October 21, 2026
Under the title “The Assassination of Danny Chamoun: Between the Judicial Council’s rulings and the postponed retrial questions,” this report recalls the details of one of the most heinous crimes that shook Lebanon during the civil war, shedding light on the legal and political aspects surrounding it decades later.
On October 21, 1990, Danny Chamoun’s house in the Baabda area was subjected to an armed raid, which resulted in his death along with his wife, Ingrid Abdel Nour, and their two children, Tariq (seven years old) and Julian (five years old), while the little girl, Tamara, survived because the gunmen did not pay attention to her presence. It is a bloody family massacre in which a Christian family was completely removed from their home, becoming one of the cruelest and most ambiguous Lebanese war crimes.
Following the investigations, the Council of Ministers referred the case to the Judicial Council, considering it affecting state security and national life. On June 24, 1995, the Judicial Council, headed by the first President of the Court of Cassation, Philip Khairallah, and with the membership of Judges George Qasouf, Hikmat Harmoush, Hussein Zein, and Hassan Qawwas, issued a final court ruling convicting Samir Geagea and imposing his death sentence, which was later reduced to life with hard labor, in addition to issuing sentences against other defendants.
Although the ruling was issued by the highest criminal judicial authority in Lebanon, it remained the subject of doubts and objections. Amnesty International considered that the trial was marred by serious flaws, while Danny Chamoun (the victim’s brother) rejected the official version that held Geagea responsible, pointing the finger at the Syrian regime of being behind the crime.
With Geagea’s release from prison and his active return to political life as a key member, former minister, and head of a powerful parliamentary bloc that participated in understandings that led to the appointment of presidents of the republic, the man possessed huge political and legal potential that allowed him to transform his media speech defending his innocence into an official judicial process, which opens the door to fundamental questions: Why did he not submit a request for a retrial if he was convinced that he had been unjustly convicted? Where is the new evidence that proves the structure of governance during the era of Syrian tutelage? Why were the loopholes not collected in a clear legal file presented to the judiciary?
The Lebanese legal framework makes it clear that the rulings of the Judicial Council are not subject to appeal or cassation before a higher court. However, Article 366 of the Code of Criminal Procedure provides two exceptional methods: objection and retrial, making the Judicial Council itself the competent authority to consider requests for a retrial according to precise conditions, including the emergence of new, previously unknown evidence or document that would prove innocence, or proving that a testimony on which the ruling was based was false, or the existence of contradictory rulings in the crime itself. Therefore, Geagea was not required to go to the House of Representatives or the Constitutional Council, which do not have the authority to evaluate the evidence, but rather to present serious data to the Judicial Council through a clear legal request.
Here the irony emerges in Geagea’s contentment with defending his innocence politically and in the media without declaring a legal path explaining the reasons for not submitting a request for a retrial or the impossibility of doing so. This does not necessarily mean the validity of the ruling or the dropping of objections to it. Rather, it means that whoever holds a counter-narrative and possesses the necessary capabilities becomes interested in converting his story into an official judicial file.
The case of Danny Chamoun, which goes beyond political and partisan differences to include a horrific crime that left a deep wound in Lebanese and Christian memory, confirms that the truth alone is what ends old crises and prevents memory from remaining hostage to contradictory narratives. If the ruling is correct, it will be confirmed by a retrial, and if it is wrong, then correcting it restores respect to both the victims and justice, so the most prominent question remains after 36 years: Why did Geagea not resort to the judiciary to clear his name once and for all?
