The Unspeakable Crimes of Dr. Petiot (10 page)

Sunday 5/16

Subject: Clandestine passages

This past Friday the 14th, as arranged, I went to Fourrier's barbershop at 25 rue des Mathurins at 11:30
A.M.
The Doctor was there with Fourrier and an unknown third party.

I was asked several questions:

1. My family name, given names and address;

2. They checked my military and other papers;

3. Checked my identity card; all this to verify the truth of what I had told them.

Had I not been able to furnish proof that I am really a prisoner of war on parole from prison [this was true, and was one of the facts Berger felt made Beretta convincing as a candidate for escape], the Doctor would have canceled the deal.

All of this took place in a small isolated office at the back of the apartment, and lasted one hour and fifteen minutes.

In addition, the sum of 100,000 francs was requested. I pretended that I would not be able to raise such a sum, and we finally compromised at 60,000 francs. This amount should cover expenses for the voyage to Spain and the preparation of false papers. (False passport, etc.)

The Doctor showed me a passport, but he did not let me take it and study it closely.

I gave him ten photographs (5 full-face, 5 profile).

We were supposed to meet again that same evening at 7:00 at my home, but no one came. This morning a new appointment was made for tomorrow evening, Monday the 17th, at my house, at which time I am to pay the agreed upon 60,000 francs.

Thursday evening I will be notified to prepare 2 suitcases and a blanket, and I will be taken to a spot whose location I will know only at the last moment, and from which I will be sent on to a train station for my definitive departure.

According to the Doctor, it is at this moment that I will be given my false papers.

Beretta attached a diagram of Fourrier's apartment.

At 7:00 the next evening, Fourrier and Pintard arrived at Beretta's; he gave them only F10,000, hoping to show his precarious financial position. He said that he earned his money through the black market and that collection of debts was sometimes difficult. He promised to pay the remaining F50,000 at 7:00 the following evening. As it turned out, all of the money that Beretta paid had been furnished by the Gestapo; the serial numbers had been noted, Beretta had signed a receipt, and in each report concerning a payment, he copied down the serial numbers again. He was a fine, thorough traitor, and the Germans had no cause for complaint.

The next day Beretta paid Fourrier and “Francinet” an additional F45,000 once again claiming that difficulties with his debtors had made it impossible to come up with the whole sum. The remaining F5,000 was later handed over in a telephone booth at the Café de la Renaissance near the métro station Strasbourg-St. Denis (a map of the area was appended to his report!). During one of their conversations, the boastful Fourrier pulled a notebook out of his pocket, saying it contained the names of everyone they had sent to Spain. Seven other people, he claimed, would be traveling with Beretta when he left on Thursday.

It was Friday, May 21, two days after Yvan Dreyfus vanished, when Beretta arrived at the rue des Mathurins with a light bag containing underwear, one change of clothes, and “all the money he owned,” as Dr. Eugène had instructed. An instant later, the Gestapo burst in and arrested Beretta, Fourrier, and Pintard. They forced Petiot's name and address out of the terrified Fourrier before taking them all to prison, and soon found the doctor at home at the rue Caumartin with his wife. As the Germans were searching the apartment, René Nézondet arrived to deliver tickets for that evening's performance of
Ah, la belle époque
, a musical comedy about the joys of life in 1900 playing at the music hall Bobino. Though he protested ignorance and waved the tickets in front of them, the officers pushed him and Petiot downstairs and into a waiting car. Petiot turned as he left and called, “Don't worry!” to his wife, who apparently understood nothing of what was going on until several days later, when Gestapo agents returned for a more thorough search. They told her that her husband was guilty of smuggling people out of the country—notably a Jew named Dreyfus, who had either escaped or been killed.

Herr Doktor Berger's satisfaction with the Beretta coup lasted only a few hours before he discovered he had ruined another subsector's carefully laid plans and had eliminated all possibility of tracing the entire escape organization. With profuse apologies, Berger sent his four prisoners—Petiot, Nézondet, Fourrier, and Pintard—to Robert Jodkum at the rue des Saussaies for questioning. Beretta was sent with the others as a plant, in hopes that he might learn something, but during a routine search he was unable to conceal the Gestapo card and revolver he was foolishly carrying, and the others recognized him for what he was. Guélin appeared, too, pretending to have been arrested on some obscure charge, but Petiot did not trust him any more than Beretta and treated him with quiet disdain.

Petiot was questioned and beaten all night. The next day he was driven to Fourrier's, where the Germans hoped to capture other group members when they came to collect Madame Dreyfus. Guélin had made arrangements with Fourrier and Petiot for her departure that Saturday and had even paid F50,000 of the Gestapo's money for her passage. He had not, however, brought up the matter with Paulette Dreyfus herself, and neither she nor the Resistance comrades Jodkum expected arrived. Petiot was then returned to Jodkum's office and savagely beaten once more—by Péhu, he later affirmed. He was taken to the prison at Fresnes, seven miles south of Paris, but was almost immediately returned to the rue des Saussaies for more beatings. He confessed that he was part of an escape organization, but maintained that he knew nothing about its other members or operation, and that the actual passages were effected by a man known as Robert Martinetti, whom he had no way of contacting. Petiot was sent to the German army center for counterespionage on the avenue Henri-Martin and was there tortured for three days without a break. He was plunged into a freezing bath until he was almost drowned, his head was crushed in iron bands, his teeth were filed down three millimeters, and he was beaten so severely that he spat blood for a week and had dizzy spells for six months. The Germans showed him a dead man, and a man writhing in agony on a stretcher, his face beaten to an unrecognizable pulp; he was told they were members of his group.

Periodically over the next six months, Petiot would be taken from the Fresnes prison, where he, Fourrier, and Pintard were held, to the avenue Henri-Martin or the rue des Saussaies for questioning. Petiot repeated the same story about Robert Martinetti again and again, but steadfastly refused to supply further details. The Germans searched the rue Caumartin apartment once more, as well as 52 rue de Reuilly, the only other one of Petiot's properties they seem to have located. This was a curious oversight, since there were bills and other documents concerning 21 rue Le Sueur at Petiot's home, and a quick check in the Paris municipal archives would have given them a complete list of his properties. The Germans were thorough in everything else, and even arrested a woman Petiot had sent to a rest home on May 1, believing that this establishment—filled only with old people and women—might be part of the escape route.

Nézondet, who had loudly proclaimed his innocence and waved his theater tickets, was released from Fresnes after two weeks since there was no evidence that he was implicated in the “network.” He was taken to the rue des Saussaies for final processing. When it was complete, the Germans jokingly asked whether he wanted to go straight home or return to Fresnes for a visit. Nézondet placidly said that he
would
like to go back and get his shoelaces, handkerchiefs, and tobacco. “Damned if that isn't the first time we've seen anyone ask to go back to Fresnes!” said a Gestapo man, and they gave him F100 and a pack of cigarettes and sent him home.

The Germans cautioned Nézondet to stay away from Petiot's family and apartment. Several days before leaving Fresnes, he had been momentarily left alone with his friend Petiot, who had whispered, “Tell my wife to go where she knows to go and dig up what is hidden there.” Just before Nézondet's release, left alone again, Petiot told him to forget the errand—it was no longer important.

Nézondet, for some unexplained reason, decided to ignore Petiot's injunction, and one afternoon in June, as she was about to leave for Auxerre to visit Maurice and his family, Georgette Petiot received a mysterious telephone call asking her to prepare a sandwich and go to the entrance of the Gare Saint-Lazare métro station. She followed the strange instructions and to her surprise found Nézondet, who had not been fed before his release from Fresnes; while devouring the sandwich, he gave her news of her husband and passed on Petiot's original message. She said she did not understand what her husband meant, but nonetheless she mentioned it to Maurice when she arrived in Auxerre.

Georgette also told Maurice what the Germans had said to her when they searched the rue Caumartin apartment: that Marcel was suspected of having either smuggled Yvan Dreyfus out of France or murdered him. Maurice was acquainted with several members of the Dreyfus family, all of whom were in the radio business, like himself, and in a curious, rather incoherent attempt to help his brother, he wrote to Yvan Dreyfus's father.

June 17, 1943

Monsieur,

I obtained your address through the director of S.I.R., since I knew that your son was director of this firm's branch in Lyon.—My brother has been arrested by the German police in Paris, and I think it is because he helped your son.

According to what the police told my sister-in-law my brother stands accused of assassinating your son.

I can scarcely see how this is possible, since such things are not easily done in Paris, and particularly considering my brother's character—a doctor well loved by his patients, among them some people who are presently offering the most unbelievable things and even their lives to save that of my brother. And my brother has, before my eyes, during raids, sheltered Jews with their entire fortunes in his own apartment. (They were neighbors of his whom I know well: they are still living in the same building.)

Finally, my brother earned about 500,000 [francs] a year in his profession, a profession which he adored, and he did not need any money since he lived very modestly (he was even accused of being miserly).

His only expenses were for the purchase of art objects and especially of books, but he has always had this passion and has not been spending more than he spent before.

I have always known my brother to be likeable, regular in his habits, and never liable even to raise his voice in anger—nonetheless he has had periods of extreme exhaustion and depressions which he overcame with difficulty.

What's more, people say that we resemble one another closely, and your relative Camille Dreyfus (American apparatus import—rue Saulnier) can tell you who I am.

All of these reasons must lead one to believe that the accusation is false.

I can see only one way to save my brother from this serious accusation, which is that your son must be found. I have asked everyone I know, and the only response they will give is: if I knew where he is I wouldn't say.

This is why I am writing to you. If you know where your son is, tell him to change hiding places if he doesn't want to be found, and tell witnesses who have seen him since May 20 to go to the police or a government official who can take their deposition.

If he is overseas and you have letters from your son, send them to me or remove the return address and send them to the police, since I do not want to have anyone else implicated in this affair—too many people are in trouble already.…

Maurice wrote to other members of the Dreyfus family as well, and his strange letters were turned over to Paulette Dreyfus, who never answered them. Maurice also pursued Nézondet's message to Georgette. The only hiding place he could think of was the rue Le Sueur, and he went there in late May to investigate. He told police that he found nothing, but it was during this visit, according to Nézondet's statement to Judge Berry, that Maurice supposedly found mountains of clothing and a pile of bodies. The most recent body, Nézondet reported, the one lying on top of the mound, Maurice had recognized as that of Yvan Dreyfus. In this case, at least, one must begin to doubt Nézondet. It seems unlikely that Maurice would have written to the Dreyfus family asking the whereabouts of someone he already knew to be dead. In addition, Maurice would have recognized Dreyfus with difficulty, since the two had never met.

Petiot suffered his eight months of prison stoically. He was allowed no visitors, no mail, no tobacco, no Red Cross packages, no newspapers, clean clothes, or soap, and was poorly fed and periodically interrogated. Cellmates would later testify that his courage and spirit were incredible. He spoke to them of his Resistance organization, which he called “Fly-Tox,” and indeed seemed to have intimate knowledge of Resistance operations. He had methods for smuggling messages out of the prison, and he gave his companions names of people to whom they might appeal for help in the event that they escaped. None had the chance, since they were all later sent to German labor camps, where some of them died. It was miraculous that Petiot was not shot for the evident sarcasm and loathing with which he invariably addressed the Germans, and his utter unwillingness to treat his jailors as anything but worthless enemies, even at great personal risk, was a source of amusement and inspiration to his fellow prisoners.

Finally the Germans decided to release him, but they demanded a large sum of money for his liberty. A woman Resistance member who was being questioned on charges of espionage in Jodkum's office while Petiot was there said Petiot acted proud and scornful to the German officer and said he didn't give a damn whether they released him or not—that he had terminal cancer and whatever they did to him could scarcely matter. Negotiations for his release were conducted through Maurice, who pretended his brother and he had less money than they actually did and gradually worked the release price down to F100,000.