The case of an autistic Brazilian teenager, support level three, in Leiria, who was allegedly the target of attacks after a police intervention, was made public, still in the allegation phase and without all the details being fully investigated. As is typical of the Rule of Law, these circumstances will be verified and investigated in the competent bodies, with the rigor and guarantees that are required. That’s what’s expected.
But there is something that, regardless of the legal outcome, can no longer be ignored: a minor, with profound and obvious limitations, was the target of violence. And that, in itself, requires reflection.
As a mother, it is impossible not to sympathize with this family’s suffering. Imagining the heart of someone who takes daily care of a child with such demanding needs — and who, suddenly, finds themselves confronted with physical and emotional marks that are difficult to understand — is something that goes beyond any cold analysis.
As a citizen, I cannot help but clearly condemn any action that goes beyond the limits of proportionality, especially when directed at someone in a particularly vulnerable condition. What this case reveals, more than answers, are weaknesses.
There is a lot of talk today about inclusion, acceptance, integration. And, on a formal level, it is undeniable that we are making progress. People are in the same spaces, attend the same schools, move around the same environments. But is this enough?
The truth is that, often, this acceptance is only apparent. It is no longer openly rejected as in the past, but it is also not understood. We live together without truly including. It is tolerated without respect. It is accepted without knowing how to act.
And it is precisely in moments of tension, of unpredictability, of breaking normality, that this fragility reveals itself. Because the other, especially when he is different, when he does not correspond to the usual social codes, continues to be seen as a problem, as a threat, as something to be contained.
In this case, according to what was reported, there was a chain of situations: a young man with severe limitations, without the necessary social filter, a private space invaded, the legitimate fear of those who live there, the intervention of the authorities.
The police naturally have a duty to intervene. But this duty can never be separated from another: that of proportionality. The intervention is not condemned. If confirmed, the excessive measure is condemned.
Because, even in a scenario of uncertainty, there is a principle that should not waver: the strength of the State cannot become a source of unnecessary suffering, especially when it affects those who already have a deeply limiting and often misunderstood condition.
“We didn’t know he was autistic,” he was reportedly told. But the question remains: if they had known, would they have acted differently? And if the answer is yes, then perhaps the problem is even deeper than it seems. Because the standard of action should not depend on the diagnosis of others, but on our own humanity.
All sides of this story deserve to be seen. Homeowners have the right to their safety and the protection of their home. The family faces an immense challenge every day, often without a support network and, often, far from their country. And the young man — this one — lives in a reality where social codes are not evident, where the world can be a confusing and unpredictable place.
This is precisely why the rules of coexistence exist: to guide us when we don’t know who is on the other side. The so-called “time of delicacy” was not a fragile time. It was a strong time. A time when restraint, respect and care were signs of civilization, not weakness. Maybe that’s what’s missing.
In a world where everything accelerates, where everything is polarized, where everything reacts before understanding itself, we forget the essential thing: that living in society is, above all, learning to coexist with difference, including that which we do not understand.
And that is precisely what limits, education and rules exist for. Not to restrict freedom, but to allow it to be shared. Without this, what we are left with is not order, it is just strength. And strength, when it loses its delicacy, always leaves marks.
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