Comment

France asks how suspected sex offender remained free before child's murder

The case of 11-year-old Lyhanna is becoming a watershed moment

Protester in Paris holds a purple sign reading 'Pas d'excuse pour les prédateurs' at a demonstration.
Protesters at a rally against sexual violence in Paris in June
Published

The murder of a little girl identified only as Lyhanna has turned into a landmark case in France.

People are asking how the man accused of killing the 11-year-old was still at liberty, and allowed near young children, despite facing repeated allegations of sexual misconduct involving minors.

President Emmanuel Macron himself has already stated that there was an “unacceptable malfunction” in legal procedures, adding: “We cannot look Lyhanna’s family in the face and say this was properly handled.”

It is highly unusual for senior politicians to comment in such detail on an active criminal case because of France's strong tradition of judicial independence.

This is especially so because Jérôme Barella, the 41-year-old married father who faces a possible life sentence if convicted, denies any wrongdoing, and is of course entitled to a fair trial.

Nonetheless, the evidence linking Barella with previous abuse against minors was so strong that protests have been held across the country.

Demonstrators are calling for the resignation of ministers, as well as judges and prosecutors.

Lack of action

A storm has erupted on social media. In short, the country is finally waking up to systematic problems that assist known violent offenders in their vile activities.

Barella, a school maintenance worker, is said to have invited friends of his own daughter to sleepovers at the family home in Fleurance (Gers).

It is alleged that he groomed youngsters, before luring them into his car, and then attacking them.

In Lyhanna’s case, her remains were found in a disused grain silo close to her home, and had to be identified by DNA.

Crucially, Barella had been named in at least four separate cases, but little action was taken against him, for bureaucratic reasons.

This redirects outrage toward the civil servants who are supposed to implement law and order policies.

Many protestors feel that Barella should have been taken into custody years ago. If lawyers had known about his background, there would have been compelling reasons to place him on remand before a trial.

At the very least, he should have been on a watch list and monitored closely. Instead, information relating to previous allegations was not widely shared between authorities.

Out of date technology

Barella was not even on the key database that contains the names of individuals involved in sexual offences, from murder and rape to indecent exposure. Only those with criminal convictions are named; those under suspicion are not.

In the past, information about dubious individuals in France was kept in old-fashioned paper files in police stations and gendarmeries, but new data protection rules changed all this in 2000.

Now, so-called Cassiopée software is meant to automatically process judicial procedures across the country, but it is notoriously unreliable and prone to malfunctions. 

And with so many convicted felons listed, dealing with them all within France’s infamously slow criminal justice system is an enormous task.

In this sense, the massive growth in the state in recent years has not been matched with the technology needed to run it properly.

Very strong privacy laws and deferential mainstream media outlets have sometimes inadvertently assisted the worst type of lawbreakers too.

The reaction to the Lyhanna case at least shows that change is underway.

Relatively new means of communication, and especially citizen journalism, are being used to highlight concerns, and to pressure authorities to act upon them.

This is why so many people – from President Macron to family and friends of Lyhanna – are expressing frustration with the existing system, and pleading for reform that cannot come soon enough.