Excuses, excuses: How the blame game is making a mockery of our legal system
Source: X/Lana Budimlic
Dominique Pelicot, the 71-year-old French man accused of drugging his wife so he and 50 other men could rape her, says he wasn’t born a pervert; he became one.
He was raped by a male nurse before he turned 10, he told the court, and then later, he was forced to take part in a gang rape.
Should that really matter? Or have explanations behind evil or excuses now become as common practice in court as the heartbreaking impact statements of victims?
Pelicot’s brave and elegant former wife Gisele has insisted on a public trial to expose a crime that has shocked the country, and to shine a light on sexual violence.
Public hearing
Despite her husband admitting he was a rapist, Gisele had to listen to the woe-is-me tale of the monster who treated her for 10 years in a way that is unimaginable to most of us.
Gisele Pelicot, with her lawyer Stephane Babonneau, exits the courtroom this week. Photo: AAP
He was in court late because of a kidney stone and a urinary infection, was on heavy medication, and even allowed to take regular breaks to lie down. He carried a cane, and pleaded for forgiveness.
Anyone feeling sorry for him yet?
You see, reasons existed for his behaviour, the court was told.
He had a difficult upbringing, it seems. And when his wife refused to participate in partner swaps, it triggered his childhood trauma, and his abusive behaviour, which then became an addiction.
His crimes had also meant he had become the victim of blackmail!
Is that an excuse to rape and gang rape anyone, let alone your own wife, who he admits to drugging and inviting dozens and dozens of other strangers to rape her too?
Sad state of affairs
Excuses are now front and centre of courtroom defences, and every day we hear of someone’s appalling criminal behaviour being the result of a chocolate wheel of excuses.
But your honour, my client was in the middle of a terrible alcohol addiction when he smashed the face of his wife in front of his children.
But your honour, my client was addicted to methamphetamines when he got behind the wheel of a car, killing a community-minded father.
But your honour, my client had limited contact with his mother and it has left him bereft (which is why he broke into someone’s house with a machete in the middle of the night).
The string of defence excuses goes on. Those accused of heinous acts are now routinely described as suffering undiagnosed depression or childhood trauma or who knew no better than to follow in the footsteps of a jailed parent. Or who were young and simply wanted to sleep undercover (in a stolen $150,000 car).
Victims’ voices silenced
Inevitably, backgrounds can colour our futures and courts need to consider extenuating circumstances, but the excuses put forward for behaviour that is affecting us all are now drowning out the impact statements of victims.
The youth criminal who this week broke into a home, with a machete, might have suffered terribly as a four-year-old. But what about the elderly man, woken at 3am, to his front door being smashed open? Is his trauma any less?
Or what about the woman who lost her husband after a drug-addicted worker, who hadn’t slept for 24 hours, crossed onto the wrong side of the road. Should our sorrow be divided equally between the accused and the dead?
Of course excuses are not just the domain of defence cases.
In politics, routinely, we have a string of them, usually, coined in phrases like “it was an error of judgment’’ or “we were following advice’’ or “it was a misunderstanding’’ or “new information has come to light’’.
But the stakes are higher when it comes to reducing the consequences for criminal activity.
Not only does it ignore those who have travelled the same path of addiction or childhood trauma, but managed to live their life within the law, it also takes attention, public sympathy and funds away from those who truly should be our focus.
So Dominique Pelicot can make excuses all he likes. It is Gisele Pelicot who deserves our acclaim; a 72-year-old mother and grandmother whose courage and resilience has shifted the ‘shame’ back onto her husband, where it belongs.