A former employment lawyer, Sigolène Vinson became legal affairs columnist for the satirical publication Charlie Hebdo in 2012. Three years later, on January 7th 2015, she came face-to-face with Chérif Kouachi, one of the men who carried out the murderous attack on the weekly publication, only to be spared by him. Since then, she has been rebuilding her life in a fisherman’s house by the edge of the Étang de Berre saltwater lagoon west of Marseille in the south of France, where she writes novels and serves as a municipal councillor in the town of Martigues.
Sigolène Vinson attended the two trials related to the January 2015 attacks, both at first instance and on appeal, as well as the trial of Peter Cherif, who was sentenced to life imprisonment for his role in preparing the Charlie Hebdo massacre, which was perpetrated by Chérif Kouachi and his brother Saïd. In the lead-up to the tenth anniversary, she talked to Mediapart's Matthieu Suc about how she has coped with the aftermath of the massacre.
Mediapart: How are you approaching this tenth anniversary and the commemorations that will mark it?
Sigolène Vinson: Until now, I've only attended one commemoration, in 2017, because this is usually a date when I prefer to keep my distance from it all. I feel almost a physical reaction to January 7th. So, the further I keep away from Rue Nicolas-Appert [editor's note Charlie Hebdo's Paris address at the time of the attack], the better I feel. But this time, I think it’s important. It’s a milestone to get through. And these commemorations were important to Simon [editor's note, Simon Fieschi, the webmaster seriously wounded during the attack, who died on October 17th 2024]. I feel I have to be there, for others and for myself. To make my voice heard because - how can I put it? - I want what was said during the trials to resonate more broadly within society.
Mediapart: What do you mean?
S.V.: I want people to understand that nothing is simple, that it’s not all black or white, and that there will always be grey areas - in our feelings, in our emotions.
Mediapart: During the trial of Peter Cherif, who was convicted for his organisational support of the Kouachi brothers, Simon Fieschi criticised the “Yes, but…” narrative often directed at victims of attacks, whether it’s members of Charlie Hebdo or murdered teachers such as Samuel Paty and Dominique Bernard. Is that what you're referring to?
S.V.: Not exactly, but it’s clear that there can be no equivocating about what happened. You don’t gun down a cartoonist because they drew a cartoon. You don’t gun down a journalist because they wrote an article. You don’t gun down a novelist because they wrote a book. I don’t see how one can debate that.
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Mediapart: A few days after the attack, you told Le Monde in relation to Chérif Kouachi, who spared your life: “I looked at him. He had large black eyes, a very gentle expression.” During the first trial, you said you were “truly sorry for believing he was gentle”.
S.V.: In fact, I don’t apologise for having said that. That was the feeling I had at that moment. He was trying to calm me down. He must have seen the terror in my eyes. At the same time, during the last trial, I watched the CCTV footage - he didn’t seem particularly gentle then… But I have to hold on to that idea. That’s how I… well... it couldn’t have been a miracle that he didn’t kill me. I have to believe it was because of a trace of humanity in him.
Mediapart: Ten years on, are memories of January 7th fading, or are they still vivid?
S.V.: No, they're very vivid. I can even remember what I ate on the evening of January 6th.
Mediapart: Why January 6th?
S.V.: Because it was the day before everything changed. On January 6th, the terrorists were getting prepared.
Mediapart: What images come back to you now when you think of January 7th?
S.V.: The crash of the door behind me when the terrorists entered. And Charb’s [editor's note, the publication's editor Stéphane Charbonnier] final look. He looked at me; I looked at him. We had heard the shots fired at Simon [editor's note, the webmaster’s desk was at the entrance; he was the first to be hit]. We both understood at that moment what was happening.
Mediapart: You were present throughout all three trials, each spanning several months. Why was it important to attend them all?
S.V.: I wanted to be with the others, to hear the other victims. I also really wanted to understand why and who. Their motivations, what drove them to do this. I felt it was helpful to be present every day to ensure I missed nothing because even the smallest detail could help me find the understanding I was seeking.
Mediapart: During the last trial, the victims’ testimonies at the stand seemed more composed, less raw than during the 2020 trial when emotions were so heightened. Do you think one becomes accustomed to recounting an attack, or is that just an illusion?
S.V.: It’s true; we were calmer, and our statements were more structured. In 2020, it was our first time speaking out - we had to testify about what we had seen and lived through. To help the judges, and society as a whole, grasp what an attack was really like. This time, everyone testified differently from the previous trials.
Perhaps it’s because ten years have passed, or perhaps we’ve found some peace. But it’s also because, in a criminal trial, it’s important for the civil party [editor's note, the victims] to be heard by the accused. When you testify before the court, you do so for those sitting behind you in the courtroom, but also because you hope to provoke something in the accused. So you need to tailor what you say to the person from whom you’re seeking even a semblance of an explanation.
Mediapart: What did you take away from these three trials in the end?
S.V.: That a trial is hard. When I was a lawyer, I didn’t realise that. It’s like a re-enactment of the attack. Of course, it’s not as devastating or traumatic, but it contributes to it. In my life, there are four “extraordinary” moments: the attack and the three trials. They trigger a flood of emotions and contradictory feelings. You’re confronted with the other side. The trial of Peter Cherif was particularly difficult for me.
In the first two trials, when it was the first time that victims were speaking out and we were uncovering all the suffering caused by these attacks, there were occasional moments of lightness. We even had some bizarre incidents, like one of the accused sleeping in the dock. There was a sense we could turn it into farce.
In contrast, the trial of Peter Cherif was extremely hard for me. It felt like a lead weight. The accused, with his rigid asceticism, was harsh. I could understand his silences, but they were tough to take. Even his testimony in 2020 had chilled me. He frightened me.
Mediapart: Perhaps because Peter Cherif brings us closer to the core of the terrorist cell that orchestrated the massacre…
S.V.: Yes, certainly. In any case, it was incredibly difficult for me.
Mediapart: You tried to get a reaction from him by mentioning an extraordinary anecdote: you were on holiday in Djibouti - where you had spent your childhood - in December 2018, at the same time Peter Cherif was arrested. And you ended up returning to France on the same plane…
S.V.: That story is like the fantastical entering into reality. I thought perhaps it might get through to him. He did react a little, to the extent that he said to me: “I’m going to confide in you. I’ve been preparing for this trial since I was 20 years old. I always imagined I'd have to speak in court.” That was when he spoke to me about destiny. I had an answer. I had set myself the goal of getting him to give us something.
Mediapart: Some hope that these trials have a restorative value. Was that your experience?
S.V.: No, I knew it was a necessary step, something we had to go through, and I wanted to be there with my friends. But it wasn’t going to heal me.
Mediapart: So what does help you heal?
S.V.: For me, it’s the sun, the sea, and the silence. It's hours of being alone.
Mediapart: Your two main activities - writing and spending time by the sea - are both things that isolate…
S.V.: Yes, I really love solitude. Writing and those hours on the Étang de Berre, that’s truly what helps me heal. And then there’s my political involvement. That doesn’t heal much [she laughs], but it has allowed me to address environmental issues. After the attack, I really thought I was going to cut myself off from my contemporaries. But in the end, you can’t live without others. What I do isn’t like Coco’s or Riss’s [editor's note, the pen names of Charlie Hebdo cartoonists Corinne Rey and Laurent Sourisseau] commitment to secularism or freedom of expression. Mine is a local commitment, but it’s still political commitment in the name of the public good.
Medipart: The trial of Peter Cherif, Simon’s death, the tenth anniversary of the attack…
S.V. [interrupting] ... Simon’s death was very difficult. Perhaps even more so than after the attack. Strangely, the feeling of being shattered, of thinking I couldn’t get over it, that came when I learned of his death. I spent hours by the Étang, stunned, telling myself: “This is too much. This is insurmountable.”
Mediapart... The trial of Peter Cherif, the tenth anniversary of the attack - does this mark the end of the story?
S.V.: I don’t know. I’m going to have to ask myself that question, but not yet. For now, I’m living one day at a time.
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- The original French version of this interview can be found here.
English version by Michael Streeter