Father sentenced to 5 years in prison for beating his wife in front of their daughter

Naceur K. is crying. But is he crying for himself? For his soon-to-be-lost freedom? For his marriage, which he feels is slipping through his fingers? Or for his guilt at having, since the birth of their daughter six years ago, put his wife Coralie (name changed) through hell?

Naceur is sorry. He repeats this between sobs from the dock of the Draguignan Criminal Court where he was being tried this Friday in immediate appearance for habitual domestic violence, drug use, and escape. "It's all the cocaine's fault," he sobs. "I wasn't completely in my right mind... She deserves better."

All this involves punches, kicks, hair pulling, insults, threats to take their daughter to Tunisia if they separate...

Constant surveillance, too. Naceur decided what Coralie could wear, who she could see, and what she could look at on her phone. However, the young mother had to help him financially with her cocaine supply. An addiction that, in recent years, cost her €300 per week. She is now in debt to the tune of €15,000.

"Dad is mean all his life"

Naceur, "violent when he wasn't drunk," the victim explained to the police, didn't hesitate to hit his partner in front of their daughter Lina. "But don't worry," he told her when, at the age of six, she intervened. "A dog doesn't die..."

On July 23, Coralie received one punch too many. In the stomach, while she was taking a shower with her daughter at their home in Vinon-sur-Verdon. According to Lina, who was clear about what was happening at home – "Dad is mean all her life, Mom is nice all her life" – Coralie "almost threw up."

When President Laëtitia Nicolas brought up this episode, Naceur collapsed. "I've been beaten all my life by my father. I was even raped in Tunisia..." - "Does that justify being violent with my wife?" - "No. This product (cocaine, Ed.) destroyed my life."

Escaped for 13 hours

Placed in police custody on July 30 at the Rians gendarmerie, Naceur took advantage of a cigarette break to escape through a window. His escape would last 13 hours, "with the deployment of a helicopter and the help of dogs to find [him]," the president recounts. This was done around 9 p.m. "I wanted to see my daughter," Naceur cries again. "I didn't think about the consequences." Before being criminal—he would be sentenced to 9 months in prison for this—they were physically painful. During his arrest, a dog immobilized him by biting him hard on the knee. "He took a piece of flesh off me while I was handcuffed," the defendant claims, a crutch in hand.

Called to speak in court about the hell she's been through in recent years, Coralie can't escape the guilt that plagues so many victims of domestic violence. "He killed me slowly. I blame myself for putting him through all that, but it was him or me. His drug use tripled in recent years. It was no longer sustainable. But what am I going to say to our daughter?"

"Did the dog hurt him? Serves him right."

Another torrent of tears. Apologies. Explanations about this cocaine that was eating away at his brain.

"He's crying to himself," says Muriel Gestas. "The dog hurt him? Serves him right. He's feeling a quarter of a third of what he put my client through for years. It's lucky she's still alive."

For Barbara Balestri, however, Naceur's tears are not "opportunities." "He's been like this since he was in police custody. He's never learned that a woman respects herself. His operating pattern isn't good, and it's easier for him to blame others for his failures."

Going beyond the prosecution's demands, the court decided to let Naceur dry his tears for five years behind bars. Upon his release from detention, he would have to respect a five-year ban on contact with Coralie and on appearing at her home. The suspension of his parental authority was also ordered.