A year after the disappearance of Delphine Jubillar, a “white march” organized on Sunday brought together several hundred people in the town of Tarn where she lived.
Judging by the license plates, in the makeshift parking lot next to the village hall and the football and rugby fields, some have come from afar. One year after the disappearance of Delphine Jubillar on the night of December 15 to 16, 2020 in Cagnac-les-Mines, a “white march” was organized this Sunday by the friends of the nurse in this Tarn town of 2,500 inhabitants, where several hundred people gathered under the gaze of the gendarmes.
“What happened to you could have happened to us”
It was at the exit of the village, at the edge of a bucolic fishing lake where Delphine liked to walk with her two children, that Emy, Amélie, Hélène and Lolita had made an appointment with all those following with passion the survey that has been in the media for a year already. “Delphine, Louis, Elyah, we love you”, proclaims a large banner claiming “Justice and truth”, unrolled in front of the crowd that begins to look alike. The atmosphere is meditation, the gathering hesitates between false secular funerals and feminist demonstration when the improvised sound system broadcasts a slam of Grand Corps Malade pointing “The male sex”.
“What happened to you could have happened to us”, said one of Delphine’s relatives at the microphone, trembling with emotion but firmly evoking “All these women in a relationship who are afraid”. In the minds of the four faithful friends of the deceased, there is little doubt about the culprit. Very active on social networks, they do not only speak of the “Jubillar affair” but evoke the memory of Delphine Aussaguel, as if the couple’s divorce had been pronounced.
“Whoever did that must speak”
After having moved heaven and earth to try to find the nurse at the Claude-Bernard clinic in Albi by organizing multiple beatings on the sidelines of the official investigation entrusted to two Toulouse examining magistrates, the four friends now have access to the file through their lawyer. The Toulouse Court of Appeal ended up accepting, in November, the request for the constitution of civil party of Lolita, cousin of Delphine, but not of the three other women, explains Me Philippe Pressecq. The lawyer, registered with the Albi bar, was part of the flow of walkers who headed, after the ceremony, to the housing estate where the Jubillar couple resided, at the other end of the town.
The procession grew stronger as the kilometers went by following the “green way” under the sun, drawn between town and countryside. Upon arrival, a pile of flowers, candles and votive offerings were placed in front of the unfinished brick house. The couple’s name is not on the mailbox, but there is a large photo of the nurse with this message: “Help us find Delphine”. His cousin and his family improvise a press conference for the attention of the many media who made the trip to Cagnac. “Whoever did that must speak”, Lolita already said at the start of the gathering, while white ribbons were distributed around.
“It’s been too long, things have to move”, abounds Isabelle, 49 years old, coming from the working-class city of Saint-Juéry, in the suburbs of Albi, with a photo of the nurse recovered on the Internet. She can’t come to terms with her grief and still hopes “good news”, but declares “Unhappy” while the procession disperses calmly. No one really wants to continue on the Chemin de Drignac, which passes in front of the subdivision, to see the burnt barn where the body of the nurse would have been hidden, according to improbable statements by Cédric Jubillar at the remand center de Seysses, collected by a fellow prisoner and revealed this week by the press. On the small road that leads to the farm, a woman indifferent to the white walk walks her dogs. Cut off by works, the path is temporarily a dead end, without gendarmes or onlookers.