One year has passed since a French courtroom delivered justice in one of the most harrowing criminal cases of the modern era. On 19 December 2024, Dominique Pelicot and 50 other men were sentenced to a collective 428 years in prison for the systematic rape and sexual assault of his then-wife, Gisèle Pelicot.
The Anatomy of a Decade-Long Nightmare
The facts of the case, heard in Avignon, remain profoundly disturbing. Over a period of almost a decade, Dominique Pelicot, Gisèle's husband of 50 years, drugged her with prescription sleeping pills. While she was unconscious, he raped her and invited dozens of strangers, recruited via an online chat forum, to do the same in the couple's own home.
Dominique Pelicot, who received a 20-year term for aggravated rape, admitted his guilt, starkly declaring "I am a rapist" and describing himself as "the devil". However, most of the other 50 co-defendants denied their actions constituted rape. Despite this, the panel of five judges found 46 guilty of rape, two of attempted rape, and two of sexual assault.
The Chilling Banality of the Perpetrators
What made this case resonate so deeply and terrifyingly with women worldwide was the sheer ordinariness of the men involved. They were not shadowy monsters from afar. The line of defendants, dubbed "Monsieur-Tout-Le-Monde" (Mr Everyman), included a DJ, a journalist, firefighters, lorry drivers, security guards, construction workers, and soldiers.
Most lived within a 30-mile radius of Mazan, where the Pelicots resided. They were of all ages and ethnicities, some lonely, some with lower IQs, others intelligent and successful. The only common thread was their proximity and their choice to abuse an unconscious woman when the opportunity arose.
Their justifications in court laid bare a profound moral bankruptcy. One defendant, a 69-year-old retired sports coach and "doting grandfather", claimed through his lawyer he was "scammed". Another, 63-year-old Romain V, who was knowingly HIV-positive during six assaults, said he was "looking for social connection". A volunteer firefighter offered the grotesque defence: "my body raped her, but my brain didn't". Many claimed Dominique Pelicot had manipulated them into believing it was a "consensual sex game".
Perhaps most telling were the reasons given for not reporting the crimes. One former firefighter said he considered it but "then life just carried on". An electrician stated he "didn't want to waste the whole day at the police station".
A Lasting Legacy of Fear and a Call for Change
The trial's aftermath has left a deep scar on the collective female psyche. For many women, the case shattered the comforting illusion that such brutality is the work of a rare, aberrant "other". It forced a confrontation with the unsettling reality that the capacity for such evil can exist in the men next door.
This fear was compounded by the dignified bravery of Gisèle Pelicot, now 73, who waived her anonymity and demanded an open trial. She insisted the horrific video evidence be made public, powerfully declaring that "shame must change sides". Her description of her internal state as a "field of ruins" echoes the devastation felt by survivors everywhere.
Tragically, the hope that France had confronted its "seedy underbelly of abuse" has been short-lived. In an eerie echo just last month, more than 200 women alleged they were drugged by a senior French civil servant, Christian Nègre, during job interviews, sparking a new criminal investigation.
A year on from the verdicts, the fundamental question posed by philosopher Manon Garcia, who attended the trial, remains urgent: "How can we love one another if men follow the trial from afar like some random news item that does not concern them, while women see it in traces of their daily lives?" The names of Sarah Everard, Zara Aleena, and Sabina Nessa are now joined by Gisèle Pelicot's in a litany of loss. Women are left demanding to know: does this haunt men as profoundly as it haunts us?
