A Trial, a Rumour, and the Quiet Town at the Center of a Storm
In a hushed courtroom in Paris, ten ordinary faces will stand before a judge accused of a decidedly modern crime: weaponizing the internet to erode a woman’s dignity. The charges are precise — sexist cyber-harassment directed at France’s first lady, Brigitte Macron — but the reverberations are anything but. This is a case about rumor, age, gender and the strange energy of online mobs. It is also a story about how a small northern city called Amiens became the unlikely epicenter of an international spectacle.
“You feel like you’re watching a slow-motion assault that no one can touch,” said Marie Lefèvre, who runs a tiny pâtisserie three blocks from the Trogneux family confectionery in Amiens. “People used to visit for the macarons and the quiet streets; now they whisper about things they read on a phone in another country.”
What’s at Stake
Ten people — eight men and two women, aged between 41 and 60 — are due before a Paris criminal court, accused of making repeated malicious comments about Brigitte Macron’s gender and sexuality and of equating the couple’s 24-year age difference with criminality. If convicted, they face up to two years behind bars, a reminder that French law has tangible teeth when it comes to harassment and defamation.
The legal case is the latest chapter in a long-running saga that began in earnest during Emmanuel Macron’s rise to the presidency in 2017. Since then, a rumor — now repeatedly described by prosecutors as unfounded — has circulated: that Brigitte Macron was assigned male at birth. That rumor has been amplified by far-right commentators, conspiracy-minded circles in France and abroad, and a handful of online influencers.
A timeline of escalation
Consider how the story moved from gossip to government-level action:
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2017 — Rumours began surfacing during Emmanuel Macron’s election campaign.
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2021 — A long-form YouTube interview alleges a family connection and identity confusion.
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August 2024 — Brigitte Macron files a complaint in France prompting investigations into cyber-harassment.
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December 2024 & February 2025 — Police make arrests connected to the online posts and harassment.
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July 2024 — The presidential couple files a separate defamation lawsuit in the United States against a conservative podcaster.
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Present — Criminal trial of ten defendants in Paris.
Faces and Voices
Among the defendants is Aurélien Poirson-Atlan, a 41-year-old publicist who has cultivated an online presence under the name “Zoe Sagan” and is often associated with conspiracy communities. Also named is Delphine J., a 51-year-old self-described spiritual medium who goes by Amandine Roy; she was already the subject of an earlier libel case.
“It’s not just about one person’s dignity. It’s about the permissiveness of our public spaces,” said Laurent Dubois, a Paris-based cyberlawyer who has followed the case. “When rumors about private life are weaponized for clicks, they don’t just harm reputations. They degrade public discourse.”
Across the Atlantic, the controversy has slipped into America’s culture wars. The Macrons filed a defamation suit in the U.S. in July against a prominent conservative podcaster who produced a series claiming Brigitte Macron was born male. The French couple have signaled they will produce “scientific” evidence and photographs in that lawsuit, according to their U.S. lawyer — a striking move that turns intimacy into exhibits.
How the Internet Became a Megaphone
Online harassment is not a uniquely French problem. A 2021 Pew Research Center study found that 41% of adults reported experiencing some form of online harassment, and about 22% said they had been targeted with severe harassment or stalking. Women, public figures and marginalized people disproportionately bear the brunt.
“The algorithms don’t judge; they amplify,” said Dr. Anaïs Morel, a researcher in digital culture who studies how conspiracy narratives spread. “A salacious or absurd claim is ideally suited to travel quickly because it provokes outrage, confusion and repeat sharing. After a while, repetition substitutes for evidence.”
In Amiens, that repetition has real-world effects. Shopkeepers speak of strangers showing up at the family’s former chocolate shop looking for answers; locals have received messages, and the town — known for its gothic cathedral and riverside promenades — has had to contend with a new kind of pilgrimage: rumor-seekers with smartphones.
“We sell Trogneux chocolates,” said Luc Chardin, 58, who runs a souvenir stall near the cathedral. “People come to enjoy the town and suddenly conversation turns. They ask questions about things that are not true. You can feel the strain. It’s not only about politics — it’s about respect.”
Broader Patterns: Gendered Lies as a Political Weapon
Brigitte Macron is far from the only woman targeted by grotesque disinformation about gender or sexuality. High-profile figures including Michelle Obama, Kamala Harris and New Zealand’s late prime minister Jacinda Ardern have all been subject to similar lies. Why this pattern?
“Sexist narratives travel well because they elide complex realities in favor of a single, salacious hook,” said Sophie Tremblay, director of a French NGO working on online safety. “They make audiences complicit — people who might never otherwise engage in political violence end up circulating dehumanizing material.”
This weaponization of gender talkers cuts across borders, feeding into global anxieties about identity, legitimacy, and power. In the United States, transgender rights have become a polarizing flashpoint; in France, a country prizing laïcité and republican values, the attacks have leaned heavily on intimate slander and moral panic.
Where Do We Go From Here?
The trial itself will be more than a legal bellwether. It is a test of how democracies respond when digital rumor slides into harassment, and when public curiosity tramples on private life. Will criminal penalties deter future mobs chasing virality? Will legal avenues provide meaningful reprieve for public figures whose private histories are stripped and sold online?
“People love a story where the powerful are somehow not what they seem,” observed Camille Martin, a sociology professor who studies rumor and political communication. “But you have to ask: at what cost? The cost here is human dignity and the integrity of information.”
As the courtroom prepares for testimony and the town of Amiens resumes its slow rhythm of market days and church bells, there is an unsettled question that extends beyond one couple or one rumor: how do we protect truth and human dignity in an era when anyone with a phone can be a witness — or a weapon?
Think about the last time you saw a rumor online and scrolled past it. What did you assume about the person who posted it? About your own role in circulating it? At the end of the day, the digital spaces we inhabit are built on our choices, shared in tiny acts: click, share, retweet, comment. What will we choose to build with them?
