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Gisèle Pelicot's daughter alleges her father, the convicted rapist, abused her, too

CBC30-03-2025
In new memoir, Caroline Darian shares what the investigation and high profile trial was like for her family
Image | Caroline Darian
Caption: Caroline Darian is the daughter of Gisèle Pelicot, a woman who was at the centre of a mass rape trial in Avignon, France, last year. (Olivier Roller)
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Media Audio | The Sunday Magazine : Caroline Darian, daughter of Gisèle Pelicot, tells her own story
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WARNING: This article may affect those who have experienced​ ​​​sexual violence or know someone affected by it.
The explosive mass rape trial of Dominique Pelicot and 50 other men in Avignon, France, may have come to an end Dec. 19, but for his daughter, Caroline Darian, the story was nowhere near over.
That trial ended with Dominique Pelicot found guilty of repeatedly drugging and raping his then-wife, Gisèle Pelicot, over the course of a decade, as well as inviting other men to do so while he filmed the abuse. Fifty other men, most accused of raping her while she was unconscious, were also found guilty.
During the trial, Dominique Pelicot was convicted of taking and sharing intimate photos of his daughter without her consent
Earlier this month, Darian filed a legal complaint against Dominique accusing him of drugging and sexually abusing her, allegations he denies.
Since her mother's abuse was discovered in 2020, Darian has dedicated herself to raising awareness of chemical submission, a term used in France to describe plying others with psychoactive drugs for criminal purposes. Darian's association and social media campaign, M'endorpas: Stop Soumission Chimique, translates to "Don't fall asleep: Stop chemical submission."
Darian, 46, shares what the ordeal has been like for her mother and herself in a new memoir, I'll Never Call Him Dad Again.
She spoke to Piya Chattopadhyay, host of CBC Radio's The Sunday Magazine, in New York this week. Here is part of their conversation.
The last number of years have been tremendously difficult for you and your family. I'm just wondering, how are you holding up?
That's a good question. You know, I'm going because I'm fighting. Because I'm engaged with this cause against chemical submission. And now it's become a part of my new normal life. So I was going to say I'm fine. I'm fine, but sometimes it's still difficult.
By now, many people know your mother's story, but today we're actually going to be talking about your story, which begins in a suburb near Paris where you grow up with your mum, your dad, your two brothers, David and Florian, in the 1980s and '90s. What was family life like?
We were a happy and a united family. I was pretty close [with] my father, my mother, my two brothers. We have so beautiful and fun and funny memories. I mean, we had a good childhood. I think we were really, really privileged … because our house was always full of people, full of festive moments.
And even if sometimes it wasn't easy, of course, because life is not easy, we really thought that we were happy.
What was your relationship specifically with your father like when you were young?
He was my confidante. He gave me a lot of things when I was a child. He was there for me. He [taught] me to swim, to cycle. He was there for encouraging me during my studies. So we had a close relationship, like daughter and father, and where I used to talk to him about a lot of things…. It was a really precious relationship with my father, and I lost it.
As time goes on, you and your brothers, all adults now, are noticing your mom beginning to experience things like memory loss, fatigue, unexplained gynecological problems. What are you and your family thinking is happening at that time?
The first symptoms started back in 2013, 2014. We noticed that she started to [lose] weight. She was often tired. Sometimes we got some phone calls with her and she had some incoherence. Around 2016, we asked her to go to [the doctor] because we were afraid that she was developing a kind of mental disease, like dementia, like Alzheimer's or something like that. So she started to see some doctors, and doing some exams, and they never found anything.
In 2020, everything you thought you knew was shattered. Your father was caught filming up women's skirts in a local supermarket. That led police to thousands of photos and videos of your mother. She was drugged, unconscious, and being raped by him and scores of other men. When you first heard about it, those first moments, what was going through your head?
I was in shock and it was like everything inside of me fell down. It was like all my own worlds collapsed, all my foundation. Because I realized, through this phone call, in a few seconds, my life would never be the same. I had to realize that I didn't know my own father.
You write that there was this resurgence of these fond memories and you write, "it makes me feel like I'm being waterboarded by the past." What did you mean by that?
I wanted to look at all of these childhood memories differently ... to me it was authentical moments. It was real moments of love or sharing, but probably not for him, not for my father. I'm not able to call him that. My dad is dead, even if he's still alive.
You go on to write "I fear that I'll never be able to hate him." How have you worked through these complex, these complicated feelings?
During the very beginning of this trial, I saw him, and for few seconds … I looked at him as my dad. And then I stopped. It's a mental process, because I needed to get some answers. I needed to get the truth. Before this trial, there was more than two years and a half [of] investigation. So we discovered so many things, [such] terrible things that when I looked at him in this court, I looked at the criminal.
What was it like for you in that courtroom, Caroline, hearing about the awful things that he had done to your mother?
It's started to help me with my mourning process. I felt so angry. What a damage within our own family.… When you had to listen every day [for] four months, all of these things, it hurts.
WATCH | Gisèle Pelicot's daughter describes the pain and anger of her mother's rape trial
Media Video | Gisèle Pelicot's daughter describes the torment of her mother's rape trial
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You also have the whole world watching.
Watching my mom, yeah. Supporting my mom. We were really proud of her…. And even if we're all still in pain, what she did shows an extraordinary woman.
We've all heard of your mom, but they also found two deleted images of you in your 30s asleep in a bed. The lights are on. The covers are pulled back. You're wearing a top and underwear. The police call you and say, we want to show you these two photos. I can't imagine what that moment is like for you.
It's unbearable. For some few seconds, few minutes, I don't even recognize me. This is what we call a dissociation phase where you are in a post-traumatic situation.
He was convicted on charges of taking and sharing intimate photos of you without your permission. But you believe those photos provide evidence of further crimes. What do you believe happened?
Very serious things, which are similar [to] what my mom went through…. I know that he drugged me. And he probably touched me, probably raped me. But, you know, I don't have the proof like my mom has.
You have no memory of this.
No, like my mom.
You confronted your father at the trial. He denied drugging you and sexually touching you. He still denies that today.
I said, 'I know what you did.' And he said, 'I didn't do anything, Caroline.'
Image | FRANCE-JUSTICE/
Caption: Darian, centre, arrives at the courthouse with her brothers, David Pelicot, left, and Florian Pelicot, right, to attend the verdict in the trial of their father and 50 co-accused December 19. (Alexandre Dimou/Reuters)
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You yell at him at the end of the trial. I think you yelled, "You're lying! You don't have the courage to tell the truth."
It was really difficult to yell at him, to say that within this court, when you are not allowed to say anything…. But it was the only time that I had the opportunity to tell what I had in my heart to my father. It was the very last time, because I will never see him again.
You have filed a formal legal complaint against your father, accusing him of drugging and sexually abusing you. He has always denied this and he continues to. His lawyer has noted that the prosecutor in the previous trial said there's not enough "objective elements" to prosecute. So as I understand it, the police will investigate. Prosecutors will decide whether to proceed to trial.
And I hope so. You know, when you are desperately looking for the truth, for your own restoration, for your own reparation, to be able to go on with your normal life — because you know when you have some deep conviction but you are the only one who's yelling it, telling it, but no one hears you, no one believes you — it's so hard. And I have a chance. My brothers believe me, my husband believes me, my friends, but the justice [system] doesn't believe me now because there's not enough evidence.
So I [have] now with this new complaint to the French justice to please reopen up this case and go to get further investigation because they were overwhelmed with this file because they were focusing on Gisèle, and that's OK. But please do not forget any other potential victim within this family.
If you're in immediate danger or fear for your safety or that of others around you, please call 911.
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Father's assaults shatter family, spur action
Father's assaults shatter family, spur action

Winnipeg Free Press

time10-05-2025

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Father's assaults shatter family, spur action

While it is generally understood that 'date rape' drugs such as gamma hydroxybutyrate, (GHB) are a potential threat in bars, clubs and other public settings, the notion that 'chemical submission… typically happens within the confines of the home' has scarcely been imaginable. That began to change in 2020, when French police arrested pensioner Dominique Pelicot for 'trying to film up womens' skirts.' After confiscating Pelicot's phone and other electronic devices, officers found he had been drugging and raping his wife Gisèle Pelicot for years, filming and photographing all the while. What's more, he had 'served her up to strangers to be raped,' again and again. As their daughter and first-time author Caroline Darian writes of receiving this news, 'It should not be possible to string such words together, for the sentence that they form to make any sense. The very idea is so steeped in violence it is almost impossible to contemplate — like a knife so sharp that the gleam of the blade blinds you, its edge so keen that you don't immediately realise how deep it cuts.' I'll Never Call Him Dad Again With the force of a cleaver, the discovery of Dominique's brutality severs his family's life in two: before, when 'life was so simple… even… banal,' is lopped off and replaced by, after, 'a crushing weight we will have to carry for the rest of our lives.' This catastrophe compels Dominique's family members to re-evaluate the past and to wrestle with challenging questions including, writes Darian, 'How can I reconcile the anger and shame I feel with the stubborn empathy that comes with being someone's child?' Noting that her mother had often 'seemed… lost in her mind,' Darian, her husband and her two brothers suspected Alzheimer's. Gisèle consulted a neurologist in 2017, followed by having a brain scan, but neither proved helpful. Gisèle grew anxious and experienced 'episodes of amnesia… She couldn't sleep, began to lose her hair, and her weight plummeted.' Sometimes she 'collapsed like a rag doll.' In 2019 another neurologist proclaimed Gisèle 'simply prone to anxiety (and) prescribed melatonin to help her sleep more soundly.' Winnipeg Jets Game Days On Winnipeg Jets game days, hockey writers Mike McIntyre and Ken Wiebe send news, notes and quotes from the morning skate, as well as injury updates and lineup decisions. Arrives a few hours prior to puck drop. The revelation of Dominique's crimes explains Gisèle's symptoms and the reason he always dismissed their children's concerns, blamed his wife for 'burn(ing) the candle at both ends,' or even rebuked family members for wearing her out before sending her home so that he and the rapists he recruited online could further assault the woman he persists in calling 'the love of my life.' Their horrific acts are inconceivable, yet Darian berates herself for being 'blind to it all.' As police unearth more details, Darian and her family learn that the sordid nightmare they now live in contains many rooms. One of the hardest for Darian to enter contains evidence that her father preyed upon her too: 'I start to shiver, my vision is disturbed by a host of tiny starbursts, my ears start ringing, and I jerk back. How did he manage to take my photo in the middle of the night without waking me up? Where did the underwear come from, as I'm sure it's not mine? Did he drug me?… Did he — I can't keep the unthinkable at bay — abuse me?' To paraphrase writer Kenji Miyazawa, Caroline Darian uses pain to fuel her journey. Joining forces with others working to end violence against women, she advocates for vastly improved and expanded supports for victims, helps create a safe house, shuts down the website her father used to recruit rapists, launches the 'Stop Chemical Submission (#MendorsPas): Don't Put Me Under' movement and writes her book 'to sound the alarm about the prevalence of chemical submission in France and around the world.' It's a pity the copy editing is inconsistent throughout the text and startlingly poor in the preface's first sentence, where the word 'also' has no business being, yet the flaws do not detract from the power of this gripping, heartrending, consciousness-raising 'chronicle of horror and survival.' Jess Woolford is a writer and sexual assault survivor in perpetual recovery from misogyny.

Red Dress Day walk brings stories, solidarity to Regina streets
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How bayanihan is grounding Filipino Canadians in 'ethics of care' after Lapu-Lapu Day tragedy
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time03-05-2025

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How bayanihan is grounding Filipino Canadians in 'ethics of care' after Lapu-Lapu Day tragedy

Social Sharing "It was meant to be a day filled with music, dancing, food, laughter." Rev. Expedito Farinas choked up as he addressed mourners on Sunday at St. Mary the Virgin South Hill, an Anglican church with a largely Filipino congregation just a 15-minute walk away from where tragedy had occurred the night before. The Lapu-Lapu Day Block Party began as a day of "great celebration honouring our heritage, our culture, our tradition," Farinas told CBC Radio's On The Coast. Hundreds of people sang along to artists like Black Eyed Peas' Filipino vendors and food trucks lined the streets to serve the tens of thousands of people who visited throughout the day. WATCH | 'It turned out to be a traumatizing day': A celebration of culture ended in trauma, says Anglican pastor 5 hours ago Duration 0:49 But in moments, the scenes of joy turned to devastation as an SUV drove into the crowd Saturday evening, killing 11 and injuring dozens more. Chaos ensued. 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By Friday afternoon, donors had given more than $2.3 million across 20 GoFundMe campaigns to support victims and their families. Beyond financial support, Vancouver chef T.J. Conwi also created a food hub for families of the victims and anyone else in need of meals. Mourners have also gone beyond leaving flowers and lighting candles, with many opting to eat and sing together. In Toronto, one vigil ended with music, including a song called Bayan Ko, meaning "my homeland," which is often considered the unofficial second Filipino national anthem. Partaking in food and song together is an "act of care and collective resistance," said Simbre. Prime Minister Mark Carney used the term in his expression of condolences to the Filipino Canadian community, where he highlighted its "strength and resilience." "[ Bayanihan ] captures the Filipino spirit of community, of co-operation and unity to achieve a common goal," said Carney at a press conference the day after the attack. "It's this spirit upon which we must draw in this incredibly difficult time." 'When one falls, we all fall' While she appreciates the expressions of solidarity, Tungohan worries the Filipino community won't receive the support it needs from governments because of its perceived resilience. "Sometimes the term 'resilience' is used to appease people," she said. "Why are we jumping into resilience mode when we need time and space to grieve?" WATCH | Memorials let us 'witness each other's grief': Religious rituals can restore 'safety and comfort' after man-made disasters, says psychologist 5 hours ago Duration 1:13 Dr. Kenneth Miller, a clinical psychologist and counselling professor at the University of British Columbia, says community and religious interventions that reduce isolation can normalize feelings of grief and help restore a sense safety and comfort following a disaster. Tungohan further states the sense of loss is amplified by the fact that the attack happened in a space that should have been a site of "refuge, subversion, resistance and joy" for a diaspora that can feel isolated from the cultural practices of their motherland. Last Saturday's festival commemorated the anniversary of the Battle of Mactan, where in 1521 Indigenous Philippine chieftain Lapu-Lapu defeated explorer Ferdinand Magellan, setting back the advance of Spanish colonization. "That's why the attack was so horrendous for many of us, because it wasn't just an attack on a party," she said. "It was an attack against this moment of coming together and celebrating … in spite of all of the difficulties and challenges that the Filipino community as a whole has faced." Speaking at a vigil outside Toronto City Hall on Tuesday, spoken word artist Patrick de Belen expressed a similar sentiment. 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"It doesn't erase the grief, but it actually makes it more bearable." Eliezer Moreno, a B.C.-based grief counsellor, says resilience is about honouring what happened and finding agency through it, not burying or forgetting about the grief. "We don't want to feel helpless. We want to feel like we have power and can choose, make choices, turn what we are feeling into something, knowing that we have strength and that we are going to be stronger together in this," said Moreno, who is Filipino. Moreno says when other counsellors asked him to add his name to a list of professionals helping those impacted, he agreed right away. "My mind just went to, 'This is my community. I need to help,'" he said, describing it as a way to channel his own difficult feelings into helping others. Clinical psychologist Dr. Kenneth Miller says a healthy recovery process means embracing, not ignoring, the grief. "Resilient doesn't mean that you don't have any pain; resilient means that you recover from your pain, that you bounce back and don't go on to develop long-term problems," said Miller, a counselling professor at the University of British Columbia. Moreover, social supports that "make people feel seen and supported and heard," Miller adds, can help prevent long-term impacts, such as acute stress disorders, which he says are typically developed by 20 to 30 per cent of survivors of a mass killing. "The initial period, the first few weeks following this kind of event — that's when community-level interventions become so, so, so important," said Miller. "They are actually more important for most people than any kind of mental health professional intervention or professional mental health care." WATCH | Community interventions integral: Why we gravitate to vigils in times of loss 5 hours ago Duration 0:54 That community care and support may be especially important for Filipinos, who are bound by a strong sense of shared culture that embraces both joy and anguish as a collective. "It's the nature of the Filipino community to love one another," said Mejin. "When you love, then there's the grief that comes when you've lost, as well." For his part, Moreno is hopeful that the Lapu-Lapu Day Festival and the Filipino community will endure in a way that will "celebrate our own culture and our resilience and our strength." "It will be a mark that's kind of left on that festival. But … they are going to use that mark that was left and continue to honour those that we've lost and to show the resilience that's part of the community."

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