Legal affairs journalist Caroline Van den Berghe looks back on the Marc Dutroux case, 30 years after the horrific summer of 1996. She was there at the trial of the kidnapper, rapist and murderer. “The site visit to the cellar in Marcinelle will stay with me forever,” she says.
Court reporter looks back on Marc Dutroux case that shook Belgium 30 years ago
Marc Dutroux was arrested 30 years ago, on 13 August 1996. He was found to be responsible for the abduction, captivity and rape of six girls: Julie Lejeune and Mélissa Russo, both eight, An Marchal, 17, Eefje Lambrecks, 19, Sabine Dardenne, 12, and Laetitia Delhez, 14. Julie, Mélissa, An and Eefje were killed. Only Laetitia and Sabine were rescued.
Dutroux was sentenced to life imprisonment in 2004. The case prompted outrage across the country and led to fundamental reform of the police and judiciary.
Those who grew up in the years before the Marc Dutroux case may well have had a different childhood to those who came after. “In that respect, there’s certainly a ‘before Dutroux’ and an ‘after Dutroux’,” journalist Caroline Van den Berghe says in the VRT podcast Onder ons, which looks back at the summer of 1996 and the horrific events that emerged.
“Most people didn’t have mobile phones back then, and apps that let you share your location didn’t exist at all,” she continues. “So you weren’t reachable and you just had to trust that everything would be all right. It wasn’t unusual for young children like Julie Lejeune and Mélissa Russo to go for a walk on their own in the neighbourhood.”
But when Julie and Mélissa failed to return to their homes in Grace-Hollogne at the agreed time on 24 June 1995, their parents panicked. They searched with friends and neighbours, and alerted the gendarmerie. There was no trace of the eight-year-old friends.
Search operations as we know them today, led by the Missing Persons Unit and involving Child Focus, did not exist at the time.
The parents of Julie and Mélissa, and later those of teenagers An and Eefje – who went missing on 23 August 1995 in Ostend – felt the police were not taking the cases seriously. “They’ve probably just spent the night at a boyfriend’s,” police told friends when they reported their disappearance.
“We now know that those first few hours are crucial for finding witnesses or clues, but at the time the police didn’t consider the disappearance of An and Eefje to be cause for concern,” Van den Berghe says.
By the time Sabine and Laetitia were kidnapped, the Missing Persons Unit had been set up. “I remember founder Alain Remue saying at the time that something wasn’t right: it simply wasn’t possible that those children hadn’t been found. That’s when large-scale search operations were launched, involving a great deal of manpower and resources.”
Even though it was 30 years ago, some images remain etched in her memory. “Sabine Dardenne and Laetitia Delhez being rescued from Dutroux’s cellar – that really is such an iconic image,” says Van den Berghe.
“And the moment those girls were brought home, the crowd standing there applauding, the girls throwing themselves into their families’ arms, and Sabine saying, ‘I’ve missed you all so much’. The joy and euphoria were immense; I still get goosebumps when I watch it.”
That joy would soon turn to sorrow. First, for the parents of Julie, Mélissa, An and Eefje. Dutroux had abducted them too, but they did not survive. Julie and Mélissa died of hunger and thirst; An and Eefje were buried alive.
I cannot imagine what it must be like as a parent to receive this news. It’s so heart-wrenching
“I cannot imagine what it must be like as a parent to receive this news,” says Van den Berghe. “It’s so heart-wrenching. All the time they were searching for their children, they hoped they were still alive. Then comes the harsh reality that they are dead.”
It emerged that the Charleroi gendarmerie had for some time been in possession of information pointing to Dutroux as a possible child abductor. He had previously been convicted, along with his wife, Michelle Martin, of the abduction and rape of minors. Despite this, he had been released following a decision by the then Justice minister, Melchior Wathelet.
The public outrage was immense. When Dutroux, Martin and his accomplice Michel Lelièvre were arrested on 13 August 1996, crowds protested outside the small courthouse in Neufchâteau.
“Those, too, are iconic images of the suspects being led out of the courthouse by police officers,” says Van den Berghe. “Barricades had been erected to keep the crowd at bay. There was shouting and shoving. The officers rushed down the stairs with the suspects, fearing they might be lynched.”
The Neufchâteau public prosecutor, Michel Bourlet, and investigating judge Jean-Marc Connerotte were held in high esteem by the parents and the community. Under their leadership, a breakthrough had been made in the disappearances and the feeling was that they were the only ones who would get to the bottom of the case. There were rumours of paedophile networks surrounding Dutroux who were said to be abducting children to order for high-ranking figures.
But Connerotte was taken off the case after he and Bourlet attended a fundraising evening organised by a charity to raise money for Laetitia’s defence; she was also present, along with Sabine.
When a photograph of the event appeared in a French-language newspaper, Dutroux’s lawyer went to the court to have the investigating judge removed. The court ruled in his favour, finding that Connerotte had been biased.
“And then all hell broke loose,” says Van den Berghe. “Spontaneous demonstrations and strikes broke out all over the country. Students took to the streets; workers downed tools. Eggs and spaghetti were thrown at courthouses. People were furious. At times, things turned very violent. It was as if a revolution were about to break out.”
At times, things turned very violent. It was as if a revolution were about to break out
A month later, on 20 October 1996, 300,000 people took part in the White March, a huge protest event in central Brussels. The march sent a signal to the police, the judiciary and political leaders that thorough reforms were needed. It would take until 1998, following a brief escape by Dutroux, for those reforms to actually be implemented.
It was only in 2004 – eight years after Dutroux’s arrest – that his trial for the abductions, rapes and murders began in Arlon. It attracted enormous media attention both at home and abroad.
The four Belgian broadcasters – VRT, VTM, RTBF and RTL – had containers installed with a view of the courthouse. “They were small newsrooms from which we could produce reports every day and provide live coverage of the trial,” Van den Berghe explains. “The small criminal court room had space for all the parties involved, but not for all the media. It was agreed that there would be a rota system to determine who could sit in the courtroom and who would have to follow the trial on a screen in another room.”
What has stayed with her most from the trial is the visit to the cellar and cage at Dutroux’s house in Marcinelle, where the girls were held.
“A site visit is quite exceptional in a criminal trial, but this was to show the jury what that cage looked like. How small it was. It was considered important for the jury to see this with their own eyes. When you enter that cellar and see the cage, you realise how inhumanly horrific it must have been to be locked up in there. Sabine Dardenne was held there for 81 days.”
Sabine’s courageous testimony has also stayed with her. “Her story made it very clear how Dutroux manipulated the abducted girls,” she says. “Sabine said Dutroux had led her to believe he was her protector against a big boss who would come to take her away and murder her.”
Sabine’s account was crucial to the investigation and clearly showed what the other girls had also gone through. There was no evidence found of a network or major ringleader. “Although many people found it hard to believe that a single man, with his wife and an accomplice, was capable of such acts, Sabine’s account showed it was indeed possible.”

