It felt as if he was ploughing a furrow in my flesh.
He pulled my skirt up,
slid his hand between my thighs,
stroked my pussy,
my stomach, my breasts.
I felt the faintest sensation on my back.
His other hand squeezed my stomach.
His claws dug into my shoulder.
His face was covered in hair.
His mouth revealed two yellowish fangs.
Did you kiss him?
Did you kiss this monster?
He lay on top of me.
His body was light,
incredibly light,
like that of a child.
I don't remember what happened next.
- She's dead. - Who found the body?
I did.
Did anyone else see anything?
Did you see the killer?
It was him.
He killed her.
- Yes, it was him. - It was him.
It was him.
He is the murderer.
Yes, it was him.
I'm certain he did it.
THE MARCORELLE AFFAIR
We are all guilty...
And I am guiltier than the rest.
I've been in the job for 30 years
and I've never witnessed a scene like it.
What had got into Judge Marcorelle?
What secret motive had tipped him over the edge?
He was known for being a workaholic.
He showed such persistence
in getting to the bottom of all his cases,
sometimes sparking anger or hatred
in powerful figures in the courts.
But he felt nothing but scorn for them.
The judge was a strange man.
I often saw him early in the morning
wandering like a ghost near the prison,
visibly tormented.
It was on one such morning
that he started questioning Robert Viguier,
a first-time offender, whose case led to his downfall.
For me the damage had already been done.
Robert Viguier.
You are accused of having,
on 8 July last year,
killed your wife...
What was the motive for this murder?
There was no motive.
Did you argue? Had you been drinking?
No doubt,
like every other evening.
Tell me what happened on the evening of 8 July.
Right.
I came home a bit later than usual, a bit drunker than usual.
She yelled at me a bit more than usual.
It was a night of excess.
Nothing extreme, just more than usual.
It all came out.
The money I hadn't earned but had spent.
The promises I had made and not kept.
The wakeful nights she had spent and the misery of endlessly waiting.
It was hard for an idealist like me to listen to all that.
While she was talking, I thought back to my youth
and the vision I once had of life.
It didn't involve Monique's face yelling at me
every day from morning till night.
I couldn't stand the sound of her voice.
I grabbed her throat where the sound came from.
Then I went to bed hoping never to wake up again.
Your Honour,
at the start of the '70s my client was a young man
living in a shanty town in Nanterre near Paris.
Did you live in the shanty town?
The Fraternité estate,
until the age of 21.
It was a troubling time for my client.
In the midst of this material and moral poverty
Robert Viguier met some young students
who had come to the shanty town to spread the word.
Is that going to be your defence?
I'm not saying those encounters necessarily led to the crime
but I wanted to put it into perspective.
We're not in court yet.
Of course we must react.
Why not? It's boiling out there.
Do you want to get fat?
Are they for jam?
Draft a letter. We'll go over it later.
Puyricard is bringing charges against Bignon.
What's he done now?
His desk and chair have gone missing.
- Did he steal them? - So Puyricard claims.
- Poor old Bignon. - It's so heavy-handed.
Just because he had Puyricard's political allies sent down.
Don't you care?
I was thinking of something else.
Your Nanterre strangler?
The name Robert Viguier doesn't ring a bell?
No.
- Who did this? - Nicolas.
- Liar. You dropped it. - You pushed me.
All right, that will do.
Remember that young rebel at the shanty town
who went round collecting scrap metal?
I'm sure it's him.
Back then the shanty town was full of immigrants,
Algerians and Portuguese.
He looked a bit like "Oustachi".
Who's Ouskachi.
Oustachi.
He lived with a friend of ours in Saint-Étienne.
- Why was he called that? - He had a big moustache.
Did you meet at the sausage factory?
You're thinking of Corcarneau.
And I keep telling you, it was a sardine canning factory.
Come on, get in the car.
Careful.
François.
- Just ignore that idiot lawyer. - There's a surprise.
Let's go.
I can't help thinking that 25 years ago
I too was in Nanterre.
Meanwhile I've become a judge
and he a murderer.
- That's life. What can you do? - Go ahead.
- Laugh. - I'm not laughing.
I just want you to put on your jacket and lock up.
A weekend away will clear our heads and lungs.
Clear our heads? You must be joking.
I heard you on the phone just now.
Drafting motions and press releases, and so on and so forth.
We can't just stand back and watch them send Bignon down.
He's been digging his own grave for 25 years
ever since he started dropping acid, remember?
Perhaps stealing office furniture gives him peace of mind.
What do I know? I'm not a chemist.
Here you go again, ducking out of it.
Don't worry, your friends gave up on you long ago.
Gave up on me? And have they kept the ball rolling,
continuing their discussions of worthy causes?
I hope so.
Do you think he suspects anything?
He suspects nothing but he questions everything.
He's been like that for almost half a century now.
I came home a bit later than usual, a bit drunker than usual.
She yelled at me a bit more than usual.
It was a night of excess.
Nothing extreme, just more than usual.
Did you live in the shanty town?
A young man living in a shanty town in Nanterre near Paris.
Everybody happy.
A life of luxury for all.
Universal solidarity.
Here's the wine you asked for.
Thank you, Kemal.
Good health.
- It's quiet tonight. - Tell me about it.
It's the spring bank holiday weekend.
- Bank holiday weekend? - The longest in the year.
People are making the most of this sunshine.
- What on earth for? - Well...
Fresh air, greenery, peace and quiet.
Peace and quiet?
Don't you like the countryside?
No.
Each to his own.
My head is spinning.
- I need to eat something. - Coming right up.
Agneska.
- Yes? - I'm off.
- Send everyone home at ten. - Ten? OK.
Thank you. Good evening.
- Good night. - Good night.
Is it true that you don't like the countryside?
- Especially at night. - I love being scared.
Me too, at the cinema.
Do you like horror films too?
Horror films? Yes. Why not?
I saw a great one today.
"Night of the Living Dead."
George Romero. It's a classic.
It was great. It was so scary.
So you're a film buff?
I used to go to the cinema next door a lot,
up to three or four times a week.
Ah, yes. They have an excellent programme.
How will you get home?
I'll manage. I'll hail a cab.
I can give you a lift if you like.
- That's kind of you. - I'm parked over there.
Who built these monstrosities?
It used to be a shanty town.
Before that it was the countryside. You'd have hated that too.
People who build these estates hate the city as much as the countryside.
We have laws against looting
but none against building monstrosities.
Look at that.
Is it as bad as all that?
I don't know any more.
It's left there.
There.
Won't you come up for a drink?
Well, I...
There's no cognac but I have vodka.
Well, in that case...
- Because of the neighbours? - No, my father is a light sleeper.
Your father...
This way.
That's his room.
Have a seat.
It's nice here.
It's well laid out.
So you live with your father?
Don't remind me.
But it's him who lives with me.
He turned up here over six months ago.
He's out of work.
He spends all day drinking. He doesn't speak French.
- He hates me having visitors. - That bad, huh?
My father's a fan of Walesa. He's as Catholic as they come.
Ah. Polish.
Catholicism.
My father insists I hang it up.
I don't know how I feel about it.
- Agneska? - Yes?
Why did you invite me up despite all the associated risks?
Because...
I sensed that you were lonely.
I feel lonely too sometimes.
That was very kind of you. I have had a dreadful day.
Before becoming a magistrate I was...
You were a man like any other.
Like any other, yes.
Agneska? What's wrong?
Are you feeling unwell?
Are you on some sort of trip?
I didn't lay a finger on her.
- I didn't kill him? - Yes.
Oh, my God.
I'm going to wake up. I'm going to wake up soon.
Dad.
You need to calm down, Agneska.
- Let's call a doctor. - He's dead.
- Then let's call the police. - No.
Not the police, please.
- What do we do, then? - Leave it to me. I'll see to it.
My Polish friends will know what to do.
What do you mean? Is this common in Poland?
Please just go.
If you think it's for the best.
- But I want to be sure. - Just go.
There's been a murder. The body is still warm.
- I think the killer's still inside. - Yes, yes.
It's a sunny bank holiday. Georges will be away until Monday.
It's closed. Your efforts are wasted.
Closed? Since when.
I don't know. I'm not the janitor.
The central courtyard is about to be blown up.
That's weird. I visited a friend here recently.
There have been no tenants in the block for over a year.
It's about to be demolished.
- I can assure you. - And I can assure you.
No one has lived in this block for a year.
Not even some Polish people?
Squatters?
There are no Poles here.
Only blacks and Arabs. Got it?
Now, if you don't mind.
We haven't found any lighters.
I must have left it elsewhere. Never mind. I hardly smoke any more.
That's what I thought.
This is turning out to be quite a day.
What do you mean?
You've lost your lighter
and I've lost my waitress.
- Which waitress? Agneska? - Yes, the Polish girl.
- She left of the blue? - Out of the blue.
She phoned this morning
to say she had to go back to Poland right away.
- She was a strange girl. - What do you mean?
She was such a flirt.
She kept flashing her thighs in that short skirt.
She would lure clients to some place or other.
To her house?
Did she try it on with you?
No, no. I was just trying to imagine the scene.
She may well have stolen your lighter.
You never can tell with girls like that.
Never mind. Forget it.
An old lighter hardly warrants a search party.
And there are plenty more waitresses out there.
Cheers.
- Let me know if you hear anything. - Of course.
- Thanks. - You can count on me.
- Judge. - Sir.
What brings you here?
I'm on call this weekend so...
To think our colleagues are living it up in the sunshine.
I wanted to check out the afternoon's clients.
Nothing too serious.
Nothing that can't wait till Monday.
Nothing to keep you in the city, if you know what I mean.
- Nothing out of the ordinary? - Routine cases.
The odd burglary, like every weekend.
And one death last night in the suburbs.
- In the north? - No, in the south.
Some bourgeois tragedy. Do you want to see?
The usual small fry, plus a few tramps.
Yours is this way.
Do you see the conditions we work in?
Last night's killer.
Are you OK?
I'll... I'll see you this afternoon.
And you have nothing from eastern Europe?
No.
Russians, Czechs, Poles?
Not for the moment.
No Lithuanians, either?
Crime from the cold countries
is predominantly sex and drugs-related.
Oh, yes, so-called Polish soup,
or poor quality heroin.
Yes, it doesn't take long for them to resort to crime.
- It's a question of arithmetic. - They start young too.
You're quite right.
He's here.
What's going on here?
Happy birthday, darling.
The song was Georges' idea. We wanted to surprise you.
You taught it to me on my 18th birthday, remember?
It seems to have slipped my mind.
Happy birthday, Dad.
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday...
Here, take this and you'll get a good night's sleep.
Are there any side effects?
No, you could take this for 20 years
without wanting to steal furniture from the chancery.
Was Bignon here? I didn't even see him.
It's very gentle. You'll gradually drop off.
Go on.
No, I don't want it.
This is not my lucky night.
First my song was a flop
and now my magic potion.
It's never been easy being your friend
and you haven't mellowed in old age.
Thanks for reminding me.
What?
Is that it? Does it bother you?
I'm sure most people here tonight don't know my exact age.
But still...
Don't tell me that's why you fainted.
It's far more serious, unfortunately.
Are you sure?
I killed a man, Georges.
- When? - Last night.
It was just another one of your guilt dreams.
Did you go to the cinema with the redhead?
It wasn't a dream, Georges. It was real.
Terrifyingly real.
Listen, you're going to sleep
and we'll talk about it tomorrow.
I got dragged into some sordid affair.
- At Kemal's place. - The Turkish restaurant?
- The Polish waitress asked me in. - Really?
She did it to annoy her father.
This guy was more Catholic than Lech Walesa.
I killed him.
For real.
Do you have proof of what you're saying?
Not proof, only the memory.
But believe me...
that's enough.
François, you and I are materialists.
Don't tell me you no longer believe in hard evidence.
- Of course I do. - Good.
So before you accuse yourself of some crime,
please bring me some tangible clues
or else keep your trap shut.
I don't know, a body or blood on your clothes.
The proof of the pudding is in the eating.
You taught me that too.
I'm telling you, I killed a man.
I saw his bulging eyes.
I heard his last gasp.
I saw blood flow from his smashed skull.
You know about brain haemorrhages.
Here, another pill perhaps.
No, no, no.
It's very kind of you, Georges,
but there's nothing you can do for me.
Right. Listen, I've heard quite enough for one day.
You must rest for at least a week.
Don't call me till you've recovered.
- Judge? - Hm?
Miss Pingaux?
May I?
Please.
Tell me, is that Alain Bignon, the examining magistrate?
Yes, that's him.
I don't think he recognised me but we have met before.
No wonder, given what he's being subjected to at the moment.
Just because he's spent his life taking a bold stance.
It's true. It's intolerable.
Mr Bignon is like my boss.
Those men are too passionate about their work, too sincere.
Judge Marcorelle is impressive, isn't he?
He's had to be, believe me,
to shake this place up the way he has.
Before his time
no important political figure had ever been tried in the region.
That was 15 years go.
It was unheard of, you know.
Imagine the rogue's face.
I can imagine Puyricard's face.
He did all he could to break him.
He found nothing to reproach him for.
I wasn't very nice to him the other day.
I should have remembered that he knew the Nanterre shanty towns.
Instead of forming an ally I seemed to offend him.
That was bad.
You're young. It doesn't matter. I must go.
Do you think he could have known my client back then?
I don't think so, no.
Thousands of poor people lived there,
tens of thousands.
- Talk of the devil. - State prosecutor Puyricard.
He's the source of all our troubles.
Good day.
Seeing that guy unnerves me.
Miss Pingaux, I was going to send a petition to the judge,
a profile of my client.
Can I hand it to him in person?
Yes, all right.
Judge, Mr Fourcade has a petition for you.
Your Honour.
Which case?
The Robert Viguier case.
Viguier?
He's just written to me to say he has appointed Siderot.
Doesn't that mean we're off the case?
Not that I know of.
But I haven't picked up my post yet.
Go and see. You're bound to have this letter.
Yes, no doubt.
He must have wanted a more experienced lawyer.
These things happen to all young lawyers.
Don't take it personally.
I'm sure you're right.
Still, it's a shame. It was an interesting case.
There will be others. Come, now.
Your Honour.
That was harsh,
telling him like that.
Imagine him in court. Viguier would get at least 20 years.
It's true that he's not very adept.
The case rests on the defence.
Siderot will be perfect.
Did you mention Siderot to Viguier?
Hello.
Judge Marcorelle's office.
I'll put you through.
The drug squad, returning your call.
Yes?
Polish?
No...
...complications?
All right.
Yes, yes.
It's for a case.
No, forget it.
Forget it, I said.
Yes, keep me posted.
Won't you come up for a drink?
Well, I...
There's no cognac but I have vodka.
Well, in that case...
What's this?
Nicolas has been pestering me to buy it for him for weeks.
- Whatever for? - Who knows?
Sylvie's daughter is going to get baptised, you know.
She told her mother she was out demonstrating.
Instead she was at church talking to the priest.
The youth of today!
- What was that? - You chanting your slogans.
It sounds like a train pulling away.
- I don't see it. - You never see it,
unless it's to do with social issues
or the magistrates' union.
That's all you care about.
What's got into him?
If you spent a few days with us you might find out.
I can't. I'm too behind with my work.
Of course you are!
Fourcade.
What happened to you?
I made a mistake so I was punished.
Punished? Because of me?
No, not because of you.
No?
Thank you.
Mum!
Quiet!
Really!
She was there, three rows behind me. It wasn't a ghost.
- Did you catch her? - Yes.
It was easy.
Let go of me.
Well?
She's Polish all right.
But she's a prostitute, not a waitress.
She used the restaurant for soliciting.
She has a good excuse.
Poverty, the dictatorship, the mafia.
- The mafia? - Yes, organised crime.
Poland had a thriving underworld long before the fall of Communism.
Most of the PDS were in it.
Another thing no one likes to mention.
- What about the dad you killed. - He was her pimp, not her dad.
Some crook who brought her to France
and forced her on the game in this abandoned tower block
in collusion with the janitor and the local police.
Bastards!
He just needed a few stitches on his forehead and his skull.
He was a blockhead.
Polish prisons are full of them.
So she says. I never saw him again.
I want to meet this guy and talk to him,
compensate him for nearly killing him.
- But he's gone back to Poland. - No wonder.
That was her aim when she took me back to hers.
She was writhing around and shouting in Polish.
I didn't understand a word but he understood.
After a while he got annoyed and intervened.
And I hit him. Bang! That was just what she wanted.
For him to get a thrashing and return home.
- She's a plucky girl. - But should I believe the girl
who dragged me into that situation?
She was only trying to escape prostitution.
That's typical of you, Georges. All in a good cause.
- Then what? - What?
Did you go back and watch the film or did you take her to a restaurant?
No, we went to a café.
We talked. She started talking.
We got talking.
- You talked. - We talked.
And then, suddenly, I don't know why,
she started talking about films.
So I talked to her about classic horror films.
Vampyr, Dracula, The Phantom of the Opera.
And since I've got the videos at home,
I invited her back to watch a film.
Did you, now?
We watched the film.
Agneska was obviously very sensitive to the poetry of the characters.
And at the end,
I don't know what happened.
The credits stopped rolling and I took her in my arms
She didn't object and...
- That's what I call a happy ending. - It wasn't the end.
We saw one another again. We went to the cinema a lot.
I don't know what to do about this girl.
You've cheated on Claudie before.
I had to make up for all those years as an activist.
I had kids, my work.
I'm not saying I didn't stray, but...
This time you've taken it further.
No wonder, with a girl like that.
I hope she doesn't bear grudges.
Grudges?
After all she suffered under Communism.
- Your Marxist past. - That's true.
We haven't discussed that yet.
I'm kidding, you fool.
Make the most of it. Let off steam. Have fun.
Live your life to the full.
You know, sooner or later we all end up on the slab.
And when that day comes, it's too late for regrets.
Time to get up.
Can you draw the curtains a bit?
Of course. The neighbours.
They're standing at the window
watching us with a telescope, right?
They're taking photos
and they're going to hand them out at the entrance to the law courts.
It's easy for you to make fun of me. You don't suffer from anxiety.
My poor darling.
- Why are you like this? - I don't know.
My father was the anxious type too.
My mother, who was very religious,
said it dated from the German occupation.
Really? Was he in the Resistance?
The Resistance?
Sort of.
But my Grandpa said it was what he didn't do that worried him.
Grandpa was anxious too,
but he knew why.
He served in the colonies army during the '30s.
And at night his victims' ghosts came... and tickled his feet.
It made him cry out in terror.
Anyway, after next week you'll have nothing to worry about.
There will be no risk of anyone seeing me here.
The end of the holidays. What are we going to do?
We'll meet at my place,
my very own place.
What about your girlfriends?
I've found respectable digs for next term.
Really?
In halls of residence.
Aren't halls of residence reserved for students?
I am a student.
Well, almost. I've enrolled on a law course.
- Why didn't you say? - I wanted it to be a surprise.
I might have been able to help you.
I know quite a few teachers at the university.
I'd rather do it myself. I'm not a whore any more.
- That's not what I meant. - Right.
I hope you'll let me help you study in the evenings
without you seeing it as a commercial transaction.
You can help me find a job.
That's the most important thing now.
- Don't you want to work for Kemal? - No, thank you.
He'll only try to get his leg over. He's a bastard.
Kemal?
He shags all his waitresses. That's why they're always leaving.
It's hellish.
He seems like a decent guy.
He'll get into trouble with the law.
There's a hefty penalty to pay for sexual harassment these days.
With the girls he employs he needn't worry.
He knows he can get anything he wants,
no problem.
You know,
there is one thing that scares him.
The Kurds who come to extort money for their movement.
He's meek as anything with them.
Extortion rackets?
In a nice town like Chambéry?
What are the police doing about it?
You should see what the police get up to.
When do you have to report to police headquarters?
Tomorrow afternoon.
I'll come with you.
It's not necessary. It's a mere formality.
You're right.
I'll make on-the-spot enquiries, ascertain the situation for myself.
I'll keep quiet until I've conducted a preliminary investigation.
Incognito, naturally.
No one will even know I'm with you.
This could take a while. You can go if you like.
No, I'll wait.
He says he can produce a work contract tomorrow.
He has been working illegally for six months.
If he had a contract, we'd know about it.
Why is he here if you already know the facts?
I'm just doing my job.
- Who are you? - Never you mind.
Are you a journalist? Doctors without Borders?
Calm down, will you? You appear to have a guilty conscience.
Me, a guilty conscience?
Why would that be?
I don't know.
You called a foreigner in, offering to renew his work permit,
whereas in fact you were setting him a trap.
Go ahead, gentlemen.
Show me your papers.
Here we go.
That good old collaboration between government and police.
Sir, I will not permit you.
My family was in the Resistance.
Your family must be proud of you.
Will you calm down?
Bureaucratic cowardice enrages me.
What?
Shit!
Jesus!
Let me go!
Are you satisfied?
- I'm not dissatisfied. - You poor fool!
Yes, I know.
A moment of madness.
Yes, sir, I lost my cool.
Yes, sir.
Of course, sir. Of course.
All right? Good evening.
- Good evening, Cédrique. - Good evening.
It's him.
- What's he in for? - Bag snatching.
We found him hiding under a car clutching his victim's bag.
He said he'd found it and got scared.
He denies everything.
He wants a lawyer so I thought of you.
Thank you, Cédrique.
It's not the case of the century but still...
My sincere apologies.
I understand. You cracked up.
I got scared and panicked so I hid under the car.
Why didn't you simply return the bag?
I needed the money. I had no choice.
So I hid.
Are you planning to stick to that story?
It's the truth.
- Thanks. - I panicked...
A colleague has parked your car on the square.
Have a safe journey home, Judge.
Excuse me. I'll be right back.
What's Judge Marcorelle doing here?
He hit a government official at police headquarters.
You should have seen him.
- At police headquarters? - Yes.
Agneska.
Now you know everything about the Chambéry police.
Was it a good experience?
They never caught that South American guy, you know.
They can still run after him.
THE LAW
My dear comrades,
I am sad to be stepping down as president of the union.
However, I am delighted to be handing over to Claudie Marcorelle.
Claudie Marcorelle, our future president.
What you did at police headquarters was great.
- You are an example to us all. - We contested the charges
brought against our comrade Alain Bignon,
and won our case.
Alain Bignon is with us today.
But we must remain immobilised.
Our campaign for justice continues to make waves
but we are taken for delinquents, as was the case for Alain Bignon,
or for fools, as in the case of our colleague Philippe Courcy
who denounced...
Who is this?
He is...
He is an eminent member of the magistrates' union, sir.
His wife is about to take over the leadership of this union.
Are you talking about Judge Marcorelle?
Precisely.
The incident at police headquarters?
Among other things.
But I wanted to tell you something else about Marcorelle.
About his relationship with a girl
who was recently a prostitute working in this town
and who has remained in contact
with the Polish network she was part of.
A Polish prostitution network?
A network known to the police
who are just awaiting your orders to arrest its leaders.
I tend to leave it to the men on the ground
to decide who to arrest and when.
Unless your intervention is necessary.
Given your determination to limit the growing influence
of Mr and Mrs Marcorelle's union...
I thought that perhaps...
You thought, my dear Fourcade?
That you could launch an inquiry into the members of this network
and put Judge Marcorelle on the case.
You have the power.
To what end?
To force Marcorelle to commit the worst crime
a magistrate can commit.
Abuse of authority?
Is Marcorelle intimate enough with this network
for us to talk about an abuse of authority?
His intimacy with a certain Agneska Makovietz is indisputable.
I can confirm that she has remained in close contact with her friends.
Marcorelle is either in direct or indirect contact with the gang.
We have no concrete proof.
And Marcorelle has the right to refuse to take on the case
on the grounds of conscience.
He can hardly admit to knowing Polish pimps and drug dealers.
But you can count on me for word to get round.
You're more formidable than you seem, Fourcade.
That's the name of a submarine. I'm trying to emerge, not sink.
Yes.
Impatient but formidable.
PRISON
Youri Stefanovitch
and Boris Alexeiev, both of Lithuanian nationality.
Januz Zalewski, of polish nationality.
That's right.
Are you his lawyer?
Chambéry court has ordered
your joint indictment for procuring, supplying drugs,
and attempting to murder Alexander Yakovlev
of Russian nationality,
a member of your network
currently in the prison hospital.
Is that right?
Are you suffering?
Your Honour, if you're wondering where he got these scars,
they are not the only ones. Look.
My client was subjected as a teenager
to barbaric violence perpetrated by the constitutional authorities
of a country that put transforming mankind
on the statute book.
Mr Zalewski,
under what circumstances were the blows whose scars you bear
administered to you?
He can't remember, your Honour.
How long have you been living in the region?
He can't remember.
What are you getting at, your Honour?
I'm just trying to understand, that's all.
It's not him.
How can you tell from these forms?
If that was him, I'd recognise him, believe me.
He had the same voice and build
and scars where I hit him.
All Polish gangsters have scars on their heads.
It's a sign of recognition,
of pride.
Didn't you say he was called Januz?
Thousands of Poles are called Januz.
My pimp changed his identity every week.
I don't even know what his real name was.
You must find him, Agneska.
I must meet him.
Find him?
Do you think guys like that leave a forwarding address?
There must be a café or bar, some dive he frequents.
You must have met him somewhere.
Yes, in a bar in Warsaw.
Pimps picked up young girls there so it closed down.
That's why they sent me here.
It seems incredible.
If Januz is alive
he will have been in touch with people you know.
You'll never find him, François.
The police have been looking for him for years to no avail.
What if he is the guy who was in my office earlier?
A bastard like him should be convicted, that's all.
You're blinded by hatred, Agneska.
You must reason and forgive.
Forgive? You're worse than a Pole
and more hypocritical than John Paul II.
What?
What exactly are you afraid of?
Divine justice?
You need to have killed Januz as if he was the devil incarnate.
In my darkest nightmares I've never been in this situation.
Having to judge a man I might have killed.
Do you understand that?
No, you don't understand.
1,000 times I've wondered about criminals I've had to judge,
whether if I'd been in their shoes I would have done the same.
No one is totally innocent, Agneska.
You no more than the rest. But this...
- What have I done? - What have you done?
Have you forgotten the tower block,
the trap you set for us?
It's a miracle if he's alive.
A miracle or a curse.
I'm telling you, it's not him.
- Where are you going? - I need some fresh air.
Poor François.
You never kill anyone but you think you killed everyone.
You should see a psychoanalyst. You'd feel better for it.
Hello? Can I speak to Mr Puyricard, please?
It's Miss Makovietz.
Makovietz.
Right.
She suffered under socialism.
Guys like us never sought her opinion on universal happiness.
That's no reason to want to get even.
Can you imagine a law student,
perhaps a future judge, prosecutor or lawyer,
having that attitude?
It's incredible this total absence of guilt.
She's totally lacking in scruples and discernment.
François, Agneska has a point.
- Why do you feel guilty? - Not you as well.
I'm just trying to understand.
There is a group of people who think they've committed imaginary crimes,
crimes they read about in the paper.
- Some of my patients are like that. - Please, Georges,
Don't bring your vast scientific knowledge into this.
You'll only confuse the issue.
Police stations are full of false culprits.
It's a modern phenomenon and it's becoming more prevalent.
I'm talking about concrete facts, not a modern phenomenon.
I'm trying to decipher them.
Right, let's drop the sociology lesson.
How about psychoanalysis instead?
Give me some advice. Tell me what to do.
Do your job. That's all they're asking of you.
If that guy is the pimp who almost killed Agneska
for once you will have full knowledge of the facts.
Listen, you saw that brute go for that poor girl.
You felt his fetid breath on your face,
his big killer hands around your neck.
You are better placed than anyone to judge this bastard's trial.
No, I can't do it.
- I'm going to stand down. - You can't.
You need a valid reason to stand down.
The conscience clause.
For a Polish pimp and drug dealer with Fourcade as his lawyer?
What about Fourcade?
For years that guy has been searching
for the slightest peccadillo to get himself noticed.
He won't be satisfied with the conscience clause.
This is too good an opportunity for that go-getter to pass up.
He'll uncover the real reason for you standing down.
Don't give him the satisfaction.
Think of Claudie and your kids.
Think of the battles that await us.
Fourcade!
That sounded like a bad one.
Yes, it was a bad one.
Unexpected too.
What's all this?
- It's for Dad. Now he asks me! - Asks you what?
For advice on a client I'm seeing this morning.
Are you putting Nicolas to work on your cases now?
He's into religious phenomena. I need his help to understand.
This smacks of some sort of ritual.
It may be linked to a possession ritual.
But I can't be certain.
I'd need more time.
I get it.
I'm on my own yet again.
Coming.
Where did you find this?
Mum gave them to me to use as a model.
I had to draft a leaflet.
- Really? - What a load of waffle.
The middle and working classes, the class struggle.
It's not exactly detailed.
A couple of the points are still relevant.
Relevant? To what?
We've set up a support committee
for a Kurdish family facing deportation.
The daughter is in my class. Farousia.
You must have seen her here.
I was given the job of writing the leaflet.
- Are you OK? You look tired. - Not at all. I'm fine.
Thank you.
- Judge. - Mr Fourcade.
- Have you heard? - About what?
My client, Januz Zalewski, died last night.
- What did you say? - Internal bleeding.
Just like that, for no reason?
It was all those blows to his head.
All the same, so suddenly?
Sooner or later the effects of brutality prove fatal.
Communism isn't the sole cause of death for eastern Europeans.
Be serious.
A clot formed on the right side of his brain.
It burst last night and killed him.
I'm sorry.
We managed to find a Polish priest.
The funeral is this morning.
This morning?
Yes, the body will be picked up from the prison in 35 minutes.
Good day, Judge.
- Judge? - Miss Pingaux.
Mr Djabi's lawyer just called. He's on his way over.
We'll have to postpone the meeting.
I need to go to the prison cemetery.
Januz Zalewski has died of a brain haemorrhage.
Zalewski, the Polish mafia?
Don't go, Judge. That's no place for you.
Don't make the mistake you made at police headquarters.
This has nothing to do with that. It is a question of conscience.
You do realise this is a mistake?
Please, Miss Pingaux.
- Judge. - Sir.
François.
So it was him.
It was him.
What exactly did he mean to you?
- Was he a member of your family? - No.
He was the pimp I told you about.
So why have you come to his funeral?
I came with his sister. She's a childhood friend of mine.
She wasn't responsible for the harm Januz caused me.
He put her on the game too.
But why? Why didn't you tell me the truth?
I couldn't, François.
From the start I've had no option but to lie.
From the start?
It was no coincidence that you ended up in that tower block.
It was a deliberate attempt to compromise you.
I was instrumental in the operation, as was Januz.
He was in charge.
But who was Januz working for?
The guy who controls the underworld in this town,
and the vice squad.
He's your friend at the courts.
Puyricard?
He has files on all your friends and on you too.
He set his sights on you.
Januz was meant to take photos of us together.
Failing wasn't an option.
I caused a scene to prevent it happening.
As a result Puyricard sent Januz back to Poland
and he left me alone until that idiot Fourcharde...
Fourcade.
Fourcade got involved.
He saw us together one evening.
He followed me, identified me
and tracked down the girls who were still working for Januz.
Then he took his findings to Puyricard.
It was some haul.
What a nuisance for Puyricard. What was he meant to do now?
So he had Januz locked up,
with his agreement, to land you in it.
You went mad and I got scared so I warned Puyricard.
And Januz died.
Do you mean Puyricard...
...killed him?
I didn't say that. All I know is that you didn't kill him.
Indeed. Lots of people had a hand in his death.
Yes. It's been a long time coming but it's for the best.
Are you still living in halls?
- I never see you. - I've been working hard.
The exams are tough but I'm getting there.
- Do you want to be a judge too? - No.
Commercial law is more my thing.
People never change.
Are you suffering?
Sooner or later the effects of brutality prove fatal.
Fourcade!
- You were there all along. - Yes.
- You've been made a fool of too. - So it would seem.
Mr Puyricard is a false friend.
He took me for a ride all right. He's such a bastard.
But you have before you the best case of your career.
I'd have to bring down all the town's magistrates.
Precisely, the right and the left.
It's ideal. All that counts is the truth.
There's no real conflict.
Take on your friends and Puyricard? Are you joking?
No, Fourcade.
You have the means to clean up this mess.
It will do us all good.
- I'll help you if you like. - Help me?
You'll help me?
With my case, I mean.
And also with Puyricard.
He's not as untouchable as all that, you know.
You'll see. Tongues will become untied.
You're talking as if you weren't involved in the case.
But by hiding your relationship with Agneska
you've committed the worst crime.
- You could go to prison for that. - Don't worry about me.
Concentrate on the case. It's a good one.
But I'm unintentionally mixed up in this case myself.
What, you told the prosecutor
you suspected a judge of having a relationship with a prostitute?
There's no harm in that.
The fact that he took it further and had a man killed
is hardly your fault.
That's still just a hypothesis.
That Pole was killed.
It's obvious.
Start by requesting another autopsy.
And we will...
You will find the culprits.
Marcorelle?
Your case is in the paper.
"After the arrest last month of Judge Marcorelle,"
"found guilty of having hidden his relationship"
"with a prostitute in a case he was judging,"
"Mr Fourcade has just had Prosecutor Albert Puyricard indicted"
"for being an accessory to murder."
"According to the lawyer, Puyricard had his client killed."
"Puyricard swears that he is innocent"
"and his friends say it is a plot against the judiciary."
Interesting.
He's making a packet from your case.
He'll hit the big time, thanks to you.
It's not that simple. Look at his face.
Exercise yard.
We've got a surprise for you.
Well, well.
Viguier.
My old mate.
I too have encountered the demons that brought Marcorelle here.
Perhaps I lack his courage or his luck.
I must make arrangements.
Half the town's dignitaries will be joining Marcorelle here soon.
I'm afraid this case has only just begun.