Original subtitles

Stifle the cries

of a girl being murdered

under a truck's tarpaulin.

A new murder after the death of H�l�ne Picard.

H�l�ne Picard is dead but the crimes continue.

Read the latest news.

A young girl murdered as if H�l�ne Picard was still alive.

Latest News: crimes continue despite H�l�ne Picard's execution.

A new murder after the death of H�l�ne Picard.

H�l�ne Picard is dead but the crimes continue.

Read the latest news.

A young girl murdered as if H�l�ne Picard was still alive.

H�l�ne,

my child...

It is time

to beg for clemency the one who said:

"Knock, and it shall be opened unto you."

God, who sees all our actions,

can tell the difference between the guilty

and the innocent.

His mercy is immense

and he will forgive those

tortured by remorse.

Repeat after me:

My God,

I am heartily sorry for having offended thee.

My God, I am heartily sorry for having offended thee.

Because you are all-good

and hate sinners,

I firmly intend,

with your help,

to stop offending thee

and to do penance. Amen.

It started on a cold morning of the 60's.

The first piece in the file refers to the execution

of a young woman:

"H�l�ne Picard, born in Lyon, May 20, 1943."

A child in care, she is reported as a runaway, a thief and unstable.

1960, authorities notice her particular aggressiveness.

A taste for violence and a tendency to homosexuality.

October 10, 1965, she is arrested near the mutilated body of a prostitute.

January 8, 1966, H�l�ne Picard is sentenced to death.

She will be executed on March 22, 1968.

Louis Guilbaud, 38, born January 3, 1930 in Saint-Denis,

1.77 m, brown eyes, brown hair.

His father, Antoine Guilbaud

was a Department of Justice official until 1961.

His mother, Mary, was the manager of a small hotel from 1945 to 1956.

After a normal childhood, Louis was mobilized for war in Algeria.

He was classified as slightly paranoid,

but appreciated by superiors and comrades.

Demobilized, Louis Guilbaud was offered a special

responsibility at the Department of Justice.

In 1963, he became an official.

Since 1965, his situation has caused him psychological problems.

He has made an official request to be released from his responsibility.

Today, Louis Guilbaud comes to the police department

to meet Solange Lebas, the assistant of superintendent Labro.

Everyday...

Every day I find threatening letters in my mailbox.

Miss, I may seem very bold,

and I beg your pardon in advance,

but

I think I'm being followed.

I'm so afraid...

Can't we meet somewhere else?

I don't know, I'm sorry but...

At the Buttes-Chaumont, for instance. Tomorrow.

At noon, it would be perfect.

You can help me.

Please.

I'm becoming paranoid.

I don't know who is persecuting me.

I have no enemy.

I am a quiet man.

I don't know how to tell you my appreciation, Miss.

I am very touched.

See you tomorrow.

Katie, 20, prostitute. Specialised in animal love.

Born in Lausanne in 1948, from a wealthy family,

she left home at 16

with her cousin Jos�, nicknamed "Le beau Serge."

In 1966, she became the mistress of a senior official

but kept seeing other men.

In 1967, she became hostess at the Cabaret de la Boule Rouge

and entered into the prostitution trade.

April 4, 1968, Andr� Samin, a railwayman,

finds her body shredded by a train.

H�l�ne Picard is dead and yet these crimes continue.

The crimes attributed to H�l�ne Picard proceed at a pace

that the chief of police describes as abominable.

New initiatives will be adopted but the police has no serious lead.

According to official sources, several dozens

of witnesses are auditioned every week.

None gave any result until now.

The latest news: crimes continue despite the execution of H�l�ne Picard.

A new murder after the death of H�l�ne Picard.

H�l�ne Picard is dead but the crimes continue.

Read the latest news.

A young girl murdered as if H�l�ne Picard was still alive.

Stifle the cries

of a girl being murdered

under a truck's tarpaulin.

Gaunt solitude

that distorts your overcoat.

Cold solitude

that cracks the walls.

Paris, culture broth

Paris, dream city

Paris, pigeon-shooting

I have to burn them. These letters really upset me.

Maybe these bastards won't kill me but they'll make me go mad.

It upsets me so much that I go around in circles for hours in my room.

And all my memories come swirling in my head.

I think I'm really going mad.

You can keep my tuxedo

And my love letters

And from the top of the Eiffel Tower

I will spread your mist curtain

And set sail.

You slept well, Mr Guilbaud?

I didn't have too many nightmares. I'm fine.

Well, where is the key to the mailbox?

- We'll get to work. - It's the smallest one.

I knew it.

You think that I'm mad, don't you?

I was looking for hours, night and day

how to get close to you.

I invented everything in this story of threatening letters.

And even if I have to lose your esteem and...

I have to tell you.

I needed to see you.

Solange Lebas, 26

Born the 24th of June 1942 at Tunis, Tunisia.

1m68. Dark blond hair. Hazelnut eyes.

Has a law degree. She's an official at the police department since 1967.

Hello? Police?

Get me post 812, please.

Solange...

My mother used to dress me like a little girl.

All the children were laughing at me.

Laughed when I walked by.

Even the teachers laughed secretly.

After, it was the war.

I killed men.

In civilian life.

I was lost.

And then, as circumstances got involved...

I didn't refuse to become

society's official killer.

Monitoring the constant coming and going of a young woman. Stop.

Don't lose the trail. Stay in touch.

Accompanied by a young women. Stop. Let's follow. Stop.

Trail lost. Stop.

Brigitte de Bardess, 22, occasional prostitute.

Was part of the white coats band in 1964.

1965: she gives her son, Mathieu, to the public assistance.

May 1st 1968, her body is found in the Bois de Boulogne.

On the neck, strangulation marks.

Always late. -Big Gibout delayed me.

It needs to change. Sit.

Light.

Here she is dead, violated, of course.

The analysis is formal: she was killed by a woman.

This woman, detective Fabre

he saw a very tall woman leave with the victim.

We don't know anything else.

Give us the profile of the presumed murderer.

Here. Get this in your head.

I'm coming.

Solange. I'm glad to see you.

How are you, Louis? - I'm alright.

I'm sorry to welcome you with this outfit. I'm doing a little bit of cooking.

You know, singles have to know how to do everything.

You didn't read the papers?

They found a murdered girl. Just like H�l�ne Picard's victims.

Her body was found in the woods.

I'm afraid...

I don't know why but I'm afraid that H�l�ne Picard wasn't the true culprit.

But Solange, all those proofs, those testimonials...

Please be reasonable.

I may have got it wrong.

You know, I'm not much of a psychologist,

but...

You're wrong to think that it's the same woman

who killed before and after H�l�ne's execution.

I wish I were wrong.

I think that, with all the advertising in the papers,

any lunatic could identify with H�l�ne.

That's all.

I still have this comb.

I gave it for analysis.

Goodbye, Gibout.

May 10th 1968.

The investigation is faltering.

The weather is nice in Paris. Commissioner Sabrot's stomach ulcer is back.

His doctor advised him to rest.

And what's that? - It's a secret.

No secret between us.

Quiet night. Stop.

Nothing to report. Stop.

Follow without hesitation every woman from 20 to 40,

who would go to prostitutes.

Everything is normal. Stop. Nothing to report. Stop.

You give me a strange feeling.

Ang�le, 26, whore at Pigalle.

Born at Paris, Oct 3rd 1942 from a bourgeois family.

Married in 1962 a rich merchant from Bordeaux's area.

In 1965, her husband dies in mysterious circumstances.

Arrested by police for drug trafficking,

She benefits of a dismissal on February 7th '67.

January 1st 1968, Ang�le, working with some police departments

allows the arrest of Pascal Bonant, AKA "the viper".

February 2nd 1968, She's a victim of a car accident.

She only gets back to her activities in May '68.

May 13th 1968,

Her mutilated body is found in a public dump.

A broom handle, penetrated in the victim's rectum,

remind the police of the crimes committed by the young H�l�ne Picard.

You'll pay.

When in Paris, you get bored

you go rowing

you go rowing

at the Bois de Boulogne.

Coo the wood pigeon

stroll the rowers

the big bellies

the plumps

are laughing at our worker's sweat

singles row so much

because the graceful boats

sink under the weight

of the diamond liars

the sweet splash

of the oars on the water

reflect the morbid light

of the edge of the guillotine

and the last smile

of the one sentenced to death

which wets their big green eyes

Sirs, the executioners, do some circles in the water

and embark to six lands

The pretty police

and hold them prisoner.

In this event of a hanging,

the loss of consciousness is immediate

by arterial compression.

Which stops blood flow to the brain.

If you unhang the body too soon

a coming back to life is possible.

It happened very often.

The electric chair includes

one electrode

which caps the head like a helmet.

And... - You don't eat?

The other electrode, the other electrode is connected to the foot.

The cardiac arrest... The cardiac arrest...

is obtained

through a high voltage electric power.

But death only comes after the lowering

of the voltage.

You're good with humans, aren't you?

Yes, and this isn't over.

Beheading...

is done

with

an axe.

Or with a guillotine.

You put the...

the offender tied on a plank.

and after blindfolding. Are you listening?

Yes, yes, I'm listening.

After, after blindfolding

you turn back the plank.

and you push it under the cleaver.

The head on one side,

the body on the other side,

is publicly displayed...

No, listen, stop.

When I think that H�l�ne died this way...

You're too emotional.

No, but I'm tired, that's all. I want to go to bed.

You have to sort

the cheese's crusts

which are at the bottom of your plate

to compare the whiteness

of your skin

to the porcelain's one

the navy blue design

of your civilian uniform

numbs the pyx

mysterious of

your celestial body

the slippery collar of the nylon

along your strangled throat

by the rigour

waterproofed

your civil status

We are not beasts...

We are the architects

of the impossible

on the bare front

of the bloodless buildings

and we imagine

the voluptuous shapes

And the cathedral's angels

released from their hypocritical mysteries

If everything works and you don't get a nervous breakdown

or a fit of madness

You have to rest.

I mean it. You won't hold out.

What?

Ask for a leave?

Love?

No, never heard of it.

Well, pack your things.

Anyway, I've always only relied on myself.

Of course.

Well, have a nice trip.

Where did I put my wristband?

Did you see my wristband? You know, the small one with some...

-No I haven't -Some small green rocks.

A NEW SADIST IN PIGALLE

You'll find them, look attentively.

No, I told you I'll never succeed.

But look attentively.

Send a telegram when you arrive. -Sure.

TRACK 15 - ACCESS FORBIDDEN-

Only I could have missed the train.

It almost looks like I did it on purpose.

What's with this woman? That's rude not to answer.

I never saw her inside the building.

But... It's the same woman from before.

She looks like the sadist's profile.

I'm afraid...

For the first time since a long time, I'm really afraid.

She must be searching the flat.

I missed the train. Listen to me carefully.

Hello, Suzie.

Solange called you 10 minutes ago. You have to be at 10PM at the Pigalle.

She didn't say anything else?

I couldn't say a word.

She said exactly that and rang off.

What do you think of Pigalle's sadist? - What?

What do you think of Pigalle's sadist? - I don't know what it is.

The sadist? I don't believe in it. It's some made up tales by journalists.

Miss, What do you think of Pigalle's sadist? - Not much.

What do you think of Pigalle's sadist? -Nothing. - Nothing?

If I were the government, there wouldn't be any sadists or albinos.

You want me to tell you? It's probably a foreigner.

I don't care, it doesn't affect students. Plus I don't have anything against sadists.

Our reporter, Andr� Breton,

went to the police,

where he interviewed detective Marcel Fabre.

Mr. detective, could you summarize the investigation?

It's almost impossible for me

to give you a precise answer.

The case, called "of the sadist"

is one of the most obscure case I had in my career.

On the other hand, our boss,

Commissioner Sabrot,

gave very strict orders.

regarding the silence we have to keep

about our actions.

What we can convey you

it's that it isn't quite impossible

that the sadist falls

into a trap.

If he notices that I'm watching him, I'm done.

But who's in the building across the street?

I'm sorry sir, but a man is following me .

Can you shelter me so he'll lose my trail?

Come in, sorry for the mess.

Suzie, 24, single, works at the police department, Solange Lebas's secretary.

On may 24th 1968,

Guilbaud, changing his voice, gives her an appointment in a caf� near Pigalle.

Marcel here.

They left in a grey car.

A Renault.

Wait for orders.

We have to put all the odds on our side.

Suzie knows very well that she has to last until dawn. Over.

I heard something like a gunshot. I can't locate it.

I don't understand, everything is quiet.

I beg you, come as fast as you can.

The streets must be easy to block.

The life of one of our agent is in danger. Please do it quickly.

Squeak the bed-spring

Wait the girl

cry tears of joy

Executioner, it's your last tango.

Wait the girl

smile the executioner

Gain momentum on the bed-spring

it's your last tango.

And we, we watch sitting on a chair

the emotionless bed-spring Suzie in the arms

of the executioner who sculpts in her flesh

a grave marker

That bastard should die.

Rest assured, great people

you'll get what you paid for

and the executioner shall die.

Among evil beasts

there will be blood

and crispy details

sanguineous groans

and above all

he'll think about his mother.

It's your last tango.

The graveyard's worms,

dig some corridors

to lead you to the centre of the earth

where you'll dance your first waltz

with death...

Shit. These devices never work. - It works fine. Be polite.

Surrender.

The house is surrounded. You can't escape.

Take position around the house.

Take care of Suzie. And keep in touch with the command centre at all time.

Can we get a chopper to monitor the development with the criminal.

Impossible. We can't attract attention.

We have to be as discreet as we can -As far as discretion is concerned

it doesn't look like a success.

General call from DMZ1 to every car.

Don't kill him now.

Surround him.

Follow him in the harshest places,

the most tortuous streets,

so that he'll lose his blood.

His blood should be the only trail

that you should follow.

Every drop he loses

will get you closer to him.

Run him down like a beast.

His muscles shall wither.

His morale is already undermined.

His gun weighs down his hand

as if his fingers were jellyfishes, unable of any solidity.

He'll drop his gun.

And when, completely exhausted,

he'll fall on his knees...

Stop, Guilbaud.

Do everything you can so this clowning ends

before people get out of their homes. We won't tolerate any excuses.

Report back every 2 minutes.

The man is dressed up as a woman. Report back every 2 minutes.

Block the well's street. Send a car to the tower's street.

Team number 2 and number 3: keep your positions.

Don't move on plain sight.

Brush against the walls.

Stop or I shoot.

Antoine Guilbaut.

Drop your gun.

May 25th 1968, 12h32.

The young detective Mattey, 24, a judo black belt, has Guilbaut surrounded.

Cornered, Guilbaut shot a gas tank. which exploded.

14h28. Guilbaut. thinks of his childhood, of the pain.

He's like stone, an almost inert material, crumbled

An almost mineral wound.

His childhood dream comes back to his memory

A tiny pinhead comes near him, enlarge, enlarge...

Becomes huge. Suffocate him, wakes him up.

You'll pay, Louis.

Die.

Die like a beast.

I'm not a beast.

I'm not a man.

I have no name, nor a place on this earth.

I'm a... living wound.

My mother made me who I am.

A sadist, a deviant.

I had the chance to be a man.

They didn't allow me to be a man.

They made me... the worst of the cowards.

They pushed me into the abyss of the vice,

of the crime,

and of depravity.

But... but you...

who had a sweet childhood

and who have a forehead without any wrinkles

you, Solange,

I love above everything else

you, Solange,

with all the others

You're the loss of all a word, paralysed and miserable.

14h03: Solange shoots her companion.

17h20: a telegram from Commissioner Sabrot congratulates her for her bravery,

her conscientiousness and her initiative.

I'm not done for this.

Solange will plead self-defence.

1978, ten years later.

Solange is the mother of 3. She's decorated with the Legion of Honour.

When she married G�rard Roland, Solange registered in the French Communist Party.

She feels useful, still young, still beautiful.

Stifle the cries

of a girl being murdered

under a truck's tarpaulin.

Gaunt solitude

that distorts your overcoat.

Cold solitude

that cracks the walls.

Paris, culture broth

Paris, dream city

Paris, pigeon shooting

You can keep my tuxedo

And my love letters

And from the top of the Eiffel Tower

I will spread your mist curtain

And set sail.