Popular juries Judge without prejudice

“I swear!” proclaims Christophe*, in front of the president of the assize court, in a red dress. At the end of April 2025, this project manager in a design office is participating as a popular juror in an extraordinary trial in Paris. After taking the oath, he returns to his seat, passing in front of the accused, a colossus with a red beard.

Majdi Nema, Syrian, former spokesperson for an armed group, arrested a few years earlier in France, is accused of, among other things, war crimes. He faces twenty years of imprisonment. He claims his innocence. Christophe is dizzy: here he is in the spotlight, with, at the end of the month of hearing, a heavy responsibility, that of deciding the fate of the man he has just discovered in his closed box with glass walls.

In France, crimes punishable by twenty years of imprisonment to life are judged at the Assize Court by professional magistrates and citizens chosen by lot: French people aged at least 23, with a clean criminal record, and able to exercise this duty. Without a valid exemption, they cannot refuse their summons under penalty of a fine of 3,750 euros. Six popular jurors sit in the first instance, nine on appeal. Their voice is equivalent to that of the two assessors and the president. A democratic process, based on the participation of ordinary people without knowledge of the issue.

In theory. Because certain trials generate such media attention that the jurors have already heard widely about the case when they are called by the courts. Like the Jubillar affair, whose verdict expected on October 17, 2025 has public opinion in suspense. Or the appeal trial triggered by one of the convicts in the Mazan rape trial, who was sentenced on October 9, 2025 to ten years in prison in second instance. How do these jurors manage not to be influenced? How can we ensure that they haven’t already decided before they even start judging?

Focus on the trial

Thomas*, for example, recognized the name of the accused upon receipt of his summons, two months before the hearing: he was a repeat robber whose actions had hit the headlines. “During my vacation, I immersed myself in the business,” confesses this teacher.

According to a former president of the Assize Court, however, media coverage would not be a problem: “Tangible evidence does not come out beforehand, otherwise it is a violation of the secrecy of the investigation.”

During the morning of preparation before the opening of the debates – during which the president often advises not to follow the media throughout the trial – Thomas remembers hearing this key phrase: “The most important thing is what is said in the courtroom.”

Célia Gissinger-Bosse, lecturer at the Faculty of Social Sciences in Strasbourg, author of a thesis on the subject, observed: “At first, the jurors imagine themselves in a detective series. But they quickly realize the weight of responsibility, especially in the case of a media trial.”

The jurors then enter a bubble. Entire days and evenings pass, listening to witnesses, taking notes, without telephone or distractions. Their mission is to listen, listen, and listen again. For a month, Christophe hardly saw his children, let alone had the opportunity to go shopping. He couldn’t tell his wife anything, who didn’t want to know the details of the affair anyway.

The reality of the courtroom

This closed session reinforces the gap between the media story and the reality in the courtroom. Ultimately – and this is the objective of the trial – the most decisive remains the elements delivered during the hearings. As the days go by, the jurors hear conflicting testimony. Christophe remembers having to watch a video of abuses by a Syrian rebel group broadcast by the prosecution to show the extent of the violence committed…

Another day, the defense insisted on the lack of irrefutable evidence regarding the active participation of its client. “The accused is exposed, we unpack everything: his professional, friendly, sexual relationships… Gradually, we begin to get an idea,” explains François, a sixty-year-old, called into a trial for rape.

It is then up to the jurors to form their opinion, which the law calls intimate conviction. During the deliberations, they discuss among themselves before voting: should we convict or acquit? Exchanges kept secret forever – at the risk of a prison sentence and a fine of 15,000 euros. Due to these safeguards and the specific dynamics of the hearings, justice therefore continues, to a large extent, to be played out far from the cameras.

* First names have been changed.