Wednesday, September 5th 2012 was a sunny day in the Bauges mountains of Haute-Savoie. William Brett Martin took the opportunity to go for a bike ride near the village of Chevaline, population two hundred. He took the Combe d'Ire road, a nice climb that he regularly made. He was not the only one to pedal in these mountains, but he was in no hurry. He was therefore overtaken by another cyclist at around 3.15 pm. He then passed a green 4 x 4 and a motorbike. Then he reached the Martinet car park at an altitude of 2500 feet. He would never forget what he found there...

Wednesday, September 5th 2012 was a sunny day in the Bauges mountains of Haute-Savoie. William Brett Martin took the opportunity to go for a bike ride near the village of Chevaline, population two hundred. He took the Combe d'Ire road, a nice climb that he regularly made. He was not the only one to pedal in these mountains, but he was in no hurry. He was therefore overtaken by another cyclist at around 3.15 pm. He then passed a green 4 x 4 and a motorbike. Then he reached the Martinet car park at an altitude of 2500 feet. He would never forget what he found there...

Wednesday, September 5th 2012 was a sunny day in the Bauges mountains of Haute-Savoie. William Brett Martin took the opportunity to go for a bike ride near the village of Chevaline, population two hundred. He took the Combe d'Ire road, a nice climb that he regularly made. He was not the only one to pedal in these mountains, but he was in no hurry. He was therefore overtaken by another cyclist at around 3.15 pm. He then passed a green 4 x 4 and a motorbike. Then he reached the Martinet car park at an altitude of 2500 feet. He would never forget what he found there...

It was a wonderful time to be living on the banks of the Rhône in August 1889. While in the capital, the whole of Paris was living to the rhythm of the Universal Exhibition, gathering crowds on the Champ-de-Mars where the very young Eiffel Tower was overlooking the events, the inhabitants of the Rhône-Alpes region were enjoying quiet days, taking advantage of the river and the nature that protected them from the summer heat. However, a detail was disturbing the rural atmosphere: more and more walkers were disturbed by a stench that persisted on the departmental road between Vernaison and Millery, south of Lyon...

It was a wonderful time to be living on the banks of the Rhône in August 1889. While in the capital, the whole of Paris was living to the rhythm of the Universal Exhibition, gathering crowds on the Champ-de-Mars where the very young Eiffel Tower was overlooking the events, the inhabitants of the Rhône-Alpes region were enjoying quiet days, taking advantage of the river and the nature that protected them from the summer heat. However, a detail was disturbing the rural atmosphere: more and more walkers were disturbed by a stench that persisted on the departmental road between Vernaison and Millery, south of Lyon...

To what extent can one know misfortune ? How many tragedies can occur in a life, and continuously break some rare periods of happiness ? For Manuela Gonzalez-Cano, there seems to be no limit : in 25 years, she had lost three husbands. Suicide, fire, depression... Each of her companions suddenly disappears in tragic circumstances, as if they were victims of a curse from which there was no escape. The story was always the same : Manuela gets back on her feet, tries to rebuild her family, and thinks she can do it for a while, before a new incident destroys everything...

To what extent can one know misfortune ? How many tragedies can occur in a life, and continuously break some rare periods of happiness ? For Manuela Gonzalez-Cano, there seems to be no limit : in 25 years, she had lost three husbands. Suicide, fire, depression... Each of her companions suddenly disappears in tragic circumstances, as if they were victims of a curse from which there was no escape. The story was always the same : Manuela gets back on her feet, tries to rebuild her family, and thinks she can do it for a while, before a new incident destroys everything...

The life of Jean-Baptiste Rambla was a sordid soap opera, made up of episodes each more macabre than the last. It began when he was still known as little Jean. At the age of six, he was the main witness to the kidnapping and murder of his sister, Marie Dolores Rambla. Decades later, he in turn became a murderer.