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Jallal Hami’s brother upsets the court

For three days Rachid Hami has been facing it, alone. Concentrated, sometimes getting carried away when the emotion gets too strong, the brother of Jallal Hami, a 24-year-old cadet who drowned on October 30, 2012 during a night of bahutage in the early years of Saint-Cyr Coëtquidan, stands on the bench of civil parties of the criminal court of Rennes in front of the ranks of the seven defendants and their defense. Wednesday, November 25, after the interrogations of the soldiers sent back for manslaughter, he spoke. “A little human in these very technical debates”, he modestly launched. His intervention upset the court hearing, bringing tears to the eyes of the president of the court, Alain Kerhoas. Here are the main excerpts.

Article reserved for our subscribers Read also The “traditions” of Saint-Cyr indicted at the trial of the death of officer cadet Jallal Hami during a hazing

“Excuse me, first, for the little moments of loss of control I may have had. It is very difficult to hear everything without speaking, a civil party for seven defendants! But what is most difficult for our family is that for eight years, Jallal has been waiting for justice. He is cold.

Officer Wallerand must have no regrets about recruiting Jallal Hami; he dreamed of Saint-Cyr. We arrived in France in 1992. For some, war is a game here. The enemy, something exotic. Sacrifice, death, that’s what we’ve seen in films, read in books. We met her in 1990, at the start of the bloody decade in Algeria. We were living under police protection. My mother refused to allow the Islamists to force prayer in her school. She had a republican idea of ​​our country, it existed, then in Algeria.

“The moral war of life”

Jallal was 3, me 6, when our house was shot down one night. The theater of combat, then, is our streets, our house, my mother’s work. We went to France, we settled in the Parisian suburbs. To the violence of uprooting has been added that of social downgrading. My father refused to come. We had to fight. We spent almost a year without electricity. It was thanks to the Red Cross and the generosity of the people that we ate. My mother worked, but alone, it was difficult.

When Jallal enlists, he has the moral hardening of life. It has the transmissions of traditions of the immigrant. Dying at school, because we have been betrayed by our comrades, the system, the people who, in this system, have failed: for us that is very difficult. We know the dysfunctions. When Jallal passes in the pond [ce soir d’octobre 2012, avec 150 premières années lourdement équipées] There are 19 people who testify to having had great difficulties, who believed they were dying. The [deuxièmes années] stop, they discuss it.

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