It begins while night is still enveloping the police station, under the pale light of the break room, among boxes of sweets, fridges and union posters.
For the police, it’s time for a final detailed review of the operation, a steaming cup of coffee on their lips.
On the menu for that Tuesday, eight “targets”. Eight people present in an apartment in the suburbs of Rouen the night it was reduced to smoke by a fire starting from a trash can. A young father is dead, the PJ is investigating.
“All we have at the moment are unclear accounts which suggest the possibility of an act of reprisal,” says Patrick, major of the criminal brigade. “The idea is to shake everyone up a little to see what comes out of it.”
Scratch, bulletproof vests adjust. Zip, the weapons are slipped into their case. Clack, the car doors close. Departure in procession under the first light of dawn.
Two hours later, return home. Surprised jumping out of bed, the suspects are placed in a cell, time to “bertillonner” them – photograph them on the chair invented in the 19th century by the famous criminologist Alphonse Bertillon – take their fingerprints and stew a little.
Their custody – GAV, pronounced “gave” – has begun.
– “Giving birth to the truth” –
Fiction has illustrated from all angles these confrontations between cops and suspects, these clashes of personalities, these psychological duels which often allow the police truth of a case to come to light.
At the mention of these parentheses of forty-eight hours maximum – ninety-six hours in matters of terrorism, drug trafficking or organized crime – the eyes of the Norman PJists sparkle, their words jumble.
“Moment of truth”, “culmination” for some. “Cat and mouse game” for others.
“It’s my favorite moment,” says Elodie, who has been with the criminal brigade for six years. “Police custody is heavy, it must allow the truth to be revealed.”
“If we want it to work, we have to create a link so that the suspect speaks”, explains Patrick, “this gives the investigator the opportunity to pull the threads, to point out contradictions, to reveal evidence”.
To gain the suspect’s trust, each cop has his favorite recipe.
“My first question is always: + Can we speak informally? +. We have to break down the barriers,” says Elodie. “Afterwards, I adapt. Sometimes I use harsh words, sometimes feelings. And I observe how the suspect responds, when he starts to lower his eyes, to respond aside…”
“Before, my thing was robbers,” remembers Patrick, who studied at the “anti-gang”.
“I managed to get them to talk by acting as friends,” continues the major. But when I moved on to crime, nothing more. I changed my method by understanding that you don’t confess to a murder like a robbery.”
– Race against time –
Each police custody is a battle, a standoff during which the police officers gradually advance their charges, according to a perfectly orchestrated scenario.
Two years before retirement, Commander Myriam MP has spent most of her career in “financial”. She loves being in custody of bosses, bankers or elected officials.
“It’s very stimulating to face them during police custody. But they are specialists, we must not miss out,” she warns, “so we prepare all our interrogations down to the smallest detail.”
“We know exactly where we want to go,” says his “crime” counterpart, Nicolas. “But forty-eight hours is very, very short. It’s a constant race.”
A race strewn with obstacles. First the procedure, very time-consuming. And, since 2011, the permanent presence of a lawyer who, even if he does not have the right to intervene, has changed the rules of the game.
“We were made to understand that we were encroaching a little too much on the rights of the defense,” complains Patrick. “Before some cops did anything, it’s true. Now we can’t do much anymore…”
“It’s amazing that the police still don’t consider our presence as normal!”, chokes up Mr. Fabien Picchiottino.
“Since we have been here, there has been less pressure, less lying to make our clients break down and that is good,” continues the Rouen lawyer, “but I can guarantee you that the pressure to confess still exists “.
Because this is obviously an essential objective of police custody. Even if genetic fingerprinting, video surveillance or digital evidence have become essential, the confession of a suspect remains the holy grail of investigators.
Elodie remembers the confession of a murderer, a few years ago, which marked her forever.
“He was a kid, but in such a state of astonishment that he didn’t remember the facts. At first, he refused the conversation. And then, when I took his fingerprints, he started hyperventilating and just told me: ‘It’s me’. I knew I wasn’t wrong.”
“The confession is the satisfaction of the investigator (…) a form of punctuation to everything that has been written before in the report,” confirms Nicolas. “A successful investigation means finding the perpetrator but also his motive, succeeding in explaining why we got to this point.”
Establish the facts. Understand their motives. In the case of the fire which occupied them that day, the investigators are still very far away.
“We haven’t made an inch,” Patrick sighs, disappointed, on the second evening of questioning his eight suspects. “We are going to lift police custody, the prosecution will open a judicial investigation. It’s very frustrating, but we will not give up.”
From his file, the major took out a photo of a charred corpse. “A mother lost her son. And she calls me every month to find out how the investigation is going. I am her only link with the death of her son,” he adds, “so I owe it to her to do everything”.
