A wave of unease has swept across France once more, triggered by a horrific event in the town of Melun. A 15-year-old girl is alleged to have been the victim of a brutal rape, an attack that has ignited public fury and renewed questions about the nation’s ability to protect its citizens.
The alleged perpetrator, a 22-year-old Algerian national, was already known to authorities and subject to a deportation order. He had been living without a fixed address, yet remained free to navigate public spaces, a chilling detail that has fueled accusations of systemic failure.
The attack unfolded late one evening after the girl was harassed on a bus. She attempted to escape, but the man followed her into a public square, where the assault reportedly occurred. The nightmare didn’t end there; the suspect continued to contact the victim through social media, leaving a digital trail that ultimately led to his capture.
Police tracked the suspect to a municipal gymnasium serving as emergency housing for migrants and the homeless. His arrest revealed a disturbing pattern: a prior criminal record and a disregarded deportation order. This raised a critical question – why was a known offender, slated for removal, still at large?
For many French citizens, this case is not an isolated incident, but a stark symbol of a broader crisis. It represents a perceived breakdown in state authority, exacerbated by ongoing mass migration and the challenges of integrating individuals from vastly different cultural backgrounds.
Deportation orders, it appears, are frequently issued but rarely enforced. This leaves communities vulnerable to preventable violence, fostering a sense of insecurity and eroding trust in the government’s ability to maintain order.
The unrest isn’t confined to Melun. Recent riots in Marseille, sparked by a soccer match result, quickly spiraled into widespread chaos. Cars were torched, public property destroyed, and neighborhoods plunged into fear as Algeria fans unleashed their fury.
Videos from Marseille depicted scenes of urban warfare, far exceeding the bounds of typical sports-related disappointment. Locals felt a growing sense that certain areas operate outside the rule of law, governed by forces beyond the reach of French authorities.
This pattern – crime, followed by official silence, excuses, and warnings against “stigmatization” – has become tragically familiar. Statistics reveal a stark reality: a minuscule percentage of deportation orders are actually carried out, rendering the system largely symbolic.
Past tragedies, involving similar circumstances – the rape and murder of minors by individuals awaiting deportation – continue to haunt the national psyche. These horrific events serve as grim reminders of the consequences of inaction.
Despite these warnings, successive French governments have maintained policies prioritizing mass migration, often at the expense of public safety. Porous borders, inconsistent enforcement, and a lack of accountability have created a dangerous environment.
The human cost of these policies is borne disproportionately by women and girls, who now face a diminished sense of security in their own communities. The simple act of walking the streets has become fraught with anxiety and uncertainty.
Working and middle-class families are left to grapple with the consequences, while political elites remain largely insulated from the realities on the ground. Empty promises of “living together” offer little comfort when basic security cannot be guaranteed.
