Death of a Princess Read online

  “I didn’t personally know Henri Paul,” he says, “but some colleagues who did told me, ‘He’s not in his normal state. He’s been drinking.’ He seemed euphoric. He was teasing us, grinning and acting the smart alec.” According to some of the photographers, Paul had taunted them by saying, “You won’t catch us tonight. Don’t even try.”

  It was a pleasant summer night, clear and 77 degrees, and the journalists waited patiently for the couple to make their move. Langevin recounts that he had parked his metallic gray VW Golf in the Rue Cambon and stood vigil behind the hotel along with several other journalists. Among them were Serge Benhamou, 44, Fabrice Chassery, 30, and Alain Guizard, 30, a writer from the Angeli agency.

  “We were standing on a sidewalk in the Rue Cambon,” says Langevin, “a bit up the street because repair work was blocking the area just in front of the exit. Henri Paul came out and waved at me. He strutted around like a star. It was not necessarily a drunkard’s behavior, he was just hamming it up.”

  Inside the hotel, Dodi and Diana were just making their way down the long, richly carpeted corridor from the second floor Imperial Suite, where they had dined, to the rear staircase. When the couple arrived at the back service exit, located at 36 Rue Cambon, they waited a few moments while Paul and Dodi discussed the final details of the plan.

  At 12:19, a Ritz employee drove the Mercedes S280 up to the door. “Henri Paul came out,” says Langevin, “then another guy came out and made us a thumbs-up sign as if to say, ‘They’re coming.’ Then a bodyguard [Rees-Jones] emerged. Diana came out before Dodi and entered the car first. I took several pictures of her, then a few of the car from three meters away with a telephoto lens. The car pulled away rapidly.”

  According to the Ritz security cameras, the time was precisely 12:20. Langevin did not give chase. His car was parked 30 meters away, and he decided to call it a night. But others were determined not to let their prey escape so easily.

  Benhamou started up his green Honda Lada scooter and followed the Mercedes as it headed down the Rue Cambon towards the Rue de Rivoli and turned right. Alerted to the departure via their portable phones, other photographers in front of the hotel began to scramble for their vehicles. Romuald Rat, 24, of the Gamma Agency hopped on his Honda NTV 650 behind his driver, Stéphane Darmon, 32, roared down the Rue de Castiglione one block to the Rue de Rivoli, and made the obligatory right turn.

  They caught up with the Mercedes in the Place de la Concorde, a vast open expanse whose central Egyptian obelisk, brilliantly lit at night, is one of Paris’ best-known landmarks. The limousine had stopped for a red light at the corner of the Rue Royale, near the Hotel Crillon. Rat and Darmon were not alone. Serge Arnal, 35, from the Stills agency, was at the wheel of his black Fiat Uno; at his side sat the Angeli agency’s Christian Martinez, 41, one of the toughest and most dogged paparazzi in the business. Benhamou was just behind the Mercedes’ left fender, revving his Honda and waiting for the light to change. Other vehicles had also joined the convoy.

  According to one of the pursuers, Paul took off just before the light changed, catching the photographers off guard. He passed up the Champs-Elysées, the most direct route back to Dodi’s apartment near the Arc de Triomphe, and headed towards the westbound riverfront express road known at that point as the Cours la Reine. Without stopping, he swung onto the expressway and floored the accelerator.

  “The car was going faster and faster,” says one of the photographers following the Mercedes on a motor scooter. “We said to ourselves the driver was going really too fast. We couldn’t follow him anymore. One thing is clear: it was not normal the way he was driving. I never saw anyone take off like that. He drove like a gangster. Unbelievable!” Gamma motorcycle driver Darmon, himself no stranger to quick accelerations, described Paul’s takeoff as “almost supersonic.”

  The Mercedes steadily picked up speed on the 1.2 kilometer straightaway leading to the Alma tunnel. The photographers claim that they were left far behind the car, at a distance of at least 200 meters. Other witnesses, however, described seeing motorcycles much closer. Brian Anderson, a California businessman, told CBS News that he was riding in a taxi along the express road when he was passed by a black Mercedes closely tailed by two motorcycles. The first one, mounted by two people, seemed headed “in a direction to get in front of the car,” said Anderson. “I felt that the one motorcycle, certainly without hesitation and any doubt whatsoever, was driving aggressively and dangerously.”

  Other witnesses later interviewed by police also spoke of motorcycles tagging close behind—and of the dangerous speed of the Mercedes. Thierry H., 49, a Paris-based engineering consultant, reported that he had been driving in the right lane of the express road near the Alexander III bridge, some 800 meters before the Alma tunnel, when he was “passed by a vehicle moving at a very high speed. I estimate its speed at about seventy-five mph to eighty mph [the speed limit at that point is 30 mph]. It was a powerful black car, I think a Mercedes . . . This car was clearly being pursued by several motorcycles, I would say four to six of them. Some were mounted by two riders. These motorcycles were tailing the vehicle and some tried to pull up alongside it.”

  Clifford G., a 34-year-old professional chauffeur, was catching a breath of fresh air on the Place de la Reine Astrid, a grassy triangle near the tunnel entrance. His attention was drawn to the express road by the loud whine of an automobile engine. He immediately identified a Mercedes heading towards the tunnel at an estimated speed of more than 60 mph. “I also saw a big motorcycle pass. I can’t tell you how many people were on it . . . The motorcycle was going fast. I would put the motorcycle at thirty or forty meters behind the Mercedes.”

  These witnesses lost sight of the Mercedes when it entered the tunnel but heard the horrific crash that followed.

  The driver and passenger of a car coming in the opposite, eastbound direction saw the final instants from close range. “As we entered the Alma tunnel,” said the passenger, Gaëlle L., 40, a production assistant, “we heard a loud noise of screeching tires . . . At that moment, in the opposite lane, we saw a large car approaching at high speed. This car swerved to the left, then went back to the right and crashed into the wall with its horn blaring. I should note that in front of this car, there was another, smaller car. I think this vehicle was black, but I’m not sure. Behind the big car there was a large motorcycle. I can’t be sure how many riders were on it.”

  The Mercedes had apparently lurched to the left to avoid hitting a slow-moving car in front of it. The limousine grazed the curb of the central walkway and nicked the third support pillar, swerved back to the right, then lost control and skidded head-on into the 13th pillar. The violence of the crash left a rectangular cookie-cutter imprint of the car’s front end, showered the pillar with motor oil, and sent debris flying into the opposite lane. The car then rebounded, spun around 180 degrees, and crashed into the right-hand wall. The time was 12:25.

  The Mercedes had been transformed in a millisecond from a sleek luxury sedan into a tangled hulk of gnarled metal. Paul was killed instantly, his spinal cord severed and his chest crushed by the steering wheel. The pressure of his inert body set off the horn, producing an ear-splitting wail. Clouds of grayish smoke, apparently caused by motor oil spilling onto the hot engine, filled the tunnel.

  Some of the cars in the opposite lane pulled over and stopped. Occupants leapt out and stared at the horrific scene. Gaëlle and her boyfriend Benoît B., 27, parked just outside the tunnel and ran to the westbound lane to flag down oncoming vehicles. From the driver of one car, Gaëlle borrowed a cell phone and called the sapeurs-pompiers, * the fire department’s specialized emergency squad. According to their logs, the call came through at precisely 12:26.

  At virtually the same instant, a 32-year-old man called the civilian rescue unit, known as the SAMU, * on a portable phone. Speaking on condition of anonymity, he said in an interview that he heard the accident from the apartment he was staying in, just 50 yards from the tunnel entrance. “I heard screeching tires followed by three shocks,” he recounted. “I looked out the window and saw a commotion around the tunnel, so I ran down to see what was happening. I was there within a minute of the accident.”

  Entering the tunnel on foot, he advanced to within a couple of yards of the Mercedes. “The guy in the front passenger seat [Rees-Jones] was badly injured but conscious,” he says. “The lower half of his face was ripped off and hanging loose; it was hard to look at. I told him not to panic, help was on the way. He looked at me and struggled but could say nothing. The driver didn’t move. The man in the backseat was also lying still, his legs obviously broken.” This witness did not see Diana, who was slumped on the floor behind a closed door. When two people tried to open the door, he shouted, “Don’t do that! If you move the bodies you can kill them!”

  Malo France, a taxi driver from Bénin, passed through the eastbound lane of the tunnel with his customers moments after the accident and stopped briefly to gaze on the devastation. “It was horrible,” he said, “the worst accident I have ever seen. I made the sign of the cross over my heart. I thought, God save them, and God protect us from these types of accidents. In the front seat there was a man. I also saw a woman with blond hair. She was crying, very loudly. There were two different voices, one a man and one a woman.”

  * * *

  The photographers had arrived within seconds of the accident. The first on the scene were Rat and his driver Darmon. Rat later told police that they had lost sight of the Mercedes after it went through the first tunnel, under the Alexander III bridge, and had given up the chase. They continued along the express road in order to return to their photo agency, said Rat, and happened upon the wrecked car. Witnesses reported seeing a motorcycle with two riders much clo
ser to the Mercedes, but nothing proves they were Rat and Darmon. Yet even if they were more than 300 meters behind the Mercedes, as they claim, Rat and Darmon would have gotten to the Alma tunnel within 10 to 30 seconds after the crash at the speed they were traveling.

  They were followed almost immediately by Arnal and Martinez in Arnal’s black Fiat Uno and Benhamou on his Honda Lada scooter. Next came the Sola agency’s Fabrice Chassery in his anthracite gray Peugeot 205 and his colleague David Oderkerken, 26, in his beige Mitsubishi Pajero 4 × 4. Among the stragglers were Langevin, the Sipa agency’s Nikola Arsov, 38, and independent photographer Laszlo Veres, 50, who was called by Benhamou. Police have determined that several still unidentified photographers were also on the scene.

  Darmon drove slowly past the smoking, wailing vehicle and parked his Honda 20 meters down the road. “I jumped off the motorcycle and ran towards the car,” said Rat. “At that time, I thought they were all dead. I was shocked. For several seconds I stayed back from the car. After a moment, I got ahold of myself and went to the car to open the door, because I wanted to see what I could do to try to help them. I saw that for the chauffeur and M. Fayed, they were obviously dead, and I could do nothing. So I leaned over the Princess to see if she was alive . . . I tried to take her pulse and when I touched her, she moved and breathed. So I spoke to her in English, saying, ‘I’m here, be cool, a doctor will arrive.’”

  * * *

  Shortly before the crash, decoy drivers Musa and Dourneau received word from a Ritz staffer that the couple had left from the Rue Cambon. That was their cue. Musa took off in the Range Rover with Wingfield at his side and Dourneau following close behind in the Mercedes 600. But the diversion was a flop. Most of the paparazzi had already caught on to the couple’s rear exit and headed after them. Only a handful of photographers, including Arsov and Pierre Suu, followed the decoy vehicles as they headed down the Rue de Rivoli, through the Place de la Concorde and turned onto the Champs-Elysées.

  The convoy’s destination, like that of Dodi and Diana, was 1 Rue Arsène-Houssaye, near the Arc de Triomphe, where Fayed had a ten-room apartment with a spectacular view of the Champs-Elysées. To avoid the usual Saturday night traffic jam along that famous thoroughfare, Musa and Dourneau turned left on the Avenue Franklin D. Roosevelt and headed for the express road along the Seine. They had thus rejoined Henri Paul’s itinerary without realizing it.

  As they approached the Place de l’Alma, they noticed people running out of the tunnel and making signs to stop. So they exited before the tunnel and headed up the Avenue Marceau in the direction of the Arc de Triomphe. Suddenly Dourneau got a call on his cell phone. It was Dodi’s butler, René, asking if he had time to walk the dogs before the couple arrived at the apartment. Dourneau was surprised. “They’re not there yet?”

  “Aren’t they with you?” asked René.

  “Negative,” said the chauffeur. “I’m driving a decoy car.” Wingfield thought Dodi had perhaps changed plans again, so he tried to beep Rees-Jones. No answer.

  “When we got to the apartment,” said Dourneau, “we saw that there was no one there yet, so we waited. There were several paparazzi. Then suddenly one of them received a call on his portable phone. He turned white. François [Musa] and I realized that he had just learned some terrible news. We had to insist before he told us that Dodi had just had an accident under the Alma bridge. François and I drove there immediately in the Range Rover.” Wingfield remained at the apartment and phoned his superiors in London at precisely 12:45.

  The bodyguard’s call was taken by Dave Moody, who had been monitoring the couple’s movements from the Park Lane control room, the 24-hour nerve center of Mohammed Al Fayed’s 40-strong security force. Moody immediately phoned Paul Handley-Greaves, the man in charge of all close protection operations.

  “There’s been an accident involving the two principals,” Moody told him, using the code names for Dodi and Diana. Handley-Greaves rushed from his home to Park Lane, arriving just in time to get Wingfield’s second call. By that time, the bodyguard had spoken to police and received confirmation of the accident, but not of Dodi’s death.

  Handley-Greaves, 32, a former military police officer in the British army, called Mohammed Al Fayed just after 1:00 A.M. “Sir,” he said, “there’s been an accident involving your son and the Princess. We’re not sure of the extent and have no details on injuries at this point.”

  Al Fayed, who had been sound asleep at his estate in Oxted, Surrey, reacted with surprising calm. “Okay,” he told Handley-Greaves. “Get as much detail as you can and get back to me as quickly as possible.”

  At about that time, the phone rang in Dodi’s apartment. René thought it was his boss calling about a change of plans. It was Dourneau. “Dodi est mort,” he said. “Dodi is dead, he’s gone.”

  “What?” stammered the butler. “That’s not possible!”

  “He’s dead. They tried to revive him for twenty minutes, but there’s no sign of life. Nothing.” Dourneau was calling on his cell phone from the tunnel. His voice choked up as he described the dreadful scene to René. The butler sank into a chair and wept. According to a French official on the scene, Dourneau was “devastated” and kept repeating that he blamed himself for not insisting on driving the couple.

  * * *

  Back at the Place de l’Alma, meanwhile, bedlam reigned. When he heard the crash, Clifford G., the off-duty chauffeur who had been standing near the express road, ran into the tunnel on foot. “As soon as I arrived,” he later told investigators, “I noticed four or five men around the wrecked Mercedes taking photos with professional equipment . . . None of these men did anything to help the wounded people in the Mercedes. It was obvious that the four occupants were wounded. There was blood, their bodies were sprawled every which way inside the Mercedes. Yet these men photographed the car and the wounded from every angle. Seeing this spectacle, I shouted, ‘That’s all you can do instead of calling for help?’”

  Clifford was not the only witness who was outraged by the conduct of the photographers. Jack Firestone, director of an ad agency in Hewlett Harbor, N.Y., was returning to his hotel in a taxi with his wife and son after some late-night sightseeing. When they saw the wrecked car in the Alma tunnel, they stopped briefly in the eastbound lane. The photographers, Firestone later told the Associated Press, were like “sharks after raw meat.” There were “clicking away like mad, running around the car, snapping from every position they could . . . It was obvious these paparazzi knew they had struck gold.”

  A sound engineer who drove through the tunnel eastbound at about the same time provided investigators with one of the most vivid descriptions of the photographers at work. “After parking my car, I saw photographers leaning into the interior of the car through the back door and taking photos. Before taking pictures, I saw one of the men doing something inside the car. I think he was moving the body of M. Al Fayed or the Princess in order to take better pictures. I approached the Mercedes and distinctly heard a groan. I think it was a man’s voice.”

  At this point, says this witness, about a dozen men entered the tunnel on foot carrying cameras, one of which was a U-matic video camera. (American tourist Michael Walker also described someone filming with a video camera, but investigators never located the cameraman.) There followed a scuffle in which a young man, apparently of North African origin, went after Rat for leaning into the car. “God damn it! Why did you do that?” he demanded. Rat, according to this witness, replied, “We can’t do otherwise, we had to do it like that.” The youth then charged at Rat and tried to hit him, but the photographer fended him off by twirling his heavy camera on its strap while others moved in to separate the two men.

  The photographers also fought among themselves. Rat, deeply shaken by the sight of the wreck, screamed at his colleagues that they must not take any close-up photos of the victims, only of the car. The others obeyed at first, then began to move closer and shout back at Rat. “Go screw yourself!” said one photographer, according to a witness later interviewed by police. “I’m doing my work, too, just like you.” Another witness reported hearing one of the photographers tell another: “It’s your fault!” The sharpest disputes seem to have been between Rat and Martinez, who has admitted that he took pictures of the inside of the car. Rat took no photos inside the car, and no close-ups of the victims, as his confiscated film would later attest.