Visiting the Brigade Gendarmerie

August 26, 2015

     Starting in June, I had a variety of charges appear associated to the debit card of my French banking account.  Starting with a charge for a toll affiliated with Montelimar, a town in Provence where I have never been.   None of them for large amounts, but not ignorable, in my view.

     So I went to the bank branch in the village and signaled the dubious charges.  My old debit card was cancelled and a new one (with a different access code attached) ordered.  The code was sent under separate cover to my address in New York City, while the bank card was sent to me here, delaying the activation of the card a few weeks.

     The card and code obtained, I went to the bank yesterday to start the process of investigating the possible fraud on my account.  What I learned was that I would have to go to the next village over, Peyriac-Minervois, to the Brigade Gendarmerie there and file an opposition, to initiate an investigation into the charges' source.

     In France a bank card will cost you 45 Euros a year, and a replacement card 20 Euros.  Unless the second card had to be issued on account of a suspected fraud, in which case you will be reimbursed the cost of the new card --but only when you return from the gendarmerie with a stamped copy of the allegation filed.

     So I drove to the brigade gendarmerie in Peyriac with Beau.  I have previously dealt with the Police Municipale about all questions having to do with matters in Caunes, such as how to protect the house from burglars, what my obligations are as a dog owner, noise issues.  A charge of fraud, however, has to be formalized at the local gendarmerie.

     The French gendarmerie is actually a branch of the Army, responsible for the internal security of the country.  That status makes its existence impossible in the United States, where the law of posse comitatus forbids the use of federal military personnel in law enforcement.  The existence of the gendarmerie is one more aspect of the highly centralized government of France.  The brigade is a squad of ten to twenty gendarmes who are responsible for law enforcement in the countryside, and to whom the Police Municipale (who are unarmed) report.

     I drive to Peyriac and find the Gendarmerie without difficulty.  I have to be let in through an electronically operated gate, then through two electronic doors, to reach the public entrance.  There is a stocky, young, bald man in uniform standing next to a man in a much more formal outfit, wearing a kepi, the cap with a horizontal peak.  It is only when Beau and I actually enter that I realize I have been looking at a mannequin of the gendarmerie of a century ago.  In two places there are signs specifying No Smoking, and a few "missing persons" flyers.  Otherwise, the reception area is bare, and immaculate.

     The gendarme listens to my explanation for the visit, then tells me I'll have to speak with his female colleague, who will take the report as soon as she's done with what she's now doing.  The wait isn't long before  a strongly built, pony-tailed woman, brunette, emerges, dressed identically to her male colleague.

     She asks me whether my bank card has always been in my possession, which it has been.  Then she explains to me that Montelimar is an administrative center for traffic toll collection, and that probably that is all that my suspicious debit card deduction is.  And she explains that the large amount (36, 20 Euros) may well represent the aggregation of several charges related to my travel from Toulouse to Caunes via the toll road between that city and Carcassonne.  Despite the geographic distance, the road between Toulouse and Carcassonne is part of the Autoroute du Sud Vedene at Montelimar.  Also, she concludes, a charge can only be levied by the actual insertion of the card into the toll collecting machine, so it would be strange if the charges that raised my suspicion were not legitimate if the card was always in my possession.  Notwithstanding, she makes copies of my bank statement, old debit card and driver's license.  (Note: in France a driver's license is not always accepted as a piece d'identite; often presentation of a passport is required.)

      And she has me fill out the complaint form and gives me the all-important stamped copy of it to take to my bank.

       In who knows how long, after examination, a report about the merits of my complaint will be generated.  It sounds as though I may have over-reacted, but before I leave the gendarme tells me that Swiss who visit France are often robbed via their debit cards, as the Swiss have not inserted a "chip" on their bank cards.  You cannot be too careful.

       The document in hand, I can now go back to my bank branch and have 20 Euros credited back to my account.  I am better informed about how the system that manages traffic tolls works and less concerned that my bank card details have fallen into the possession of criminals.   Although I still wonder why, rather than itemize the individual toll charges, France has to bundle them so that it is impossible to see exactly where they were generated and in what amounts.

     The reason is probably administrative convenience --which always takes priority over the  consumer in France, unlike the United States.