Involuntary Witness (19 page)

“All right. You took the statements of Signor Renna, proprietor of the Bar Maracaibo, and also of the two Senegalese citizens Diouf and ... I forget the name of the other. However, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell the court what methods you used for putting them on record?”

“In what sense, Avvocato?”

“Did you tape or videotape these statements?”

“We did not tape them. If you look carefully at those reports, you will see it in black and white that due to the unavailability of recording equipment the statements were drawn up only in summary form.”

“Ah, yes, of course. So let us see if I have properly understood. You drew up the report in summary form only because the equipment for video or audio recording was not available. Is that correct?”

Lorusso realized what I was leading up to, but it was too late.

“At that moment I don’t think we ... it was an emergency situation ...”

“I have a very simple question to ask you: in the operations unit of the carabinieri in Monopoli do you not have a tape recorder or video camera?”

“We had them, but at that moment ... I think the tape recorder was out of order. I don’t at this time remember exactly, but there was definitely some problem.”

“The tape recorder was out of order. And the video camera?”

“We are not issued with a video camera.”

“Excuse me, but I have here the report on the on-the-spot investigation relating to the finding of the child’s body. It is stated here that ‘the on-the-spot investigations were documented also by means of video-recording’. And, in fact, a video cassette is attached to the report. What have you to say about that?”

Cervellati almost shouted his objection. He was losing his cool.

“Objection, Your Honour, objection. It is inadmissible to conduct the cross-examination of a witness on the basis of how he drafted a report, whether he had a tape recorder, a pen or a computer.”

“Your Honour, that it is inadmissible is the opinion of the public prosecutor. We are interested in finding out how certain statements were put on record, in order to discover whether, albeit involuntarily – since no one doubts the good faith of the investigators – I repeat, to discover whether there might have been some conditioning of the witnesses, or misunderstanding of what was actually said. Do not let us forget that the prosecution has asked for the reading of the declarations made during the inquiries of the two non-European citizens—”

Zavoianni interrupted me. He was getting rattled. He didn’t like all these questions, he didn’t like my procedural method and – I had always suspected it but now I was certain – he didn’t like me.

“Avvocato, let us go on to something else. I have put up with a lot of totally irrelevant questions. Let us have some questions pertinent to the proceedings at last.”

While looking at the judge as he spoke, I managed to steal a glance at Lorusso, who was breathing deeply, to relax.

“Your Honour, I believe it relevant to know for what motives the examination of persons in possession of
the facts, and in particular that of the non-European citizens whom we cannot re-examine here because they are nowhere to be found, was not fully documented.”

“Avvocato, I have made up my mind. Proceed without questioning my decisions.”

I compressed my lips for a moment or two. Then I started in again.

“Thank you, Your Honour. I would like you, Sergeant-Major, to tell us about the searches carried out at the defendant’s lodgings.”

“What in particular do you want to know, Avvocato?”

“How you set about it from an operative point of view, whether you were looking for anything in particular, what state the place was in, everything.”

“I don’t altogether understand your question. Operatively speaking, we searched Thiam’s room, examining everything. We were not looking for anything in particular, but for anything that might be useful to the inquiry. It was there we found the photograph of the accused with the boy and the children’s books, which are listed in the report.”

“Did you find nothing else relevant to the inquiries?”

“No.”

“Otherwise you would have taken them.”

“Otherwise we would have taken them, obviously.”

“Did you find a Polaroid camera, or any other kind of camera?”

“No.”

“Now I would like to talk for a moment about those books. I read in the report of the search and the related seizure that Signor Thiam had in his room three novels for children in the Harry Potter series,
The Little Prince
, a fairy-tale in French, the well-known children’s story
Pinocchio
, and another book for children entitled
Doctor Dolittle
. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Did Signor Thiam have only these books in his room?”

“I don’t clearly remember now. There may have been something else.”

“When you say
something else
, you mean some other books?”

“Yes, I think there were a few other books.”

“Are you able to say approximately how many books?”

“I don’t know. Five, six, ten.”

“Would you be surprised if I told you that in that room there were over a hundred books?”

“Objection,” put in the public prosecutor. “The witness is being asked for an opinion.”

“I will rephrase the question, Your Honour. Are you certain, Sergeant-Major, that the books were not many more than ten or so?”

“Perhaps about twenty, not a hundred.”

“Can you describe the room, and in particular whether there were any bookshelves?”

“It’s nearly a year ago, however there was a bed, a bedside table ... yes, there was a shelf beside the bed.”

“Just one shelf or several, a bookcase?”

“Perhaps ... it is possible there was a small bookcase.”

“Now, I realize it is not easy after nearly a year, but I would ask you to make an effort to remember what there was in this little bookcase.”

“Avvocato, I can’t remember. Certainly there were books, but I can’t remember what else there was.”

“Sergeant-Major, you will certainly have understood that I wish it to emerge how many books there were, roughly speaking. I know the answer, but I would like you to remember.”

“There were several shelves in the bookcase, and there were books, but I can’t say how many.”

“But you took only those indicated in the report. Why was that?”

“Because plainly they were the only ones pertinent to the inquiry.”

“Because they were books for children?”

“Exactly.”

“I see ... Now I would like to talk about the photograph, the one showing Signor Thiam with little Francesco. What can you tell me about this photograph?”

“I don’t understand the question.”

“Was it the only photograph in Signor Thiam’s possession, or do you remember if there were others?”

“I don’t remember, Avvocato. There were three of us carrying out the search, and I don’t remember whether the photo was found by me or by a colleague.”

“I would like to show you something.” I took an envelope out of my briefcase, opened it unhurriedly and asked the judge permission to show the witness some photographs. He nodded.

“You see these photos, Sergeant-Major? Can you tell us in the first place whether you recognize any of the people represented?”

Lorusso looked at the photos I had given him – about thirty of them – and then replied.

“The accused is in many of them. The other people are unknown to me.”

“Do you remember if these photos were in the defendant’s room at the time of the search, or can you rule it out?”

“I do not remember and I cannot rule it out.”

It was the moment for me to stop, to overcome the
temptation to ask another question. Which would have been one question too many.

“Thank you, Your Honour, I have finished with this witness. I request the attachment as documentary evidence of the photographs I have exhibited to the sergeant-major.”

I showed the photos to Cervellati and Cotugno. They raised no objection, though Cervellati gave me a look of palpable disgust. Then I put them back in their envelope and consigned them to the judge.

Lorusso departed after taking leave of the bench and the public prosecutor. He walked straight past me, ignoring me deliberately. I could scarcely blame him.

 

 

The judge said that we would take a ten-minute break, and only then did I realize that Margherita had been next to me all the time without saying a word.

I asked her if she wanted a cup of coffee. She nodded. I would have liked to ask her what she thought of it. If she thought I had done well, and things of that kind, but then I thought it was a childish question so I didn’t ask it. Instead it was she who spoke, while we were entering the bar inside the Palace of Justice, notorious for serving the worst coffee in town.

It was very interesting – she said – even if I did seem to be a different person. I had done well, but I had not been, as it were, exactly charming. Had it really been necessary to humiliate the sergeant-major that way?

I was on the verge of saying that I didn’t think I had humiliated him, and in any case trials of this kind are bound to be brutal. This brutality was the cost of civil rights that we could not forgo, and in any case better a carabiniere humiliated than an innocent man convicted.

Luckily I said nothing of all this. Instead I stayed silent for a moment before replying. I then said I didn’t know if it had been really necessary. It was certainly necessary to elicit those facts, which were important, and that maybe there was another way and maybe not. However, in those situations, that is in trials, especially tricky ones, with the media focused on them and all that, it’s only too easy to show one’s worst side. It was even easy to acquire a taste for it, for torturing people, with the excuse that it’s sometimes a dirty job but someone has to do it.

We drank our coffee and lit cigarettes. This luckily interrupted the conversation on the ethics of lawyer-hood. I said that the coffee in the law courts was also used to poison the mice. She burst out laughing and said she was glad I was able to make her laugh. I was glad too.

Then we made our way back to the courtroom.

The judge told the bailiff to call the witness Antonio Renna.

The latter crossed the courtroom looking about him with a cocksure air. He had the look of a peasant. A stumpy figure, checked shirt with a 70s-style collar, swarthy complexion and crafty eyes. Not at all an engaging craftiness either, rather suggesting
first chance I get, I’ll cheat you
. He hoisted up his trousers by the belt with a gesture that seemed to me obscene, and took his time sitting down in the seat reserved for witnesses, shown him by the bailiff. With his back to the cage where Abdou was. He sat sprawling, filling the whole chair and relaxing against the back. He had an air of self-satisfaction, and I had a distinct urge to wipe it off his face.

Cervellati’s interrogation was nothing but a kind of repeat of the one during the preliminary inquiries. Renna said exactly the same things, in the same order and more or less in the same words.

When his turn came, Cotugno finally asked a few questions, totally insignificant. Just to show his clients, the child’s parents, that he existed and was earning his fee.

I was about to start my cross-examination when Margherita whispered something in my ear.

“I don’t know what makes me think so, but this man’s a turd.”

“I know.” Then I turned to the witness.

“Good morning, Signor Renna.”

“Good morning.”

“I am Avvocato Guerrieri, and I am defending Signor Thiam. I will now ask you a number of questions to which I ask you to reply briefly and without making comments.” My tone of voice was deliberately odious. I wanted to provoke him, to see if I could find an opening so as to get in my blow. As in boxing.

Renna regarded me with his piggy little eyes. Then he addressed the judge.

“Your Honour, do I also have to answer the questions of a
lawyer
?”

“You are obliged to answer, Signor Renna.” The judge’s face expressed the thought that, were it in his power, he would willingly have done without me, and most other defending counsel as well. Unfortunately it was not. I, however, had gained a tiny advantage. The barman had swallowed the bait and from now on was more vulnerable.

“Well, then, Signor Renna, you told the public prosecutor that on the afternoon of 5 August 1999 you saw Signor Thiam walking quickly from north to south. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember when it was you were heard by the public prosecutor during the inquiries?”

“He interrogated me a week later, I think.”

“When were you heard by the carabinieri?”

“Before, the day before.”

“Is your bar frequented by non-European citizens?”

“Quite a few. They come in for a coffee, they buy cigarettes.”

“Can you tell us their nationalities?”

“I don’t know. They’re all niggers ...”

“Are you able to tell us more or less how many
niggers
frequent your bar?”

“Don’t know. They’re the lot that go round peddling stuff on the beaches, and even in the streets. Sometimes they even hang about right outside my bar.”

“Ah, they even hang about right outside your bar. But they don’t interfere with your custom, do they?”

“They interfere, they interfere, and how!”

“Forgive me for asking, but if they are a nuisance, why don’t you call the municipal police, or the carabinieri?”

“Why don’t I call them? I call them all right, but d’you think they come?” He was thoroughly indignant now. But meanwhile Cervellati had seen what I was leading up to. A bit late though.