tEvery generation of lawyers over the past sixty years has experienced this. Henri Leclerc was their undisputed champion, lawyers left and right, old and young, women and men. It was unanimous. Like those great sportsmen who surpass all their peers in their discipline and write their name in history, Henri Leclerc was the best among us. He had it all. He had all the qualities of a lawyer.
A very good lawyer, a master of procedure, he was a hard worker who only slept a few hours a night so as not to ignore anything in the cases he was going to defend. He had the empathy and kindness that allowed him to understand and convince his judge. He was lucid. He knew how to be clumsy or terrible and threatening, depending on what the case required. But he never compromised on principles. He had knowledge of the public, to listen without pretending to do so, to appear when no one expected him, and an incomparable facility to question, confuse and confess if necessary, the witnesses and parties who testify in court. He imposed his rhythm, his breathing, his logic.
He was formidable and feared, because he could be sarcastic or raise his deep, warm voice to drown out tumults and recriminations. In a word, Henri Leclerc was fascinating. A lion. He was our own Churchill. And when it was his turn to plead, fascination turned into enchantment, into spell. We didn’t miss a thing he said. It was an elevation. It must be said that he had one card more than the others: an immense humanity. He believed deeply in redemption. He loved the mornings, when the dawn heralds another day. He expressed his faith in man, his faith in justice, and the juries listened to him through tears. He was the defense.
Learning by example
I experienced all this one day. I was still in law school, doing an internship in the courts. I missed work in the room assigned to me to follow a case before the Criminal Court. That of Betty Sebaoun, in which she defended Philippe Allouche, who was accused by everyone. His plea surprised me. I then did everything I could to join his firm and work alongside him.
As a student, in 1986 I launched the monthly magazine legiprèswith Charles-Henry Dubail. He was the lawyer of Release. It was the right entry point. We made many press laws together. But I didn’t follow through until the 17th.my [chambre correctionnelle du tribunal de Paris spécialisée dans les affaires de presse]I accompanied him to numerous criminal courts in France. It was learning by example. And spending a few days with him was a godsend, having him all to yourself, listening to things that were always intelligent, never mediocre or mean, often funny. He loved to communicate.
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