By Michael Sheridan
On 23 December 1996, the physique of Sophie Toscan du Plantier was once found outdoor her distant vacation cottage close to Schull in West Cork. The assault were savage and cruel. The homicide brought on surprise waves in her local France and within the quiet Cork geographical region that she had selected as her retreat from the high-flying way of life of the movie enterprise within which she and her husband combined. 16 years later, and regardless of an intensive research, the killer of Sophie continues to be at huge and the dossier is still open. loss of life in December is the interesting and compelling tale of ways an self sufficient and gorgeous lady sought peace and sanctuary and as an alternative came upon violence and the final word terror. It provides a chilling profile of the killer whom pyschologists think will strike back.
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Additional info for Death in December. The Story of Sophie Toscan du Plantier
She heard his footsteps and turned, pleading for mercy. He drew back the hatchet and struck her twice. She tried to parry his blows with her hands but the force of the blows cut into her arms and broke her fingers. Panicked, she turned away from the gate and ran straight at the barbed-wire fence by the side of the lane. She was trying to scramble over it when he pulled her back. He heard the sound of fabric tearing on the barbed spikes as he dragged her out and threw her on the ground. Her hands went about her head for protection, elbows tucked into her chest.
Anticipation carried him on until he reached the gate at the bottom of the laneway. He looked up. The house was in darkness, except for an outside light at the gable end. Everything was quiet. Pulling the sleeve of his jacket down over his hand, he opened the gate and began the steep climb up to the house. The hired car he had seen her driving around Schull was parked at the top of the lane, opposite the gable end of the house. Keeping close to the wall, he edged his way around the house. It would be easier to go straight to the porch door, but she would be able to see him from the living-room once the light was turned on.
Something awful, something wonderful was going to happen. He had the power. He stayed a few minutes more, exulting in the feeling. He drove on home and went to bed for half an hour, then got up, put on a jumper and a heavy jacket and slipped out into the backyard of his house. 30am. He got back into his car and drove in the direction of Dunmanus West. Some distance from Sophie’s house, he stopped the car. He would walk from here. On foot, he could merge invisibly into the landscape. Guided by the full moon and the clear sky, he made his way along the roads and boreens, taking short cuts across fields and rocky ground.