No One Killed the Princess! (Part 1)

Lady Diana, “The People’s Princess”, was loved by one and all. She died in a fatal car crash. Or did she? Read on…

“More Champagne, Madame?” asked the Maitre’d himself. Of course, these were the 2 most important guests at Paris’s most expensive and exuberant hotel- the Ritz.

“Oui, Si’il vous plait!”-said Diana, in her graceful French. She always thought of herself being French- she adored them; their style, the haute-couture, their sophistication. And very much so, she was just like them.

“Cheers!”, said Dodi Fayed, the scion of the Ritz. It was a reason to celebrate after all. He had found love in the most delicately beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. And he was happy that she too was enamored by him-passionately in love with him.

In his eyes, Diana could see herself-at peace, calm and serene. This was quite a contrast to what she had become after the abysmal divorce and the consequent events that followed. From binge-eating, to bulimia, to severe manic-depression- she had seen it all. What had she done to deserve all this? A fairy-tale wedding with a Prince and a Princess had come crumbling down after a few months of blissful marriage. However, she had held her head up high-faced each day with unwavering courage and dignity.

But it was not about all that today. It was about a life that she was going to share with Dodi. With “Dodo”(she would lovingly call him) she had envisioned a future of peace and calm. But little did she know that lady luck, just like the Royalty, never favored her.

Somewhere, in Paris, Mohammed Al- Fayed, was frantically trying to reach out to his son and his beau. He had made a mistake, a grave one. He called the hotel and asked the Manager to hold Di and Dodi in until he arrived. He wanted to talk to his son before it was too late-the clock kept ticking at its usual pace, but to him it seemed as if it were moving at a lightning speed. He called his chauffeur to take him to the Ritz. Outside the window of his Limo, he saw a young man with his little kid in the hand, strolling on the pavement of Champs Elysees. In that he saw a vivid image of him and his son, a long time ago. A tear rolled down and window rolled up! He composed himself and was determined to rectify what was about to happen.

Somewhere inside the Balmoral castle, a phone rang.

“She won’t be a problem anymore!” said the caller.

In Paris, Diana and Dodi tried to escape the paparazzi mania by making a quick back door exit. The manager tried to stop Dodi, but he was in no mood to discuss anything with his father. The strain that he had been feeling from his family, especially, his father, was too much to handle at the moment. Moreover, he wanted Diana to have one evening of peace, at least, that much he owed to the Lady he loved.

Mohammed reached the hotel but missed the couple by a few seconds. Paul, whom he had trusted with a lot of things, was dying of cancer. He had given him a huge amount to protect his family after he was gone. Mohammed was a generous man, but he feared Paul’s loyalty today. He sat in his office, held his hand in his hands and waited, hoping for nothing to happen.

The rented Mercedes S280, registration number "688 LTV 75” was immediately occupied by the 2. Sitting inside was Trevor, head of security for the Fayed family and driving the car was Paul. Even though feeling a little light headed, Paul stepped on the gas. The car sped through the brightly lit streets of Paris. In an attempt to escape the paparazzi, Paul detoured and decided to go through the Place de l’Alma underpass.  Diana held Dodi’s hand and smiled elegantly. And then the world around her spiraled out of control! It was 31^st August, 1997-the night Diana died.

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