the diary of an ex-hostage of the Bataclan, week 8

On November 13, 2015, David Fritz-Goeppinger was at the Bataclan when the concert hall was attacked by three men, armed with assault rifles and explosive belts. “Never again in my life will I forget these faces”, David confides. Held hostage for two and a half hours, he thinks every minute that his time has come. Until the assault of the BRI police. That night, the coordinated attacks on the Stade de France, the terraces of the 10th and 11th arrondissements of Paris and the Bataclan, left 130 dead, including 90 in the concert hall, and more than 400 injured. Almost six years later, it is the trial of these attacks which is held in Paris. David Fritz-Goeppinger, now a photographer, has agreed to share via this logbook his feelings, in image and in writing, during the long months that the historic trial of these November 13 attacks that marked France. Here is his account of the seventh week.

>> The diary of the seventh week

>> The journal of the sixth week

Thursday October 28. After a day of rest which seemed to me to be a real bubble of oxygen, I take the road to the Palace. This morning I have an appointment with Arthur Dénouveaux, president of Life for Paris and Philippe Duperron, president of 13OnzeQuinze. I join them around noon. Behind this exchange of complicit glances hide two men whose experiences differ but who bear the same responsibility: to represent the victims.

When I walk through the doors of the Palace, I feel like I’m no longer the same. The memory of my testimony has ceased to haunt me. The passing of time pushes me to analyze the impact that this “deposit” has had on my daily life and my life. Over the past six years, I have had the impression several times that the strain on my feet fluctuates. These changes in mass and texture always occur after major changes in my life, resumption of an activity, meeting and sometimes for trivial events. The effect of this deposition is different, I have the impression that it transformed the heart and the shape of the ball.

This transformation, still in progress, is in fact very concrete: it is the keeping of this journal. The initial idea behind it is to resume the course of my existence thanks to words, in order to become a subject again, as Aurélia said. Entering the courtroom I cross the road to Nancy, we chat for a few moments when the school bell rings, it is time to sit down, the courtyard enters. I settle down near Gwendal Mondeguer and take out my sixth notebook.

The president calls Arthur to the bar, I watch him come forward facing the court and ask permission to remove his mask to speak. He decided to show a video of the concert taken on his phone, it is 9:07 pm. On this one, the party is in full swing and we can see dozens of hands getting up and people dancing to the beat. I only want you, of the Eagles. In this short clip, no terrorism, just life and a party that seems unstoppable. As his video illustrates, Arthur was in the Bataclan pit when the shooting started. He evokes firecrackers but quickly understands that it is about shots. Six years later, his mind censored the attack: “I have very fragmented memories of the pit, more of the shapes and sensations. “The emergence of terrorism in his life will take the form of a denial. The days which follow he will feel more witness than victim. It is November 27 at Invalides during the national tribute to the victims of the attacks of November 13 which will sign the end of denial and the beginning of a long reconstruction.

Arthur is attached to the words surrounding the status of victim. In order to be as exact as possible, he goes so far as to give the etymology of the word “to exist” respectively “to exist” in Latin: “to get out of”, to exist after terrorism, to exist, quite simply. He published a book that accompanied me just before the arrival of covid in our lives. Co-written with Antoine Garapon at Gallimard, Victim, and After? Try to paint a picture of the victim’s place in society. This morning, before coming, I asked him to choose a number between 4 and 43 in order to look in his work for a quote from his book, he naturally chose page 13, here is the extract:

“Conversely, one of the objectives of victims’ associations is to actively participate in improving the place of the victim in criminal proceedings; and, contrary to popular belief, they do not systematically go in the direction of repression. “

He continues with his second hat, that of president of the Life for Paris association, and describes most of the actions and missions she carries. In his testimony Arthur raised the question of the non-broadcasting of audios and certain images of the Bataclan during the attack. At the end, the President, thanks to his discretionary power, announces that a part of the audio which includes the demands and where we hear my exchange with one of the two terrorists will be broadcast.

Before starting the audio, the president and a civil party lawyer warn those watching the proceedings that the document is difficult to listen to. In a few seconds, the courtroom changes atmosphere. Six years of living with these sounds. To hear them without inviting them into conversations, to accompany me to places where they shouldn’t exist. Listening to the audio, I realize that all of my memories were right and in order, and that the voices that haunt me did exist. Sitting in the fifth right row of the courtroom, I sink back into my trauma. Listening, unexpectedly, to this document will have the effect of a bucket of ice water right in my face, but deep inside, I feel blocks of memory moving and changing shape.

Arthur leaves the bar after having answered the questions of all the actors of the trial, I take this opportunity to go out for a few moments to exchange with a research friend.

When I return to the courtroom, Philippe speaks in front of the court. I also saw him, a few days ago, testify not as president of an association but as the father of a deceased victim. I find it difficult to follow his statement, my mind is totally carried away by the audio of the Bataclan. My brain is spinning fast. Hearing Philippe’s words, I realize that despite the fact that the associative entities are different, the same words come back: gather, trial, memory, mourning. Philippe denounces the political reuse of victims of terrorism, but also the de-radicalization and the challenges of the trial. The words of Philippe and Arthur echo our experiences, both individually and collectively.

At this time, Philippe puts an end to the depositions of the civil parties which will have lasted a total of five weeks. Five weeks where the story we have all lived was expressed as if we had all the time in the world. I think back to the first victims who came forward, everything seems distant to me, as if we had all traveled on a train that has traveled the trajectories of our lives. We are all different today than we were on September 8, today we know. Soon after, I left the main courtroom in favor of the auction room and the monotonous sound of the computer keys. It is always in withdrawal that I settle down, and start to write while listening to the doctor of the raid which intervened that evening. After an interruption of the session, I took my place and ended up leaving the auction room in favor of my granite seat in the hall of lost steps.

As I write these lines I have returned to my home, I have the impression that time outside has stopped and that my mind is still wandering in the Palace. The audio from the Bataclan is looping through my head, is it the soundtrack or my memories? Behind these thoughts a single question emerges: why?

I could still write all night, but I prefer to stop my thoughts. I imagine that a trial is also that, everything can change from one day to another, anything can happen and start again.

Only a few more days to find my annual drop-off point, the month of November.