The soldiers were tense, waiting for something to happen - like it was a matter of when, not if. For our part, we did out best to steer clear of them, avoiding the main square, where a group of protesters stood with their signs, shouting their disapproval of what was about to happen. We came to watch. Not in support, not in opposition. Perhaps that makes us worse. To those on the left a miscarriage of justice was about to unfold. To those on the right, the head that was about to roll, symbolized a society where capital punishment ensued order. We weren't there because we wanted to see someone receive comeuppance. We weren't there taking a stance of disapproval. We were there because we wanted to see the guillotine in action. We were a group of teenagers studying abroad from a country where such a practice of public execution was antiquated by even our great grandparents. History, we read about it in America. Here & now, we were experiencing it.
At first I thought the soldiers were there to make sure that the process carried through without interruption. As if their may be a threat that one of the protesters may try & save the woman about to be executed. Yet the longer we stood their, the longer I realized that wasn't likely to happen. No one on the left seemed eager to approach the louisette. While you could sense their passion & outright feel their anger, you could also tell they accepted the fate. The real reason the soldiers were there was to prevent a physical confrontation between the supporters & the protesters.
I was only 19 at the time. Sarah had convinced me to spend my second semester of sophomore year overseas. Then she convinced me to get drunk on what she referred to as the only real wine we'd ever have in our lives. My excuse in the States was always one of legalities. I can't say she respected my obedience of American law, but she at least allowed me to follow it. Here, once the glass was poured, the only place she'd allow it to go was down my gullet.
"If you're going to write about life." She said to me. "Then you're going to experience it."
And in essence that's how we ended up downtown, with about three hundred other people at the execution of a woman named Blaise Dubois.
I had no idea who Dubois was. Neither did Sarah. Neither did Emily or Kristine. The only reason we even knew her name at all was because of it was plastered all over the signs of the protesters. Some always allow their politics to prerequisite their reaction. I suppose overall I disfavor the death penalty but I felt without exposition I had no right to tell anyone, regardless of where they stood, how to feel. Sarah a staunch liberal had no quarrel with telling anyone how she felt. She'd have burnt all the nooses, short circuited all the chairs, melted all the bullets & broken all the needles had you let her. In her eyes no one deserved to die at the hands of another. To be punished, most certainly but never by death. Emily on the other hand supported the death penalty but I don't know if it had as much to do with her political background as it did her religious. To some I guess, they're one in the same. She supported Nixon & she supported Ford. She voted against Carter. To Emily no punishment on earth could ever compare to that of which God could hand out. Rapists, murderers, pedophiles, Hell was their only suitable destination & it was only Biblical of us to use the death penalty to help send them there. A proper Calvinistic upbringing I guess.
If it wasn't for the fact that Sarah and Emily enjoyed debate so much, I doubt they'd be acquaintances. I have never understood guys that like to bloody one another's faces for the fun of it in a competitive event like boxing. Two grown men with stand their and exchange punches, causing one another all sorts of pain & head trauma. Then the bell will sound, they'll embrace one another & tell each other how much they respect one another. A few months later, they'll do it again.
I think Sarah & Emily sometimes felt like hitting one another, but they had more fun tearing each other apart verbally during debate. The two met in Speech class where they often went head to head on all of the issues. Friends, I dare not call the two. It was more like each itched for a confrontation on a daily basis. Both out to challenge & change the views of others, neither out to challenge or change their own. I knew a day would come when both realized that they were and they wouldn't get anywhere with one another. It took a lot longer than I thought it would but I suppose there comes a day for everyone when you no longer want to argue. Had either opened up their ears as often as they opened up their mouths, they might have each learned something. I guess they were always too busy teaching to have ever done that.
Kristine, I didn't know how she felt about all of this. If anything, I think she was just scared. The two groups yelled obscenities at one another & they kept inching closer together. We were far enough away to where it wasn't likely we were going to get caught up in anything if physical violence did break out, but I could understand her concern. I had taken foreign language since high school, so I understood a few of the words being exchanged, but not all of them. The four letter ones aren't usually taught in 101 classes.
A hooded man appeared as two other men grabbed Blaise Dubois by each arm and led her up the stairs. She was terrified as would be anyone, yet she walked on her own effort. She did not have to be dragged. I hated that I knew nothing of her or why she had been sentenced to death by the guillotine. I hated it even more that it was so important to me. I couldn't feel sorry for someone that I felt deserved what they had coming to them. Then as I am today, I'm more in favor of life imprisonment, but I'm not going to feel the same about an innocent person being executed as I am a guilty one. At that, my feelings were going to very on a variety of variables. What had she done? Why had she done it? I couldn't assign myself to any emotion.
Dubois' head was placed. A man came in front of the crowd & asked for silence. Both sides, the soldiers and us compiled. A woman came holding a scroll. She unfolded it and began to read it. I made out more words than I did during the yelling I had heard moments prior, but I still didn't understand all of it. As she read, Dubois began to sob, & that's when it happened.
A man on the right began to laugh. He had yelled profanities & made hand gestures towards the protesters for the last thirty minutes, but it was his mocking laugh that lit the fuse. A man on the left screamed at him & began to run after him. Everyone began shouting as Sarah yelled at the three of us to go.
We took off in the opposite direction as I stopped for a moment to turn & look back at the guillotine. At that moment the blade began to come down. I turned my head before it made contact with Dubois' throat. I never turned to look back again as I kept walking towards where we were staying at.
When we got back, we talked about our feelings on the subject of execution, but not about the actual execution itself. To this day I have no idea what the other three saw. If they saw as much as me, more than me or less than me. Sarah said she saw in the paper a few days later that no one was seriously hurt, although a few punches and kicks had been thrown. Even fewer had landed.
A few nights later we were back to experiencing the culture through wine & theatre. We continued to study & two weeks later we were on a plane back to the States.
I transferred colleges the next semester & I never saw any of them again. I heard Sarah got into making documentaries but did a lot of behind the camera work in which she was never credited. Emily got involved in politics & now lives in Mississippi. I don't know what became of Kristine.
It's been almost 50 years since that night & I still don't know who Blaise Dubois was or why she was executed. It'd be nothing more than a couple hours research but I've never been able to bring myself to do it. I don't know why but it's something I've always felt more comfortable not knowing. I worked as an investigative reporter from the time I graduated until two years ago when I retired. It didn't matter what it was. When I sought out to find out the answer, I did. No matter how difficult it got, I always found a way to find out. I think I kept my spunk and my spirit alive by never satisfying my curiosity by looking up Dubois. Now that I'm retired, I suppose maybe now is as good of a time as is any. Been thinking that for the past two years. Still haven't looked it up.
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