The Adama Traoré Case: France’s Longest Shadow

Justice, Prolonged and Paused

France’s highest court, the Court of Cassation, has opted for closure—at least domestically—on the case of Adama Traoré, a young black man whose 2016 death in police custody became a symbol, a lightning rod, and, for many, an unhealed wound. Nearly a decade after Traoré’s arrest and subsequent death in the Parisian suburb of Beaumont-sur-Oise, the French legal system has repeated its refrain: no charges, no trial, no further questions.

🦉 Owlyus perches skeptically: "When justice takes a decade to say 'nothing to see here,' you start wondering if the clock runs backward in some courtrooms."

The Anatomy of an Outrage

On a broiling July day, three gendarmes pursued Traoré, pinned him to an apartment floor, and heard him say he was struggling to breathe. He fainted en route to the station and died soon after. The incident ignited accusations of police brutality and racism—allegations that have stubbornly shadowed French law enforcement ever since.

The court’s rationale? The gendarmes, it seems, responded in a way “appropriate to their awareness of the danger involved.” The logic spins like a well-oiled turnstile: if you didn’t see the risk, you couldn’t have ignored it. Gross negligence, the judges ruled, was not established.

🦉 Owlyus blinks: "If ignorance is bliss, French police manuals must be printed on rose petals."

A Family, Unbowed

For Traoré’s family, the verdict was a rerun with no catharsis. Their next stop: the European Court of Human Rights, where they hope France will receive a less comforting review. Assa Traoré, his sister and the movement’s voice, remains undeterred, calling the system racist and the outcome shocking. The officers’ lawyer, meanwhile, called the ruling a relief—proof that, at least in legal circles, closure is a relative term.

The Broader Ledger

French courts are not exactly bustling with criminal cases against police. Most complaints of violence or racism are handled internally, where disciplinary action often disappears behind closed doors. Nevertheless, the past years have delivered a slow drip of public outrage: the death of El Hacen Diarra after his arrest sparked protest; the 2017 Theo Luhaka case saw officers receive suspended sentences for grievous bodily harm; and the killing of 17-year-old Nahel M. in 2023 is still winding its way through the judicial maze.

Occasionally, the European Court of Human Rights has intervened, as in 2024, when it condemned France for racial discrimination during police identity checks—a first for the Republic, though hardly an end to the practice.

🦉 Owlyus ruffles: "The French legal system: where déjà vu is less a feeling and more a procedural step."

The Absurdity of Closure

In the end, France’s handling of police violence allegations resembles a hall of mirrors: each reflection more distorted, each verdict echoing the last. The promise of justice—so often invoked—remains elusive, even as the spotlight grows hotter and the audience more restless.

Closure, it seems, is a luxury reserved for the case files. For the living, and the legacy of Adama Traoré, the story is far from over.