“A rapist runs the streets”: many testimonies overwhelm a Parisian street artist and photographer

– Warning: the stories transcribed in this article contain evocations of sexual violence and the trauma that results from it. They are likely to offend sensitive people about it –

– Clarification of 06/24/2020: for any additional testimony targeting the same person, contact me by email pgrandde@prismamedia.com –

She is 22 years old, huge red nails, almond eyes, a bun at the top of the head, a gray zipped sweater in which she disappears. She tells her story in a Parisian café, on a gloomy afternoon. Her friends always told her that she should be a model. So, two or three years ago, she posted photos on Instagram, signed up for a platform that put models and photographers in touch, and started doing a few shoots. "I haven't had very pleasant experiences. I have always come across photographers who are a bit perverse at the edges.” She laughs, as people often do when they say not very funny things.

She was 20 years old and had little experience when a photographer, Wilfrid A., contacted her via Instagram in 2018. He offered her a shoot, she accepted, he set up an appointment with her at his home in the Parisian district of Montmartre. "It didn't go very well," she says. He has some very bizarre methods. He explains to you that for you to be comfortable in the photo, you need to be more relaxed.”

She hesitates before moving on to her story. “He starts touching you, kissing you. He made me touch his crotch. He sends me a sentence like: “if you have the impression that I am your boyfriend, you will be more comfortable in the photo.” Yeah but… You're not my boyfriend.” He would have offered her a drink, as well as marijuana, she would have refused. The shoot takes place in underwear at first; then they move on to a fully nude shoot. “He put a finger on me, supposedly to relax me. It was very violent. I was shocked, disappointed, angry… I didn't know how to get out of there. Too many emotions that… So I just watched him do it, and that was it.”

“In principle, when a person is sleeping, you let go”

According to the young woman's account, her ordeal did not stop there, but continued all night. The shooting would have continued until a late hour, “10:30 p.m., maybe”, so the photographer would have offered to sleep at his place. She lives far away in the suburbs, she no longer has transport to go home. She spends the night by his side. Without sleeping.

“I had no place to go, it was the longest hours of my life. He tried to touch me, to caress me, he ran his hand over my body. I was trying to pretend to sleep. In principle, when a person is sleeping, you let them go. In the forest, when an animal is dead, there is no longer any point in running after it. It didn't stop him from continuing, and when I saw that he was going too far, finally... I went up his hand. I felt disgust. I wondered how it was possible that there were people like that.

Faleska will repeat it several times throughout the interview: she did not know how to react. “I did not encourage him, he saw that I was not comfortable. But I am a shy person, I do not know what to do in situations that are beyond me. (see our box at the end of the article on the phenomenon of psychic amazement). She says she never told anyone about the event, "except my boyfriend, right before I met you."

Faleska's story is not an isolated one. It echoes several other striking testimonies of similarity, which all target the same man: the Parisian photographer and street artist Wilfrid A. His main photographic feat: he took the photo of the cover of the group's Authentik album NTM in 1991. He skims the Fashion weeks, and publishes on his fanzine Fais Netour portraits of anonymous people and some personalities.

A familiar face from Montmartre

More recently, this 50-year-old has acquired a little hype with “Love runs the streets”, a multi-photographed and Instagrammed tag that adorns pedestrian crossings, walls or bulky items on the right bank of the capital. Often wearing a cap, Wilfrid is one of the familiar figures of Montmartre and local residents meet him at his favorite bars or tagging his emblematic phrase, which has also become part of Amélie Poulain's decor. “Love runs the streets” notably garnered media attention after the attacks of November 13, 2015; the formula is then seen as a hymn to Parisian benevolence and resilience.

Read also: Photo models: how feminist resistance is organized in the face of aggressors

Except that behind the sweet sweetness of the graffiti, the numerous testimonies draw a portrait that seems more sinister. It is with the help of his two hats, that of the street artist and that of the photographer, that Wilfrid A. would engage in a tireless hunt, which one could describe as frenetic, for very young women, and this since at least a decade.

16 women testified to NEON having been approached by him. I met some of them, spoke by phone or messages with others. The oldest facts depicted date back to 2009, the most recent to February 2020; some would have been solicited in the street, others on Instagram or Messenger. Common points of all those who confided: their beauty, undeniable according to the criteria classically accepted in our society, their youth at the time of the alleged facts (one was a minor). Eight of them tell of having found themselves one-on-one with him, and depict an experience that is at least unpleasant, at worst traumatic.

> Read here: the second part of our investigation, which reveals an extraordinary predatory practice

“I buried this story deep in my brain for years.” Adèle*, 28, has been struggling for two years with dark ideas. Among her demons, according to her, there is a work-related burnout and then there is the aggression that she would have suffered. She says, by email and then by phone, that in June 2018, Wilfrid approaches her in the street while she is on the phone with her mother: he finds her “super pretty”, he wants to photograph her.

Adèle was then 26 years old, she worked as a stylist in a company that no longer suited her, but in this environment where a lot of progress was made on the network, she had trouble promoting her profile. Wilfrid can be her opportunity: he tells her that he takes pictures with models and non-models, that he works for Vogue, that he is influential.

So, Adèle says that she finds him in front of his house. "He walks up the stairs in front of me, he turns around saying 'how beautiful are you, honey' all the time, it makes me feel uncomfortable." He would have offered her drinks several times, she would have refused all along. The shooting would have started “normally”, but very quickly, it is an escalation where the photographer would have pushed her to her limits, by dint of insistence and always under the guise of “loosening her”. “He grabs my neck, he approaches my face. He looks at the photos, he says "it's not okay". He starts again, he touches my neck, shoulders, back, he brings his lips closer than a centimeter from my mouth. I pull back, he says "relax, I'm not going to kiss you, it's just to put you in confidence."

Confidence is nowhere in the young woman's head at this time. Adele's voice trembles on the phone, but she continues. Says he wants to take pictures on the bed; she refuses, he insists, several times, the ride lasts. "And I'm like come on, get on the bed, do what he asks, then it'll be over." She would have complied, and after a few shots, he would have repeated again that she is “too tense, not natural”.

"He touched every part of my body"

“So he gets on top of me, he starts to bring his lips closer to my mouth, to touch my buttocks, my legs, he caresses my breasts like never before. I say “let’s stop, it’s not for me” and he answers, I will never forget it: “Why am I turning you on? Are you afraid to give in? I think this sentence will remain forever in my memory, with his gaze.” He tries again by rubbing against me, I feel his crotch through the pants. It touched every part of my body. Every time he did that, he put the camera down." While she is pinned to the bed, her mind is spinning, she says. “I clearly had a click. I say to myself: he will try to rape you.” She finds the strength to get up, takes her things and leaves.

Adèle and Diane* do not know each other, and their ordeal would have taken place a few years apart: 2018 for the first, the summer of 2015 or 2016 for the second, “I am no longer sure”. Adèle is not used to posing in front of a camera; Diane* is a seasoned model. However, what they say resembles the same nightmare. Diane*, 19 or 20 years old at the time, recounts, with the caution of not very fresh memories:

“He behaved inappropriately. He insists very heavily that we do a more and more naked photo shoot, I had a hard time imposing my limits. He makes me lie on the bed, he rubbed my crotch very hard while being dressed, I was not dressed. At the time, I did nothing. I don't know if I left right away. But I know that I experienced it very badly.” She later denounces her actions on a private Facebook group where the models warn each other against dubious photographers (see our article on the matter).

Predatory practice

During each story, we find similarities that make us think of a modus operandi, a well-honed predatory practice. When a young woman relays her graffiti on Instagram, he comments under the post and arrives in a private message to offer a drink. The systematic nature of her approach appears in Delphine's story. She says: “I took a picture of love runs the streets and I tag it. He sends me a heart, I send a heart, so far so good, and then he offered me a drink. I say to myself, if it's a 30-year-old, why not. He sends me a photo of him, I panicked, it's not really what I'm looking for. I was cash.” He then replies that he is offering this to “all” his fans.

His other hunting ground: the city. One of them would have even suffered his inappropriate gestures in the middle of the street. Mathilde was then around 18 years old “I think, it was in 2014, something like that.” Now a model, she was tired of hearing her name come back among the photographers to avoid; that’s why we have a coffee together in the Père-Lachaise district. She was the first to want to talk to me.

She goes on: “I was really unlucky, it was a street attack. I was with my friend, he comes to see us, tells us I like your style, I do streetstyle, I would like to take your picture. You are 18 years old, you say “yes serious”. But direct it's weird, he tells us "arch your back more, it's not very sexy." My friend leaves me, I find myself alone with him. He says he could make me pose, shows me his photos. It's disgusting, the dirty old picture of naked chicks. He gives me the big speeches, I can help you, I have contacts, blabla, the usual stuff. He takes my hand, leans over, and kisses me on the mouth. The pretext, always the same: “He tells me “it’s to loosen you up.”

Flattery and promises of a springboard in a competitive environment: the “usual talk” that Mathilde evokes comes up all the time in the testimonials. Chana remembers that he approached her at Galeries Lafayette, “in 2015 or 2016”; she was then 19 years old, she had been a model for a year and a half. “He had a big mouth side that I was suspicious of, but in the case of this man, he worked, he is known in what he does. He tells me he's exposed, he manages models, he talked about being my agent.”

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"I came to do my job, he took advantage of it"

Faleska, an aspiring model, is also lured by her so-called connections. “He tells me that he is known by big brands, he talks to me about Chanel… Since he has power in the fashion world according to him, you try to listen to what he says, you want to take beautiful photos. I came to do my job, he took advantage of it. At his house, it was in baby cool mode, with “love runs the streets” stuff everywhere, an ashtray with cigarettes…” She laughs: “I should have realized that he didn't work for Chanel.”

Faced with Camille*, the same language is reported to me: “He said: “You know, if you want to break through, I can take you under my wing, make you meet lots of influencers at Fashion Week.” , she says. The idea was a bit to be the hen, the Miss France of this guy. Her meeting with Wilfrid would date from February 2020. Rather of the cold-headed type, she says she is “not too traumatized”. Camille is not a model but an artistic director, she connects photographers and brands. Her cousin, she works in music and would like to find a photographer for her album cover; so they go to his house together.

Camille knows the world of fashion and current customs well, and immediately feels that there is a bone in it. “He locks the door, it marked me. I'm not intimidated, but he was very uncomfortable. He touched a lot, it was abusive, on the hips, the waist. He takes Polaroids: I had a blazer on, he said to me, “You're sure you don't want to take the jacket off, but you're sure, it's more sensual…” He was drinking and smoking, it was like at the end of a dinner where no one dares to leave because the person is talking.”

“Sick Santa”

Another recurring mania: he would have offered them a T-shirt and a tote bag flocked with his favorite phrase “Love runs the streets”. “The unhealthy Santa Claus”, she qualifies with a beautiful sense of the formula. He would have insisted that they come back to see him separately, alone. “It’s not pro, comments Camille. A photographer is always supposed to accept that someone is near.” Other young women confirm that he pushes them to go to his house alone. The next day, Camille receives a message asking if she is available; she does not respond.

You will have understood it if you have come this far: the common thread that unites this litany of stories is the absence of consent. Central question that agitates post-MeToo consciences, and that we explored in an article that you can read here. From what emerges from the testimonies, Wilfrid would systematically go beyond the implicit or explicit limits: it matters little to him whether the young woman says "no", does not show enthusiasm, does not react, appears paralyzed or inert, or seems to be sleeping. In other words, the lack of overt craving or desire doesn't seem to stop it.

Mey's testimony differs markedly from the rest, but as with the other girls, the barriers they put up would not have been respected, and she speaks of it today as the worst night of her life. Mey is 20, red hair, fancy makeup, purple sequined leotard, petite figure. Her voice is calm, but she tugs at her neck, a nervous tic that reflects her stress at the idea of ​​plunging back into the memory. When she meets Wilfrid tagging in the central square of Les Halles in Paris, in the spring of 2018, she is 18 years old. She is in a fragile state, struggling with discomfort. She “wants to sleep with someone, but also has the idea of ​​hurting me at the same time. It was not a good mood at all. I was in a process of self-destruction”

He is then with a friend and “his mistress, from what I understand”. He offers her a drink, which turns into an invitation to a restaurant, then an after party in a libertine establishment in the Les Halles district, and finally, the four would have met at Wilfrid's. She sums up what was going on in her head at that moment: "I said to myself, well, the best it would be to leave, but I can't because now I'm trapped because he offers me a drink and the rest. Best to sleep with him. I started a process of self-manipulation to tell myself what I wanted.”

“When I said no, there was always insistence”

They would then have had a consensual sexual relationship, even if the chain of events before that forced me to find myself in this situation. I had slept with only one cis guy before, who always asked me “are you okay?” There, when I said no, there was always more insistence: “come on”, “please…”

So Mey forces herself; and very quickly, she finds herself suffering. “He was snorting, he offered me coke, I said no, so he grabbed me by the neck, kissed me and stuck his finger full of coke in my mouth. I spat on him, I was very angry.” She would have insisted on wearing a condom; she would have discovered after their report that he had none.

At the end of the evening, she goes to bed and pretends to be asleep. What she depicts is strikingly similar to what Faleska recounts at the start of the article. “He lays down in bed, I'm supposed to sleep, he starts fondling me and fingering me! So it's rape. I pretend to wake up, I say "I'm in pain", he says "I'm sorry, I'm done", but he tries to sleep again, and I say no again. Time passes very slowly, I cannot sleep.”

Mey is the only one of the contacts interviewed who confronted Wilfrid about her abusive behavior. In an exchange to which we had access, the day after the facts described, he asks her by message “you liked yesterday”; she replies “I liked what I told you I liked. I honestly didn't like everything, but you certainly don't doubt it. “And continues on a long message where she exposes the times when he overstepped his limits, and concludes” if it happens to you with others, the thing can be qualified and it is totally legitimate (morally and judicially) of a rape . “He then responds with a thumbs up (yes yes) then a” I was stoned sorry “then” my apologies “, before proposing” I offer you a drink tonight to apologize “.

THE CONTINUATION OF THE INVESTIGATION JUST AFTER THAT

His supposed contrition does not seem to have altered his methods; several testimonies are later in date than that of Mey, including that of Faleska. Contacted, he did not respond to NEON's requests. But in view of what I was able to consult, Facebook statuses, comments under photos, screenshots of private conversations, the photographer proudly displays his image of a “heartthrob” and a bon vivant. "When he goes out to buy cigarettes, he insists that we hold hands as if we were lovers," says Diane. He heavily insisted that I come with him to a parade, I said I would not go. »

Fresh meat

When Chana arrives at his house for a shoot, he allegedly showed her a T-shirt he was selling, adorned with a picture of a blowjob, and proudly insisted that it was of her sex on the picture. “I love trash, but here he explains the sordid details to me, which I could have done without. He also reportedly showed her a sexually explicit photo of his current girlfriend, stating, "She wouldn't be happy if I showed you the photos." Chana then translates mentally: “If he does not respect his consent, he will not respect mine if I take photos. » End of the collaborative project.

Wilfrid goes so far as to assume it in a comment on his Facebook page, which has since been made private: he likes “very fresh meat”. In the biography of his Dailymotion page, he defines himself as follows: “I like wine and good food** (smile).” In a private exchange on Instagram with a young woman in 2018, which we became aware of, he asks: “Beep me if you come back to Montmartre and I will offer you a drink” before adding “if you are of age ^^”.

But another, older testimony suggests that Wilfrid also solicited underage girls to be his role models. Ophélie, 27 today, was 16 when she crossed paths, “in May or June 2009”. She was then a student in a high school in the 18th arrondissement, very close to Wilfrid's apartment. “We walk with two or three girlfriends in a crowded street, in shorts or dresses, he comes in front of us, she recalls. He “finds us very beautiful” and he gives us his card. We found the guy weird, because he was old enough to be our father, we didn't feel it at all. According to her, the whole neighborhood knew him: “He was the guy who hangs out at the Abbesses and who offers rather pretty girls to take their picture. Among my entourage, we all had his card.

Joke topic

Ophelia's little sister, Charlotte, in turn crossed paths with Wilfrid a few years later, in 2013, when she was just 18 years old. “For once, quite honestly, I was flattered. It's nice that a photographer says that we are pretty and worthy of being photographed. The first SMS exchange was agreed [between us, ndlr], and there, he asks me questions to find out if I was naughty or not. The word naughty marked me. I said to myself “this is average”. She inquires, her sister discourages her. She confirms that he was identified: “In our sector it was a subject of joke, a pervert among many others. Les Batignolles, Pigalle, Montmartre… It was his hunting ground.”

None of the young women who testified has filed a complaint to date; only Faleska considered it. “Making a complaint? It didn't even cross my mind that it wasn't normal what had just happened, launches Mathilde. When you're young, you're a baby, you're not prepared. Now we know more.” The reception of victims of gender-based violence in the police station, regularly pointed out for its shortcomings by testimonies, association activists and journalistic investigations, does not encourage young women to push this door.

Mey did not like his confrontation with the police during a complaint for domestic violence. “I had to deal with a commissioner or a gendarme who questioned my whole word. I really don't trust it." In a society steeped in the culture of rape, which tends to reproach victims of sexual violence for their attitude, what reception can a model who poses nude expect? Diane sweeps: “I heard a lot of testimonials and that dissuaded me. I know the police do nothing for us.”

They have kept their history to themselves, like so many others; in France, the annual number of victims of rape, attempted rape or sexual touching is estimated at 220,000. An underestimated figure; many cases are never told. Why today, do they decide to express themselves? Quite simply, they discovered that they were not alone. One or more anonymous people have/have taken the habit, for a few years, of covering up their tag to replace it with “a rapist runs the streets”.

Instagram stories of models have recently begun to overwhelm her, bringing out testimonials (see our related article on this topic). Like Chana, many are talking to me today to save other girls from the same fate: “If this helps to strengthen the case and confirm this man's predatory technique, I allow myself to bring my stone to the building. ”

Chana has recovered and confines the moment to a bad memory; others continue to bear the wound. “Many tell me that I look super cold, depicts Adèle. Since that moment, I haven't built anything serious with a man, I can't get attached." She ended up hating Paris and moving to Amsterdam, where she feels she is starting to raise her head. “I am surrounded by ultra positive people; everything makes me feel capable of talking about it today.” Mey describes herself as outgoing with strangers, but "for a year after what happened, I couldn't stand them and I was very cold to everyone."

Faleska also believes that her series of dirty experiences in photography has damaged her relationship with men. “In my mind, the guys were all predators, not one to catch up with the other. So I focused on myself. The 22-year-old has let go of her modeling dream. “I worked with other artists, but I always had that feeling inside of me. It comes out, it doesn't stay buried. I had a period of burnout.” Today, she is following a DUT in legal careers to become a lawyer. "I think it's kind of related to the whole thing."

* These names have been changed.

** We have reproduced the content of the exchanges as is, including spelling errors

Click here to read the second part of our investigation, published after the avalanche of testimonies generated by the article you have just read.

? STUNNED Many of them repeat it several times throughout the interview, as if to apologize: in the face of the aggression they were subjected to, they did not fight back, did not scream, did not run away. right away. A “non-response” often judged harshly by the entourage and by society in general. This mechanism is however very common in a victim of violence: psychiatrists and specialists in psycho-trauma call it the state of psychic stupefaction. Saturated with stress, the brain produces enough to anesthetize us, in the same way that a fuse blows to preserve an electrical circuit. It is a survival reflex of our mind, to allow the person to “de-realize” the horror they are going through. Faleska describes it powerfully during our exchange: “I had tried to talk about that with my cousin, she said to me: but it's stupid, girls who don't leave. His reaction shocked me. I said to myself: in fact she is right, I should have left… We all know that it is an attack and that it is not good, but when it happens to you, you are paralyzed, it is like a shock. It's as if you found yourself in another dimension. You leave the real world, you arrive in another town, you don't know anyone, you don't know why you're here. You are aware of what is happening but it is as if your brain stopped working. You have to endure, watch. You don't know what to do.”