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Of all identity checks I've had to go through, one affected me most. I remember well, it was in Marseille.
It was a Saturday night, around 8.30 pm
Zahir had gotten his driver's licence and worked all summer to get a car, and on the big day
he said to me and my friends "let's go for a ride in the neighborhood"
So I say my mum told me to go home early
But I was excited, I was 17, I was going to get my driver's license the year after
so going for a ride, with a radio in the car, that was a big deal at the time.. so I said "ok, just for a bit"
and so we went for a ride.
A few blocks from home, we get stopped.
"Police control", they were riot police, we weren't surprised because we were used to it.
They ask Zahir for the papers, they ask him to go with them, and it was ok.
But there was something strange
One of the riot police officers was holding a machine gun
and he didn't feel right. He looked tense.
So while Zahir is gone, he knocks on the passenger's window, where Cherif was sitting, right before me, tells him to roll it down, and he says,
looking right into his eyes, I'll never forget: "I don't know if it's the cold, but my fingers feel slippery tonight".
It.. it gives you goose bumps, I can tell you.
And then he focused on me. I don't know why but he focused on me.
Then he asked for everyone's identification, I didn't have my ID card, he got me out of the car, he searched me, found the playing cards I always had on me
and said : "you're a poker player, right?"
I said "no, I don't play poker"
So he didn't find anything on me, I didn't have my ID but I was in my neighborhood, I am French, everyone knows me here..
Then I get back into the car,
and Zahir returns, the ID check is over and we're told to leave
the police leave except the one with the machine gun.
And he.. He continues to be real tense.
It's strange cause he takes his machine gun, and he fake aims through the open window,
and he aims between Cherif and the edge of the window, and it's aiming right at me, like this. I was looking right at it.
And suddenly..
"The riot police murderer : 'my fingers feel slippery tonight'"
"A young man shot dead by riot police in Marseille"
"Tragedy : a 17-year old dead during ID check"
"Marseille : the neighborhood goes up in flames"
In fact, my name is Majid El Jarroudi.
The story I just told you is Lahouari Ben Mohamed's.
He was my cousin.
It happened October 17th, 1980 in Marseille.
Lahouari died, hit by machine gun bullets in the head..
That evening.
It's a tragedy to see that during a simple ID check,
a young man who had his future ahead of him
could be the victim of unspoken racism.
A few years later,
some friends from another city came for his memorial, and to start a march:
"The March for Equality".
They left from the place Lahouari was killed, and went all the way up to Paris.
What did the cours rule?
Ten months in jail for the police officer, four on parole. He was immediately freed, and got amnesty.
It took 7 years!
7 years of trials, press releases, protests and marches before someone was found responsible
"A *** with no murderer"
The ***,
according to the courts..
was the machine gun.
Lahouari had a younger brother, of my age.
He grew up with this tragedy. We all did.
You know what he became?
A police officer.
Change comes from within.
In memory of Lahouari Ben Mohamed