All language subtitles for Murder.At.The.Cottage 01English

'The following programme
contains distressing scenes.'

My name is Jim Sheridan.

I'm a storyteller.

20 years ago,

this story caught hold of me

and it won't let me go.

I'm looking for a grave.

Sophie's grave.

She was born Sophie Bouniol.

She died Sophie Toscan du Plantier.

This is not the first grave
she was buried in.

She is buried here...

..but her spirit
lives on in Ireland.

Statement of Shirley Foster
at Toormore.

"I hereby declare
that this statement is true

to the best of my knowledge
and belief

and that I make it knowing
that if it is tendered in evidence

I will be liable to prosecution
if I state in it

anything which I know to be false
or do not believe to be true."

♪ Jingle Bell Rock

"On Monday morning,
I got up about 8:20am.

I put on the fires
and put on the breakfast.

At 10:00am, I decided to do shopping
and take the rubbish to the dump.

I passed down
by the back of Sophie's house

and down towards the gate.

Her car was parked beside the house.

The gate was open,
which I thought was very unusual.

At first, I saw something
on the left-hand side of the roadway

with something like
a piece of white material

caught on the wire of the gate.

As I drove by,
I could see it was a body."

"I was leaning on the horn to try
and draw out Alfie's attention

and I was screaming."

"I then came into the side gate
and back up home.

I told Alfie
and he rang the guards."

Here in these briars,
a young mother died.

In mid-winter, over that hill,

the sun rose at 8:35
to reveal her lifeless body.

A century ago, not far from here,
another event occurred.

Michael Collins, some would say
the violent creator of the State,

was murdered or assassinated
in the Mouth of Flower,

Beal na Blath.

But West Cork is now associated

with one murder,
that of Sophie Toscan du Plantier,

a guest of the nation,

who was brought back home
in a coffin.

It is a murder
that carries implications

for the meaning of justice
in Ireland and in France.

It's a story that pits
one legal system against another.

It is a story that shines a light
on domestic violence.

It is a story about primal fear,
about a devil in the hills,

about the existence of evil
among us.

She died here

in the brambles, in the briars,

and now those hills
call out for justice.

This place is very dear to us.

Everybody thinks
they kind of know everybody

and you know, you're on a peninsula.
It's like being on an island.

This is a place you'd go
because you loved quiet and peace.

I came to West Cork
in the early '70s.

When I came, it was the first time

people had started
coming back into Ireland.

You know,
everyone was emigrating and stuff

and when we came here,
it was like, you know, "God!"

Old cottages, ruins and stuff.
Nobody had ever wanted them before.

Suddenly,
somebody saw a value in this,

you know,
wanted to live in these places.

This is West Cork.

This is where the sun sets
in the Atlantic Ocean,

on the southwest tip of Ireland,

350 kilometres
from the capital city of Dublin.

The road from Cork City
goes through Bandon,

then on out to Ballydehob, Schull,

and then it meanders past
Toormore and ends in Crookhaven.

West Cork is home to bohemians,

to artists, to musicians...

to people who want
to escape city life...

..the rat race...

..escape themselves,
look for another life.

In the summer,
the rich people arrive -

from Dublin and from Cork.

And when winter comes,
the people who are left behind

are known as the blow-ins.

Because you've got the bad knee.

Billy, was this always
a village here?

Are these holiday homes?

How many of these people
would be blow-ins?

If you didn't reside in West Cork
before the famine of 1848,

the locals lovingly refer to you
as a blow-in,

like Sophie.

She used to come in the winter-time
every year for a good few years,

usually around Christmas.

Then I got to know her
each time she came.

What was Sophie like?
She was a lovely girl.
Quietly spoken.

Would you have spoke a few words
in French to her?

I would but I was trying
to learn a bit of French

and she preferred to speak English.

But she never spoke to anyone else,
I don't think.

And did she always come on her own?
Yeah, she came with a son,

I think.

The husband never came,
I don't think.

And she was there.

And she was sitting -

Sitting there
where the camera is now.

Every time, the same spot.
Yeah.

She stopped there
with her scone and tea and...

Yeah.
Yeah.

Lovely lady.

Statement of William J Byrne,
An Garda Siochana,

Ballydehob, County Cork.

"On Monday morning,
23rd of December, 1996,

I was on duty
in an official car E63.

At approximately 10:15am,
we received a radio message

stating that a body had been found
at Dunmanus West, Goleen.

We went to the scene immediately,
arriving there at 10:38am.

I saw the body of a female
lying in the side of the laneway

inside the gateway
which leads to three houses.

The body was badly mutilated
around the head area."

I had never met Sophie before.

Being a priest,
the guards informed me...

..and asked for me to go
to the scene and to say the prayers.

Yeah.

So...

And I had attended
a couple of murder scenes in London

but I just never saw
anything as brutal...

..and as shocking...and as...

horrific.

I was shocked.

There was a brick,
a concrete block, at her head

and obviously
it had crushed her skull...

..and her beautiful face, to me,
still was very, very clear.

In the name of the Father,
and of the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

So, I simply prayed.

Our Father, who art in Heaven,
hallowed by Thy name.

Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done,
on Earth as it is in Heaven...

The guards joined in on the prayers
as they were being said.

It was only the three of us
and there was nobody else around...

at that time.

Soon, there were a lot
of large policemen

milling around the place.

And not knowing what to do
because they were inexperienced

with anything of this
magnitude, you know?

As was not unusual,
shortly after one o'clock,

Eddie Cassidy of the Cork Examiner

telephoned Bandon Garda Station
to check in.

He was told
that Superintendent Twomey

had gone west past Schull

to investigate a suspicious death.

Afraid he might not make
the late editions,

Eddie immediately telephoned

the only reporter
he knew who lived close by.

The phone rang and Ian
answered it and it was Eddie Cassidy

and he said,
"There's been a body found.

It's in this area."

And Ian said,
"God, this is a story.

He wants me to go
and investigate it."

So, we wait for the one o'clock -

or the two o'clock news, I think
it was, it had gone one -

to hear if there was anything on it.

'Gardai,
as you heard in the headlines,

in County Cork are treating
as suspicious the death of a woman

whose body has been found near
Schull on the southern coast.

The woman, believed to have been in
her early 30s, had head injuries.'

"Tourist", it said,
"found dead near Schull."

At that stage,
we didn't know who it was.

Somebody came up to me
and said, "Somebody's been killed."

A woman's body
had been found on the road.

I don't think people
were saying that it was a murder.

People were saying
it was a hit and run.

But it was certainly suspicious.

But we had heard
it was a French person

and Ian...the only French person
he could think of

was actually next door to someone
who lived up in a very remote lane.

We didn't know
if it was right or wrong.

-Statement 72
-A
with Ian Bailey at The Prairie.

"It was a French national,
it was a lady,

I had knowledge that there was
a house there that was owned

and sometimes occupied
by a French lady.

I knew it was near Alf Lyons
and I'd seen the French lady there.

Jules took photographs
at my behest of the scene.

I went to get nearer to the scene
but I was prohibited by Gardai."

They said no, they couldn't
give him any information,

that something would be released
from their press-office later.

The Irish police,
known as the Gardai,

tried to contact the family...

..but the French press
beat them to it.

As the first report
spread to France,

of the death of an unidentified
woman in West Cork...

..Sophie's mother,
Marguerite Bouniol,

in her Paris apartment,

got an overwhelming
feeling of dread.

Sophie was a documentary film-maker

and mother to Pierre-Louis.

She worked for Unifrance,

the company that promoted
French cinema to the outside world.

It was here she met
her second husband,

Daniel Toscan du Plantier.

He produced the movies of Bergman,
Peter Greenaway,

Marcello Mastroianni
and Federico Fellini among others.

Difficile.

'The Gardai
investigating her murder

have pieced together
most of Sophie's movements

over the three days she spent
in Ireland from Friday the 20th

to Monday the 23rd of December.'

'The next day,
Sunday the 22nd of December,

Sophie drove out
to Three Castle Head, Barleycove,

a local scenic area, arriving there
at around one o'clock.'

So, we're walking...

I'm walking the last path...

..Sophie took.

At that time of the year,
which is this time of the year now,

midwinter, this land was private.

Says "No Entry, Three Castle Head".

Agh!

I don't think there's a human being
within a mile in any direction.

I don't ever think I've been in
as lonely a place.

God, that's some landscape,
isn't it?

This is Three Castle Head.

A stronghold since Norman times,
it's been here

for more than a thousand years...

..with a bloody history.

Mostly the lake is still...

..silent...

..and bottomless.

But on wintery days,

the force of the wind
coming in off the Atlantic Ocean

raises a froth on the lake
that can appear like The White Lady,

who is said to walk the lake.

And it's best not to see her...

cos if you do,
you won't see another day.

Seems just so odd to walk
all this distance on your own.

I'm here with the camera person
but I'd say on your own,

it's very isolated.
You could feel anything here. Look!

On the Sunday,
Sophie ran back to the Ungerers,

the nearest residents,

whom she knew from France,

and told them, in distress,
she'd seen The White Lady.

Statement of Yvonne Ungerer.

"While we were chatting,
Sophie told me

that while she was up
at the castles,

she felt this great anxiety,
almost fear.

This is not an uncommon feeling
for people who visit the castles.

She wasn't in a cheerful mood
but she wasn't really glum either.

She said she liked it here
but her husband didn't.

She said she would be back
at Easter."

And we might ask why in the hell

did she come
to such an isolated spot?

The last time I saw her
was the day before she died.

Did she seem disturbed to you or -
Not at all.

No, I saw no difference.
Now, I mean...

What would she be disturbed about?
I wouldn't know but...

There was nothing locally wrong
that she could be disturbed about.

It's just that Yvonne Ungerer said,
you know, up at Three Castle Head,

she said that she had some dread
and she saw The White Lady and...

I heard that too but she never
mentioned anything to me.

Nothing at all
out of the ordinary with her.

She drove down with her rented car,
parked up, came in,

had tea and scones.

I remember asking
would she come to our little party.

A soiree we have at Christmas
for the locals.

And she said, "Yeah, I'd love
to come," or something like that.

Or she'd come if she was here
or something.

And that was the last cup of tea
she ever had, poor divil.

That's the worst part of it.

To think the way she died, like.

Not that. Jesus, not that.

Sophie travelled home to Toormore.

She didn't return
to Billy's Christmas party.

And in Schull,

the celebrations that year
carried on without her.

The gate was closed,
the door was locked...

..and Sophie was in bed
when she said a sleepy goodnight

to her husband Daniel...

before the light went out.

In the collective mind,
she died a brutal, violent death.

No cries were heard,
no calls for help.

Two men said they heard
strange cries that night.

Probably foxes.

In the '90s,
we were regarded as the experts.

Local guards would not have had
any experience, most times,

of homicides.

We got the call early afternoon

on the day before Christmas Eve,
on the 23rd.

'She had bought the house
some years ago

and while she intended
to spend holidays there...'

We left, I think it was roughly
about 3:30

and we got down to Schull
at 10:00...10:00pm.

Took us seven hours cos we had to
drive through all Christmas traffic.

We went to the station in Schull
because we had no idea where it was.

Station was closed
and we didn't know what to do.

So, I went down to a local
phone box, I could see it.

Walked down the street
to make a 999 call

because we had
no mobile phones then.

And the phone box
had been vandalised.

I had to rewire the phone
to make a 3-9 call out.

I had to rewire the whole lot
and make a 3-9 call

to get somebody back from the scene.

That was normal at the time.

So, one came back in
and then brought us out.

We were amazed at how far
off the main road the scene was.

And there she was on the ground,
you know?

In the middle of countryside.

Dreadful.

It was as if all forces conspired

to protect the murderer of Sophie.

On the day Sophie died,

John Harbison was celebrating
his 63rd birthday.

Did I leave the file

on the brain case
that I did last night?

He was the Chief
State Pathologist for Ireland

and he called himself
"the dead man's doctor".

Now, rigor mortis
is a chemical phenomenon.

It's variable in its rate...

Professor Harbison
was a reluctant one-man band

who didn't have a deputy,
and that day of all days,

he couldn't be contacted
until after lunch.

At which point, it seemed to him,

there was little to be gained

by travelling the seven hours
to West Cork.

There's no doubt
that the longer a body's around,

the more difficult it becomes
to assess actual time of death.

You can be reasonably accurate
if the body is found quickly

in an ongoing temperature
but once a day passes,

you'll have variation
in the ambient temperature.

It was just above freezing point.

The body would have been
frozen solid, practically.

We decided that there was no point
in leaving the body in situ.

And I rang the local officer.

And I was more or less told
by the police officer

that he wanted
Dr Harbison down there

and that's what was happening.

It's a regulated force so I said,
"Yes, sir. Thank you. Goodnight."

The forensic team
left for the night.

A lone reporter from Dublin hung
around for some night-time shots.

And, watched over by two policemen,
Sophie was left in the lane.

That was one of the things
that angered every one of us.

To think that this poor girl
was left lying there...

..for so long.

It's not what we'd like to see
for any one of our own.

It's inexplicable
and it's unacceptable

that it could take 24 hours
for a state pathologist

to visit a murder scene.

If you cannot take
a body temperature,

then you cannot measure
when exactly the murder took place.

And obviously,
that information is vital

in terms of interviewing suspects

as to where they were
at particular times.

See, nobody has any experience
of a murder here.

We had no flying squad,
we had no special murder team.

So on Christmas Eve 1996,

24 hours after Shirley Foster
discovered the body,

Dr Harbison arrived

to perform the autopsy
on Sophie Toscan du Plantier.

How could such a thing happen?

And it's particularly
somebody that had trusted us

to come to us and find
a special place among us.

You know, evil is a strange thing.

It can't...co-exist with beauty.

It must destroy it.

'But, it's not yet clear
whether the killer

was foreign or local
or was known to the dead woman.

What is clear is the particularly
violent manner of the killing...'

The only topic of conversation that
Christmas in Schull was the murder.

Hello, Santy!

And the only thing
that took people's mind off it

for a few minutes
was the cold Atlantic sea.

There they go, 1996.

Ho-ho, Pat! There's a fine
West Cork man for you now!

Eoin O Balaigh! Eoin O Balaigh,
have you any words for the camera?

You're a man of many words.

I haven't.

What about a poem?

There he is, drinking brandy.

In the early hours,
grief is compounded by suspicion.

There were over 50 suspects,
including Sophie's family.

But they were quickly discounted.

After her next-door neighbour,
Shirley Foster, found the body,

her partner, Alfie,

went to check on it.

They had to be among the early
suspects as the police wondered

how they'd heard nothing
through the night.

Not a peep!

We heard no human voices at all.

And the windows would be closed
at night because it was December.

And, of course,
in the case of murder,

the first suspect
is always the husband.

So Daniel Toscan de Plantier became
an immediate person of interest.

Among the many people in France
that the Irish police

wished to speak to was an artist
by the name of Bruno Carbonnet.

He visited Toormore with Sophie

in 1993, the year Daniel
bought the house for her.

Statement of Bruno Carbonnet,
Jean Michel.

"Madam Toscan du Plantier
was for me an intimate friend

during the year 1992 and 1993.

In fact, I have known her
since the spring of 1992

when she was introduced to me
at a workshop

of the art centre
of the Ephemeral Hospital in Paris.

We afterwards became lovers.
We went to Goleen

in Ireland together,

to the small house where I stayed,
helped her to set up herself.

Our affair was secret and discreet

and I think that Monsieur
Toscan du Plantier knew of it.

My affair with Sophie
finished in Christmas 1993,

a date on which she finished it
without any warning.

This end was very difficult for me.

What always happens then
is people speculate.

Rumours.

Rumours...by the dozens.

One of the conspiracy theories
out there, of course,

is that it was a guard.

I did feel as though
it had something to do with France.

We always thought maybe,
you know, Mr du Plantier

didn't want to pay a third alimony
and he was having...

It's full of bloody rumours.

This afternoon,
detectives from the National Bureau

of Criminal Investigation
arrived at the station in Bandon.

They're assisting local Gardai

led by Chief Superintendent
Dermot Dwyer.

'Sophie Toscan du Plantier

was a glamorous
and beautiful French woman.'

'..her death turned international
media focus on West Cork.'

There were a lot of rumours

and some of them would've been borne
out by some of the media coverage.

The consensus seemed to be

that there had to be some kind
of an overseas link to this.

Bruno Carbonnet
was a person of interest

on the basis that he had been
having an affair with Sophie

in the early stages of her marriage
with Daniel Toscan du Plantier.

And what was unusual,
from a Garda point of view,

was that Bruno Carbonnet
had accompanied Sophie

to the house at Toormore.
So, at their behest,

Mr Carbonnet made a statement
to the gendarmes

which was then passed to the Gardai.

And on the basis of that,
he had a watertight alibi.

He was attending an arts event

in the south of France,
I think it was,

on December the 21st,
22nd, and 23rd.

And the Gardai eliminated him
from their enquiries.

Daniel had a watertight alibi
as he was just outside Toulouse

in rural France,
a thousand miles away,

at the time of the murder.

'While Gardai
would not say officially

whether they believe the killer
to be local or non-national,

it appears that privately
they are thinking increasingly

that the killer may be a local.

Oh, we had a dreadful job
finding it.

I mean, we were driving
through narrow country roads,

we were going astray...

This place was so remote,
I was sure

the murdered woman
must have known her killer.

I mean, this didn't appear
to be a random killing.

It certainly wasn't a gang
of thieves or an individual burglar.

So Christmas happened then.
All the people in the area

were being visited by the guards.

Being questioned,
given the questionnaire to fill out.

It was really strange because

you felt really guilty with them.

This attitude they had was as if
we had something to do with it.

They just wanted to know,
as locals, did we know Sophie?

Did we have any contact with her?

And we knew nothing about her.

Um, nothing at all.

Well, I was the crime correspondent
for the Irish Daily Star

at that time,

and the first instruction I got
from the news desk

was to please go down to West Cork
and look further into this murder.

So myself and a photographer, Julie,
set out on this very long drive

and we'd been told to meet
the local stringer,

the local correspondent, at
a crossroads just outside of Schull.

We got out to the junction
and I saw this huge, hulking figure

dressed in a dark Crombie.

I got in the back to allow this
huge frame into the passenger seat.

I asked for a "fill",
which is journalistic language

for "please fill me in
on everything you know".

And I was expecting to get
only maybe half a page of details

but instead I got the best fill
of my professional career

before or since.
This man was extraordinary.

He was giving me
purple passages of prose

that I was feverishly writing down,
turning over pages of my notebook.

And I filled page after page
with his detail.

It was about lights being seen going
on and off at particular times,

two wine glasses
turned up on the draining board.

The body had been dressed
in a nightie,

one boot half off, that boot
only being partially laced.

And naturally, you know, I assumed
that he had the most spectacular
Garda contacts and sources

who provided
up-to-the-minute information

on the progress they were making.

We eventually arrived there
at the murder scene in Goleen

and it was still surrounded

with some officers
who were preserving the scene
and no doubt could see us.

And I turned to him as if to say,

"Right, Ian, let's go down
and you can do the introductions."

I said, "Come on."

But instead, Ian Bailey riled back
and said, "Oh, no, no, no.

You're on your own now.
I've given you everything I can."

I had to go down on my own.

Course I met bristling
resistance straightaway.

"Oh, no. You'll have to talk
to Garda Press Office.

We're not allowed to say anything.
Could you stand back there, sir."

All my efforts were futile
and I felt as if I was,

you know, was like a small child

compared to Ian Bailey with his
masterful command of this crime.

Sin sin.
Sin sin.

Go raibh mile maith agat, Eoin.
Happy Christmas.

Just going through
Bailey's press clippings,

the ones he actually wrote

as Eoin Bailey mostly.

Liked being Irish.

And they're within, like,
days of the murder.

"Tangled love. New mystery."

December the 28th.

"Sophie was in her night clothes

when she ran from her luxury
holiday home Sunday night.

As she ran from him in the dark,
she appears to have tripped."

Dunno where he got that.

"Glasses clue to the killer.

A bed hadn't been slept in

and two empty wine glasses
were in the kitchen."

Evening Echo, Eoin Bailey.
Sunday Tribune, The Star.

He was all over this case.

Sophie died
on Monday 23rd of December.

Tuesday was Christmas Eve.

Christmas Day was Wednesday...

..and on Thursday,
the 26th of December,

an article in The Star newspaper
aroused suspicion.

"A post-mortem examination

showed she died
from multiple head injuries

but was not sexually assaulted."

He should not have known that.

It wasn't available to the public.

Certainly not on Thursday
the 26th of December.

And the police wondered,

"How do you know that, Mr Bailey?"

The guards were interested

in what Ian Bailey knew
and when he knew it

and why he had gone
to the scene at Toormore.

You'd need some balls
to kill somebody

and go back a few hours later

and be a reporter on it
and then start writing articles.

Well, that was a known trait...
of...people that commit crimes.

People who kill come back

to re-live the experience
and the excitement

or to monitor
what the Gardai are doing.

That's what you do.
You get close,

you watch, and you see.

Advice to any Gardai
at a scene of a crime...

is there somebody
with a considerable interest
in what's going on?

When a reporter
seems to know too much,

when the man covering the story
becomes the story...

..you know things
are gonna get complicated.

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