Arthur Dénouveaux (35) knows that he is exhausted, but the adrenaline is still holding back the feeling. A day after the largest criminal trial in modern French history came to an end, he feels free. ‘Much freer than in recent months, in recent years. The future is a blank page, more than ever since the attacks.’
He slept barely two hours. After the judge pronounced the verdict on the twenty defendants on Wednesday evening – the only living perpetrator Salah Abdeslam was sentenced to life in prison – the mega-trial ended in Les Deux Palais, a beautiful classic brasserie opposite the Palace of Justice. ‘For ten months we have had a drink there after the hearing day: lawyers, civil parties, journalists. That creates a bond. Everything always ends in Les Deux Palais, so now too.’
A number of defendants also went with you.
‘Three of them are now at large (their pre-trial detention compensates for the prison sentence imposed for logistical support, red.† They have just as much right to go to the cafe as anyone else. It happened spontaneously and felt natural; we all felt the need to put an end to it together. Not to celebrate – that’s impossible, people are going to jail and we mourn 130 deaths.’
Have you spoken to those three defendants?
‘Just a moment. I wish them the best of luck with the sequel. ‘No’, they said, ‘good luck with the sequel. Now that we are free, we are free. It’s more complicated for you.’ They understood our testimonies in court.”
The trial has been much talked about as a form of therapy – for the victims, and for France as a whole. How do you view that?
‘I never wanted to see it that way, the goal was justice, not therapy or commemoration. But in practice, the right to speak turned out to be therapeutic. I went into the process with minimal expectations. I hoped I could speak, and that the verdict would be understandable. I did not want to expect anything from the defendants, because that would make me dependent on them and I wanted to prevent that. The process exceeded my expectations. I learned a lot about myself, the defendants, the jihad.’
Which lesson do you remember?
‘The question that haunted me: how could people my age open fire on people like me? I’ve come to understand that a little bit. The defendants defended themselves with repeated propaganda. They believed in the good of their act – they believed they were standing up for children in Syria, standing up for a cause for Muslims worldwide. I don’t understand everything, but their testimony offers clues.
‘And I was reaffirmed that there is such a thing as collective resilience. You cannot do such a process alone. We did it together: victims, lawyers, journalists. No matter how great the ordeal, find people with whom you can endure it, and you will succeed.’
Does understanding help you with processing?
‘The moment I started to understand something, I wanted to understand everything. Then you get disappointed. It would have been easier not to have expectations. Listening to the accused is not easy. But you have to allow risks. At the same time, it is also addictive to listen to a trial about crimes that you have been obsessed with for 6.5 years.’
Why was this process important?
‘After the attacks, it felt as if our country was on the verge of disappearing. The police and security services could not have protected us. The trial showed: despite that failure, there is still a legal system that picks up the pieces. The French state still exists, can do something, and appears strong enough to answer an extraordinary crime with justice.’
And for you personally?
“I felt abandoned because the state couldn’t protect me. The fact that I was heard by the judge, that the judiciary recognizes that something unacceptable has happened to me, has reconciled me with my Frenchness.
“The trial was the practical lesson in the theory that the defendants remain human beings, even though they have done something monstrous. For the first time, we were in the same room, breathing the same oxygen. It is good to expose yourself to that reality. Suppose they turned out to be monsters, that they exist – that would be a dizzying truth. We didn’t want to hate. Terrorism is the ultimate injustice. The strongest answer to that is to be happy and righteous.
“After ten months, I have heard more about the attacks than I ever wanted to know. I’m so sick of it that I don’t want to talk about it anymore. That’s good, now that the verdict has been passed, we can turn a page.’
What does that mean in practice?
‘Maybe it means stop comparing to what could have been, without the attacks. Say: this is my life now, I am the way I am. It also means that we are closing our victims’ association Life for Paris. At the time, we needed it to do something active, to fight the passivity of the victim role that you are forced into. Our goals have been achieved: compensation, commemoration, the trial. Until 2025, ten years after the attacks, we can complete everything. Then we lift ourselves up. There is no more battle to fight. That is also liberating. Finding something new that feels just as meaningful will be the biggest challenge.”