At the end of a gruelling, four-month trial that has enraged people across France and far beyond – even as they were inspired by the dignity and courage of Gisele – Dominique Pelicot’s confident demeanour, a grandiose presence in the courtroom in Avignon, remained intact.
One might expect a man in Pelicot’s position – a globally reviled sexual predator, and rapist, facing the near-certain prospect of dying in prison – to cut a wretched figure. And there have been a handful of brief moments when he wept, openly, in court – usually for himself.
But for the most part, he struck an imperious pose, courtroom microphone in one hand, his body slouched in a throne-like chair (to accommodate the accused’s health issues), sometimes looking bored, occasionally interjecting like a ringmaster seeking to keep an unruly circus – the 50 other men on trial beside him – in their place.
“I am a rapist, like the others in this room. They knew everything,” he intoned, speaking with the confidence of a man who assumed his words would put an end to all further discussion.
But what are we to make of that domineering performance? And what have we really learned of this jowly, grey-haired figure, with his black cane and scarf, seated in a glass cage; this serial rapist whose cruelty has almost been eclipsed in the public imagination by the dignity and courage shown by his former wife?
Dr Layet first encountered Dominique in the late summer of 2020 at a police station in the nearby town of Carpentras, immediately after his arrest for filming with a camera up women’s skirts in a local supermarket. Called in to assess Pelicot, Dr Layet noted how breezily he dismissed his crime, like a genteel grandfather caught pocketing a few cigarettes.
Dr Layet detected a “dissonance” in the man’s behaviour, and the strong implication that he was hiding something more serious. He told the police that this one was worth closer inspection.