The lawyer ...

The police have arrived. The police asked me to follow them. I was heard as a witness. They immediately made the connection between the corpse and me. From a witness, I became a suspect. I spent several days and then several weeks in prison. Finally, they kept me. The interrogations followed one another. I had to give details of my schedules, of my private life, even if it had nothing to do with the murder. Alex, who at the beginning of the investigation was supporting me, ended up believing in my guilt and definitely stopped coming to see me. My fingerprints on the gun had serious consequences. Maître Filandy, my lawyer, an elderly man, worked methodically. He seemed to have convincing arguments, but the way he expressed them left, it seems to me, in doubt. The date of the trial was approaching. There was a lot of press in the Freedman case. Daily, in the newspaper, you could read the details of my life which over the days, portrayed me as an upstart, ready to do anything to access responsibilities. It has even been vaguely suggested that I aspire to enter political life. Maître Filandy reassured me, but I found him too lax. Finally, I asked for it to be replaced. The information reaching the public through the press being very unfavorable to me, I needed a lawyer with a presence, a strong personality. I therefore thanked Maître Filandy who, without being unduly happy, did not seem sorry to be dismissed in this case. The next day, I saw his replacement, Maître Pothensier, arrive. He was in his fifties. His light blue gaze seemed to pierce all the secrets of your soul. A gray beard embellished this serious face and his silky white hair completed the portrait of a handsome orator. He had a strong, deep voice. His language was frank and direct. From the first few minutes, I felt he was the lawyer I needed. He sat down at the table across from me. He pulled out a substantial dossier. “See, I've got everything here about you. Your story interests me and I have been very insistent in defending you. With all the charges against you, it cannot be said that you are making it easy for me. But I do my best to get you acquitted. I couldn't believe my ears. “But I am innocent! Innocent? Listen to my little lady, I'm here to defend you. Let me plead as I see fit. I have here more testimonies than would be necessary to make you hang high and short if the death penalty still existed. You are not an inherently bad person, but the wrongs that you have accumulated for each other end up creating a torrent of mud which will swallow you up if I do not try to make a solid dam. But I didn't kill anyone! Perhaps. How can that be? But I am telling the truth. The truth is not always good to say. Believe in my experience. Your personality is too strong and your so-called friends would be too happy to know you were cool for very long. The victim, whom you knew well, had friends in high places. According to my information, I have no choice. You have to plead guilty. But you have not thought about it ! The culprit will never be arrested. Never, you say, it's not sure. One day or another, he'll stumble and get pinned for something else. That's life ... We do wrong without realizing it, with complete impunity and one day, we have to pay for a crime that we did not commit. It is unfair ! I'm not making you say that. So, okay to plead guilty? If I don't have a choice ... You'll see, I'll get you out of there. At worst, you will be sentenced to ten years maximum. What do you say about it ? It's too much ! But no. If you have good behavior, you will be entitled to a reduced sentence. I was devastated. The more I thought about it, the more I thought I was in the hands of the devil.

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Extract from "Damnée empreinte"

Extract from "Damnée empreinte"

.. David arrived at the restaurant after having trouble parking his car. Evil, so to speak! No more than usual today, he did not have the patience to wait for the previous user to move his vehicle properly. He had honked the poor driver, unable to go any faster. The latter had looked at him, dazed, gesturing for him to calm down. David couldn't bear this remark. He had started to insult her for free under the gaze of stunned passers-by. His maneuver finished, the motorist taken to task, to get it over with, set off hastily, contrary to usual practice, screeching his tires.

David entered the restaurant. He spotted his friends' table and joined them. Obviously, they had heard the loud voices. Philippe saw fit not to take it into account. He spoke of the positive side of that day. David was evasive. Alexandre and Fanny, seated side by side, were arguing over a piece of bread. Coralie looked at them without flinching. Jeannie stepped in to get them to agree, but his lack of authority made his intervention pointless. They were silent when they were served. Busy eating, they forgot their grievances. Philippe spoke of his sister Claire, who had come to live with them for six months with her daughter while her husband had gone on a mission to a construction site in Finland. During the conversation, David forgot his resentment. The meal was good, the atmosphere warm. Philippe and Jeannie hurried the waiters. They wanted to take advantage of the presence of Claire who would babysit to go to the movies. David offered to take Claire and the children home to allow them to fully enjoy their meal. She agreed. They parted. David, endowed with the role of taxi driver, had to relegate all the kit lying on the seats to the trunk of the car. He apologized to Claire, standing on the sidewalk, who was waiting, Fanny dozing in his arms. He made everyone come upstairs and escorted them back to Philippe. On his way home, he lay down on the bed, curled up and fell asleep fully dressed. The next morning her mother knocked on the door. When he went to bed, he had forgotten to set the alarm clock and the deep sleep had not allowed him to realize the time. His parents, at breakfast, were commenting on the party the day before. They had heard a lot of encouragement. People were happy with this formula. David was grumbling. Too bad, he thought, those who were disappointed didn't say it so openly. There would be a nice confrontation.

He arrived at work, at Philippe's, slightly late. The first customer was already there. He apologized. Philippe saw him worried and reassured him with a few encouraging words. David shrugged. He wasn't in the mood to take comfort so easily, even given with the best of intentions. He occupied himself, as usual, conscientiously. Around eleven o'clock, Jeannie and Claire came to greet him, followed by their children. Spontaneously, Fanny came to sit on her knees. She begged for a kiss, holding out her small muzzle and stretching to reach his cheeks. He was awfully awkward with children. He was trying to dodge this affectionate impulse that this kid had in him. Jeannie, having noticed this indifference towards them, understood his embarrassment and amused himself to see him so shy and so uncomfortable. She looked at Claire who was trying to avoid laughing at the situation.