At the trial of the November 13 attacks, two police officers recount the intervention of the police at the Bataclan

An unmarked police car crisscrossed the north of Paris, constantly changing direction. Stade de France, rue de la Fontaine-au-Roi, boulevard Voltaire… On the radio waves saturated with messages, the confusion is total. In half an hour, eight attacks were reported in different parts of the capital. Commissioner C., of the Paris night anti-crime brigade (BAC), rushes into the city with his teammate. “I will try to collect my memories and find the right words to tell this evening of November 13, 2015”, he said.

This policeman, the first to enter the Bataclan, recounted, Wednesday, September 22, at the trial of the November 13 attacks, how his intervention enabled the first terrorist to be killed at 9:57 p.m., just ten minutes after the start of the terrorist attack. massacre. The second witness who succeeded him at the bar is also a police officer: Christophe Molmy headed the search and intervention brigade (BRI) which launched the assault on the last two hostage takers, at 12:18 am. story traces the two hours and twenty-five minutes that elapsed between the first and the last shot by the police. An ordeal crossed by decisions that cost lives or save men.

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It is a little after 9:30 p.m. Commissioner C. is on his way to the Stade de France, in Saint-Denis, when he hears that a shooting has taken place rue de la Fontaine-au-Roi, in the 11e district of Paris. He asks his teammate to stop. “I made the decision, the first of this evening, to come back to Paris. “

A new call on the airwaves soon reported shooting at the Bataclan. The car sets off on Boulevard Voltaire and right in front of the concert hall. Shots ring out. Bodies lie on the road. “I was like, ‘This is it, here we are.’ Since January, we knew that another attack was going to occur, the question was when and where. “

“The reaction was immediate”

In front of the entrance, a first vision, Dantesque, jumps in their face: “The swinging doors opened suddenly. A compact mass of about thirty people came towards us screaming. In my memory, this mass has a face and a voice: the face is that of a light brown woman in which one reads terror; the voice is that of a man who says to me: “Hurry, there is my wife inside.” ” The commissioner has time to see the silhouette of a man with long hair, armed with an assault rifle, and the door closes.

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