault.
Forgive me for not understanding you.
You know, before reading your book,
I didn't know you.
Any questions?
I have one, Your Honour.
Why was the accused's mother not summoned?
She couldn't get a visa to leave Poland.
With her son facing the death penalty?
For the law, she is not his mother, so it was denied.
I see a ploy by the defence
to mask his mother's controversial past,
suspected spying, prison in Poland,
rebellion, abandoning her family, etc.,
to favour the father's greater glory,
the Resistance, patriotism... What a fine picture!
Who the hell do you think you are?
How dare you talk about my parents? What is your life?
What have you experienced? Nothing!
My parents are exemplary, brave heroes.
They survived exceptional ordeals.
Instead of being worthy of them, I wallowed in parties, drink and crime.
I have to apologize to them.
Thank you, sir, you may go.
Thank you.
A 15-minute adjournment.
I didn't want Christiane to testify.
Why did you let her?
She was summoned. What could I do?
And my father forced to justify my innocence.
How humiliating!
I'll never forgive you!
Why drag my family in?
Because of you, of course! You're the accused.
Now sit down.
The next witnesses will prove trickier for you.
- Really? - Yes.
Let us strip them of their credibility one by one.
I already did that in my book.
You were alone in a cell!
It was easy.
They'll be before you in the flesh, able to contradict you now.
I'm simply asking you not to make our task any harder.
Control your fury and your wit.
Stop going on about police conspiracies.
It could be disastrous for you with the jury.
And please resist Garaud's provocations.
He is fiercely intelligent and sly.
As we saw, he'll try anything to make you blow up.
If he succeeds, he'll have won.
Do you understand?
Mr Jobard, at the time of the crime, you were a police superintendent
and a certain "X2" confided in you.
Can you tell us how you recorded that testimony?
In March 1970, around three months after the crimes,
one of our informers came forward to tell us
a certain "Goldi" had staged attacks, including the pharmacy one.
On the day itself, he had a drink with Goldman near the Odéon
and Goldman told him he would attack a dairy shop that day near Saint-Paul.
He even showed him his weapons, a Herstal and a P38.
How did that informer become convinced
Pierre Goldman was the pharmacy killer?
Goldman told him just after.
That's a lie. I never saw him again.
So why did he accuse you?
He's an idiot trying to make a splash.
- Why can't he stop? - No idea.
His simple mind produced a summary disastrous for me.
A summary?
He was obsessed by press articles on crimes.
He read a Herstal was used by a killer with a bag like mine.
It all matched and he convinced himself I was the culprit.
The guy is an idiot.
Wasn't he a friend?
You need quotation marks around that word.
Being a friend, is that why you won't give his name?
No.
It's because, as a kid, my dad said, "Never rat on anyone."
That's one rule of his I obey.
Yet you named all your friends
who could possibly provide an alibi.
Is that different?
Totally, it's not denunciation.
I can't see why,
after so long, you continue to protect X2.
With his name, we could summon him to testify
and answer his so-called lies.
Like I said, I'll never rat on anyone.
Enough, Goldman, tell us who he is. Your future is at stake.
No, I can't.
May I speak, Your Honour?
Mr Goldman,
put yourself in our shoes. Help us.
We don't understand.
It's simple.
Because of his wacky testimony, the law laid into me.
He caused all my problems.
Wouldn't it be easier to summon him to testify?
No doubt but, as I said, I won't rat on him.
It's a matter of personal ethics.
I was arrested for hold-ups that I've confessed to,
but I've kept a shred of heroism in this mess
by vowing never to rat on anyone.
Unless it's for a much less noble reason.
What are you implying?
One can imagine Goldman won't let X2 testify
as it would condemn him.
His testimony wouldn't condemn me!
It would prove me innocent.
X2 is wrong about everything,
guns, clothes, bag, store, the lot.
It's absurd!
Your Honour, may I return to the facts?
- Go ahead. - Thank you.
Mr Jobard, when X2 denounced Goldman to you,
he spoke of a hide where the police found weapons,
but not the pharmacy ones. Is that right?
Yes, but they were compatible with the pharmacy ones.
But you admit, as my client says,
that X2 wrongly identified the weapons.
Yes.
In that case, he could have misidentified Goldman too.
Goldman could have been at the scene with other guns,
but there's no proof he was.
Yes.
So you admit there's no material proof Goldman was at the crime scene?
Yes, that's right.
Let's try to be serious, Your Honour!
Whatever X2's name and inaccuracy,
his information led the police to witnesses,
every single one of whom identified Goldman.
Thank you, superintendent.
When I enter the pharmacy,
I am surprised to see the security system start up.
Despite the alarm, I go to the counter
and there I see two feet at the back-room door.
They are those of Miss Delaunay, my wife's boss.
She is on her back,
her coat fully buttoned up,
and her scarf around her neck.
Lifeless.
I step around the counter
and find a vision of horror.
My wife is lying on the floor in front of me.
She is wearing leather gloves
and the black and white checked coat that I bought her for her birthday.
I thought they had suffocated.
There was a strange smell.
But, on returning to the back-room,
I see Miss Delaunay's bloody head lying in a pool of blood.
Then I understand.
Near her, a man is lying on the floor.
Blood flows irregularly from his face, but he is breathing.
And the deafening ringing continues...
I run back out, I call for help,
I send for a doctor,
but I know it's too late for Jeannine and her boss.
I'd meet my wife from work every evening
to take her home to our little Florence,
aged 28 months at the time.
Goldman, killer!
"When I entered, the two pharmacists were in the back-room.
Both had their coats on, ready to leave.
I also saw a man in front of the women, who were both clearly scared.
He came over to me, gun in hand.
He pointed it at me and said,
'You go over there too.'
While he watched the women, I tossed my wallet towards the wall.
It contained around 500 francs.
He then made us move to the back-room at gunpoint.
Turning to me, he said, 'Hand over what you've got.'
I told him I had no money,
just a five-franc coin
for medicine, being the end of the month.
And I added,
'You're a jerk, they'll get you right away!'
When I reached for the coin,
the man shot me and I fell into a cupboard near me.
Then I heard the women cry out,
'No! No! No!'
Another shot and I lost consciousness.
The killer was aged 30 or so, taller than me, with a long face,
thin, a dark, Mediterranean complexion, Spanish or Portuguese.
He wore a leather or waxed flat cap
and a dark grey raincoat.
He spoke good French.
I am totally certain
that I recognized Goldman in the police line-up.
I also recognized his voice.
There is no doubt in my mind."
That was the statement by Mr Raymond Trocard, Resistance member,
and survivor of the pharmacy killings,
who has since died in a car accident.
Mrs Carel, you passed the pharmacy with your husband,
stopped him from stepping in
and went to raise the alarm at a nearby café.
Before fleeing,
did you see the attacker in the pharmacy?
- Yes, from behind. - Louder!
Please speak up.
Yes, from behind.
How would you describe the man you saw?
A dark silhouette, holding a pistol in his right hand.
You saw all that from behind?
No, he was three-quarters on, almost in profile.
Goldman, get up. Stand in three-quarter profile.
Which side, Your Honour?
Which side, ma'am?
The right side.
Turn to the wall.
Do you recognize the man you saw in the pharmacy on December 19, 1969?
Take your time, this is important.
I'm not really sure now.
Perhaps his face was bonier,
but, when I entered this courtroom and saw him, I felt the same thing
as at the pharmacy.
- What do you mean, "felt"? - The same feeling.
What is this? Can a man be judged on a simple feeling?
What are you saying?
Mr Kiejman, no witness intimidation. It's too easy.
Forgive me.
You said you had the same feeling. What do you mean by that?
Well, what I meant is...
when I came in and saw him,
I was scared like that day.
- His appearance scares you? - Yes.
This man resembles the one in the pharmacy?
Stop leading the witness.
Mr Kiejman, more neutral questions.
All right.
You say you were scared of him. What do you mean by that?
Well, when I saw him earlier,
it felt the same.
A gut feeling.
But he doesn't resemble him?
He does.
We're finally there.
This lady has just described a feeling, six years on,
adding that he resembles the man she saw.
She doesn't say it's him,
she says he resembles him.
After all, Mr Goldman matches her image of a murderer.
Her imagination is stronger than her memory.
Everyone here knows
the killer isn't a tall blond Swede, and the case
rests solely on the witnesses.
Do we sentence a man who resembles the killer?
No, that's not what justice is.
We must find the man.
This tactic is unbearable.
Mr Kiejman extorts answers to place his rehearsed monologue.
Rehearsed and grotesque.
If Goldman resembles the killer, why on earth look for another?
- Finished? - Almost.
Francis, the photo, please.
Thank you.
Does the jury recognize Pierre Goldman in this photo?
- Yes. - Yes, it's him.
It's him.
No, I'm afraid it isn't him, it's an actor who resembles him.
So much for witness objectivity.
I was having a drink with my cousin
when a couple ran in shouting, "There's shooting at the pharmacy!"
I go straight there.
As I run, I hear one or two more shots.
Behind the pharmacy counter, I see a man who yells,
"Freeze or you're dead."
He fires but his gun jams.
He steps around the counter,
and I try to grab him, but his raincoat slips through my hands.
I run after him,
catch up with him, and tackle him to the ground.
But when I immobilize him,
the bastard pulls out a second gun and shoots me, point-blank.
I crash to the ground.
I hear passers-by coming to help me,
then I pass out.
Mr Quinet, you're a police officer, off duty that evening,
and you reacted fittingly.
The court salutes you for your courage.
Thank you, Your Honour.
I just did my duty.
Sir, can you confirm
that the man sitting in the dock is the one
who shot you on Boulevard Richard-Lenoir on December 19, 1969?
Yes, that is him.
- Are you sure? - Positive.
Sir,
I'd like to point out
that Mr Quinet has continually contradicted himself.
He first said the man was a "mulatto".
Then he told the police he was Mediterranean,
wearing a jacket, then a brown or navy-blue raincoat,
and finally a gabardine.
At first he was 35, then 30, and finally 25.
He says he entered the pharmacy,
but witnesses state he never crossed the threshold.
Moreover, many witnesses say the killer had a cap, Mr Quinet doesn't.
Mathematically,
one would think so many are right, and Mr Quinet, wrong.
Yet Mr Quinet is a "key witness".
What are his words worth? Mr Quinet, no one questions
your heroism and sincerity,
but your account is too contradictory to make Mr Goldman the man who shot you.
My lawyer speaks of Officer Quinet's sincerity,
but I'd call it insincerity and even partiality.
What do you mean?
My lawyer doesn't agree with me on this point,
but the police conspiracy against me
made Officer Quinet its agent.
Once I was arrested,
I became the ideal culprit, and he was urged to identify me.
That's ridiculous.
I was led before the line-up and identified him immediately.
Even his voice.
I had picked out his photo a few days earlier.
I didn't hesitate.
However, I did stipulate to the police officers
that my attacker was older.
The photo proves it was pre-arranged.
The police picked an old photo
in which I can't be recognized.
Yet Officer Quinet, after seeing me for a few seconds at dusk,
somehow identified me from that photo.
Mr Quinet, after the incident,
at 8:15 PM, you told a bystander,
"The bastard, he shot me in the gut. I'm screwed.
He was a sort of mulatto."
Is that right?
Maybe. It happened so fast, I'm not sure.
What did you mean by "mulatto"?
Someone with dark or tanned skin.
How does Mr Goldman look now?
Less tanned than before.
The dictionary defines a "mulatto" as
"born of a Negro and a white woman,
from the Spanish mulo, meaning mule."
I put that before you.
I don't remember saying "mulatto".
However,
I recall what I told the police in the hospital.
I said he had Mediterranean looks,
spoke good French and wasn't an Arab.
That describes the accused, like thousands of men in the Paris area.
- Your Honour... - Silence!
Let's be serious here!
We're not here to query what words mean.
Two women lost their lives
and this man nearly lost his.
It's serious.
I am not denying that,
but biases can transform testimony.
Mr Goldman is biased thinking the police are racists.
He wrote in his book, and I quote him,
that Mr Quinet, "has the clear, racist hilarity of the police."
He even adds "natural". Outrageous!
Totally outrageous!
It's the absolute truth!
Silence!
Sit down!
Mr Quinet,
do you admit to pronouncing the word "mulatto"?
Listen,
I forget, but I know what I saw.
I saw this man, in the light in the pharmacy,
then with his face pressed to mine on the boulevard.
Your Honour,
a man who shoots you
is not someone you forget.
Miss Lecoq, on that day, you left a hair salon
run by a friend at 27, Boulevard Richard-Lenoir.
As you walked towards Bastille, you saw two men fighting.
One man collapsed, the other ran off, jostling you.
- Is that right? - Yes, exactly.
But you didn't see the police until 23 days later.
Why was that?
I went straight home. I felt emotional.
Emotional?
Yes.
Why? Because you saw two men fighting?
Yes.
And you didn't think of going to see the police the next day?
For me, it was just a fight.
So why did you go 23 days later?
I heard people had died.
Really? How did you hear that?
I forget now.
Try to remember, it's important.
Maybe my hairdresser friend, but I forget now.
Would you say that the man who jostled you that evening
is the one sitting in the dock to your left?
- Yes, it is. - Take your time.
Look at him. Your answer is important.
No need to take my time, I'm sure it's him.
How can you be sure when you told the police
you saw Officer Quinet in uniform and didn't hear a shot?
What is your answer, Miss?
I don't know what he means.
It's simple, in your statement of January 11, 1970,
you said you witnessed a fight between a civilian and a policeman.
- A uniformed policeman? - Yes, exactly.
Yet Officer Quinet was off duty and in plain clothes.
Well, I saw a uniformed policeman.
You also stated you didn't hear a shot. Do you confirm that?
Yes.
How were you able to see the fight
and not hear the shot, as they both occurred simultaneously?
I don't know but, like I said, that man jostled me.
So, how would you describe the man who jostled you?
He was odd, he seemed mad.
Mad? What do you mean?
Well, a madman.
And you then said to this madman,
"Don't apologize, you Arab scum."
Yes, I said that.
Why did you say it?
I thought I saw an Arab.
But you agree that the man in the dock is not an Arab?
He has Arab looks.
Arab looks? What do you mean?
I mean
he has a long nose and dark skin like an Arab.
What, Goldman?
I said I'm circumcised, like an Arab.
Madame, where did the man who jostled you come from?
The boulevard.
- Where did he go? - To the metro.
Did you collide on the sidewalk or the road?
The sidewalk, as I keep saying.
Was he running?
No, staggering.
Weren't you staggering that evening?
No, I was normal.
It's a way of saying you talk nonsense at times.
That's not true!
Your Honour, please call Mr Kiejman to order.
He cannot humiliate witnesses to get the answers he wants.
Noted. Mr Kiejman, carry on, but change approach.
Madam, where do you say the man ran after jostling you?
Towards the metro, as I said.
- Which stop? - Bastille.
- Are you sure? - Positive.
May I point out that all the other witnesses indicate
the man ran to the Bréguet-Sabin stop.
This lady saw a policeman, in uniform,
a fight without a shot
and a man running to the wrong stop.
It's bewildering.
Madam, I'll ask you again...
Are you positive you saw the man run towards Bastille?
Absolutely.
Yet, as I explained, it's patently untrue.
How should we take it when you say he was Pierre Goldman?
It's different, it's not the same thing.
Interesting. So, two kinds of certainty,
one leading to the truth,
the other to error?
You're an empiricist for whom only subjectivity counts?
The outline you glimpsed, your conviction,
is more certain than the objective world.
Can someone volunteer
to end this pathetic lesson in philosophy?
- Let me finish. - No, I won't!
I won't let you finish. You weren't at the crime scene
and you're no doubt further from the truth than this lady
who, shocked and confused,
got the fugitive's direction wrong,
but not all the rest.
No one claims witnesses are infallible.
No more questions, thank you.
Mr Pluvinage, you're a retired doctor
and live on the fourth floor of 6, Boulevard Richard-Lenoir,
the same building as the pharmacy.
Can you tell us what you saw and heard from your windows that evening?
First, I heard shots
and having practised shooting,
I realized it was a large-calibre weapon.
I ran to my window and saw a man run out of the pharmacy,
with another chasing him.
The second man caught up with him,
tackled him, and a second shot was fired.
The pursuer collapsed and the killer ran to the metro.
What time was it?
Just before 8, I was about to eat.
Can you describe the man you saw?
Tall and athletic,
with black hair, dark skin and very deep-set eyes.
On a foggy night at more than 40 metres?
I checked the distance between your windows and the sidewalk.
You have an eagle's eye.
Thank you. I'm a specialist in microscopy.
It requires precise eyesight.
Allow me to doubt the precision of your eyesight.
Your statements vary so much,
the man you describe alters like Descartes' wax.
Yet, for you, he is Pierre Goldman.
You remember signing your statement at police HQ
with a magistrate and a lawyer you identified as Gisèle Halimi,
when no magistrates or lawyers were present.
While Pierre Goldman has had many defence lawyers, as I know,
Gisèle Halimi was not one of them.
And don't brag about your courage
because you ran to gossip to your neighbours
rather than help a wounded man or call the police.
Enough of this massacre!
The morality or opinions of witnesses are not the subject here.
These are diversionary tactics.
Mr Goldman outlined them in his book
as he says, I quote, we should examine the past
and political views of Mr Pluvinage!
Yes, I stand by that.
Every witness's past and views should be examined,
given that my past and views are sifted over here.
- That's not the issue. - Take anti-Semitism.
Could a witness be anti-Semitic?
- Does it matter? - Yes!
It's important.
As important as the details of my biography.
The police too. What are their political views?
Inspector Goussard there, during questioning...
- Pierre! - Hold on.
He told me he had nothing against Israelites,
and even knew some good ones.
Maybe he even saved some during the war.
You cannot allow such nonsense in the sanctity of this courtroom.
It's scandalous.
It's an insult to the quest for truth and the law in general.
I'm the one being insulted here.
The witnesses are all racists, every last one!
- Stop now. - No, I'm doing something.
Your Honour, we are reduced
to judging the views of honest, innocent people,
some traumatized by the events.
Even if a witness is proved to be racist or anti-Semitic,
he or she is still credible, and Mr Goldman a killer!
You goddam racist! You're a racist and a filthy fascist!
A racist!
You stink of racism. I detect it like you detect wops!
Screw you!
Goldman! Shut up, you've no right.
I'm innocent, Your Honour, and that gives me every right!
Your Honour, please ensure those insults go in the record.
Goldman, apologize to Mr Garaud!
No way!
He's a fascist and a racist, defending a racist police force!
Murderer!
Come and say that to my face, Goussard!
Let go of me, you damn cop!
I'm innocent!
The hearing is adjourned.
Fascist police! Complicit justice!
Let go of me! You goddam racists!
Let go of me!
I'm innocent!
Fascist police! Complicit justice!
Silence!
Goldman, innocent!
What a disaster! You wrecked all our work.
You fell right into Garaud's trap.
Your idiotic arrogance has to stop.
You're suicidal.
With every witness identifying you, your head's at stake.
That sentence matches my destiny.
I'm sorry?
I was born and died on June 22, '44.
Keep the fancy lines for your leftist pals!
- It's the truth. - Shut up!
Only I can save you, so keep quiet!
- I don't need you. - What?
I'm innocent, not even you can change that fact.
It's ontological.
So a divine form of innocence that escapes all judgement?
The case must prove you innocent.
Play along or I'll dump you!
Superintendent Leclerc, you were on duty on April 8 and 9, 1970,
when Goldman was arrested.
We'd like to review his questioning with you.
How did he seem on his arrival on April 8?
Calm.
With two buttons torn off.
How do you mean?
The cops began their work in the van.
They insulted me copiously and even beat me up.
- Is that right? - I never heard that.
Mr Goldman never mentioned it.
For someone so litigious and precise, it's surprising.
It's the truth.
On the evening of April 8, you began questioning.
How did that go?
We started with general questions,
the company he kept, his hang-outs, the usual.
Yet he immediately denied the pharmacy killings
before I got to them.
- I was on the alert. - The alert?
- Yes. - Can you explain?
Just before questioning, I heard a cop say,
"We got the pharmacy killer."
Then another cop came in and said,
"You did the pharmacists? I imagined you different."
I began to panic.
So, when asked if I frequented Bastille, I denied what they wanted to pin on me.
Shut him up!
Then what happened?
For hours, he denied the four armed robberies,
but at I AM, he confessed to three of them,
while denying the pharmacy killings.
At one point, he took his face in his hands and asked,
"Is it possible in a moment of madness to commit a foul act and not remember?"
I thought he might finally crack then.
- Goldman, did you say that? - Maybe.
"Maybe"? It's important, did you say it or not?
Yes, the next day, much later, once the confrontations began.
Why did you say it?
When I arrived at police HQ,
I was sure my innocence would be obvious.
Instead, the next day every single witness identified me.
Your Honour, I had lost all my bearings.
I was confused and asked that question,
but it was totally absurd.
With those words, weren't you telling Superintendent Leclerc
your responsibility was diminished?
You don't get it,
I told you I'm innocent!
As an innocent man, you wondered if you might be guilty?
I'm gonna get that guy!
Just calm down.
Mr Leclerc, do you confirm Goldman said those words to you?
Yes, I'm positive.
So why aren't they in the record?
He said them during a break.
- So it's your word against his? - Yes.
Then what happened?
Nothing, it was 2 AM, we were beat.
We put him in a cell.
The next morning, you began witness identification.
Why so soon?
Some had already identified him from photos.
We had to confront him with them fast.
Can you tell us how this identification unfolded?
As usual, with officers of his age.
We made them remove watches, ties and jewellery,
and put them in raincoats to make them plain.
Your Honour, without contesting Mr Leclerc's word
or his professionalism,
I was unshaven and dishevelled in a group of clean-cut guys.
- That's a lie. - It's true!
They gave me an old electric razor with one head,
but my stubble is too tough even for 5-head models.
I'm Inspector Goussard,
I was supervising Goldman.
The razor was working.
I told him it was no good, but he said to try.
I said I couldn't and he said, "It doesn't matter."
That's when I realized there was a police plot.
I never said that, and he did shave.
Get an electric razor, I'll seize it up.
He shaved in front of me!
Inspector Goussard, sit down, please.
You had the chance to shave,
but couldn't and gave up.
I don't quite follow.
That's odd, given the stakes.
Why not demand to wash, change and shave?
When I arrived, I felt no one would identify me.
But when people began to identify you,
why didn't you protest?
I was devastated.
It was a disaster.
I felt my mind was going. I understood nothing.
I just wanted to be the guy they suggested I be, a culprit.
Mr Leclerc, do you maintain Goldman shaved?
- Yes. - A lie.
This would be irrelevant
if we had access to the identification photos.
Mr Leclerc, can you remind us why
they do not feature in the file?
Because we had a technical problem.
What exactly?
When we came to check the camera, we found there was no film.
If the camera didn't work, perhaps the razor didn't either.
- Superintendent... - Silence!
You admit Goldman's coat was missing two buttons,
his clothes were messy, and he'd slept only a few hours?
And I had black stubble.
I don't remember.
But Mr Goldman reread every transcript.
If he had sensed any falsification, he'd have had it noted.
Yet he said nothing to that effect,
despite knowing five witnesses had identified him.
Unless he thought the police's blunders
would help him later.
Mr Garaud, not everyone is as sly and devious as you.
I'd say your client is.
Superintendent,
why weren't other photos taken later?
It was too late.
Just say you're sure the case was solved.
Madam, everything was done to point me out.
After all, Quinet was there when I was led out.
- That's a lie! - It's true.
- A lie! - He was there.
He looked at me and said to his colleague,
"He shot me in the gut, that ugly bastard!"
I never saw him there.
He was easy to recognize among my black friends.
I stared at him,
he insulted me, then told his colleague he took his gun everywhere now.
He's a liar! I only saw him through the two-way mirror.
I swear it's true, on all I hold dear.
Thank you, sit down, please.
Your Honour, it's unpleasant to be attacked in a case like this.
In 25 years, no court of law
has questioned our identification process.
I strongly re-assert everything was done by the book.
And I assert I did not shave and that Quinet saw me there.
I'm not saying Superintendent Leclerc, a true professional,
knowingly conspired against me.
But, convinced I was guilty
and knowing culprits often escape justice,
you staged my presentation to ensure the outcome.
And I categorically declare
the two men didn't meet.
Mr Goldman despises the work of the police.
He writes about their ignorance, incompetence and vulgarity.
Not a word is true!
Goldman is a born liar!
That day, I went directly to Superintendent Leclerc's office.
Say I was in your office, sir.
The office
next to the one where identification took place?
Can you confirm your office was adjacent to the one for the line-up?
Is it possible to see the next room via a two-way mirror?
And so Mr Quinet says
he waited in that office while his colleagues set things up
and awaited the arrival of Goldman in handcuffs.
Mr Quinet could view the other room via the two-way mirror, is that right?
Yes, that's possible.
Mr Quinet, did you go directly to the superintendent's office that day?
No, not directly.
So where were you, Mr Quinet?
In the corridor as Goldman says?
No, I was not in the corridor.
Superintendent, we're confused.
Are there several corridors?
No, only one.
Then Mr Goldman could have seen Mr Quinet.
Lying's bad, Quinet!
Goldman, innocent!
Silence!
Be seated!
Mr Quinet, one last time, where were you before the line-up?
I told you, with me in the corridor.
Mr Quinet denies the obvious.
This is absurd. The jury interrupts,
the defence roams free...
I remind you that each lawyer should speak in turn
and that jurors must alert the judge to ask questions.
No, article 310 on a judge's powers allows all jurors
to "ask any question that does not express a personal opinion."
In that case, I'll ask the jurors to alert me first.
As for the defence, let the prosecution finish before speaking.
Thank you, Your Honour.
Mr Kiejman,
I think we're done with the identification issue.
No, we're not done at all.
Excuse me. Court bailiff...
Come in, gentlemen.
Come along.
These are the officers who lined up with Pierre Goldman
for identification.
And this
is a life-size enlargement
of Pierre Goldman's police photo,
taken on April 11, 1970, following questioning,
the day after the identity line-up.
Maybe the photos weren't shown as the police had something to hide.
Mr Oswaldo Baretto, in your youth you opposed
the Jimenez regime in Venezuela,
spent time in jail in your country,
followed by months in hiding
before fleeing to Paris in the late 50s
where you studied and earned a PhD in sociology.
But even if you could be called an intellectual,
you have devoted your life to the armed struggle.
You joined Ben Bella in Algeria in 1964,
then went to Czechoslovakia to take part
in the student movement of the Prague Spring.
You then left for Cuba, to join your friend Régis Debray,
whom you met as a student.
It was also in Cuba, a few years later,
that you met Pierre Goldman.
How did you persuade him to join the guerrillas?
I didn't persuade him, he insisted.
On the contrary, I thought
a Frenchman had no place among us.
Really? Why?
Because of what happened to Régis in Bolivia.
Prison, torture...
I tried to dissuade him, but it was no use.
How did you attempt to dissuade him?
I asked him if he was ready to die
under torture
or from an enemy bullet for a cause that wasn't his.
He said he was not only ready,
it was all he wanted.
In September 1969, you suddenly left Venezuela with Goldman
to return to live in Paris.
Why did you leave your country so hurriedly?
Everything was over.
The tanks ended the uprising in Prague,
El Che was dead, Cuba had settled down.
The revolution was over.
On arriving in Paris, did you have a large sum of money
from a bank robbery in Venezuela?
I had nothing.
How did you live?
I got by.
But, at first, Pierre Goldman housed you in his studio.
Yes, that's right but...
how is that connected, Your Honour?
The connection is the exact nature
of your bond with Goldman at the time.
We were friends, that's all.
Just friends?
- With no shared activity? - No.
Nothing.
Joël Lautric, Pierre Goldman's key alibi,
told the police that on December 24, 1969,
five days after the crime,
you asked him if Goldman was behind the pharmacy killings.
Did you?
Yes.
Why were you concerned when no one suspected him?
I had read about the pharmacy incident in the papers
and I knew Pierre had many money problems at the time.
That he carried out a few thefts now and then.
It crossed my mind, that's all.
I have another theory.
You're a South American militant used to illegal, covert activities,
with no desire to see the police focus on you.
If Goldman was responsible for the pharmacy killings,
you needed to leave his apartment and cut all ties.
Your Honour,
I have never dumped a friend,
whatever he did.
But you never saw him again until today.
l'll insist. Why did you ask Joël Lautric that
if you didn't believe him capable of it?
Again, Mr Baretto,
why ask Mr Lautric if Goldman was the pharmacy killer,
as I said on December 24, 1969,
when X2 hadn't yet talked
and the police didn't suspect him?
I just wanted to reassure myself.
Did Mr Lautric reassure you?
Yes.
Sir, please confirm your surname, first names,
date and place of birth, profession and address.
Lautric, Joël,
born August 18, 1944, in Pointe-à-Pitre,
residing in Trois-Rivières, Guadeloupe, substitute teacher.
Mr Lautric, before testifying we require you to take an oath.
Do you swear to speak without hatred or fear
to tell the whole truth, nothing but the truth?
Yes, Your Honour, I swear.
Goldman has always stated that, on December 19, he went
to your place at 47, Rue de Turenne
after abandoning his plan to attack a dairy shop
and that he left just after 8, the exact time of the crime.
He also states
that your sister Annick, who was there with her boyfriend, Alain Caprice,
opened the door to him.
Your testimony is very important yet from your first statements
the three of you contradict each other
on the time and day of Goldman's presence.
True, but I'm positive now.
Let me finish, then we'll question you.
In your first statement to the police on April 9, 1970,
you said Goldman came over one night in December,
but couldn't give the day or time.
Only a few days later did you specify the date,
but still without giving the time.
Then, during the first trial, you gave the time,
but without the date.
And that's a mere summary.
Mr Lautric,
was Pierre Goldman at your place on December 19, 1969?
Yes, he was at my place that evening.
Can you give us the time?
He arrived at 7:30 and left at 8:30.
Mr Lautric, you are under oath and your testimony is capital.
Are you sure of the date and time?
I'm positive.
Congratulations. You're the man whose memory improves
as time passes.
You defy the laws of nature. An ideal guinea pig for science!
Members of the jury,
at the first trial,
Mr Lautric said Goldman visited him on December 19, the day of the killings.
However, he was less precise about the time.
He first said he arrived at 7 PM
and probably left just before or just after 8 PM,
five minutes before the double murder.
Pierre Goldman has always said he had terrible toothache that day
and had been to the hospital the day before for a painkiller.
It had worn off
and the pain was worse,
enough to drive him mad.
He went to see Lautric for an aspirin but he had none.
As Lautric's apartment is so close to the pharmacy,
if Goldman left
five minutes before the hold-up,
that's exactly the time needed to get there.
And, as he was in urgent need of aspirin,
that leads us to the scene of the crime.
What do you say, Mr Lautric?
Your Honour, I'm positive now that Pierre Goldman
was at my place that day until 8:30 PM.
I give you my word as an officer.
An officer, really?
Yes, I'm a French Army reserve officer.
If you say so.
May I go now?
Any questions?
Yes, Your Honour.
Sir, according to your first statement,
you told Oswaldo Baretto a few days later
that Goldman was at your place when the killings occurred.
You weren't covering for him as the police didn't suspect him,
you were reassuring a friend.
Yes.
- You said it without hesitating? - Yes, sir.
Why?
Did Goldman ask you to do it?
No, he didn't.
- So you did it spontaneously? - Yes.
My question is simple, sir.
After covering Goldman spontaneously with this friend,
why weren't you as firm with the police, as you could have cleared him?
Instead, you said Goldman wasn't there and even condemned him
by saying he was dangerous and violent.
Answer, Mr Lautric, please.
Just after Pierre's arrest, the police turned up,
they ransacked my apartment and took me in by force.
On the way, they yelled at me and made me understand Pierre was...
suspected of killing the pharmacists.
They mentioned a "mulatto" accomplice.
I panicked, afraid of being jailed, and said any old thing.
My first reaction was to save myself.
I'm ashamed.
Terribly ashamed.
Pierre, my friend, please forgive me.
Thank you, Mr Lautric. That will be all.
We shall hear the pleas, after a brief adjournment.
To leave the ghetto
and escape obscurantism,
there was only Zionism or Communism.
That's a fundamental aspect of Judaism,
not a religious aspect,
but a link with universalism,
with historicity.
That of the emblematic history of revolutionary Jews,
of the Bund, of the FTP-MOI, of the Mensheviks...
They shared an in-joke.
"Why doesn't the JCR committee speak Yiddish?"
The answer never changed.
"So Rachid can take part."
One cannot understand Pierre Goldman, without understanding
the impact of his family's past on his personality and his struggles.
Well?
What do you think?
Francis, you won't plead. Three pleas would be too much.
- Émile, you agree? - Of course.
In fact, I think it's better if I go last.
What? No. Why?
Because of the link between you.
What do you mean?
How can I put it?
It's better if the Israelite lawyer doesn't speak last.
No, I've based my plea on doubt.
We end with that.
Don't worry, my Jewishness won't show.
Fine, I won't insist.
I think it's a pity your Jewishness won't show.
Why?
You and Pierre are Polish Jews born in France,
with poor parents who lived through the war.
You share a common past. Why hide it?
It's not relevant here.
But it is for you.
The court and the jury have to sense that emotion.
I'm not comfortable with that. I'll stick to the facts.
Well, I think you're wrong.
The trial of the century, they say, but the century isn't over.
The institution of the jury has been criticized,
accusing the minor notables you jurors are deemed to be.
Some say the accused should have been judged by his peers.
An odd conception of justice
for even worse results than our fine old institution,
which is at least not ambiguous.
I'll speak in the name of France,
the true France,
the one of workers and honest folk,
the one in whose name justice is done.
Outside, they say this trial is rigged, that orders have come from Paris
to pander to the intelligentsia,
even if the police and the law are undermined.
Pierre Goldman,
your misdeeds carried out so openly display unbearable impunity.
You see yourself as an urban guerrilla lurking in the crowd
but I'm afraid the revolution is now a tawdry consumer good.
You sold yourself here as a rebel ready for every struggle,
but you've joined a capitalist system
you once wanted to annihilate.
You are a notable,
a notable among notables who wrote a book
that is selling well.
You have become
the darling of a Parisian elite that swoons over your misdeeds.
They said you were condemned as a Jew and a leftist.
Will they dare to say you were acquitted as a Jew and a leftist?
A false accusation,
with justice on trial.
We judge a man, not an institution.
Members of the jury don't let yourselves be fooled.
Pierre Goldman was sentenced to life imprisonment at his first trial
for one single reason,
that he is guilty!
The public prosecutor does not back the prosecution blindly.
I shall stick to the facts and review events
that combine to prove the accused guilty.
Several witnesses saw the killer:
Officer Quinet, who fought with him
and was shot point-blank in the stomach,
and Mr Trocard,
since deceased,
shot in the cheek at less than a metre for offering five francs.
Those two are categorical.
Why would they be wrong when Mr Goldman
admits the witnesses in the other cases were right?
The accused asked Superintendent Leclerc,
"Is it possible in a moment of madness
to commit a foul act and not remember?"
For me,
that doesn't mean the accused has forgotten,
but that the act doesn't match his true personality
and that he won't take responsibility.
Pierre Goldman is not a killer,
we could all agree on that,
and yet
he killed.
Pierre Goldman,
your crimes have nothing to do with your politics and South America,
but are a poor alternative for a rebel incapable of finding work and money.
I think that's how you saw things at the outset,
probably with the painful feeling of a sort of personal suicide
on seeing the man you wanted to be
fade away into ordinary crimes.
I said your former political action had no relevance,
but that's not quite true.
Your attack failed.
You thought you'd be alone in the pharmacy at closing time.
You didn't expect Mr Trocard,
poor Mr Trocard and his tragic gesture, his five francs that he offered you.
And, at that very moment,
your guerrilla past played a part.
You're used to tough situations and you were on the alert.
Mr Trocard surprised you and, like a fighter, you opened fire.
You thought you'd killed him and that changed it all.
The witnesses had to be eliminated.
When Quinet stepped in,
you tried to fire, but were out of bullets.
You ran off, he caught you and tackled you.
You took out a second gun and shot at him again.
Mr Goldman, it's true,
you shot Mr Trocard in an involuntary gesture but, after,
you killed every witness to erase the traces of your first shot.
That's worse than bad.
I don't know if a gangster would have been so cold-blooded.
It's all a result of your cold intelligence,
an icy and bloody form of intelligence.
A form of intelligence that, in other circumstances,
I would have gladly praised.
In the course of this long trial,
it has impressed and even touched me.
But we must not get sentimental here.
Intelligence comes with obligations.
You're not a killer, but you killed,
and that makes you a murderer. You're unforgivable.
Given the horror of the crime, I must
demand punishment that satisfies the basic demands of justice. And so,
I request no less than life imprisonment for you.
The prosecutor is a believer in witnesses.
Much good may it do him.
But I have to tell you
a witness is the world's most fragile thing,
a child, a new-born baby.
Some witnesses see well, others badly.
Some hear well, others are deaf.
Some are distracted or couldn't care.
However,
they are always in good faith,
while the accused is always considered a liar.
They testify under oath, we're told.
Big deal!
You need a licence to drive a car,
but anyone can testify in court, unchecked.
Do you find that normal?
Pierre Goldman,
you-said your father had acquitted you,
your friends too.
There's a man to whom you didn't ask that question,
and that's me.
Me, the one speaking now.
For me too, you're innocent of these murders.
Never, in my 40-year career,
have I been so convinced of my client's innocence.
If I am wrong now,
I have been wrong about everything.
My profession, my friends, my loved ones...
Ruth and Alter Goldman, this evening I think of you.
My heart clenches to think of the pain you must feel
at this sorry sight.
You, Ruth, who raised him as your son,
waiting for him every evening in your humble home,
a place set for him at your table
with his half-siblings who loved and admired
this epic, wild and brilliant big brother.
An exemplary family,
a model of integration, like mine,
a family living for so long with the anxiety and grief
of knowing their son and brother is in prison forever.
Lieutenant Alter Goldman,
this evening, France,
this country you chose,
will return your son to you.
We are indebted to you,
I am indebted to you, Lieutenant Alter Goldman.
I, who never took up arms,
while you were fighting for us.
Yes,
I'm here to plea for all Jews,
all half-Jews, all quarter-Jews,
for all gypsies and wops.
Lieutenant Alter Goldman,
your son, I promise you,
will leave this court a free man.
No re-enactment has been staged since that day of December 19, 1969.
No material evidence has been obtained
in four years.
No new forensic evidence has established Pierre Goldman's guilt
in the killings for this new trial.
The police investigation amounted to 48 hours in custody.
The charges are based
on an informer's lies,
on the police interrogations
and faulty witness identification.
I shall not speak,
like my client, of a police plot, but I declare
that the misfires of the police and the courts
simply fermented lies and created doubt.
The witnesses' honesty is not in doubt,
but
we all saw them contradict themselves.
How is that possible?
It's quite simple.
The very mechanism of testimony is frightening.
You are solicited.
You think you saw and want to have seen,
but in fact saw nothing.
The prosecution had an easy target in Joël Lautric,
"the man whose memory improves as time passes."
But, if that alibi was fabricated,
why did my client choose the Saint-Paul area?
Why talk of an area so close
to the pharmacy before being asked anything?
You don't sentence a man to life imprisonment
on such shaky evidence.
Without sufficient evidence, the prosecution resorted to hypotheses.
You say you attach no scientific value
to Pierre Goldman's alibi.
Very well! But how can you dare
attach scientific value to such vague evidence
when your role as the prosecution is to prove guilt?
Does the presumption of innocence no longer exist?
Should we now sentence someone despite doubts?
The law must respect its principles, including a basic, essential one,
the presumption of innocence.
Like everyone here,
I wanted to understand
why this trial fascinates us, why we can't look away.
Is it the accused's exceptional personality?
Indeed, it's tempting to see him as a Dostoevsky hero.
Crime and Punishment, The Idiot,
Demons...
Pick any title.
But, unfortunately,
Pierre Goldman is the fruit of a real tragedy,
first and foremost.
The tragedy of Eastern Europe's Jews.
Members of the jury,
Pierre Goldman is not exceptional, but he is exceptionally tormented.
We both belong to the same community, that of Polish Jews,
that has integrated French society
while retaining of its origin
the anxieties and deep wounds.
I ask you, if possible, to please forget the effect his personality has on you
and not to judge him on his appearance.
And I say frankly
we never recover from our childhood.
I implore you this evening
to put an end to his nightmare.
Thank you, Mr Kiejman.
The pleas are over.
Before the court withdraws to deliberate,
do you have anything to add, Goldman?
I hope I haven't seemed devilishly Machiavellian,
skilled at misleading or concealing,
or used in an unbearable manner
the spectre of a racist-inspired judicial error.
To put it simply,
I don't want anyone to say I acted like a Jew who implied
a non-Jew has no right to think a Jew can kill,
and those who do are anti-Semitic.
May 4,1976, 10 PM
All arise.
To the question, is Goldman, Pierre guilty, on December 8, 1969,
of the robbery of 2,500 francs
from Mr Farmachi, Serge
and his wife, née Chaminand, Jacqueline,
the court answers yes by a majority of eight.
To the question, was the robbery specified above
committed by a culprit carrying a weapon,
the court answers yes by a majority of eight.
To the question, is Goldman, Pierre
guilty, on December 20, 1969,
of the robbery of 22,675 francs
from the company VOG,
the court answers yes by a majority of eight.
To the question, is Goldman, Pierre guilty, on January 16, 1970,
of the robbery of 7,897.35 francs
from the Paris Central Social Security Office,
the court answers yes by a majority of eight.
To the question, is Goldman, Pierre guilty,
on December 19, 1969,
of the murder of Delaunay, Simone,
pharmacist at 6, Boulevard Richard-Lenoir,
the court answers
no by a majority of eight.
To the question, is Goldman, Pierre guilty, on December 19, 1969,
of the murder of Durcot, Jeannine, married name Aubert,
pharmacist's assistant, at 6, Boulevard Richard-Lenoir,
the court answers no by a majority of eight.
To the question, is Goldman, Pierre guilty
in 1969 and 1970,
of holding without any permit
an automatic Herstal pistol,
a Walther automatic pistol,
two magazines for those weapons,
and ammunition,
the court unanimously answers yes.
To the question, is Goldman, Pierre guilty
in 1969 and 1970,
of deliberately using documents
issued by public authorities
in order to create a passport
and a Venezuelan identity card
forged, falsified or altered,
the court unanimously answers yes.
In light of the preceding declaration,
the court and jury,
after joint deliberations,
unanimously decides
to sentence Goldman, Pierre
to imprisonment for a period of 12 years.
Goldman, innocent!
Pierre Goldman was granted an early release on October 5, 1976,
after 6 years in prison.
He was assassinated 3 years later in conditions that remain unclear.
His funeral on September 27, 1979,
was attended by over ten thousand people.