The Dominici Affair

by Martin Kitchen

  Later that day the commissioner, with the carbine wrapped in newspaper under his arm and accompanied by Inspector Henri Ranchin, came across Gaston Dominici’s eldest son, Clovis, who was working on the railway line near the abandoned railway station at Lurs. When Sébeille showed him the weapon, Clovis became extremely agitated, falling to his knees and refusing to answer any questions. After having partially regained his composure, he insisted that he had never seen it before and that he did not have the faintest idea who might be the owner. Sébeille said he was unable to pursue the matter on the spot, because he was surrounded by a crowd of journalists and onlookers. He later claimed to have taken Clovis to Peyruis and to have cross-examined him for two hours, but there is no evidence that this was the case.11 It would seem more likely that he failed to follow up this valuable lead, as he was forced to admit during the trial. Clovis’s explanation of his extraordinary behavior—that he knelt down because that was his normal working posture—can hardly have convinced anyone. Clovis’s wife, Rose, later testified that her husband changed completely after the murders. He suffered from acute insomnia, became extremely nervous, and appeared to be deeply depressed. She admitted that she hoped that her father-in-law would commit suicide and leave a note telling the entire truth.12

  After his meeting with Clovis, Sébeille returned to the Grand’ Terre to talk to the Dominicis. He was immediately struck by the fact that Gaston had buttoned his shirt at the collar and rolled down his sleeves so that his tattoos were no longer visible. He never showed them again and refused to say where he had gotten them. None of the family knew.

  Since the examining magistrate had not given the commissioner the authority to cross-examine witnesses and place them under police custody, Sébeille could only treat the Dominicis as simple witnesses. They sat around the kitchen table with Gaston holding forth, confidently addressing the commissioner with the familiar tu (you) form. He announced that he knew very little, having simply heard a few shots in the night. He then said that when he brought his goats back to the farm at about 7:30 the previous evening, he had seen the Drummonds camping, but he had not spoken to them. When Gustave came home at about 8:00 p.m., Gaston had ordered him to clear the landslide, which Gaston had noticed as he walked along the railway embankment. Blaming Gustave and his own wife for having watered the alfalfa field too copiously, he went off to bed at 8:30 p.m.

  About three hours later Gaston awoke when a motorcycle with a sidecar stopped beside the house. Gaston hung out of his bedroom window to see what was going on. The driver asked him something in a language he did not understand. Gaston yelled at him to go away, whereupon the man left.13 He heard laughter as the motorcycle drove off. Gaston went back to sleep and was awakened again at 1:00 a.m. by some gunshots. He counted five or six. The first two were spaced; the remainder were in rapid succession. He imagined that they came from a military weapon used by a poacher hunting along the banks of the Durance. He denied having heard any screams and did not get out of bed.

  He woke up at his usual hour of 4:30 a.m., but contrary to his usual practice, he led his goats in the opposite direction to the campers. Questioned by Sébeille on this somewhat suspicious deviation from his normal routine, Gaston mocked the commissioner for his lack of understanding of country life. From time to time goats are given the salt they need for their health. Salt makes them thirsty. He had given them salt that morning. Therefore, he had taken them along a different path, which allowed them easier access to the Durance, where they could slake their thirst.

  When he returned to the Grand’ Terre at about 8:00 a.m., he found Faustin Roure, who had come to say hello to Yvette. She told him that Gustave had discovered the body of the little girl. Gaston immediately went to have a look. Sébeille asked him if he had not noticed the gendarmes and the crowd that was already forming around the campsite. Gaston replied that he had, but he “had no time to lose.” He covered the girl’s body with a blanket because red ants were crawling over her.

  Gustave confirmed his father’s story. He added that after he had shoveled the earth away from the railway tracks and was returning to the Grand’ Terre, he was shocked that Lady Drummond and Elizabeth were preparing to go to bed in full view and without embarrassment. After supper Gustave went to Peyruis to report the landslide to Faustin Roure, who had said there was nothing to worry about as the last train of the day had already passed. Roure then suggested that Gustave should get up early to make sure that all was well.

  He went to bed shortly after 9:30 p.m. but was awoken a couple of hours later by the motorcycle with a sidecar. Gustave claimed that when he leaned out of his bedroom window, he saw a man walking toward him, while a woman and a child remained on the motorcycle. He could not understand a word the man said. The man then went into the courtyard muttering a load of “gobbledygook.” Then the stranger rode off in the direction of Manosque, laughing loudly. Gustave and Yvette were awoken at 1:00 a.m. by the sound of gunfire, and once again he repeated virtually word for word what Gaston had said. Gustave claimed to have thought that the campers might have been attacked, but he was far too frightened to go and have a look. Unable to get back to sleep, Gustave got up as usual at 5:30 a.m. and went immediately to check the landslide. It was then that he saw the little girl lying on the bank that led down to the Durance. Assuming she was dead, although not bothering to make sure, he ran back to the main road. A motor scooter passed by, but since it had a foreign number plate he did not bother to try and stop it. Shortly afterward, as he was walking toward the Grand’ Terre, he spotted Olivier and asked him to report that a body had been found.

  Sébeille then asked Gustave to retrace his steps and describe how he had first seen Elizabeth Drummond’s body in the early morning of 5 August. Gustave walked across the railway bridge. Instead of turning immediately to the left so he could take a closer look at the state of the railway line—and going in this direction, he would have been unable to see Elizabeth’s body—he walked straight to the head of the slope. It took the commissioner several weeks to realize that this was evidence that Gustave already knew where the body was. Gustave could have seen that all was well from the middle of the bridge. Had he wanted to take a closer look at the landslide, he would have cut the corner as he turned left. It will be remembered that when Faustin Roure went to the site of the landslide on the morning of 5 August, he had not seen Elizabeth’s body. Clovis had pointed it out to him on his way back to the Grand’ Terre.

  Yvette was the next to be questioned. She merely repeated what the others had said. Old Marie said that she had seen nothing, had heard nothing, and had slept soundly through the night. All the Dominicis were adamant that none of the Drummonds had come to the farm to ask for food or water.

  Sébeille found a number of anomalies and implausibilities in the Dominicis’ initial statements. Gaston could not have possibly seen a motorcycle from his bedroom window, which was on the back of the house. It was most unlikely that Gustave could have seen anything because the stables blocked the view from his bedroom window. Extensive investigations produced no evidence that the motorcycle ever existed. But why would the Dominicis invent such a story, especially as the shots were apparently fired two hours after the motorcycle had driven on toward Manosque?

  Even more improbable was their claim not to have heard any screams. They admitted to having slept with their windows open, and the Drummonds were camping a mere 175 yards away. A farmer by the name of Dabisse, who lived more than a mile away and on the other side of the river, claimed to have heard the shots and screams. Then there was the indubitable fact that Gustave could not have seen Elizabeth’s body by pure chance.

  Sébeille now called it a day. He went to Digne, intent on obtaining a warrant to search the Grand’ Terre and to cross-examine the Dominicis.

  He returned to the Grand’ Terre armed with the necessary authority at three o’clock the next afternoon, 7 August. A preliminary search of the farmhouse and outbuildings revealed nothing. He found Gustave in bed w
ith a note from Dr. Paul Nalin, whose father had conducted the autopsies, claiming that he was suffering from nervous exhaustion as a result of persistent harassment by the journalists. Gustave invited the press into his bedroom, where he lay on the bed fully clothed, his eyes closed, and his face contorted into a pitiful expression. His pretty young wife stood beside him, a comforting hand on his shoulder. Sébeille did not believe a word of this nonsense, but there was nothing he could do about it. Angry at having been outwitted, he ordered Gustave to report the next day to Peyruis and warned him that if he failed to comply, he would be taken there by force.

  Sébeille then turned to Gaston and asked him what language the stranger on the motorcycle had spoken. With a sly grin he replied that it was Italian. The commissioner pointed out that he had previously stated that he had no idea what language the man had spoken. Gaston flew into a violent rage, waving his cane at Sébeille. The commissioner, seeing no point in staying any longer at the Grand’ Terre, hurried off to Forcalquier for the Drummonds’ funeral.

  The campo santo (graveyard) where the ceremony was held is a remarkable space consisting of a terraced maze of immaculately tended yew hedges. Built in 1835 it was listed as a historic site in 1946. The funeral service, conducted by a Protestant minister from Digne, was attended by a considerable crowd. The sub-prefect, the mayor of Forcalquier, a deputy mayor of Marseille, and the British consul from Marseille were among the dignitaries. Boots Pure Drug Company sent a delegation to attend the ceremony. The Drummond family was represented by Jack’s only nephew, James Austin-Smith, who was also his godson. Their friends the Marrians, with whom they had been staying in Villefranche, were also present. Sébeille learned from the Marrians why the Drummonds had decided to go back to Digne. Having examined the contents of the Hillman, they were convinced that nothing had been stolen.

  The following day, 8 August, Gustave seems to have made a remarkable recovery. He underwent four hours of grueling questioning in Forcalquier without showing the slightest sign of strain or fatigue. Apart from denying that he had ever said that Faustin Roure had ordered him to look at the railway line early in the morning of 5 August, he stuck to his story, offering no reasonable explanation why he had been in a position to notice Elizabeth’s body, how he could have been sure that she was dead, and why he had not seen fit to check on her parents. His answers were staggeringly inept. He repeated that he had not wanted to touch Elizabeth for fear of leaving his fingerprints. He had not wanted to talk to her parents because he imagined that they had killed her and had fled the scene of the crime. When asked why he imagined that Jack and Anne had departed when the Hillman was still there, he replied that he had supposed that they had gone on foot.

  Scarcely able to contain his rage, Sébeille drove him back to the Grand’ Terre, where a large crowd of journalists had assembled. After three days of inquiry, the commissioner had only been able to establish one fact: Gustave was a liar. A frustrated Sébeille gave the following statement to the assembled journalists:

  Even though there are several contradictions in the statements made by Monsieur Gustave Dominici, these could be ascribed to his emotional state. . . . In any case we have no new evidence that might cast suspicion on the farmer.14

  At this point the Communist Party began a concerted effort to mobilize support for the Dominicis. The mayor of Peyruis became extremely agitated when he heard that a truckload of FTPF veterans, intent on demonstrating against police harassment of the Dominicis, had arrived in his village. He rushed off to warn Sébeille, who was far less concerned about Gustave’s wartime comrades making such a gesture of solidarity than he was about criticisms from his superiors.

  Vincent de Moro-Giafferi, the president of the Justice Committee in the National Assembly, had written to Minister of Justice Léon Martinaud-Déplat, complaining about the treatment of the Dominicis. Moro-Giafferi was of Corsican origin and might well have thought that the Dominicis were his compatriots. He was a brilliant jurist, who at age twenty-four had become the youngest person ever to be admitted to the Paris bar; was an outstanding trial lawyer; and was an outspoken socialist deputy. He had defended the “French Bluebeard,” Henri Désiré Landru, who was executed for murdering eleven lonely widows, as well as Georgi Dimitrov, the secretary general of the communist World Committee against War and Fascism, who was accused of complicity in the Reichstag fire of 1933. He was also chosen to defend Herschel Grynszpan, whose murder of the German diplomat Ernst vom Rath was used as an excuse by the Nazis to launch the pogrom of 9–10 November 1938 inappropriately known as the Kristallnacht, or “Night of Broken Glass.” Moro-Giafferi was a lawyer of such eloquence that many began to question whether the jury system was an appropriate means of delivering justice.

  Maurice Garçon, another brilliant lawyer, also leaped to the Dominicis’ defense. He was well known for his defense of Violette Nozière, who was accused of murdering her sexually abusive father and whose cause was championed by the surrealists. He was also on the defense team for Herschel Grynszpan and had defended the publishers of the Marquis de Sade’s L’Histoire de Juliette against a pornography charge. He was a distinguished man of letters with a taste for the occult who was elected to the Académie Française in 1946, along with Paul Claudel, Marcel Pagnol, and Jules Romains. Garçon wrote a savage letter to Le Monde, which tempted Sébeille to abandon the case, but Georges Harzic, his commanding officer in Marseille, persuaded him to continue the investigation. Faced with such criticism and with his investigation frustrated at every turn, the commissioner was beginning to reach the end of his tether. He kept himself going by chain smoking and drinking countless cups of coffee, which only served to worsen his insomnia.

  The Drummond murder quickly became a political issue. The local Communist Party cell organized a support committee for the Dominicis, and their innocence was heralded by the Communist Party daily newspaper L’Humanité, which defended the Dominicis with hammer and sickle. The party’s local newspaper La Marseillaise also supported their cause. According to Le Dauphiné Libéré, a daily paper founded by members of the Resistance but without any communist affiliation, members of the PCF met every evening at the Grand’ Terre. Right-wing newspapers such as L’Aurore—another product of the Resistance that used the famous name of the newspaper that published Émile Zola’s rousing defense of Alfred Dreyfus in “J’Accuse” and that by 1952 was controlled by the industrialist Marcel Boussac—were sharply critical of the Dominicis. The journalist Gabriel Domènech, writing for Le Méridional, consistently defended Commissioner Sébeille against his critics.15 The British popular press, however, denounced the incompetence of the French police, with the Sunday Dispatch offering a reward of 500,000 francs ($1,440) for anyone who solved the crime. Not to be outdone, Samedi-Soir offered an equal sum. Gaston Dominici offered a further 10,000 francs ($29), prompting Sébeille to remark: “He would have helped us a great deal more if from the start he had told us clearly and openly everything he knew, everything he had seen and everything he had heard.”16

  L’Humanité, the Communist Party’s national newspaper, pounced upon an article in Lord Beaverbrook’s Daily Express saying that Sir Jack Drummond had gone behind the enemy lines in the final stages of the war. For L’Humanité it was darkly suspicious that “while the Soviet Army marched to victory” and when the horrors of the Belsen concentration camp were known, Sir Jack could have been complicit with the Nazis.17 Rumors were already circulating that Drummond was a secret service agent, and the Communist Party was anxious to counter the suggestion that Soviet agents were involved in the murders by reviving improbable stories of sinister dealings during the war between the British and the Germans at the expense of the Soviet Union.18 L’Humanité repeated the insinuations that Drummond was involved in several secret missions of dubious intent. The newspaper also made the wild claims that Lady Drummond had been in the Admiralty’s secret service during the war, that Sir Jack was an expert in modern weaponry, and that the Drummonds had been followed by a secon
d Hillman with British number plates. It reported the fact that the Drummonds had left before the end of the charlotade on 4 August as evidence that he was late for a rendezvous, presumably with the mythical “other Hillman.”19

  The conservative daily Le Figaro counterattacked by suggesting that their assassin could very well have been a member of the communist resistance, which had been involved in a series of summary executions. L’Humanité expressed its outrage at the suggestion that members of the Resistance, who had executed “traitors,” could be thus considered murderers. The same paper reminded its readers that Le Figaro was in favor of the Federal Republic of Germany’s joining the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, which amounted to the reconstitution of the Wehrmacht under the command of “Nazi war criminals.”

  As the case wore on, Patrick Reilly, the British minister in Paris, was particularly anxious to scotch the rumors that Sir Jack was an intelligence agent who had been parachuted into the Lurs area sometime between 1943 and 1944. He suggested that the Foreign Office hire a lawyer to defend Drummond’s interests and put an end to the absurd rumors, vigorously encouraged by the French Communist Party, that there were political motives behind the crime.20 A copy of this letter was sent to the British consul in Marseille. The Foreign Office investigated this rumor thoroughly and was unable to find a single shred of evidence that Sir Jack had ever been an intelligence agent. The Ministry of Food assured the Foreign Office that he had been employed as the scientific adviser to the ministry until 1946, at which time he had moved full time to Boots.21

  The fifteenth of August—the Feast of the Assumption, Napoleon’s birthday, and the date of the Allied landings in southern France in 1944—is a holiday in France. The village of Peyruis celebrated in in grand style, for the holiday was its patron saint’s day. It was also Gustave Dominci’s birthday. Sébeille decided that it would not be prudent to continue the investigation in such a festive atmosphere and mingled with the crowd. In a corner of the village square where the locals played boules (bocce), he noticed Gustave and Yvette dressed in their Sunday best. Yvette was looking particularly attractive in an elegant dress, with her coiffure in the very latest fashion, and smiling continuously. They were very much the center of attention—Paris Match published a full-page photograph of Gustave and Yvette with their son in her arms—but the commissioner was unable to decide whether the attention paid to them was due to curiosity or genuine sympathy.22 He found their behavior somewhat bizarre, particularly when he learned that this was the first time that the couple had ever gone to the annual fete at Peyruis. He also noticed that Yvette was far more at ease than her husband, who seemed to be on edge and continually looking to see whether Sébeille was watching him. The commissioner concluded that Gustave’s furtive behavior indicated that he knew a great deal about the murders and held the key to their solution.23