If you see Théo Luhaka (29) sitting with his brothers and friends, you would say they are young rappers. Successful entrepreneurs. Or football players. They are tall, well-dressed black men. Those young guys that younger boys in the neighborhood look up to. This freezing Friday in the court of the Parisian suburb of Bobigny, Luhaka is wearing a white sweater, a silver chain and a body warmer. One of his friends has a beanie standing straight on his head, his brother is wearing a wide sweater from the Helvetica brand.
The almost 2 meter tall Luhaka also wanted to become “a great football player”, he told the austere court earlier this week. The youth worker was a midfielder and had just signed a contract with a Belgian club in the third division in 2017.
Identity check
But things turned out differently, because in February 2017, Luhaka was left disabled in a rough arrest. The Frenchman from the other Parisian suburb of Aulnay-sous-Bois was involved in a fight with three police officers after an identity check, who are now on trial in Bobigny. Luhaka was punched and kicked – even when he was already on the ground. An officer fired tear gas at him from close range – accidentally, he said. When they tried to handcuff Luhaka, one officer poked his anus with a baton.
Surveillance camera footage shows him then collapsing to the ground – after which he is punched again. The baton thrust irreparably damaged Luhaka’s sphincter muscle, causing him to become incontinent. He hasn’t touched a football since. “These days I don’t do much,” he said resignedly in court earlier this week. “I’m at home. I am a disabled person.”
On Friday, after a process of almost seven years, what was reported in the French press will come to an end Theo affair has come to be called. In the courtroom, filled with dozens of journalists, relatives of Luhaka, several politicians and relatives of previous victims of police violence, the three officers are sentenced to suspended prison sentences of three to twelve months. The longest sentence is for main suspect Marc-Antoine C. He was acquitted of “carrying out violence that causes a permanent disability.” All three are not allowed to work for five years.
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Previous victims
After the verdict, during which there was complete silence, a protest against police brutality took place in front of the door of the hall. A group of about twenty activists chant “justice for Théo” and anti-police slogans. They take red posters out of their bags with the text “when will police officers get real prison sentences?” They hold their clenched fists in the air in front of the assembled cameras.
The case is causing a stir in suburbs such as Aulnay-sous-Bois and Bobigny, explains Assa Traoré (38). Traoré – she stands out with her recognizable big afro – lost her brother Adama in 2016 after a violent arrest. “People say that there is no racism here, that police violence does not exist, but this case is yet another proof that the police deliberately target young people from suburbs and uses violence,” she believes. “Théo can use his own voice, but that is not possible for my brother and many other victims.”
In the French press the Theo affair also placed in a row with the case of Adama Traoré and other well-known cases in which the police used unnecessary violence against young French people of color in particular. It places Luhaka in a somewhat uncomfortable position, says his lawyer Antoine Vey (39) – the somewhat timid-looking Luhaka does not want to talk to the press himself on Friday. “He is of course marked by the theme because he was a victim of it, but he also does not want to be reduced to some kind of symbol of a victim of police violence,” said the lawyer. “He is a young man with many talents, many skills.” Shame also plays a role in this, as became apparent earlier this week. “I am now the one who was raped, the one who was taken in the ass by police officers,” Luhaka told the judges, clearly emotional.
The fact that Luhaka does not (or no longer wants) to be the face of police violence and conflict is evident on Friday evening when the protest breaks out. Instead of joining the protesters, he stays in the courtroom as long as he is allowed. When he hears the screams, he looks up for a moment but then turns back to his loved ones. About twenty meters away from his attackers from seven years ago, he is talking softly, hugging and laughing too. When he leaves the hall arm in arm with his family, he quickly walks past the press and screaming demonstrators to the exit.
Luhaka now wants to put the matter behind him, says his lawyer Vey, who, unlike the demonstrators, speaks of a “statement of truth” and “a decision of reconciliation.” Luhaka was very tense during the trial, says Vey, “but it did him good that he was listened to extensively. He sees that people believe what happened to him.” Previously, Luhaka said he only wanted a conviction – he did not care what kind of punishment. Now he mainly wants to resume his life. Vey: “He is relieved that it is over.”