Philippine should have taken the metro this morning to go to her Paris-Dauphine university, where she has been attending classes assiduously for two years. Like thousands of French people every morning, she would have moaned internally about yet another delay in transport, would have worried to a friend that she was probably being light on her revisions for the next exam, while wondering if she could free herself up to the next Friday evening with her friends from the parish.
But here it is, this classic daily life of a young girl who has her whole life ahead of her, a head full of dreams, the energy of youth, the positive attitude of young Christians who enjoy making those around them shine, Philippine will no longer know him on this morning of September 26.
These daily worries gave way to a leaden screed that fell on his family. You have to organize your funeral, while alternating between interviews with lawyers and police officers.
Because Philippine is no more. She was violently murdered by a 22-year-old Moroccan migrant under OQTF on a Friday afternoon. Disappearing in broad daylight, a star has gone out. A wave of emotion followed in the country, rightly shocked by this murder which should have been avoided.
This morning of September 26, other young girls in their twenties take the metro, public transport, and go to university to study. This time, an extra lump in my stomach. The cries of horror from a left which is content to call for the recovery of the extreme right do not reassure them. Hadn’t they promised to defend women against the thousands of attacks they suffer?
This Moroccan under OQTF should never have left an administrative detention center after having already been convicted a few years ago for rapeif not to be expelled military hand and
