The Dominici Affair

by Martin Kitchen

  An appeal could only be based on the discovery of significant new facts or on procedural irregularities. Gaston’s case had slim chances on either count. For the moment the only grounds for an appeal were that Examining Magistrate Roger Périès had issued the warrant for his arrest after the reenactment of the murders rather than immediately after Gaston’s avowal, the presiding judge had not asked the accused if he had anything to say before one of the witnesses had left the stand, and the police had not removed his handcuffs when he had been taken to have a look at the car during the trial.2 None of these factors was likely to impress the court of appeal.

  On 2 December Gaston was moved to the notorious prison of Les Baumettes in Marseille, because the Digne prison did not have adequate facilities for the effective surveillance of a man on death row. He shared a maximum-security wing with an Armenian who had been condemned to death for killing a peanut vendor. They were soon joined by a soldier who had killed the adjutant of his regiment in Saigon and an informer who had denounced members of the Resistance to the Germans. They were under twenty-four-hour surveillance. A light burned in their cells day and night. They were shackled when taking exercise. They were allowed no visitors other than their lawyers.

  On 8 December Gaston Dominici’s lawyers, assisted by specialty lawyer André Mayer, requested that an additional inquiry be made into the Lurs murders. The atmosphere was favorable. The press generally agreed that Gaston was guilty but felt that the whole truth had not yet been revealed and that it was highly probable that he had not acted alone. Edmond Sébeille was no longer represented as the Maigret of Marseille; instead, he was seen as a hopeless bungler who had overlooked some important clues. Judge Marcel Bousquet was accused of having wanted a conviction at all costs while defending a hopelessly flawed dossier based on a shoddy investigation.

  All depended on whether the court of appeals would consider Gaston’s recent “revelations” to Charles-Alfred as sufficient grounds to merit a trial. First, Gustave had taken part in the murders, the motive for which had been theft. Then he claimed two other people, living within a 3-mile radius of Lurs, took part in the killings. Third, Clovis and Gustave Dominici were the joint owners of the carbine used in the crime. Next, Elizabeth Drummond was killed some time after her parents. Finally, after the murders Yvette had convened a family meeting at the Grand’ Terre from which Gaston had been excluded.

  None of this information made any impression on Sébeille. When he heard that Gaston was about to make a startling revelation, he merely muttered, “Don’t make me laugh! Gaston Dominici won’t have a chance to tell me any tall stories.”3 Meanwhile in Digne, Périès simply ignored all this chatter and quietly continued to study his files.

  On 13 December, at the request of the minister of justice, Deputy Attorney General Joseph Oddou from Digne went to Marseille and interviewed Gaston in his prison cell. Oddou began by asking him to repeat what he had said to his legal team when the verdict had been delivered. Gaston, who was clearly in a bad mood, admitted that he had implicated Gustave and Zézé. He did not repeat his accusation against Jean Galizzi, the lover of Zézé’s mother. When asked whether Gaston was formally accusing his son and his grandson, he replied, “They certainly had something to do with it. But I don’t know who committed the crime.”4

  Gaston also repeated something he had told his lawyers that had a considerable effect on the minister of justice when he considered ordering a commission of inquiry. On 7 August 1952, two days after the crime, Gustave had lain on his bed on orders from Dr. Nalin, and after lunch Gaston had gone upstairs wearing bedroom slippers to fetch his lighter so he could have a smoke before his siesta. Once upstairs he decided to stay there and slept for about two hours. When he returned downstairs, he heard Yvette and Gustave talking in low voices. The door was ajar. They were talking about jewels. Gaston thought that Yvette wanted Gustave to buy her some as he had just received 100,000 francs ($300) for the sale of his apricots.5 Then Yvette had asked about “the child.” Gustave said that she had fainted. Yvette demanded to know who had carried her. Gustave said it was Zézé. Gaston then heard some incomprehensible talk about a handkerchief. He said then he realized that Zézé was involved in the murders, and on reflection he assumed that the jewels they had been talking about had been taken from the Drummonds. Gustave went on to talk about the carbine. He said that Clovis had often used it to shoot wild boars at a distance of 160–220 yards. He thought that the weapon had been kept at the Perrins’ farm, La Serre.

  Oddou reported this interview to the prosecutor’s office in Marseille, and it forwarded the account to the Ministry of Justice in the Place Vendôme, Paris. Minister of Justice Jean Michel Guérin de Beaumont was a charming and astute Norman aristocrat educated at the elite Jesuit school Saint-Louis-de-Gonzague. He was a member of the Jockey Club, a former secretary of state for foreign affairs, a dog lover, and a bibliophile. He had little sympathy for a squalid old peasant like Gaston Dominici and was appalled by the adulterous adventures of his daughter, Germaine Perrin, but as a liberally minded politician with serious misgivings about the case, he promptly agreed to further investigation.6 Fastidiously holding his nose, he passed the dossier to the Ministry of the Interior with a request that the minister organize an exploratory mission. François Mitterrand, as minister of the interior in the Mendès-France cabinet, passed the matter on to Director General of National Security Jean Mairey and Director General of the Central Directorate of the Judicial Police Henry Castaing, and gave them orders to go ahead. Never before had there been an inquiry into a case in which a death sentence had been delivered. It automatically called for a police investigation and raised the serious possibility of another trial.

  Commissioner Charles Chenevier, Castaing’s deputy director, was appointed to head the inquiry. He was a highly respected officer who had placed a number of prominent gangsters behind bars, among them Big Foot Paturon, Thick-Ankles Marie, Crazy Pierrot, and Walking Stick René. His most sensational case was the arrest of the train robber “Gu” Mela, who had stolen nearly 400 pounds of gold on their way to Belgium. Chenevier had used his own fourteen-year-old son to trail one of Mela’s accomplices, and the tactic led to the discovery of his hiding place. For these efforts he had been awarded the Légion d’honneur. Chenevier also had been incarcerated by the Gestapo in 1943 and tortured for having arrested the assassins of Marx Dormoy, a militant socialist politician and prominent antifascist.7 Chenevier had been one of the 11,500 French prisoners in the Neuengamme concentration camp, near Hamburg, where he contracted typhus and yellow fever. On his return to France he had weighed a mere 95 pounds. His colleagues, jealous of his successes and his fame, had intrigued against him and managed to get him placed on early retirement, but he had fought back, soon establishing an effective team that broke a number of notorious gangs that had thrived in the troubled postwar years.

  A southerner hailing from Montélimar, Chenevier had already been involved in the Dominici case, having investigated a possible suspect, and was present at the trial. As a well-known antifascist, his appointment was welcomed by the communist press. Conspiracy theorists took this as further evidence for a cover-up, for the Communist Party was desperately keen to suppress any suggestion that the Soviet Union was involved in the case. Chenevier was an impressive, tough, and honest figure who had gained a national reputation for successfully smashing the gangs. The Dominici case was the first for him that was not mentioned in “The Bible,” a list of the eight hundred most wanted criminals in France.

  Chenevier’s career was not without blemish. In 1937 Suzanne Garola had been chloroformed and murdered in a first-class sleeping car of an express train. He made a swift arrest of its conductor, Marius Paul Veyrac. A violent press campaign, led by the popular magazine Détective, was mounted against this hasty conclusion. The railway unions organized a defense fund. Détective gave a meticulous analysis of the crime, which clearly demonstrated Veyrac’s innocence. Thanks to the expertise of attorney Henry Torres, V
eyrac was released and returned to his job on the train from Marseille to Valence.8 This faux pas did nothing to hinder Chenevier’s advancement. He served as assistant to Inspector Jules Belin, the famous detective who had solved the case of the serial killer and embezzler Henri Désiré Landru, the model for Charlie Chaplin’s film Monsieur Verdoux. A young Marseillais by the name of Sébeille had been on the same team. Chenevier’s subsequent success rested on his resolve to avoid repeating the mistakes he had made in the Veyrac affair. He was determined to have incontrovertible proof of guilt before charges were laid to avoid the possibility of minimum sentences or of the case being dismissed for insufficient grounds for prosecution.9 Clearly the Dominici dossier did not meet his criteria for an arrest.

  Further confusion arose when Gaston leaked a story to the communist newspaper La Marseillaise in mid-December 1954 in which he claimed that his son Gustave and grandson Zézé Perrin, acting upon Yvette’s orders, had killed Elizabeth Drummond in the kitchen of the Grand’ Terre. They had carried her body to the place where it was found while Yvette mopped up the blood-stained floor. She did not do a very good job, and it was fortunate for them that the gendarmes did not notice the stain on the floor on the morning of 5 August. Was this the reason why the Dominicis had refused to let Dr. Dragon enter the house to wash his hands on 5 August 1952? Not surprising, Yvette dismissed this tale by saying that “Pépé” had lost his mind.10

  On 18 November 1954 Chenevier and Charles Gillard, soon to be joined by Inspectors Grisard and Goguillot, arrived in Aix-en-Provence on a fact-finding mission. Public Prosecutor Orsatelli received them with arrogant disdain. He asked what on earth they were thinking of in Paris. Did they really imagine that hints by a condemned man that he had some secrets to reveal would in fact lead to anything at all? In defiance of the minister of justice’s directive, Orsatelli said that the commissioners were to restrict their investigation to questioning Gustave and Yvette, brusquely adding that he would instruct the justice of the peace in Forcalquier to arrange the meetings.

  Chenevier quickly realized that he would get no cooperation whatsoever from the local authorities, who clearly thought that the presence of a well-known Parisian was both insulting and superfluous; but armed with the support of the minister of justice, he was determined not to give way. He announced that he intended to interview Gaston Dominici in accordance with his instructions. Orsatelli curtly replied that he had already been questioned by Joseph Oddou from the court of appeal at Aix-en-Provence on 13 December. Did Chenevier imagine that he would be able to learn anything new? The commissioner modestly agreed that he might well fail, but he quietly reminded the public prosecutor that the minister had given him the right to speak to whomever he wished. Orsatelli nodded in reluctant agreement.

  After this less than satisfactory interview, the commissioners went to Digne, where they were received by Deputy Public Prosecutor Louis Sabatier. He was outwardly affable and courteous, but he clearly shared Orsatelli’s objections to interference from on high in a case that they considered to have been conducted with exceptional professionalism and that had resulted in the unimpeachable conviction of the guilty party. Sabatier felt that the new investigation was prompted by a mixture of Parisian arrogance and political cowardice in the face of a biased press campaign. Chenevier used his considerable charm to reassure Sabatier that he had no political agenda and had no desire to get involved in an unseemly squabble between the metropolis and the provinces. Sabatier then gave the two policemen a warrant to check Gaston’s statements and to pursue further investigations.

  Chenevier had managed partly to overcome the obstacles that Orsatelli and Sabatier had put in his way, but clouds were on the horizon. On the day the commissioners had arrived in Provence, France Soir published an article in which Jacques Chapus argued they had no legal authority to question anyone laid under suspicion by Gaston Dominici. Such persons could therefore refuse to answer any questions. The commissioners’ mission was simply to collect information as they had no rogatory authority. The article concluded, “It is widely felt in judicial circles in Aix-en-Provence, Marseille and Digne that Chenevier and Gillard will find it very difficult to reach a conclusion, although we can still hope that they can.”11

  Chenevier read this piece as encouraging witnesses not to cooperate. He was further outraged when Orsatelli spoke to a number of journalists in much the same vein. It was therefore with some foreboding that he and Gillard went to see Gaston in his cell at Les Baumettes, a vast white structure, backed by hills, overlooking the sea and the city. The violent criminal milieu of Marseille provides a steady stream of inmates, among whom will be found many of France’s most notorious criminals.

  Gaston, dressed in a drab gray prison uniform, appeared relaxed and cheerful. He had spruced himself up as much as possible for his distinguished visitors. That two of France’s most eminent detectives had come all the way from Paris to visit him was evidence that he had not been forgotten and that there was at least a possibility that his fate had not been sealed. The interview began on a somewhat strange note. Chenevier asked Gaston whether he believed in God. He replied that he did, adding that his faith had diminished somewhat because of what had happened. The commissioner then asked whether he believed in heaven. Gaston, astonished at this curious line of questioning, replied in the affirmative. Changing his tone of voice, Chenevier read out a statement Gaston had made to Périès: “I am innocent, but I am sacrificing myself for my grandchildren.”12 Chenevier asked, since Gaston had procured his salvation and saved his grandchildren, why was he now changing his mind?

  Gaston, disconcerted by this line of attack, muttered something about being in no great hurry to go to heaven and certainly not on someone else’s account. All he knew was that he did not murder the Drummonds. In response to Chenevier’s question about who was responsible, he simply said that he had already told the judge. The questioning continued for two hours, but Chenevier got nowhere. Gaston merely repeated what he had said to Oddou. Chenevier found it hard to believe that Gaston had never talked the matter over with Gustave once he had overheard his son’s conversation with Yvette. Gaston replied that he hardly ever spoke to his son. Asked why he had not brought this matter up during the trial, he replied that he had not bothered because he thought that he would be acquitted. Gaston denied that the carbine had ever been at the Grand’ Terre, adding that he had pointed out the shelf as the place where it had been kept because the police told him to do so. He claimed that he had made his confession when he was totally exhausted. When he came to his senses he realized the mistake he had made, but by then it was too late. Chenevier, Gillard, and two inspectors from Marseille left Gaston at six o’clock, when his evening meal was served.

  They returned at three thirty the following afternoon to interview him in the visitors’ room. Again they got nothing out of him beyond a garbled repetition of his familiar tale.

  At five thirty Émile Pollak and Pierre Charrier, two of Gaston’s lawyers, arrived at Les Baumettes. Gaston was returned to his cell for his evening meal, leaving the lawyers to discuss the case with the policemen. Chenevier told them that his talks with Gaston had revealed nothing new; consequently, there was no possibility of reopening the case. Gaston was brought back to the visitors’ room at seven o’clock, where Chenevier, Gillard, and the two lawyers were waiting for him. Pollak urged Gaston to speak out, warning him that this opportunity was positively his last chance. He had not told the truth during the trial, and if he did not do so now, all would be lost.

  After this persistent urging, Gaston began a long, rambling monologue interjected with curses, denunciations of the police, reminiscences, and reflections. The gist of it all was that Gustave had brought Zézé Perrin to the Grand’ Terre on the evening of 4 August 1952. They had gone out at ten minutes past one o’clock in the morning. Gaston heard shots, went down to the courtyard, and saw Gustave and Zézé walking from the campsite to the alfalfa field. Then he stopped and said, “I can’t lie like t
his. I didn’t get up.” Then he added, “If I die, I die, but I won’t lie.” The commissioners did not seem to realize that it would have been impossible for Gaston to see the campsite or the alfalfa field from the courtyard. The ever-patient Chenevier tried to get Gaston back on track by reminding him that he had said that he had seen Zézé Perrin carrying Elizabeth Drummond. Gaston admitted that he had, but almost immediately he retracted by saying, “I was awoken by the shots. I turned the light on, but fell back to sleep until the morning.”13

  Chenevier tried to get Gaston to admit that he was at least a witness to the murders, but this approach also drew a blank. Gaston now claimed that he was the victim of a plot that Gustave and Clovis had hatched over the course of eight months. During this new version of events, Gaston claimed that when he got up at three thirty, he had found the door from the kitchen to the courtyard open, thus implying that Gustave had gone back to the scene of the crime. This frustrating session went on until eleven o’clock in the evening. The lawyers and policemen discussed these confused statements outside the prison. Chenevier was frankly mystified by the Dominicis’ retractions, contradictions, and reversals and asked why they seemed to be totally incapable of cooking up a coherent story. Pollak and Charrier could offer no explanation.

  This was the seventh version that Gaston had given of the Lurs murders. From 5 August 1952 to 12 November 1953, he had stuck to the story of having heard shots that he thought were from poachers, of leaving the farmhouse at five o’clock in the morning to take his goats to pasture, and of learning about the murders when he returned at eight o’clock. On 13 November 1953 his sons Clovis and Gustave had testified that their father was the murderer. Gaston had confessed on 14 November, saying that the Englishman, assuming that he was a marauder, had attacked him and that Gaston had acted in self-defense. He then changed this version to having made advances toward Lady Drummond, and that had led to a struggle with her husband. On 16 November 1953, after the reconstruction of the crime, Gaston had signed a statement that read: “I am the assassin. I was drunk. I did not know what I was doing.” On 17 November 1953 he had told the prison warders at the Saint-Charles prison in Digne that he was innocent. On 20 November 1954, during his trial, he had stated that he was in bed at the time of the murders and knew nothing at all. On 29 November 1954 he had told his lawyers that he was innocent, adding that all he knew about the crime was the result of an “indiscretion.” Now on 19 December 1954 he accused his son Gustave and his grandson Zézé Perrin of having committed the triple murder.