The sight of the gun tucked into the man’s trousers told us it was time to go. We had been in one of France’s most notorious estates for several hours, trying to understand life on the frontline of the country’s spiralling drug war.
Seeing three people he did not know and a camera, he decided enough was enough. “You, where do you live?” he said, rushing towards us from the foot of a tower block where he had parked his scooter. “Don’t talk back to me, I’ll break your head in. Get out of here.”
