Olivier Cappelaere was sentenced by the Assize Court of the Alpes-Maritimes on Friday to life imprisonment for the poisoning assassination of Jacqueline Imbert, 92. He is already serving a twenty-five-year sentence for trying to poison Suzanne Bailly, 89 years old.
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“I’m here, I’m here …” The same calm voice exchange with a Samu operator. “She is hot, half-conscientious. I can’t understand what she says …” Jacqueline’s breathing gets carried away.
“She has her eyes open?
– No, half closed. She has groans … she is comatuse …
– I’m going to ask you a slightly steep question, but … at 92 … Do I send a liberal doctor, if it’s the end? Or an ambulance, to transport it to the hospital?
– Hospital is not what she wants … “
The operator seems to hesitate. “This is not what she wants,” repeats the voice of man. He whispers again: “I’m here. I’m here …” The doctor arrives, examines the patient in respiratory distress and recalls the Samu.
“It must be transported in an emergency.
– His nephew says that there are directives … observes the operator.
– There is still an indication to hospitalize it. We may save her, “insists the doctor.
The old lady died two days later without having regained consciousness.
Jacqueline Imbert had had a good life, with Emile, her husband whom everyone called Milou. They were traders, had not had any children, but at least they had been able to take advantage of their retirement, had traveled a lot before Milou’s disease. And finally, Jacqueline had a good death. She didn’t really have time to see her arrive. The 1 er November 2014, she was still in great shape. She had spent a amazing day with her little niece and her nephew. They had come to get her at home, in her canet apartment (Alpes-Maritimes), to take her to flower the graves of the family and meditate on that of her milu, who died five years earlier. Then they went to lunch at the restaurant, Jacqueline had eaten good appetite. In the afternoon, they walked by car to Théoule-sur-Mer. Her niece, Marie-Martine, had accompanied her at her house, helped her to put herself in night and closed the door. Jacqueline was happy, just a little tired.
godson “of heart”
His last conscious image was also beautiful. This face leaning over her was that of her godson “at heart”, her favorite. Olivier was so kind to her, since Milou was no longer there. Not a morning without her finding in his mailbox a little word that he had left for him, with drawings of hearts and flowers. “I will always be there for you, the day, like night.” Jacqueline was full, words like that, she was pinning them on a painting in the kitchen. Twice a week, they had lunch or dined together. Her cleaning lady teased her when she saw her so dressed to welcome Olivier. But Jacqueline had always been flirtatious, elegant, she had kept this taste of her beginnings as a saleswoman in chic boutiques of the French Riviera, then in Paris, in a fabric house. She loved the Hermès scarves, the Burberry coats and was flavored to Jicky, by Guerlain.
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