[Feature to be found in the winter issue of the magazine Têtu·, available at your newsstands or delivered to you by subscription.] Target of a lesbophobic crow in the village of Cantal where she taught, Caroline Grandjean-Paccoud committed suicide on the first day of the 2025 school year. An investigation into a long psychological ordeal.
Autumn and winter were Caroline Grandjean-Paccoud’s favorite seasons. With her wife, Christine, they rose at dawn, fed their four Swiss shepherds, then stepped out into the cold to walk in their corner of Auvergne. From their home, an hour’s drive north of Aurillac, hiking trails abound. In the Mars valley, at the edge of the Volcans Regional Natural Park, they laced up their hiking boots to climb the GR40 and take a tour around the Falgoux cirque.
Caroline always carried her camera, with its various lenses, to capture the mornings’ silence from the Croix du Col d’Aulac. On one side, the panorama of the puy Mary and the puy Violent, so emblematic of the Massif Central, on the other, a landscape softened by the estives. At the early hour, when the sun rising kisses these telluric reliefs, nature seemed to belong to the couple. “Caroline could stay long in the cold to photograph animals, preferring to do it early, before other hikers disturbed them,” confides Christine, her widow, in a small voice. “I had to ask her to move on, otherwise she could stay crouched for hours.” Precious moments for this inseparable couple.
A suicide and questions
In front of a crackling wood stove, Christine struggles to turn the pages of a photo album that Caroline had printed with her finest shots. A privilege, because the photographer showed it only on rare occasions. There one sees her beloved Cantal covered in snow, a sea of clouds barred by the Hozières rock, but above all numerous animals: deer, does, foxes… Caroline’s favorite shot is of a chamois, its nose turned toward the lens, giving us a look that would be deemed playful.
From this album, Caroline had made two copies, which she gave to her psychiatrist and to her psychologist. For behind the landscapes’ grandiose scenes and these peaceful moments of the couple’s life, a darker backdrop had settled. In December 2023, at the Moussages school where Caroline teaches, a lesbophobic tag is discovered under the canopy: “Sale gouine”, is it written. Shocked, the teacher is placed on sick leave for a few days, then returns to her classroom. But this will recur: “Gouine = pedophile”, “go die”, “get out you dirty dyke”, the mysterious crow’s harassment continues, on the same wall or in a note slipped into the school’s mailbox… In 2024, the teacher’s threshold for endurance is surpassed: Caroline will not begin the September term, and will spend the school year on sick leave.
The 1er September 2025, a particularly symbolic day for her start of the school year, Caroline is alone at home. Heavily medicated, her agitation is treated with quetiapine, an antipsychotic prescribed notably to treat bipolarity or severe depression. Just before 10 a.m., she leaves her dogs at home and heads toward the mountains, on the Impalier path. This is not a stroll: after sending a message to her wife, who is at work, she calls 3114, the suicide prevention line. Worried by her text – “I was watching over her like milk on the fire” – Christine initiates a video call. Behind her screen, Caroline sends her the most beautiful smile. “She told me she needed air and that she would be home when I returned,” testifies the widow. She did not want me to leave work earlier than planned.
Knowing the area’s ruggedness, Christine nevertheless decides to use the emergency phone given by the gendarmes, who rush to the scene in search of Caroline. It is already too late: 30 meters down from the Malassarte cross, they discover the teacher’s lifeless body.
Within hours, the news travels to national newsrooms. “Cantal: suicide of a teacher harassed for her homosexuality”, headlines Agence France-Presse. Immediately, questions swarm. How could the teacher of a small village have been harassed anonymously in such a way without the gendarmerie or the Education Ministry managing to protect her? And despite having filed several complaints and tirelessly alerting the Clermont-Ferrand academy? And did the inhabitants of Moussages do enough to surround her during this long descent into hell?
Caroline, Christine and the Cantal
Both Auvergnates, Caroline and Christine met late, with a 19-year age difference. “She was a year older than my twins; finally, the first time I met her, it was… in kindergarten, in Moulins, in Allier”, Christine still jokes as she recounts this unusual story. In 2012, when the two women truly meet, she herself is already married and mother of three children. Christine volunteers as a dog agility club instructor; Caroline came to train her dog, Idaho. “He was very shy, and therefore difficult to work with, she recalls. “One day he managed an exercise, I put my hand in Caroline’s hair, and it was on.”
At 50, Christine did not expect to question her heterosexual identity. For her, who has been married for twenty-eight years, it was a upheaval: “In five months, I lost 17 kilos!” Yet she found the strength to tell her family, then pack her bag to join Caroline. “My sons never spoke to me again, even after Caroline’s death. We had to leave the department to escape my ex-husband,” she recalls over hot chocolate. The other family’s reaction was opposite: Caroline’s mother rejoices at seeing her daughter happy, even though she herself has only a 25-day difference with the beloved. Caroline herself explains: “This age difference never bothered us. Caroline used to tell me, ‘I will never put you in a nursing home, you’ll never grow old, I’ll keep you young’.”
The couple first settles in Creuse, in Saint-Étienne-de-Fursac, where their wedding takes place on May 7, 2016, in a simple ceremony, before a mayor moved to tears. “Through this marriage, declares Michel Monnet, we celebrate the history with a capital H, human progress and the culmination of several decades of struggle. Remember that it took until August 4, 1982 for the decriminalization of homosexuality in France. This debate was difficult (…), it allowed us to appreciate the degree of our civilization to become more humane…” The wedding cake takes the shape of an agility obstacle, and the bouquets are made of two rings: one black and one white, like the fur of their respective dogs. Caroline then obtains her first assignment in the Cantal, which she loves. Then she is posted in September 2021 to the Moussages school, closer to their home. “We were happy,” repeats Christine.
“Au fond, je crois qu’elle préférait les enfants aux adultes.”
In this village of 251 inhabitants, the school welcomes 12 to 17 pupils, from kindergarten to middle school. Initially in two classes, then in a single class from 2023. In other words, she is a vital organ for the small commune: without her, no families, no grocery store, no café… For a long time, teachers did not stay long in the village, too far from their homes. Then the arrival of a young, committed recruit, living only a fifteen-minute drive away, is a blessing. At first, she works with a colleague, and the mayor hires a nanny who looks after the after-school care in the evening. But when the school moves to a single class, Caroline becomes the sole teacher of the school and its director.
With the parents, tensions begin to appear. While some propose to develop various activities, such as a school trip or a year-end show, Caroline refuses. She is already very busy with her family life, her dogs, her mountain passion, and has no desire to spend Saturdays with the parents she sees during the week. “She mixed little her private life and her life as a teacher. It was her job, and she had no contact with the parents outside of school. Deep down, I think she preferred children to adults,” says Christine. Class councils become increasingly stormy. “We told ourselves she had her character and we tried to deal with it,” says a parent who prefers to remain anonymous. “We took a lot of care each time we wanted to communicate with her.” But contrary to what has been said here and there, I swear, the parents remained patient, too happy to have a school in the village. “But at some point,” he insists, “her aggressiveness was becoming pathological.”
In fact, Caroline was a rather blunt personality; all witnesses agree on this point. Even when, in this hunting region, the topic came up in class: she loved animals so much that she would move, without killing them, the slugs gnawing at her garden, yet she could then explode in a fit of rage. In autumn 2023, two new students arrive at the school. Their parents did indeed take over the bar-restaurant that serves as the canteen, but the two are regularly absent. Caroline files a report with social services; the family will leave the village a few months later. Outside of her work, she lashes out at hikers who use the private path in front of her house, when it is not the mountain bikes that set her dogs barking. “She had her privacy, and she definitely did not want anyone meddling in her affairs.” summarizes a village resident. It is in this tense context that the first tag appears.
The chalked homophobia under the canopy
The cold, rainy morning of Wednesday, December 13, 2023, the childminder opens the school gate and finds the inscription “sale gouine” traced in chalk under the canopy. She hurries to erase the insult before the students arrive and tells Caroline about it. The next part is what Caroline told in a message: “I tried, but the next day I couldn’t go back; I was off until the holidays. I send an email to the parents’ representatives to inform them of my absence and of the insults (without specifying the nature of them). I file a complaint, a SST form [health, safety, and work, which allows reporting a situation that could affect health], “done by the establishment” [to report to the academy a serious event, ndlr].”
Combative, she returns to Moussages for the January 2024 term. On March 7, while she is in training in Aurillac, “gouine = pedophile” is painted under the canopy. This time, the town hall is also targeted by the crow. Fifteen days later, the municipality, the academy’s inspectorate, and the parents publish a joint statement expressing their support for the teacher: “We unanimously and firmly condemn these intrusions and these assaults on the person that prevent school staff from carrying out their duties calmly and that harm the school climate and the well-being of the children.” Caroline judges this initiative too late, and timid. She also returns the bouquet of flowers sent to her. The gendarmerie receives three complaints: from the teacher, but also from the town hall and from the Education Ministry.
Difficult, while waiting for the investigation to progress, to smile at the parents when Caroline welcomes the students at the gate. Among them, perhaps the crow. The director thus begins to wait for her students at the back of the yard. At the end of March, the monstrous message “go die, you dirty dyke” is deposited in the school’s mailbox. “I don’t think it was pure homophobia,” analyzes today Christine. “What this crow wanted was to touch Caroline at the deepest level. If she had been Black, there would have been a racist tag.” In May, the tags target four vehicles, including two belonging to municipal services and another, parked just beside the town hall, resembling the mayor’s, Christian Vert. “To death” and “faggot”, one can read. The investigation stalls, but persists. A clue catches the gendarmes’ attention: the school’s tag is in BLOCK LETTERS, whereas on the town hall it uses upper and lower case. A graphology analysis is ordered: the parents or grandparents of pupils are summoned to the gendarmerie, and the nearby college is asked to provide copies of former Moussages pupils. No result. “It is false to say that the gendarmerie did not take the case seriously,” observes a village resident. “They even questioned a 75-year-old lady, as if she would attempt to scale the school’s gate at night!”
“I choose Moussages. Not because I want to go back there, but because I must.”
Exhausted, at the end of the school year, in June 2024, the gendarmes have not found the crow. The academy is reduced to offering Caroline, without particular ties in this village, a transfer. But the concerned person takes this as a request to resign, especially since the last tag demanded her departure: “Dégage sale gouine”. Why should it be up to her to leave? The teacher asks to keep her post, but the occupational doctor opposes it: her health requires a serene work environment. “Caroline Grandjean has approached us and we resolved the situation within 48 hours,” reports Thierry Pajot, national secretary of SN2D, a union of school directors. “She keeps her school.” Caroline then writes: “I choose Moussages. Not because I want to go back there, but because I must. We must fight against discrimination, and we cannot accept that the victim be relocated.” In the middle of the summer holidays, on August 6, there is “pedophile” on the door of the school’s boiler room. Disgusted, the director finally renounces returning to her post at the start of the school year. The national press then echoes this affair.
“Caroline wanted to denounce her situation, continues Pajot. “I have contacts, so I informed journalists and I acted as her spokesperson.” In the village, this initiative is poorly received: the year, it is said, was chaotic enough for the children who, despite Caroline’s commitment, effectively missed continuous schooling. “After all the media hoopla you stirred up this summer to win back your position, you give up?” would have heard from the school’s director to her hierarchy. “The press articles (to my knowledge I granted no interview; people spoke on my behalf without consulting me) crystallized anger against me. This story should have remained hidden,” mutters Caroline.
Clumsily, in September 2024, Moussages’ mayor celebrates on Facebook a “serene” return and the earning of a half-post for the school. Accused, in the local newspaper La Montagne, of not supporting Caroline enough, he files a right of reply in which he reiterates his support and recalls that the town hall has filed five complaints. “It must also be possible for the children to continue their schooling in a calm climate,” he pleads. A betrayal in the eyes of the teacher. “There, they won. They have a substitute; she is fully committed, they won. They have won everything. I think the hierarchy has won too since there is no longer any problem”, she writes from her long-term sick leave.
Living as a lesbian in the countryside
Beyond the National Education, another question arises: is the village of Moussages lesbophobic? It would not be the first time, têtu· knows all too well, that a gay couple experiences rejection or even hatred from neighbors… A hypothesis categorically denied by the mayor: “Moussages is not a homophobic village; we have always respected Mrs. Grandjean’s life.” And Christian Vert adds that he still hopes that “the crow who destroyed a life, a family and who destroys [their] village be identified.” On the village square, we do not have to search long to meet a fulfilled lesbian: Nathalie, the postwoman, is herself married to a woman. She lives in the neighboring village, but gladly shares coffee with Moussages’ residents during rounds. “I never had any problem, never received any homophobic remark or any inappropriate gesture that would have made me uncomfortable, she asserts. I had much more trouble when I lived in the city…”
It happens that Moussages is the first commune in the Cantal to celebrate the wedding of a same-sex couple: Quentin and Pierre confirm the postwoman’s account in their garden overlooking the school. “It’s a quiet village that aspires to live without upheaval”, they specify. When one visits in early October, the rainbow colors have been painted on the sign announcing the village, and the local café has, a few weeks earlier, installed a LGBT flag in its shop window in solidarity with Caroline. Yet, almost two years after the first tag, stuck in a situation with no apparent escape, Caroline paces. She seeks support on social networks, notably in a Facebook group that gathers thousands of school principals. “My psychiatrist wants me to return as soon as possible; he wants to see how I react ‘in condition.’ Me… that terrifies me, just walking through the school gate. And I would have trouble managing another failure,” she posts on January 10, 2025. She also reads the mini-BD Cas d’école, by Remedium, whose real name is Christophe Tardieux, which denounces the lack of humanity of the school administration toward its staff. “Today, I am on service disability, I see a psychiatrist every week, after a suicide attempt, I refused hospitalization and I am trying to rebuild myself,” she writes to him on Facebook.
“Chaque fois, c’était un clou supplémentaire planté dans son cercueil.”
Contacted, the cartoonist provides his version: “I found her narrative coherent, very structured, and matching a pattern I had already encountered. We exchanged messages, which allowed me to keep a record of her testimony, and helped her to develop her discourse.” Ten days after their contact, at the end of January, a short BD on Caroline’s case is published in 24 panels on social networks and on Mediapart’s participatory space. Accusing the school institution, she claims that it supports her “like the rope supports the hanged.” Recognized as a disabled worker, the director considers returning to work after the February or perhaps Easter holidays, this time in another establishment. But posts in the Cantal are few to free up.
In March, the teacher is summoned by the gendarmerie, but this is not to deliver good news: the academy inspector pursues the BD for defamation, and benefits from professional protection, i.e., the ministry covers the costs of justice. For more than two hours, the gendarmes, who had already received her as a victim on several occasions, now ask her to justify herself. They inform her that, due to lack of indices, the investigation into her crow is closed. “She was in deep distress and, instead of finding help, she was systematically pushed down,” analyzes Christophe Tardieux. “Each time, it was another nail driven into her coffin.” On social media, Caroline openly attacks the Education Ministry, accusing it of “institutional mistreatment.” The inspector is promoted. “The fact is that the National Education system seems to have done what it could, protecting children as much as possible and preserving the teacher who was not able to resume work,” says a senior ministry official. On April 14, she writes: “Today, I am surviving under treatment, and I am going to a psychiatric hospital in the next few days, probably. Fortunately, I have a psychiatrist who literally saves me.”
Caroline’s days away from work are filled with reading, notably adventure books, from which she fills lovely notebooks of summaries. Caroline had rated five stars to Two Innocents, by Alice Ferney, the story of a teacher who works with disabled adolescents whom she treats with a generosity her administration reproaches. In schoolchild handwriting, Caroline recorded this quote: “If we give ourselves completely without being rewarded and if, in addition, we are wrongly accused, then that’s enough.” In June 2025, Caroline makes a first suicide attempt that lands her in a psychiatric hospital for a month. “A month deprived of all my rights, subjected to assaults by very ill patients (strangulation, cigarette burns), not sleeping due to patients’ screams, and more,” she again accuses in the Facebook group. And she adds: “My fear. Of resuming work. Of hurting those I love by hurting myself. The certainty that I am no longer able to be in a school for the moment, the insecurity, the guilt. And sometimes the thought that I would be better in this psychiatric hospital under restraint, despite everything that happened there, at least I could not hurt myself.”
Four days before the start of the school year that would lead her to take the Impalier path, she leaves one final message on the group: “Monday’s day, I assure you, will be much harder for me at home than for you in your schools. Have a good start back, everyone.” Her message is accompanied by a photo of an ibex, this animal which, like her, has a stubborn head. In fidelity to her wife’s steadfastness, Christine filed, after her death, a complaint against the Education Ministry.
