A Fine Line (15 page)

I sat down, emptied my bag and wondered what the local custom was – that is, if the time indicated on all the notices, 9.30, was a friendly suggestion, a hypothesis or a strict obligation. Before long, the local lawyer who was deputizing for Lopedote arrived. He asked me to confirm that I would handle everything, then started reading the newspaper and didn't say another word.

Another couple of minutes passed and Capodacqua's lawyer appeared, rather breathless. He was a young guy from Rome who had somehow ended up representing a presumed former Mafioso from Bari. He seemed a little disorientated: the lawyer who'd been handling the brief so far had been unable to get away at the last moment, and he was deputizing for him. He asked me how long the hearing would last, because he was hoping he'd have time to catch some plane or other. I told him I didn't know, but that maybe the judge would have an answer to his question. He didn't catch the irony.

Then the prosecutor arrived.

She belonged to a very different category from that of the young Roman lawyer. She was a woman a few years younger
than me, not beautiful but with intelligent, ironic blue-grey eyes that occasionally gleamed in rather a threatening way. The petition for the custody order had been signed by two men, the assistant prosecutor and a deputy, the same men who had taken the statements of Capodacqua and Marelli. So who was she? Was she there only for the hearing, or had the brief changed hands? That would explain some rather obscure aspects of the prosecution strategy. I would try to inquire cautiously about this point.

I introduced myself – her name was Patrizia Greco – and we shook hands.

“Are there many cases being heard today, Dottoressa?”

“Only this one: it's a specially called hearing.” She had a slight Lecce accent, which is a bit like Sicilian and very different from the accent of Bari.

At exactly 9.30, the clerk of the court entered, followed by the judge, also a woman: Giuliana Costa, the same one who had rejected the custody petition. She was short, slight and blonde, with glasses and a face like a ferret. She sat down, said good morning without looking at anybody in particular, opened the case file, and we started.

20

The introductory formalities – actually just a check that the notifications had been sent out correctly – took no more than a few minutes. Then the hearing proper began with a surprise.

The prosecutor informed the court that Marelli, whose illness had been the reason for this hearing being requested in the first place, had died the previous Sunday.

I know it was a stupid thought, or rather, a vulgar and even rather horrible one, but I couldn't help it: Salvagno's practice, where Marelli had worked up until a few months earlier, must have been jinxed. I felt a little ashamed and forced myself to follow what was happening in the courtroom. The judge was speaking.

“We take note of this. In that case, I think we should proceed with the examination of the witness Capodacqua, who I believe is present in a safe location—”

The prosecutor broke in before she could finish the sentence. “Your honour, before proceeding with the examination of Capodacqua, I have a request to make.”

The judge made a slight, almost imperceptible gesture of irritation. “Go on.”

“As I have just informed the court, Signor Marelli died two days ago. The death occurred after this pretrial hearing had already been granted, having been requested in a timely manner by my office. Given that the examination of Marelli's testimony will no longer be possible, I ask that the statements
made to my office by the said Marelli during the preliminary investigations be declared usable for the purposes of this hearing and admitted in evidence.”

“Are there any observations by the defence?” the judge said, addressing me and Lopedote's deputy, whose name I hadn't caught. She spoke with her head bent over the sheets of paper she had in front of her. The other lawyer said no, thank you, he had no observations. I said yes, thank you, I had a few observations.

“First of all, let me say, in a few words, what I'm
not
going to talk about. I'm not going to talk about the timeliness or otherwise of the petition for a pretrial hearing, because I don't have sufficient elements at the moment to do so. Only some of the papers have been filed along with the petition, and in any case I don't consider that this is the right time and place. I'm sure that in the trial phase, we will be able to evaluate if Marelli's serious medical condition had already been known about for some time and if therefore the prosecutor had
for some time
been able to foresee that the testimony would be unrepeatable and had delayed formulating a request for a pretrial hearing. Because if that should emerge, it would be necessary to exclude the applicability of article 512 of the code of procedure, in other words, the possibility of reading the transcripts of statements made by Marelli. But I repeat: that's a subject that will have to be confronted in any possible future trial. The purpose of today's hearing, a typical pretrial procedure, is simply to bring forward if possible the examination of the witnesses, not to bring forward the
trial
and all the questions of admissibility that will characterize it. I will take the liberty of reminding you that article 512 concerns the
reading
of the statement whose repetition has become impossible, not the admission of the corresponding transcripts as evidence. The decision on this point rests solely with the
trial judge. I ask therefore that the prosecutor's request be denied. Or rather, to be more precise – this not being the place to tackle the point – I ask that said request be met with a declaration that there is no need to give a decision.”

“Does the prosecutor wish to add anything?”

Greco leaped impatiently to her feet. From the expression of those not very reassuring eyes, even before she said anything, it was clear that she hadn't liked my argument.

“Your Honour, the matter is very simple, despite the attempt by the defence to make it pointlessly complicated. This hearing is an anticipation of the trial. It was expected that the aforesaid Marelli would be examined today. This examination is no longer possible because the individual concerned has died. Therefore it is necessary to admit Marelli's statements into the case file of this hearing, which will then become part of the case file of the trial, in accordance with article 512 of the code of procedure. I repeat my request.”

The judge looked at her and then me for a few seconds, still in the same way, with her eyes raised but her head bent over her papers. Finally, she straightened up and dictated her ruling.

“The judge, having heard both parties on the question of the admission, according to article 512 of the code of criminal procedure, of the transcripts of statements made by Nicola Marelli, and having noted that this is not the place for presenting such a request, being a judicial matter that strictly belongs to the trial judge to resolve, for these reasons declares that there is no decision to be made and asks that we proceed. Let us move on to the examination of the witness, if we can make the connection.”

The monitor – not exactly a state-of-the-art piece of equipment – emitted a crackle, and the washed-out image of a room all in shades of grey appeared. It looked like a black-and-white
Bulgarian TV programme from the Sixties. Not that I've ever watched Bulgarian TV, either in the Sixties or more recently, that's just to give an idea.

The scene was being captured from a high angle, the camera having been placed about two metres from the floor. A man with not very much hair was sitting at a desk with his back to the camera, slightly stooped. On the right, another man, in profile. The one with his back to the camera was Capodacqua, the one in profile the clerk of the court.

“Can you hear us?” the judge asked, speaking into the microphone.

“Affirmative, Your Honour. We can hear you and see you in our monitor.”

“Can you tell us who you are?”

“I am Clerk of the Court Baldi.”

“Can you attest the particulars of the person who is with you?”

The clerk of the court read Capodacqua's particulars and confirmed that it was indeed him. The scene, as I'd felt before in similar cases, struck me as taking place in a parallel, unreal dimension.

“Can you confirm that all precautions have been taken to ensure the correct functioning of the remote examination?”

“Yes, I can.”

“Signor Capodacqua, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Your Honour. Good morning.”

“Do you have a lawyer, Signor Capodacqua?”

“Avvocato Carrozza…”

“Who isn't present today, and has been replaced by Avvocato… I'm sorry, Avvocato, can you repeat your name?”

“Florio, Your Honour.”

“Avvocato Florio is here, deputizing for Avvocato Carrozza. Do you have any objections?”

“No, no. It's fine, Avvocato Carrozza already told me.”

“Then we may begin.”

I stood up before she could give the floor to the prosecutor. She looked at me with a questioning and slightly frosty expression. She had already conceded one point to me, that look said, but that didn't mean I should abuse her patience.

“I beg your pardon, Your Honour, I'd like to make a suggestion to simplify the hearing.”

“Go on, Avvocato.”

“I declare my willingness to admit in evidence all the transcripts of statements made by Signor Capodacqua during the preliminary investigations. I still have to proceed with the cross-examination, but I think that in this way, if the prosecutor agrees, the hearing could be speeded up.”

“What do the prosecutor and Ladisa's counsel have to say?”

Lopedote's substitute, after exchanging a glance with me, said he had no objection. Greco appeared taken by surprise: she hadn't been expecting such a request – just as she hadn't expected my previous objection. She leafed through the case file she had in front of her, just to gain a few seconds, though less excitably than before.

“No, Your Honour, I have no objections to the admission proposed by counsel for the defence. But I still wish to examine Signor Capodacqua, because there are some points I need to clarify with him.”

“Then let's admit those transcripts and the prosecutor may proceed.”

In actual fact, there weren't many points to clarify, and most of those were of little importance. Everything Capodacqua had to say, from the point of view of the prosecution, he had already said during the preliminary investigations. Once it was over, the judge gave me the floor.

“Go ahead, Avvocato…”

“Guerrieri, Your Honour.”

“Yes, I'm sorry. Avvocato Guerrieri, proceed with your cross-examination.”

“Good morning, Signor Capodacqua, I'm Avvocato Guerrieri, representing Judge Larocca.”

“Good morning, Avvocato.”

“I'm going to ask you a few questions. If they aren't clear, don't hesitate to tell me, and I'll rephrase them.”

“All right.”

“So, Signor Capodacqua, you have stated that your friend Ladisa told you he had in his pocket—”

“At his disposal. He said at his disposal.”

“Right, I'm sorry. You said that Ladisa told you that he had members of the state police, carabinieri and even judges at his disposal. Did he also mention the customs police?”

He hesitated for a few moments. “Maybe, yes. I don't remember if he said anything about the customs police.”

“Do you remember his exact words?”

“The thing is, he didn't just say it once. He was always boasting that he had cops – excuse the term – and judges at his disposal.”

“Do you remember the first time he said this, that he expressed this concept?”

“No, Avvocato, how could I?”

“You don't remember the first time he said this. You told the prosecutor about a dinner at which Ladisa told you—”

“Yes, a dinner at Il Pescatore.”

“I'd be grateful to you, if only to make the work of the stenographers a little easier, if you gave me the chance to finish my questions.”

“I'm sorry.”

“As I was saying, you told the prosecutor about a dinner at a restaurant called Il Pescatore, in the course of which
Ladisa told you about a presumed episode of corruption involving Judge Larocca. Before that dinner, though, he had already told you about these police officers and judges
at his disposal
. Is that correct?”

“I think so, yes.”

“Can you remember any specific occasion on which, before that dinner, Ladisa told you this? In other words, the fact that he had judges
at his disposal
?”

“He talked about it… he talked about it lots of times—”

“I repeat, can you remember a
specific
occasion on which, before that dinner, Ladisa told you that particular thing?”

“It must have been at another dinner. Like I said, we often went to dinner together.”

“You're an intelligent man, Signor Capodacqua. So you understand perfectly well that saying ‘it must have been' isn't a factual reply. It's a hypothesis. Correct me if I haven't understood: you are unable to indicate a specific occasion, previous to that dinner, on which Ladisa spoke of his relations with members of the various law enforcement agencies and the bench?”

Greco rose to her feet. “Objection, Your Honour. Counsel for the defence is arguing with the witness, but not asking any question.”

I was about to reply but the judge stopped me with a gesture of her hand.

“Counsel for the defence wants to know from the witness whether or not he is able to indicate a specific conversation on the subject of
judges at his disposal
prior to the dinner in that restaurant. That is certainly a question. Please reply, Signor Capodacqua.”

He shook his head, or at least so it seemed from the blurred image on the screen. “No, I don't really remember a particular time.”

“Before that evening, had Ladisa ever talked to you about Judge Larocca?”

“No, I don't think so.”

“After that evening did he talk to you again about Judge Larocca?”

“He dropped a few hints. He'd say things like:
my friend
,
our friend
.”

“Can you tell us more precisely when – after the conversation at Il Pescatore – Ladisa spoke to you again, even if only in hints, about Judge Larocca?”

Capodacqua had his back to the camera, but the gesture of impatience that preceded the answer was perceptible all the same. “Avvocato, if I'd known then that I was going to cooperate, I'd have kept a diary and written down all the things I was supposed to say. Oh, yes, I'd have kept a diary if I'd known that I was meant to cooperate.”

“Please don't become impatient, Signor Capodacqua.” Actually, I wanted him to get impatient and lower his guard a little. A good way to induce someone to do something is to tell him not to do it. “So you aren't able to tell us on what occasions Ladisa again spoke about Larocca, if only in hints that you had to interpret. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Did Ladisa ever talk to you about other specific instances of corruption of public officials?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell us about them?”

“Objection, Your Honour,” Greco said, with a hint of nervousness in her voice. “The question is irrelevant to the facts we are discussing and may damage the confidentiality of other proceedings.”

“Sustained. Go on to another question, Avvocato.”

I pretended to be upset and disappointed. “The question
was formulated in order to evaluate the credibility of the witness according to article 194, paragraph 2 of the code of procedure, credibility we have reason to doubt. But of course I have no intention of questioning your decision, Your Honour. I'll move on to another subject. Signor Capodacqua, is it correct to say that in the criminal circles in which you have moved, people often have nicknames?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have a nickname, for example?”

“Yes.”

“What was it?”