Candace Owens defamation fight: Macrons sue over claim Brigitte was 'born a man'
The rumor started online, then snowballed into a business model. Now it’s headed for a courtroom. Emmanuel and Brigitte Macron have filed a 219-page defamation lawsuit in Delaware against American commentator Candace Owens, accusing her of relentlessly pushing the false claim that France’s First Lady was born a man. The filing turns a year-long internet fight into a high-risk legal showdown over truth, profit, and the reach of conspiracy content.
The core allegation is straightforward: Owens has repeatedly told her audience that Brigitte Macron is actually “Jean-Michel Trogneux.” That person exists—he’s Brigitte’s older brother. French records and decades of public life contradict Owens’s claim, but she hasn’t backed off. Instead, she turned it into a series, a brand, and a rallying cry.
The Macrons say they tried the quiet route first. Their lawyers, from the reputation law firm Clare Locke, say they spent months putting evidence in front of Owens and asking for a retraction. No luck. After more posts, an eight-part podcast called “Becoming Brigitte,” and merchandise that leaned into the rumor, the couple sued for actual, presumed, and punitive damages. They also want whatever other remedies the court thinks are fair—code for things like removing content or limiting future statements.
What the lawsuit says
At its simplest, the complaint argues two things: Owens’s statements are false, and she knew or should have known they were false. That second part matters in U.S. defamation law because the Macrons are public figures, which raises the bar. They have to show “actual malice”—that Owens either knew she was spreading a lie or acted with reckless disregard for the truth.
How do you prove that? You look at the timeline. According to the filing, Owens first boosted the claim in March 2024. After that, the Macrons’ team sent repeated evidence and requests to stop. Owens didn’t just decline; she escalated, packaging the rumor as content and as product. The complaint quotes her defiant responses and points to the revenue streams—podcast episodes, T-shirts, attention—that came with them.
Owens’s public stance hasn’t softened. In a July 2025 response, she said Brigitte Macron “is definitely a man,” dismissed the case as a PR stunt, and claimed any courtroom loss would be the result of political bias and elite corruption. She framed the suit as part of a broader fight against “perverts” and a “sadistic syndicate,” language that plays well with a segment of her audience but may not help in front of a judge or jury.
Clare Locke, which helped represent Dominion Voting Systems in its record $787.5 million settlement with Fox News, is taking point. Lead counsel Tom Clare called this “a last resort,” saying his team tried repeatedly to secure a simple correction. Once that didn’t happen, they filed in Delaware—an interesting choice given the national reach of Owens’s content and the state’s reputation as a venue for complex, high-profile cases.
The Macrons don’t put a number on damages. They do ask for three types:
- Actual damages, for measurable harm such as security costs, reputational repair, and emotional distress.
- Presumed damages, allowed in some defamation cases when the statement is so inherently harmful it’s presumed to cause injury.
- Punitive damages, to punish egregious conduct and deter repeats.
If the court allows discovery to move forward, expect subpoenas for podcast scripts, emails, drafts, revenue reports, ad deals, and inventory records tied to the merchandise. Expect depositions. Expect questions about traffic spikes linked to the controversy. In these cases, money trails tell stories words try to hide.
The complaint also knows its context. The rumor did not start with Owens; it surfaced years earlier in France and has been swatted down in French courts. That overseas history won’t control a U.S. judge, but it sets the stage: the claim has been tested before and found baseless. The difference now is the scale, the monetization, and the American legal standard.
The bigger fight: free speech, lies, and the cost of clicks
This case sits right on the fault line between robust free speech and the legal limits on lying about real people. Political commentary gets wide leeway in the U.S., and courts are wary of chilling debate. But there’s a line: false statements of fact that seriously harm someone’s reputation can be punished, especially when the speaker doubles down after being shown the truth.
That’s why the “actual malice” test matters. It protects heated opinion. It shields good-faith mistakes. It does not protect repeating a claim once you have credible evidence it’s false. In plain English: you can be loud; you can’t be knowingly wrong.
The allegations here are particularly specific. Saying someone is “definitely a man” isn’t satire, hyperbole, or a vague opinion. It’s a factual claim about identity. The complaint says it’s false and points to the paper trail. If the jury believes Owens knew better—or didn’t care—actual malice becomes easier to find.
Why Delaware? Practically, it’s a forum with experience handling complicated, high-stakes disputes and global parties. Legally, it’s a place where a U.S. judgment would avoid the tangle of enforcing a foreign decision at home. Thanks to the SPEECH Act, U.S. courts won’t enforce overseas libel rulings if they clash with First Amendment protections. Suing domestically sidesteps that problem and keeps the fight under American rules.
Expect a familiar early playbook:
- A motion to dismiss, arguing Owens’s statements are protected opinion, rhetorical hyperbole, or otherwise nonactionable.
- A jurisdiction challenge, questioning why Delaware is the right venue.
- If the case survives, hard-fought discovery and likely summary-judgment motions before any trial.
There’s recent history to study. Dominion v. Fox ended in a massive settlement once discovery exposed internal messages undercutting on-air claims. The Sandy Hook cases against Alex Jones produced staggering verdicts after jurors saw how lies about grieving families were packaged and sold. Rudy Giuliani’s loss to Georgia election workers showed a jury’s willingness to punish repeated, baseless smears. Different facts, same pattern: once actual malice is on the table, verdicts climb fast.
This case adds another layer: gender-based harassment and its online economy. Claiming a woman “is really a man” has become a go-to smear in certain corners of the internet. It blends misogyny with transphobic tropes, invites mobs, and floods targets with abuse. Whether intended or not, the effect is the same—endless ridicule, safety risks, and a stain that’s hard to wash off. The Macrons’ filing leans into that harm, describing “relentless bullying on a worldwide scale.”
Owens argues the opposite. In her telling, she’s the one under attack for challenging elites, and the lawsuit is meant to silence her. That message taps into a broader grievance that rallies followers and drives engagement. But engagement isn’t a legal shield. Courts don’t grade on clicks.
What would the Macrons need to prove at trial?
- The statements were about Brigitte Macron.
- The statements were false and presented as facts, not opinions or jokes.
- Owens published them to third parties—here, a massive online audience.
- As public figures, the Macrons must show actual malice: knowledge of falsity or reckless disregard.
- Damages—either specific harms or the kinds of harm the law presumes in certain defamation categories.
Even if they check those boxes, remedies aren’t automatic. Injunctions in defamation cases are rare and usually narrow. Courts are cautious about telling someone what they can and can’t say in the future. But they do order takedowns of specific false statements and award money when justified.
For Owens, the discovery phase could be the danger zone. Internal notes, drafts, and messages often tell a different story than public posts. If those materials show doubts about the claim—or awareness that it was debunked—that’s damaging. If they show a strategy to stoke outrage and sell products, it’s worse.
For the Macrons, there’s risk too. Litigation extends the life of the claim they’re trying to bury. It invites more media attention, more commentary, more noise. But they’ve calculated that the cost of staying quiet is higher than the cost of fighting, especially if the court orders a clear correction and puts a price on the harm.
There’s a global angle as well. In France, courts have already sanctioned conspiracy peddlers who pushed similar claims about Brigitte Macron. European defamation law generally leans more toward plaintiffs than in the U.S. By filing here, the Macrons are choosing the harder road—one that could carry more symbolic weight if they win.
Zoom out, and this case is about incentives. The modern outrage economy pays for volume, novelty, and certainty. Saying “maybe” doesn’t go viral. Saying “definitely,” over and over, does. Platforms reward creators who keep audiences hooked. Merch turns attention into cash. Lawsuits are one of the few tools left to change those incentives by adding a cost to calculated falsehoods.
Key dates so far:
- March 2024: Owens begins promoting the claim that Brigitte Macron was born a man named Jean-Michel Trogneux.
- 2024–2025: After requests to retract, Owens releases an eight-part podcast series and sells themed merchandise.
- Mid-2025: The Macrons file a 219-page defamation complaint in Delaware.
- July 2025: Owens responds publicly, doubling down and calling the case a PR play.
What happens next? Watch for the court to schedule briefings on any motion to dismiss. If the case survives that stage, the parties will fight over what documents and data must be handed over. Depositions could follow, with both sides testing memories and motives under oath. Settlement talks are always possible, especially if discovery cuts one way.
The outcome will ripple well beyond the people in this dispute. If a jury says this kind of viral, personal falsehood crosses the legal line—especially after notice and monetization—content creators will take note. If the case collapses early on opinion grounds, it will reinforce how high the actual-malice bar remains for public figures. Either way, the message to audiences is the same: the loudest voice isn’t necessarily the truest one, and sometimes the truth gets decided in a place with a court reporter and a witness chair.