The Examining Judge and the GIGN

By Louis Charlebois

The Examining Judge and the GIGN is above all a thriller that, in the course of describing and successfully attacking

international terrorism and murder in France, Britain and the United States, shows how the pre-trial judge, so effective

in France, but non existent in Britain and the US, would help in the effective investigation of

• Language: English
• Publisher: Westwood Books Publishing
• Release date: Jan 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685360023

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Copyright © 2021 by Louis Charlebois.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

CHAPTER 1

An Inquiry

Marc Dumal was a brute of a man, almost two meters tall and 130 kilos of muscle. He worked as a construction laborer when he worked and a petty criminal when he didn’t. Abandoned as a child by a mother who preferred heroin to reality, he never knew his father, and grew up on the streets and docks of Nantes and St. Nazaire. As a child, he had been used as a petty thief by a crime syndicate. But, as he grew older, his aggressive nature, sociopathic personality, and physical strength made him valuable as an enforcer. He had been in and out of the courts on a series of charges ranging from theft to aggravated assault. He was now eighteen and was in custody on suspicion of murder. Paul Leclerc, examining judge (juge d’instruction), was instructed by the prosecutor for Nantes, to conduct the investigation of the case. Judge Leclerc was free to conduct his investigation as he saw fit. The police judiciaire had reported that Marc had confessed to the murder, but that he had also threatened to kill the policeman interrogating him. Under French law, that statement was not admissible as a confession in court; a confession before an examining judge would be. Judge Leclerc decided that the use of a court room would be appropriate. One was available in the judicial complex and Judge Leclerc arranged for a court reporter to using both sound recording and shorthand typing.

Paul sat behind the raised judges’ bench and looked down on the box accommodating Marc Dumal and two police judiciaire, one on each side of Dumal. A third policeman stood near the door at the rear of the courtroom.

Paul looked across the bar of the court directly at Dumal. Your name is Marc Dumal.

Yes, replied the prisoner.

Before we go further, M. Dumal. I must remind you that you are entitled to be represented by a lawyer.

A lawyer is just a spy for the state. I don’t want a lawyer.

Paul recorded the fact that Marc had been offered the assistance of an avocat, but had refused.

Very well then, said Paul. We can proceed. I must advise you that you have the right to remain silent. I will ask you questions, but you do not have to answer. Do you understand what I am saying?

Marc nodded affirmatively, an action that Paul also recorded. I assume you mean yes. Marc said nothing.

You are here to provide the Republic with information concerning the death of Augustin Dieudonne Deauville, said Paul, in an even tone.

Dumal grew visibly tense and, breathing in sharply with an animal sibilant, said, Fuck the Republic.

Paul chose to ignore the prisoner’s irreverence. Tell us what you know about the death of Augustin Deauville.

You look like an important man, but you are as stupid as the flics. I know everything about the death of Augustin—I killed him…just the way I am going to kill you now!

Marc leaped to his feet, pushing aside the policemen beside him, vaulted out of the prisoner’s box and sprinted the short distance to the bench in front of Paul. His left arm was extended, holding a knife. With the agility of a triple jump athlete, he bounded up and partly over the bench so that he was within reach of Paul with the knife held high in his left hand, his right hand moving toward Paul’s neck. For a fraction of a second, his body still moved forward like a python attacking prey. Paul initially moved his chair back from the bench, more out of surprise than defense, then, realizing that neither the police escort nor the courtroom furniture were going to stop Duval, he moved to his feet, instinctively grabbing Marc’s left arm just past the knife, with his right hand, placing his left hand on Marc’s left arm close to the armpit, thrusting hard against the arm while twisting to his right and dropping forward toward the ornate paneled backing behind the bench. This move dislocated Duval’s shoulder, resulting in the knife dropping to the floor and brought him high against Paul’s back. Paul continued the move and Marc swung in a wide arc over Paul, Marc’s shoes striking the oak paneling as he crashed to the floor on his back, facing Paul. Paul completed the move by dropping one knee on Duval’s face and the other on his shoulder. Marc continued to struggle violently, causing Paul, whose training in unarmed combat was military, not judicial, to jump up and bring his foot down hard on Duval’s upper chest, sending two broken ribs into his lung. Three police judiciaire now stood beside Paul, staring in shock and awe at the disarmed aggressor, bleeding profusely from his broken nose, with air saturated scarlet blood bubbling through his smashed lips.

Paul, unscathed, returned to his judicial seat and said simply, This inquiry is adjourned until Friday. The prisoner is to remain in custody.

That determination was duly recorded by the court reporter who habitually chose discretion over valor and, therefore, had remained at his post with no thought of joining the fray.

Paul left the courtroom to go to his office, passing paramedics rushing to attend to Marc Duval. As he entered his office, he noticed that the message light was flashing on his answerphone.

"I am Andre Renard. I would like to speak to M. le juge Paul Leclerc. Please call me when you are able, Paul."

Paul knew Andre Renard as the Prosecutor for Nantes, who had preceded Paul by a number of years at the Ecole Nationale de la Magistrature at Bordeaux. It was Andre who instructed Paul, that is, assigned cases for investigation to him.

Paul rang back. Andre answered immediately.

I have an unusual case for you that I am sure you will find interesting.

All the cases in which you have instructed me are interesting, responded Paul.

Andre realized the irony of the reply and laughed. "I have a report on my desk delivered to me by a breathless superintendent of the Police Judiciaire that verifies your comment. You will be pleased to know that M. Dumal is receiving excellent medical care."

The Republic cares for us all, said Paul. The bastard didn’t give me much choice, Andre.

"No choice at all. On the information I have, you are lucky to be alive. I would congratulate you, but if the press discovered that a procureur de la republique had congratulated a juge d’instruction for any professional act, the editorials would never end. Well, one thing is certain, by the end of the day you will be the hero and the scourge of every professional criminal in Nantes."

And the new instruction? said Paul after a pause.

You will be instructed to inquire into the truth surrounding the death of Hassan Salahadin. I am preparing the instruction now.

Both men knew that no comment on the case could be added. As examining judge, Paul had to be completely impartial working only to establish the truth concerning the matter instructed, whether for or against anyone involved and without reference to the intention of the prosecution.

There was a silence. Then Andre said, By the way, no one mentioned your injuries. How are you?

Paul decided not to mention his sore right knee. I am uninjured, thank you.

Paul added, I must ask you to assign my instruction concerning Marc Dumal to one of my colleagues.

Understood.

CHAPTER 2

The Instruction

Paul Hardy Leclerc was a judge of the tribunal de grande instance, a trial judge, but for five years now had been a juge d’instruction for Nantes. This meant that, unlike England or the United States, where the investigation of serious crime is a police matter, Paul or a colleague would be ‘instructed’ that is, given the task of supervising the investigation of the crime. Another way of expressing the role of the juge d’instruction routinely used by the press, was to describe him as holding the dossier. The French system of justice is inquisitorial. In the English or American systems, described as adversarial, the lawyers on each side have the task of examining and cross-examining the witnesses to prove or disprove key elements of the case. In the French system, the primary task of questioning a witness is that of the examining judge. And because the examining judge, not the police, is in charge of gathering the evidence required for a prosecution, the investigation moves ahead with the judge instructing the police to investigate aspects of the case, reporting back to the judge. If a witness is to be questioned, the judge instructs the police to bring the witness before him for questioning by him, not by the police. It follows too, that any public comment made on an investigation will be made by the examining judge, not the police, because the judge is in charge of the case, not the police. The examining judge instructed on a case must be completely neutral, a fundamental difference between the English or American systems and the French system. And the examining judge, instructed on a case, cannot be the trial judge of that case.

Paul Leclerc was imposing; six feet four inches, 230 pounds with the build of a heavyweight boxer, which he had been in university, but his preferred sport was rugby. Paul looked more Nordic than French, with curly blond hair and blue eyes, probably an inheritance of his Norman ancestors. But he could actually trace his family back to Bretagne, les Bretons, so named because of a group of Roman Britains that soon had a gutful of the German invasion of England—Britannia—immediately following the departure of the Roman legions in 410. The invasion, unsung in English history, was so ruthless and sweeping that in little more than 100 years of the Romans leaving England, all language and cultural traces of three and a half centuries of Roman civilization in England had disappeared. In the early 500s, they moved to France in search of the civilization they had known in England under the Romans. The English they left behind were no longer Roman Britains, they were German. The people who left and came to Bretagne, giving it its name, were intelligent and tough.

It was the nature of the job that Paul worked alone, with others. He instructed the police in the investigation, but he did not represent them. He could, of course, discuss his case at any time with other examining judges or with the prosecutor, but he did not make a practice of it, because his instructions and the evidence that followed and the conclusions he came to are, under French law, secret.

CHAPTER 3

Death in Detroit

It was just after 7:30 on a Thursday evening in June. Detroit, Michigan, was in the full bloom of late spring. The vigorous new growth, the bright iridescent greens, the manic spring of the Great Lakes was apparent in every tree in every park and added a promise to the pace of the passersby. Georges Archambault was driving his ambulance back to the Masonic Hospital to pick up a patient for transfer across the Canadian border to Windsor, when the emergency 911 call came in. It was from the manager of a small restaurant nearby, the Dodge City Steakhouse. Because the restaurant was not far from the Masonic Hospital, Georges knew