Arst Avocats designed this mini-series to give you an inside look at a judicial reorganization procedure.
By Morgan Jamet, Partner Attorney — Insolvency Law
Published on August 22, 2026
The judgment arrived on a Wednesday, by mail, a few weeks after the hearing. Marc called me as soon as he had it in his hands, even before he'd finished reading it. "I've got it. It's written down this time. In black and white." I could hear him turning the pages as he spoke to me.
We go over it together, line by line, on the phone. The continuation plan, finalized for eight years, with the detailed, year-by-year schedule, exactly as we had drawn it up with the accountant. The obligations are clearly stated: no dividends until the plan is fully implemented, the premises and production equipment rendered inalienable for the specified period, and regular reporting to be provided. And the appointment, in full, of the plan administrator —the trustee, in this new role, the one who will be with us until the last euro is repaid.
"Does that mean the administrator's role is over?" Yes. His mission ends with the adoption of the plan. No more double-signature documents, no more authorizations to request to sell a machine or negotiate with a supplier. Marc regains what is called self-management—he once again becomes the sole master of his day-to-day decisions, like any other manager, except that he must now fulfill, each year, the commitments outlined in this judgment.
"So, how exactly does it work to pay?" Together with the accountant, we establish what will become a routine for the next eight years: each month, one-twelfth of the upcoming annual payment is set aside in a dedicated account, so that the entire sum is available on the anniversary of the judgment, without any unpleasant cash flow surprises. No sudden changes. No last-minute scramble to gather the money. Just a new monthly routine, but one that quickly becomes second nature.
Marc remains silent for a moment on the other end of the line. "I don't think I'll ever look at a bank statement the same way again." I'm not sure that's entirely a bad thing. This vigilance, the kind he learned the hard way over the course of a year, is also what made this judgment possible.
One thread remains untied: the supplier. The judgment acknowledges this without resolving the matter—his disputed claim, included in the plan without prejudging its fate, is still awaiting his decision on whether or not to take the matter to the competent court within the allotted timeframe. “Do you think he’ll actually go through with it?” Marc asks me. I honestly don’t know. But Marc, unexpectedly, doesn’t approach this last point with concern. “I’d like us to try talking to him before he files anything. A real discussion, not a power struggle. If there’s a way to compromise, to settle this amicably, it would remove the last unknown. It would allow me to turn the page for good, on all fronts at once.” It’s not guaranteed to work out—a commercial dispute doesn’t always end with a handshake. But it is with this mindset, resolutely focused on appeasement rather than confrontation, that he asks me to undertake this process. We'll see what comes of it.
What I tell him, before hanging up, is what I truly think about this case, and many others similar yet never identical: receivership doesn't always save the company that enters into it. It would be a lie, and a promise I would never dare make, to claim otherwise. The figures, when you look at the available statistics on the outcome of this type of procedure in France, are unequivocal: only a minority of cases—around a quarter to a third, according to studies—result in a plan that is actually approved. The majority end in liquidation. Marc is part of that minority. Not by chance. Because from the very first evening, he laid everything bare, without hiding anything, and he has never stopped doing so since.
“A year, almost to the day, since that first video call,” he told me, before hanging up. Yes. And a company that still exists, with its employees, its two loyal clients, and a leader who now knows exactly what each line item on his balance sheet represents. That wasn't guaranteed that evening. It is now, for the next eight years—provided he continues, month after month, as he has done so far.
The company's life has resumed. Not the same as before—a different one, more restrained, more documented, more attentive to every line of cash flow. But a life, indeed, that continues.
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*Marc, Établissements Dupont, and all the situations described in this series are fictional, composites of cases encountered in practice. Any resemblance to a real situation is purely coincidental. This series was designed to illustrate, in a concrete way, what a judicial reorganization procedure entails—its constraints, its stages, and what it actually allows, without ever promising what it cannot guarantee.*
*VIEW FROM THE INSIDE — End of Season 1.*
Morgan Jamet,
founding partner of Arst Avocats, advises business leaders on commercial law, insolvency law, restructuring, and business litigation.
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