Diary of a Madman

1

In His infinite wisdom,

the Lord has seen fit

to take from us

a just and courageous friend.

That Simon Cordier

in the prime of his manhood

should have come to his death

as he did,

makes his passing

even a greater shock

to those he has left behind.

As one of France's

most respected magistrates,

Simon Cordier dedicated his life

to the betterment of humanity.

All that Simon Cordier was

can be summed up in these words:

He was a good man.

May God have mercy on his soul.

Make him Eternal...

All those fine words.

I'm glad he's dead.

Mr. D'Arville, Miss Jeanne.

It was Magistrate Cordier's wish

before he died

that we all assemble

after the funeral.

My daughter and I are willing

to respect the wishes of the dead.

More so than if he were living.

We will see you at the gallery, then.

Yes.

Why Magistrate Cordier

should have entrusted this task

to my daughter and to me,

I do not know.

Our feelings toward him

are no secret.

As Father Borman knows,

this chest and the letter

were given to my daughter

by Magistrate Cordier

the night he died.

The letter written by the Magistrate

says that if he died that night,

then, this chest must not be opened

until immediately after the funeral.

But why would he think

he might die?

Surely, it was an accident.

Father Barman,

my investigation proved

that it was not suicide.

The letter requested

that we be present

when the chest is opened,

since it involved matters

important to all of you.

The chest, Mr. D'Arville, please.

A book?

It seems to be a personal diary.

And a note.

"I speak to you from the grave."

"In the sanctuary of my coffin,

I can state certain facts

which I could not do

while I was alive.

If I had attempted to do so

before my death,

I would have been judged insane,

and my warning to mankind

would have gone unheeded."

Warning?

What do you know about this?

Nothing, I swear it, Captain.

I did not know the Magistrate

even kept a diary.

That is the truth.

"Do not regard with cynicism

what you learn now.

Once you have heard

the contents of my diary,

the future will be in your hands.

God be with you,

for you will need His help."

Perhaps that is why the Magistrate

wanted you to be here.

Please, Mr. D'Arville, the diary.

September 17, 1886.

The strange events

which occasion me to begin this diary

started three days

before the murderer Louis Girot

was to go to the guillotine.

And police captain Rennedon

came to my chambers at the tribune.

Oh, Captain.

Is Magistrate Cordier busy?

He's just come from the court.

Come in.

Captain Rennedon, sir.

Oh, tell him to come in.

- Well, Robert.

- Simon.

This is a pleasure,

unless, of course,

you've brought me trouble.

I don't think I have,

considering your endless studies

of the criminal mind,

which I'll never understand.

It concerns Louis Girot.

He wants to talk to you.

Oh, does he want to change

the testimony he gave at the trial?

A strange fish, Girot.

It's hard to tell what he wants.

Well, he goes to the guillotine

in three days.

Perhaps it's his conscience.

A confession?

Maybe. It is possible.

As you say, he is a strange fish.

Girot murdered four people,

without motivation.

He didn't know any of them.

He didn't rob them.

He just killed.

Yes, the case is most perplexing.

Which means that you're curious

enough to see him.

To me, a thief is a thief,

a murderer is a murderer.

Life is much simpler that way.

- Shall we go?

- Yes.

There we are.

I'd better go in with you.

No, he might talk more

if we were alone.

All right, I'll wait here.

Guard.

Magistrate. Cat-flier,

thank you for coming.

It's the only hospitality

I can offer you.

Captain Rennedon believed

you might be ready

to make a statement, Girot.

A statement? Perhaps.

But what is it you want me to say?

Something I did not say at the trial?

If there is truth in it.

Can't you understand, Magistrate?

I told the truth at the trial.

I swear to you.

It was something that...

that used me.

Just as if it took my body

and made me murder.

Please, Girot, you seem to be

a man of some intelligence.

And in three days, my intelligence

will be chopped off at the neck.

Do you think

that I would go on lying,

knowing that I'm going to die?

But a man doesn't kill four people

without reason.

It was a thing that possessed me

that had the reason.

It lives on evil

and grows stronger and stronger.

Please, Girot, sit down.

I didn't even know until afterward

that I had killed.

It had control of my mind.

I had no will of my own.

It forced me to murder.

I couldn't accept

this testimony before.

Do you expect me to believe it now?

I had never thought

that hatred is evil.

- Hatred is evil.

- But that's in you.

And it used that to feed on my will

until it owned me.

Girot, I'm sorry, I had hoped

you'd be able to give me some...

But do you know why

I never asked for a new trial?

I want to die.

Because so long as I live,

the thing can make me kill again.

Girot, what is it?

Your eyes...

It can even make me...

....kill you!

Girot!

Guard!

He tried to kill me.

I warned you, murderers,

they're all the same.

Humanity would be much better off

without them.

Call the doctor, hurry!

Is he badly hurt?

There'll be no need

to chop in the guillotine.

Dead?

But it was so sudden.

One moment he was

completely rational, and then...

This is terrible, Robert, I...

If anything, I wanted to help him.

You had to defend yourself.

It was an accident.

Besides, I'd say you did help him.

This is a much easier way to die.

For the next two days,

I returned home

from my work at the court

with the death of the murderer Girot

still on my mind.

Despite Rennedon's assurance

of my innocence,

somehow the accident

still disturbed me,

and I could not rid myself

of the depression

that weighed so heavily.

- Good evening, sir.

- Good morning, Pierre.

Sir, I'll tell you Louise's secret.

She's preparing your favorite dinner,

baked lamb!

Oh, that's fine, but I...

I think I need a cognac before.

- In the study, please.

- Yes, sir.

Well, Kiki, you're in fine voice.

You must have been practicing

all clay.

And just because you've been

so industrious,

you, too, are going

to have a special dinner.

There you are.

Pierre!

Sir.

Why did you put this back in here?

I...? But I haven't even seen it

since you...

Would I do such a thing?

But it was hanging there

on the wall, Pierre.

Who's been in the house?

Only Louise and myself.

Pierre, what is it?

What has happened?

I... I'm not sure.

You remember the large photograph

of Mrs. Cordier and the boy?

Oh, the one that used to be

in the study?

It was back there tonight.

But how could that be?

It was put away in that trunk

with the other things.

Yes.

"Hatred is Evil."

Those were Girot's words.

Sir?

Pierre.

Somebody must have been up here.

First, the picture, and then...

then the writing on the pedestal.

Writing?

Yes, in the dust there.

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