Former children placed in care are trying to access their records from the Aide sociale à l'enfance (ASE), a French organization responsible for placing children in care when needed. This process is both bureaucratic and deeply personal, as many seek to understand their pasts and rebuild their identities. François, an airline employee, has spent 15 years collecting judicial and medical-social documents related to his time in care between the ages of seven and nine. He describes suffering violence during his placements, including an attempted rape by a 16-year-old patient and mockery from medical staff during a psychiatric hospitalization at age nine. In 2018, he obtained justice for the titles of "arbitrary deprivation of liberty" and "administration of treatment under constraint," but not for the physical violence he endured. Five individuals who experienced the ASE have emphasized the significance of their personal "file," which includes descriptions of educators, social and medical reports, and sometimes the only material traces of their childhood. Some requested anonymity out of concern that their current surroundings might learn about their past. Mathieu, a mid-level official in his twenties, chose to meet in a café away from his workplace to ensure the contents of his file remained private. Raphaëlla, a 28-year-old employee, also fears professional repercussions if her past becomes known. Access to these files can help address complex needs tied to a quest for identity, as described by archivist doctor Adélaïde Laloux in a study from November 2024. Mathieu, who now works at a prestigious business school, requested his file in February 2025 and found reports describing him as a student "not very academic." He questions the role of the State in supporting young people from the ASE and challenges the traditional understanding of who the children of the Republic are. Raphaëlla, who was placed in care for 18 years in Guadeloupe, seeks clarity on the role of the ASE during her schooling. She claims the department did not support her financially for higher education, and the community did not respond to her inquiries. Nadia, 52, had a "mad desire" to revisit her journey in light of her second pregnancy, prompted by questions from her daughter about her grandparents. Her file contains medical records detailing Silverman syndrome, which she suffered from in 1980, and scars from childhood operations. Her mother was sentenced in 1987 for violence against a minor. Reimmersing oneself in one's past can reopen old wounds, and consulting these files often requires psychological support. Diodio Metro, head of service at France Terre d'Asile, notes that some people become destabilized while consulting their file. She herself never requested her file due to fears of discovering writings from her aunt, who she describes as the "executioner" of her adolescence. Nadia, who entered a department office at 34 and was greatly disturbed by the experience, now advocates for more support when accessing these files. She underwent long therapy to cope with the trauma. Raphaëlla, who has filed a complaint with the Commission d'accès aux documents administratifs (CADA), is still waiting for documents related to her years of placement in Guadeloupe. Despite a ruling in her favor, the department has not responded to requests for information. She has begun a procedure with the administrative court to compel the community to transmit her file.