On the morning of October 21, 2025, Paris awoke to a scene that was both historic and somber. Former French President Nicolas Sarkozy, once the nation’s highest officeholder, began serving a five-year prison sentence at La Santé, a notorious Parisian prison. The sight of Sarkozy, flanked by his wife Carla Bruni-Sarkozy and trailed by a throng of supporters, marked the first time a former head of state from a European Union country has been incarcerated—a moment that sent shockwaves through France and beyond, as reported by CNN and AFP.
According to France’s interior minister Laurent Nuñez, Sarkozy’s first night behind bars was unlike that of most inmates. Two police officers were assigned to a neighboring cell, ensuring his security amid heightened threats. “I’m in charge of the security of individuals, of high-ranking officials,” Nuñez told Europe 1 radio, explaining the extraordinary measures. He emphasized that these protections would remain “as long as it is deemed necessary.”
Yet, not everyone in the French penal system agreed with this approach. Nicolas Peyrin, deputy secretary general of the prison guards’ union, voiced skepticism on BFMTV, saying, “I don’t see why the interior ministry would intervene in detention matters. We already know how to do it very well.” The debate over Sarkozy’s security arrangements became a microcosm of the larger questions swirling around his imprisonment—about justice, privilege, and the rule of law.
Sarkozy’s lawyer, Jean-Michel Darrois, was quick to insist that despite the police presence, his client received no special treatment inside La Santé. “He is in a nine-meter-squared (nearly 97-square-foot) cell, there is noise all the time. All the prisoners make noise, they shout, they bang on the walls,” Darrois explained to BFMTV. “In principle, given the positions he has held, he should have a different status. He didn’t ask for it, so he doesn’t have it.”
Supporters and family members had gathered outside Sarkozy’s home early that Tuesday, some holding framed portraits and chanting, “Nicolas, Nicolas! Free Nicolas.” The former president left his home hand-in-hand with Carla Bruni, heading toward the prison where he would spend at least three weeks to a month behind bars, pending the outcome of an appeal and a request for release, according to AFP.
Inside the prison, Sarkozy was expected to be held in solitary confinement or the so-called “VIP wing,” a section reserved for prisoners whose safety might be compromised among the general population. The solitary cell, measuring about nine square meters, offered little comfort. Inmates in this wing are allowed a solitary walk each day in a small yard, and Sarkozy was permitted three visits per week—one of which was quickly claimed by his wife on his first day, with a lawyer joining her for the evening visit.
Despite the bleak setting, Sarkozy tried to maintain a semblance of normalcy. On his first day, he exercised and began writing a book, his lawyer revealed. He brought with him a biography of Jesus and a copy of “The Count of Monte Cristo”—the classic tale of an innocent man unjustly imprisoned, a choice that did not go unnoticed by observers. “The first day in prison is terrible, but he got through it,” Darrois recounted.
For Sarkozy, the concern was less about his own discomfort and more about the effect on his loved ones. “If he’s worried about anything, it’s his family,” Darrois said. His brother, Guillaume Sarkozy, expressed pride and steadfast belief in his sibling’s innocence, telling BFMTV, “I am proud that we share the same name. I am proud that he is going to prison with his head held high, and I am totally convinced of his innocence.”
Throughout the ordeal, Sarkozy himself remained defiant. As he was being transferred, he posted a message on social media: “It is not a former president of the republic being jailed this morning, but an innocent man. The truth will prevail.” The statement, reported by AFP, echoed his consistent denials of wrongdoing.
The conviction that landed Sarkozy in prison stems from his 2007 presidential campaign. Last month, a French court found him guilty of criminal conspiracy for allegedly seeking to secure campaign funding from Libyan dictator Moamer Kadhafi in exchange for diplomatic favors. While prosecutors argued that Sarkozy’s aides, acting in his name, struck an illegal deal with Kadhafi, the court notably acquitted him of embezzling Libyan public funds, passive corruption, and illicit campaign financing. As AFP noted, the court did not conclude that Sarkozy personally received or used the illicit funds.
This was not Sarkozy’s first brush with the law. Since losing his re-election bid in 2012, he has faced a string of legal troubles. In one case, he was convicted of graft for attempting to secure favors from a judge and served his sentence under house arrest with an electronic ankle monitor—a punishment that ended only months ago. Another case, involving alleged illegal campaign financing in 2012, awaits a ruling from France’s top court. These legal woes have already cost Sarkozy France’s highest distinction: he was stripped of the Legion of Honour after his earlier conviction.
As Sarkozy settled into his cell, the wider public and political establishment grappled with the symbolism of his incarceration. Some compared the moment to the jailing of Philippe Pétain, the disgraced head of state after World War II, while others saw it as a test of French justice—proof that even the most powerful are not above the law. For Sarkozy’s supporters, however, the scene outside La Santé was one of protest and disbelief, a rallying cry for a man they believe is the victim of political persecution.
Meanwhile, Sarkozy’s legal team pressed for his release pending appeal, but the process is expected to take at least several weeks. In the interim, the former president is left to reflect, write, and wait—his fate hanging in the balance, his legacy under intense scrutiny.
The story of Nicolas Sarkozy’s imprisonment is still unfolding, but for now, it stands as a stark reminder of the unpredictable turns of political fortune and the enduring challenges of accountability at the highest levels of power in France.