Les gangs du bout du monde

Que ce soit pour protéger son business ou défier une bande rivale, les raisons pour faire parler la poudre sont multiples pour ces nombreux gangs. Enquête au cœur des organisations les plus dangereuses de la planète.
Haïti – 00:00
Afrique du Sud : 07:06
Honduras : 12:50
France : 27:57

Only these charred bones remain. He is a true villain. I took a bullet
and it tore through my abs. I need to have
my muscles sewn back together. Daddy, why are you leaving? It never jams. With this, you can’t miss your target. Right in downtown, two men equipped with assault rifles came to fetch us. The scene is uncannily surreal. They are having a quiet conversation
in front of passers-by, barely surprised. And they are keen to demonstrate that their weapons are not toys. This gang is accused of assault
and racketeering on traders and rapes. But on that day,
they prefer to introduce themselves as a basic citizen militia who protects the neighborhood. Some armed men come to sow violence in the neighborhood. That’s why we bear arms: to safeguard the business and the local residents. Within two years, in Bel-Air, they murdered 77 individuals
and set ablaze around a hundred homes. This is where
their last major attack occurred, a couple of weeks ago. Fifteen fatalities,
including an 86-year-old woman. Her house was burned down. She lived here. The gang members broke both of his arms and tossed her from the first floor. When she arrived at the hospital, She had burns all over
and numerous fractured bones. On the same day, another house has caught fire. Everything has been burnt to ashes here. Yes, yes, all of it. Did he die, burned in his house? In his house, they burned him to ashes. Mr. Frank was 81 years old. Frank passed away here. He was paralyzed. That’s where Franck was burnt to ashes. Only his charred bones remain. The alias of Jimmy Cherizier aka Barbecue, truly comes into its own. When you hear the term “Barbecue”, you think it’s all just an act. But he is a real villain. The specialty of Barbecue? Setting houses ablaze,
along with their inhabitants, naturally. The new influential figure
of Port au Prince leads the G9, a kind of federation consisting
of nine gangs that is in control of a significant portion
of the city’s neighborhoods. But Jimmy Cherizier
wasn’t always a bandit. In 2018, he was still serving
as a police officer. Only in Haiti can one
transition so quickly from being a cop to gang leader. The authorities officially
seek after him for several massacres, including one
that resulted in 71 deaths in 2018. After approximately
ten days of negotiations, we have secured a meeting with him. His stronghold, the working-class neighborhood
of Delmas. Jimmy Cherizier, also known as Barbecue, here he is,
sandwiched between his two bodyguards. Without his protection,
we wouldn’t have been able to film at all in the neighborhood
without being mugged. We come across a man in a vibrant T-shirt and Bermuda shorts, quite amiable, he explains to us
the origins of his nickname. During my childhood, in my neighborhood, there were multiple Jimmys. However,
my mother used to sell grilled chicken. So I was nicknamed “Barbecue” to distinguish myself
from the other Jimmys. That’s the end of the beautiful story. Just a few weeks ago,
Barbecue, here, with the denim jacket, did not hesitate to strut around
in broad daylight in the capital city with its armed supporters. He consented to meet with us on one condition: that we were not filming the armed men that constantly safeguards him. However, he is determined
to introduce us to his kitten. Is this yours? Yes, it’s mine. Because today, Jimmy Cherizier, aims to portray himself
as a respectable man. I wish for the entire world to know
that I, Jimmy Cherizier, known as Barbecue, I have never stolen,
not even once in my life. I have never kidnapped anyone. Never. You’ve never,
ever killed anyone? I have never murdered for money. But have you done anything else? I didn’t say that. We will pass through here,
but not in a group. Should we run? We do it running.
Let’s go. We are coming here. In the center of the road, the residents have erected barricades
using sandbags to dodge the bullets. The shots are being fired from below. It often heats up here, daily. That day, the Bel-Air neighborhood will not disappoint his reputation. Turn back! A climate of civil war
where are palpable even occasionally gunshots. The law of the gangs
governs life in Cape Flats. With an annual count of 2,400 murders, the city displays a shocking average
of 7 homicides per day. Alerted by screams, Randall and his teammates delve
into this perilous predicament. Shut up, the dog! This elderly woman’s house is occupied by members of a gang. They’ve come to my house to take drugs,
and I want them out! Get out of my house! They utilize the houses
to smoke crack, to conceal drugs
or weapons. People refrain from speaking out
because they are gang members. Everyone fears them. And the reason, these men do not hesitate
to wield their weapons. Most of their members carry the scars. I took a bullet
and it tore through my abs. I need to have stitches put in. Who shot you? The Americans. The Americans are the competing gang. He is a member of Hard Leaving. He, in fact,
has it etched into his flesh. He is a Hard Living member. You can also recognize it by that. It’s the symbol they’re using, the British flag Is it “for life or death”
with Hard Living? Until his death,
he will be a Hard Living member. Leaving the gang is impossible. As he stated. It’s until death. Attacked in broad daylight
right in front of his own gate, this sexagenarian narrowly escaped death. At the moment I was closing the gate, a man arrived from this side with a raised knife. I turned around to see what it was. And then, two other men
came from this direction. They pushed me. Do you see my blood? These bloodstains. Dragged by the hair into the property. She is subsequently beaten
and verbally abused. Nikki realizes that she does not have
the right skin color. And were they saying something? Yes, they were verbally abusing me. How? Their words? You f*** white. The traditional scenario of an assault on a farm. They hauled me
all the way down the corridor dragging me by the hair. They took me upstairs. They knew where they intended to take me. She ends up in the room of the safe. Seated on this chair, still stained with her blood. I asked them what their desires were. They told me about money, a lot of money. He approached me
and he said: “You will see.” He held the tip of his knife, and he began
to carve pieces of my flesh. Then he thrust his knife into my hands and he lodged the tip of the blade
into my skull. Nonetheless,
Nicky refuses to give the safe key. Their depravity knows no bounds. He said to me: “Now, I will show you what will I have to do
to get you to talk.” He approached me. I remained seated
as he grabbed the drill. And he broke through here and there. I wasn’t wearing my shoes,
I had lost them. So he drilled through your feet
with the drill? Yes, through each foot. After enduring 6 hours of torture, they decide to kill her. You should pray to your God because it will be
your final prayer on earth. They placed a plastic bag on me. And they tightened it. Then, I felt my head tilt backwards. I thought to myself: “My God, please let it end quickly.” Left to die, she miraculously survives, discovered by a friend on this armchair. The criminals’ loot is measly, three mobile phones. A few days prior, it’s a couple from next door
who were brutally murdered. In the northern part of the country, in this working-class district, this man has just lost his son. To prevent the family
from seeking revenge, the murderers threatened
the victim’s brothers with death. Jose, and Alexander, as well as their brother-in-law and a close friend. What exactly did they tell you? The assassins granted us 24 hours
to exit the country. Daddy, why are you leaving? They told them to leave,
otherwise– We are witnessing
such violence in this country. Here, life is worth nothing. In a couple of hours, the four young individuals
will take to the road. They are planning to attempt illegal entry
into the United States with no hope of coming back. Because the gang
that threatens them, It’s the Mara Salvatrucha, one of the worst criminal organizations
on the planet. Even though it’s challenging
for the police to apprehend them, the maras have a weak point, their tattoo. They signify affiliation to one camp
or another. Therefore, at each inspection, The police are scrutinizing
every inch of skin. On the other side. Lift up your shirt. There is another tattoo there. There. There is another tattoo on the arm. In and of itself,
having tattoos is not forbidden. Anyone can get tattoos if they wish to. But for us, that’s sufficient to represent a suspicion of affiliation
with a Mara. The law allows them
to hold in custody anyone displaying tattoos
that may signify gang affiliation. Lower your trousers. This sixteen-year-old displays stars. Some groups use them as earned badges after acts of valor. These are gang tattoos. Everyone discouraged us from it. The police cautioned us but we are still going to give it a try to meet these infamous Maras. These gangs originated in the ghettos
of Los Angeles in the 1980s. Young Latino immigrants
establish delinquent gangs. They adopt the name Maras,
in reference to the Marabunta, the swarms of ants
that devour everything in their path. The Mara ruling over 18th Street, then became known as Mara 18 while another one, founded by Salvadorans, is known as Salvatrucha
or MS13, because M is the 13th letter
of the alphabet. Their tattoos serve as a form
of identification and denote rank, and enable you to impress the enemy. In roughly thirty years, the Maras have spread across
the entirety of Central America, and even in North America. At first, we believed that it would be
impossible to meet them. The only instances
when we could approach these gangs, it occurred during their transfer
from the prison to the courthouse, like here, these young individuals who,
through these actions, proudly profess their affiliation
with Mara 18. Following several weeks of investigation, of unsuccessful meetings, a contact ends up providing us with with a meeting
to the north of the country, at San Pedro Sula. This city holds a grim record, the highest concentration of gangs
in Honduras. Our go-between is a local reporter. Without him,
this meeting would never have taken place. He persuaded the gang leader because he grew up with him. We are ordered
to follow this blue vehicle. After navigating
through a section of the city, the car stops. And one
of the group’s lieutenants boards. Without this escort, it’s impossible to enter their territory. But the journalist explains to us
that even with an escort, our security is not assured. That day,
several groups were poised for war. Earlier,
a guy from Mara18, was killed around here. So, there’s tension in the neighborhood. Our sole security, now it’s God. Even the police don’t dare to venture
into this labyrinth of narrow streets. This is the stronghold of the Ranfla gang,
the gang in Spanish, the archenemies of the Maras. Around the clock,
sentinels monitor the area. The lieutenant who accompanied us, nicknamed El Flaco, the slender one, also keep an eye out for him. We might have been followed. Everything here is under control. No son of a b**ch is getting
into our territory. They clearly know what awaits them. Whoever enters, does not come out alive. And to keep the Maras
at a distance from their base, El Flaco presents
some compelling arguments, his professional tools. Come on guys, let’s go! It’s a semi-automatic firearm. It never jams. With it,
you can’t fail to hit your target. She fires 35 rounds
with a single pull of the trigger. This is a small revolver. This son of a b**ch is empty,
but this weapon is pretty good for playing Russian roulette to make someone speak. That one is my favorite. It is plated in gold. For greater discretion, the gang wants to cover their faces. but it’s impossible to find their masks. The mountaineers have embarked
on a mission, my friend. I can’t believe it! Yes, they are currently working. On a mission, it means they are currently killing. The mountain passes are over there. El Flaco’s gang
comprises roughly sixty members. And he prides himself on being
more humane than the Maras. We are not a Mara. But our group is committed to defending our neighborhood against the Maras gangs. Because them, they spend their time to shake down the residents. But in reality as a vigilante, first and foremost,
they are contract killers. Besides the Maras, anyone can employ them. And they have an exact price list. To eliminate a lawyer, the range is between €12,500 and €17,000. And for a journalist like you,
the amount is €19,000. You make 77 times the average salary of a lawyer and nearly 100 times for a journalist. But to hit the jackpot,
you have to aim even higher. If you wish to assassinate a politician,
it’s going to be extremely expensive. Let’s assume an average of €85,000. And to take down a big boss,
It’s around a million. One and a half million. Have they already earned that much money? Considering the condition
of their headquarters, it is permissible to doubt it. These two were part of Mara 18, one of the most powerful,
alongside Mara Salvatrucha. This man,
whom we shall refer to as Manolo, could be one of the founders of MS13, the infamous Mara Salvatrucha. He is expressing himself
for the first time in front of a camera. At 36 years old, he stated that he has stepped back
from the business. But the signs of his past affiliation
with the gangs are still evident. I have the thirteen of La Mara. That’s the crazy life. Live, die, or kill. The three aspects of a wild life. The tear represents a potent symbol. It means to cry, laugh. to kill, to murder. You can’t get that tattoo
just to appear intimidating. No, it’s not that way. This tear is like a badge of honor
for the murderers of Mara. The one who wears it
has killed dozens of people. Regarding spider webs, it represents a symbol of power. Manolo is believed
to have founded the Honduran branch, of the Mara Salvatrucha in 1994, when he was just fourteen years old. Back then, there were only small groups. One day, a man arrives from Los Angeles,
California. This young man was a member
of the Mara Salvatrucha. Over there, he was in charge
of a district for them. He was expelled from the United States. He was a true tough guy. Completely covered in tattoos. He is looking at my band and he asks: “Who’s in charge here?” And everyone responds: “That’s him, that’s him.” It was I. The Salvatrucha then assigns him
a mission: Find suitable men to initiate the Mara in Honduras. My gang and I began recruiting
numerous young individuals. Kids who are seven, nine, ten years old. And very quickly,
we had about fifty members, and we began to wage war
against other groups to oversee the neighborhood. And then we had a fight to enlarge our territory. We were engaging in wrongdoing. We were committing murder. We committed robbery. And we stole the drugs
from the other gangs. Once you’ve entered the Mara, the only escape
is death. And it is through sheer terror
that the Mareros enforced their rule, in a few years. If a murder occurs in the neighborhood, committed by guys from The Mara, and a witness exposes them, the Mara will find out,
because she knows everything. The Mareros will take away the traitor in a deserted house. They are going to kill him,
dismember him, and put him in a bag. The Maras refer to these houses
as “Casa Loca”, or mad houses. Deserted buildings, or from which the gangs
have expelled the inhabitants to transform them into chambers
for torture and execution. Rivals, betrayers, defaulters, Anyone who opposes them
ends up here. This savagery was already prevalent
during Manolo’s time. The man even boasts of having engaged in cannibalism. They were sliced into pieces. And then afterwards, we would fry
their hearts to consume them. We dispersed the body parts
at every street corner. To demonstrate to those
who were the lawmakers in the neighborhood. Along this road, two bags have just been discovered. According to our information,
there are two unknown individuals in a car
that allegedly dropped off two bodies. Apparently, we have a woman and a man. Overall,
five bodies have been discovered In the early evening.
Five dead. Here is the report. Five dead, because three other bodies
lie 500 meters from there. Several assailants
armed with automatic weapons arrived a bit earlier to execute a nurse
and two young individuals. The last inspection
was just two months ago. Nonetheless, the military discovered
around a hundred bladed weapons, phones, but also,
scarcely concealed within this bag, over 2000 doses of cannabis, ready for sale, as well as 250 bottles of pharmacy alcohol
that they erroneously turn into casings. There is even some c*****e and other heavy drugs. It’s like methamphetamine. But the main catch of the day, It’s neither the narcotics
nor the machetes. We have discovered guns. Place that one here. Six firearms and their ammunition. Over the past year, the military, known
to be less corruptible than the police, have replaced civilians
in the top positions of prisons. Gradually, they are enhancing security. Are they truly more efficient? Doubt is permissible. Three days following this inspection,
three prisoners slaughtered each other with machetes. But then, is the entire country destined
to descend into violence? The weapon is deadly. The fireballs are unleashed
at full speed. And they strike hard. Almost as strong as
the police’s flashballs. The burns in addition. The gangs are engaging
in a conflict with each other, but also against the police forces. They do not hesitate
to assault police stations, as depicted in these images. So, firing shots in an RER train, with a smaller caliber, do not really scare them. Moreover, they record themselves
as if they were in a game. Today, in the neighborhoods,
in the housing projects. And even in Paris,
bands of teenagers take the lead swift raids of unprecedented violence. Dozens are clashing with each other. in organized battles,
some of which escalated to lynching. If this continues,
someone is going to die. Descent into enemy territories in broad daylight, just like here, last week near Paris. A phenomenon in full bloom, and who is causing casualties within a few days. Four teenagers were tragically killed
in Ile de France. There is no limit anymore. From the moment there’s a death,
that’s it– Now, it has moved
to another level. In Massy, in Epinay-sous-Sénart, members of these gangs are in conflict
with the neighboring districts. In my opinion, the enemies reside there. They defend their territory
in the name of honor. Here, even the youngsters will fight,
which is truly tragic. Simply a matter of pride. We’re going in, we’re hitting,
we’re hitting hard so they’ll remember it. The reasons for these brawls
are manifold. Poverty, family hardships, not to forget about COVID
and the quarantine. Most fitness centers are closed. The violence will escalate increasingly
because they are like ticking time bombs. From now on, conflicts persist. on social media platforms. The bands are sizing each other up,
playfully ribbing one another on either Snapchat or Instagram. Simply post them on social media
just to humiliate them. To dismantle the opponent, young people can easily acquire
all kinds of weapons, firework mortar tubes– Come on, give it to me bro– but also firearms
that are possible to purchase or to lease
from illicit arms dealers. To the south of Paris lies Essonne. The town of Massy and the Emile-Zola neighborhood,
engaged in a conflict with the other one of France Square. Members of “The Place Of” gang, as they refer to themselves,
they have agreed to meet with us. Karim, Etienne, and Tanguy are only fourteen, fifteen,
and sixteen years old. Their everyday life
is far from being light. They are even on perpetual alert, ready to fight
in case of a surprise attack. If they see us,
they won’t hesitate to attack us. So we are also going
to do the same thing. It’s an eye for an eye,
a tooth for a tooth. This animosity
towards the Émile-Zola neighborhood far exceeds the city limits. During times of war,
we are typically armed every day. You’re going to high school,
you have a fire extinguisher, a baton, something, a knife… You never know,
it’s always important to protect yourself. Usually, it’s at the end of school. They are waiting for you
outside your high school as you leave. So you call up your friends,
all of them start showing up… It turns into a free-for-all fight
and that’s it… Most of the time, the provocations between neighborhoods
are starting on social media. In these pictures, The youths from Place de France
are challenging Emile-Zola brandishing their weapon,
crutches and sticks. Undoubtedly,
it escalates tensions with the rival clan. Sometimes it remains static,
sometimes everything goes off the rails, as seen in this video filmed on the streets of Paris. They hit each other with signposts. Are you recording? Indeed, contrary In the film “The War of the Buttons”,
these images are their sole prize. As soon as they are posted online,
they hurt as much as a blow from a stick. They ridicule the opponent. The teens from the neighborhood
of the Place de France to Massy show us one of their recent operations in the Emile-Zola district. There were forty of us.
We caught some and crushed them. We beat them, we left them, we departed. Some ran, taking refuge in halls. They visited some matrons,
they went into hiding. Ultimately, we tell ourselves
that we did what we had to do. We went there, we had to hit them,
we hit them. We’re going home, we’re happy. If things continue like this,
someone is going to die. From over there? From any location. We don’t know what could happen tomorrow. It’s an eye for an eye,
a tooth for a tooth. You didn’t commit murder? No. Would you be willing to do that? To kill? I don’t kill, I just go and beat them up. I strike them, they must remember it.
What purpose does killing them serve? We’re heading for hell,
It’s pointless. We’re going in, we’re hitting,
we’re hitting hard, so they won’t forget. He’ll have pain somewhere
for the rest of his life, and he’ll tell himself: “Ah, that’s him.” So why all this violence? Well, the most insane. None of the teenagers know
the origins of this war against Emile Zola. That’s how we were brought up
in that particular environment. We grew up watching our older brothers
preparing to fight against them. Naturally, we thought to ourselves,
if our older brothers fight with them, when we grow up, it will be our turn. Inevitably, the neighborhood is us. If we don’t stand up for ourselves,
Who will protect us? But what exactly are they defending? These teenagers are unaware of it. Finally, if they are defending themselves
from another group which, itself, defends against them. Or is it the other way around? Today,
the gangs are becoming more organized, organize themselves better
to surprise their opponents. Specifically, by employing new weapons despite the danger. Just like that day,
right in the heart of Paris, They are battling each other
with firework mortars. Less accurate weapons but incredibly dangerous. These fireballs are powerful enough
to gouge out an eye. We wanted to ascertain
if it was easy to procure it. For this purpose,
we are equipped with a discreet camera, and we set our course
towards the fireworks sellers. -Don’t you have the item known as mortar?
-No, we do not, unfortunately. No, not here. They refuse to supply us with it because their sale has been regulated
for the past few months. To put an end
to these bewildering battles, that sometimes occur among the children. There it is, in the park!
In the park, can you believe it? Only licensed pyrotechnicians
have the right to purchase mortars. So, how do teenagers manage
to acquire it? Well, it’s actually a fourteen-year-old accidentally encountered,
who gives us the tip. I am looking for mortars,
Do you know what it is? Yeah. -Those big firecrackers.
-Yeah I want to buy one,
it’s a pain to find any. It’s not even there anymore,
it’s just *** It”s just *** now? Sure, hold on, I’ll show you. And then, surprise. In certain applications, we uncover dozens of fences are offering mortars with extensive advertising. And there’s even
a demonstration available. We decide to place an order. One could say
they have a knack for business. The price is on a sliding scale:
for five mortars purchased, the price decreases from fifteen
to 12€ per piece. An appointment has been set with one of the sellers
on that very evening, somewhere to the north of Paris. It’s for the mortars. Yeah, that’s it, I have them. Much to our surprise, the wholesaler
is a fourteen-year-old teenager accompanied by an adult. -How many are there?
-There are five. One, two, three, four, five. Do you have anything
a bit more powerful or not? That is the most potent. There are ones less powerful
that hold 8 shots. No no, I want the most powerful one. What’s the total? It costs sixty euros. Sixty? Come on, give it to me, my brother. With these five mortar systems, we could launch a total of 25 fireballs. But today, the violence
among teenagers has further escalated up a notch. Mortars no longer suffice to awe. In Massy, the conflict
between the neighborhood Of Place de France
and Emile Zola’s one took a dramatic turn.
Six months ago, a young member of the group
from Place de France was fatally shot. It happened at the corner of the street,
right there, about 200 meters away. Suddenly, we hear three gunshots,
three explosions, three massive blasts. Boom, boom. It’s reloaded, boom. I thought, that’s a shotgun blast. We dashed over there,
we saw young neighbors, mothers. We said:
“Oh, there’s someone down on the ground.” And we realized it was our friend. They shot at him. Then they chased after him,
shooting him point-blank. And they finished him on the ground,
with knife blows. There are no more boundaries there. There used to be limits,
we respected each other a little. We were fighting,
we were leaping at each other, but… From the moment someone dies,
there are no limits. Now it has indeed reached a new level. It is no longer a rare or marginal case. Guns are widely circulated in the cities
and we will soon witness it. We find the teens from the gang
of the Place de France. Here is one of their displays
of strength. Our generation has it all,
we truly have everything! We have firearms,
handguns. 6.35, 9mm, shotguns, buckshot firearms. Do you believe these youths
of fourteen-year-old, fifteen and sixteen years old
are adding more? That they showing off? Well, not at all. We won’t see the arsenal
of the Massy gang. But here is the gunsmith
from a different neighborhood. I don’t want my face to be seen. The demonstration is surreal. He wants to show to us
that in his community, he is omnipotent. The locals seem accustomed
to the explosions. No one is opening their window. Nobody ever comes to see us. The man shows us
two pieces from his collection. 6.35. And the 22nd. He claims to possess many more. Where do these guns come from? what do you mean? How do you buy them?
How do you find them? Rural regions
or within the nomadic communities. Or
with retired former government officials. Here you have it…
individuals from Eastern countries. Even more surprisingly, the man does more than just sell guns. He also agrees to lease them. Let’s set the rental price at 500 euros
for two weeks. Those guns aren’t necessarily meant
for killing. They are there to protect us
in the event of an attack. They can be rented on a weekly
or monthly basis. If you have a dispute with a guy and that you want to have protection
by your side. Some people have a phone to call 17, They have enough time to call the police. We don’t have the time to reach out
to government officials. We stand our ground, and then they come
to collect the remnants, that’s all. Not more emotional than that. According to him,
dying young is just another inevitability. A risk embedded in the law of gangs. Internet has become the standard medium to issue a challenge
to the rival neighborhood. In this exchange that we discovered a group from the 15th district of Paris incite their 14th rival
with a defiant show of middle fingers. This responds with the number 14, inscribed with revolver bullets. Inevitably,
the 15th displays a certain tone a photo of a Molotov cocktail
and this array of guns. The history doesn’t reveal
if they ever came to blows, but some never recover
from this escalation of the provocation. On the fringes of the capital, in Epinay-sous-Sénart, on February 23rd, a 14-year-old teenager fell during a pitched battle
with a neighboring district. The casualty, Toumani, was an adversary to this teenager
whom we shall refer to as Lassana. We had scheduled a meeting to fight,
That day, we were destined to fight, Hitting each other for no other reason, just a call to incite a mass brawl,
launched on social networks. They are meeting at the soccer stadium. Each clan arrived
with approximately thirty teenagers. There was a peak and it took off. In these images filmed by Lassana’s crew, some are equipped with sticks. They may be invisible,
but others wield knives. They were just kids,
around 13 or 14 years old, They have hatred in their eyes. I always remind myself that we can die. But then, when you go
and you’re already there, it’s too late. Too late, you’re already here,
now do what needs to be done. I am not ashamed to say that I am hitting because I’m a guy
from Epinay-sous-Senart, that’s it. I am not ashamed at all. Amidst this chaos, nobody notices
that Toumani has fallen, stabbed by a knife wound to the chest. At the end, there is one of their big men
who came to see us. He asked, “Who stabbed the young?” And that’s where the brawl concluded. Lassana is not entirely heartless to the death of his foe, as he terms it. Given what has happened, I realize
that I could lose my friend tomorrow. Before, I had never told myself that. Lassana appears
to have had a moment of realization. But it changes nothing. Now, he is anticipating a rematch. Either you are with the neighborhood,
or stand against it. Being part of the group
is almost a requirement. If you’re not in it sooner or later,
you’ll get hit and you’ll be in it. It’s simple. And how do we naturally get out of it?
It’s the effect of life– No, you’re getting out of here,
you’re moving out of the neighborhood. You must move to survive, otherwise,
you won’t escape this situation. You will be hit again
and you’ll want to hit back, it’s an endless cycle. Indeed,
some families did not have the choice. They have broken this vicious cycle by fleeing. The downtown area of Fleury-Mérogis was the scene
of a confrontation between gangs with a thorough ransacking. This woman recorded everything. She agrees to testify,
but chooses to remain anonymous. On the day of the brawl, she was on her balcony. As for me, I heard a boom, boom, the kids said:
“Mom, they running around”. I positioned myself by the window. It is exceedingly violent. The children who came
to look through the window were shocked. Here we have about thirty young people
who are attacking a little who fell into the ditch with iron rods. These were hammers,
these were kicks. It jumps onto the others. And then afterwards, they leap onto cars, they are smashing windscreens
with iron bars. It was utter nonsense. As per Stephanie, residents only have two options:
to endure… or leave.