Cao Hua Qin, "protector" for the Chinese diaspora, "godfather" for the police<

His nickname is "Big". He assumes it. And his story is that of a character as the clichés of detective novels would dream of. The "Gros" always wears cotton socks well up in his black moccasins. Constantly a huge bunch of keys in the belt where others would slip their Glock.

In the world à la Al Pacino or à la Tarantino, he would certainly have landed the role of big “boss”. He calls himself a "protector". Some would say “godfather”. But his nickname in Chinese is "dagger", a more courteous way of saying "big brother".

You don't meet the "Big" guy every day. In civilian life, he is called Cao Hua Qin. He is 44 years old. Snatching sentences from him is performance. But the news ended up knocking him out of the woods. It was he who was partly behind the mobilization of the Chinese diaspora, almost a year ago, following the death, in August 2016, of Chaolin Zhang, a modest fashion designer from Aubervilliers (Seine -St Denis).

It was after a villainous assault, for which the three alleged perpetrators were finally sent to court on July 19, with the aggravating circumstance of racism. Rare decision in the flood of anti-Chinese violence.

@quizlet all set up for @NWSbh_Class6, @NWSbh_Class7 and @NWSbh_Class8! All the pupils now know how to use this to… https://t.co/y8SJc9RXoo

— Broomwood Hall Classics Fri Sep 14 13:45:14 +0000 2018

The reputation of the "Big" was especially hard tarnished, in March, during the last agitated demonstrations of the Chinese community: the internal intelligence implicitly accused him of having stirred them up behind the scenes.

Wild West Sheriff

This time, it was following the shooting death of a 56-year-old father, Liu Shaoyao, after a "response" shot from a police officer. In a note disclosed in several media, the General Directorate of Internal Security (DGSI) then procrastinated less than others to qualify it. “Mafioso”, she wrote in substance. Suffice to say he didn't like it at all.

Paradoxically, Mr. Cao hates this image of “boss” from the shadows stuck on him by magistrates and specialized police officers. If he could rewrite history, he would describe himself as a Wild West sheriff instead. In this case, his stronghold of Aubervilliers, empire of the clothing workshop, kingdom of the warehouse. “If I had been a driving force, the demonstrators would not have been hundreds, but thousands,” he brags, seated in a Parisian brasserie alongside a silent man, a permanent watcher of his words.

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