A Fine Line (7 page)

“All right. So we'll talk on the phone after you read these.”

We were about to say goodbye when we heard someone yelling. Annapaola raised her head, as if to sniff the air. “It's coming from Via De Giosa.”

“I'm going to see what's happening.”

I turned the corner of Via Celentano and Via De Giosa. Some fifty yards away, over towards the Petruzzelli, a small, disorganized crowd had gathered. Some were shouting insults, others running about, and I thought I heard someone weeping. As I increased speed, I noticed that Annapaola had joined me. In her left hand she was clutching a baseball bat.

“Where did that come from?” I asked, walking quickly.

“Mind if I tell you later? It looks like someone's getting beaten up.”

She was right. Some boys of about fifteen were taking turns attacking a plump boy who seemed a little older than them. Maybe that was why the image was particularly humiliating,
even obscene. He was leaning against the wall, shielding his head with his hands and weeping, saying “Please, please” between his sobs. The others were laughing, punching him on the head, slapping his ears. One of them, who probably practised some martial art or other, hit him with a flying kick to the face. Another was filming it on his mobile phone.

“What the hell are you doing?” I said, approaching the group. I grabbed the first one within reach by the jacket and pulled him away. I took it for granted that I'd give them a few slaps and disperse them. The last thing I expected was for them to turn against me.

“Fuck off, shitface,” was the not very ambiguous phrase snarled by the biggest of them, as he landed me a punch that was as nasty as it was futile. I was so unprepared I didn't even try to dodge it, but a moment later I reacted: I dropped the gym bag and responded with a left hook to the face. He collapsed to the ground like an empty sack.

Then the others arrived and all I remember of what happened next is a kind of video game: they attacked me like stupid evil aliens, I hit them and they fell one by one. I also took a few blows, but the only one I felt was a kick to the face, with the tip of the shoe, from the one who obviously did karate or something like that. I responded with a straight right and he, too, ended up on the ground. In the thick of the fight, I saw Annapaola almost casually hitting one of the boys in the pit of the stomach with the point of her baseball bat and then sending him flying with a blow to his leg.

It lasted little more than ten seconds. In the end, there were four of them on the ground and as many on their feet, although a little unsteady on their legs. A couple of them were bleeding. The victim of the beating had vanished. The one who had been filming the scene earlier now stood motionless, his arms dangling.

“Come here,” I said to him.

He stared at me in terror.

“Come here right now, or I'll come over there.”

If he'd run away I wouldn't have been able to catch up with him, but he was too scared. He approached.

“Don't hurt me, I beg you. I didn't do anything.” That was what he said. The voice of a son of the bourgeoisie. Like the others. Now that they were in focus, I saw how they were dressed – expensive clothes from shops in the city centre. Comfortable and basically rather boring lives. You need a distraction from time to time. What was that poem by Pasolini about the events in Valle Giulia? “You have the faces of daddy's boys… You have the same nasty eyes.”

I noticed that my hands were shaking.

“Give me the phone.”

He didn't even try to object. He stretched out his arm, trying to keep the greatest possible distance between us. I took the phone, held it between my fingers and looked at it as if it were a strange object I had never seen before.

“There are people at the windows,” Annapaola said. She meant that it was best to get out of there in a hurry, given the chaos we'd caused. I calmly put the phone down on the ground and crushed it with my heel. Three, four, five times, until I was sure it had become unusable.

I recovered my bag with its load of damp sports clothes and illicitly obtained court papers. We turned onto Via Celentano and walked back to where the motorbike stood waiting for us. Annapaola shoved the baseball bat into her bag.

“Let's go. Get on.”

“I'll walk. I told you, I live nearby.”

“Don't talk crap. A patrol car is bound to be here soon. We had an audience back there, do you really think nobody called the police or the carabinieri? Let's get out of here,
now. We'll drive around a bit and I'll take you back home when the coast is clear. Maybe you don't realize what your face and hands look like.”

“What's on my face and hands?” I said, touching my face.

“Blood. Let's go.”

Before long, we found ourselves on the seafront, heading south.

“Why do you carry a baseball bat with you?”

“For times like these.”

“You're crazy. Who taught you to use it like that?”

“I used to play softball.”

“I thought that in softball you only hit a ball, not boys.”

“You weren't exactly handing out sweets.”

We got to Torre a Mare. She stopped in a dark, silent, deserted street.

“Let's take a look at your face,” she said, getting off the bike.

“It's just a scratch.”

“That's hardly a new line. You must have read too many Tex Willer comics as a boy.”

“Sometimes. What do you have against Tex?”

“A great gay icon, he and his boyfriend Kit Carson. His son Kit Willer and the Indian Tiger Jack are another lovely couple.”

“I won't allow you to make these insinuations about Tex and the others.”

“Are you homophobic?”

“Of course not. But Tex isn't gay.”

“All right. Neither are Batman and Robin, neither is Elton John.” She switched on the little light on her mobile phone and held it to my face.

I had a small swelling on the temple, where I had taken the kick. She cleaned me with a wet wipe.

“It's a small cut, but it's bleeding a bit. Was it the Bruce Lee guy?”

“Yes.”

“There's no need for stitches. When you get home put a plaster on it and in a few days you'll be fine. Do your hands hurt?”

“A little. Punching without gloves is a problem for the hands, more than for the face.”

“Those boys might not agree.”

“Yes, it's possible they don't share such tactical considerations. Anyway,” I said, holding out my hands with the palms turned downwards, “do you think I'll be able to play the piano in a week?”

“Of course. Tomorrow, even.”

“I'm really pleased, because I couldn't play the piano before.”

It took her a moment or two to realize it was a wisecrack. She looked at me as if I were a lunatic.
Probably
not a dangerous one, but you can never be too careful.

“I think you're the crazy one.”

“It's an old joke by Jerome K. Jerome. I've been waiting ages for a chance to use it. I'm only sorry it's that gang of idiots I have to thank for the opportunity.”

“Let's hope none of the idiots was too badly hurt, or we might be in trouble.”

“If they say what happened nobody will believe them. ‘Who beat you up like that?' asks the inspector. ‘A middle-aged man with clear anger management problems and a girl in a black leather jacket who looks like a member of the Baseball Furies.'”

“Who are the Baseball Furies?” Annapaola asked.

“Don't tell me you've never seen
The Warriors
.”

“Right, the uniformed ones with painted faces and baseball bats. The battle in Central Park. Great scene.”

“Next time show up with a painted face.”

“Talking of films, Clint Eastwood in
Gran Torino
—”

“…Has one of the greatest lines in history. When he approaches the car with the thugs—”

“That's the one I was thinking of, but I don't remember it exactly.”

“‘Ever noticed how you come across somebody once in a while you shouldn't have fucked with?' Then he spits on the ground and says, ‘That's me.' And mimes firing a gun.”

“It's obvious you were ready before you came out.”

“Of course, those little sons of bitches were extras.”

“All right. Now it's time to sleep.”

We dropped by one of the duty pharmacies. Annapaola went in and bought a box of plasters.

“If you like, I can put it on you now, but I don't think you'll have any problem doing it yourself when you get home.”

“None at all. Actually, it makes me feel nostalgic. When I was about twenty, I sometimes used to go home with my face bashed in.”

Ten minutes later, we were outside my front door. I got off the bike and removed the helmet. She removed hers, too, and shook her hair out. It was the first feminine gesture she had made all evening.

We looked at each other for a few moments.

“How old are you, Avvocato?” she asked.

“Why?”

“You don't look it, but you must be nearly fifty, as far as I remember.”

“What do you mean, you remember?”

“I must have read your date of birth somewhere. I like to keep myself informed.”

“I'm forty-eight.”

“You moved well. You weren't even breathless afterwards.”

“Oh, believe me, I was.”

I wondered if I should invite her up. In the end I went to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Goodnight. I'll call you tomorrow after I've read these papers.”

She looked at me with an expression that was hard to describe. It was if there was something she couldn't quite grasp. I felt the same.

“Goodnight,” she said finally, in the slightly irritable tone of someone who would like to add something but can't find the words.

I listened to that muted roar, confident and reassuring, moving away into the distance.

10

I took a shower. A fight – like some trials – leaves you feeling dirty. To get back to normality, it's essential to spend about ten minutes under the warm water without thinking about anything.

After drying myself, I checked my face and hands. I had a few light grazes on the knuckles; the cut on the temple, on the other hand, wasn't exactly invisible, and wouldn't close so easily without a little help. I applied a couple of the plasters, put on shorts and a T-shirt and made myself a bourbon with crushed ice. I was sure the adrenaline coursing through my body wouldn't let me sleep for a while, so I might as well satisfy my curiosity and read what was written in the papers from Lecce.

Before throwing myself down on the sofa, which is my favourite workplace at home, I gave Mr Punchbag a slight push, making him sway just a little.

“No punching tonight, my friend. I'm sorry, but my hands are sore. First I went to the gym, then I actually came to blows, if you want to put it like that.”

“…”

“You're right, I'm a bit too old for these things, but really there was no way to avoid it.”

Mr Punchbag let the chains he was hanging from squeak a little, as a mark of discreet but clear disapproval. His idea is that fists should be reserved for punchbags; punching people
in the face strikes him as somewhat inelegant.
Everything in its place
is his philosophy. Sometimes I listen to him, sometimes I don't. I would have liked to talk to him about Annapaola – another strange character – but just then the idea made me feel slightly embarrassed for some reason. If right now you're thinking I'm a little bit off my head, I suppose I'd have to agree with you.

I took a big swig of bourbon with ice (it's a dangerous drink; the crushed ice makes it deceptively light), opened the file and counted the papers. There were thirty-two; the fact that I'd guessed almost right put me in a childishly good mood.

The prosecutor's rejected petition was twenty-five single-spaced pages; the judge's ruling rejecting it just seven. I decided to read the latter.

The heading, as usual, contained the names of those under investigation – Pierluigi Larocca, Rocco Ladisa and Caterina Amendolagine – and the charges.

Pierluigi Larocca was being investigated

for the offence, as under articles 319 and 319c of the criminal code, of having, in his capacity as head of the appeals division of the Court of Bari, received the sum of 50,000 (fifty thousand) euros as payment for the release – after an appeal hearing held in the said division – of Rocco Ladisa, under investigation for the offences of usury and extortion and held under a custodial sentence; an offence committed in order to favour a party – the said Ladisa – in Bari on or about 3 July 2008.

Rocco Ladisa and Caterina Amendolagine were under investigation

for the offence, as under articles 110, 319, 319c and 321 of the criminal code, of having, in collaboration with Corrado Salvagno, now deceased (and availing themselves of the material assistance of Nicola Marelli, bearer of the envelope containing the sum, without being aware of the contents of the said envelope or of the criminal collaboration), paid Pierluigi Larocca the sum of 50,000 (fifty thousand) euros as remuneration for the reversal of the custodial sentence and the subsequent release of the said Ladisa. Offence committed in Bari, on or about 3 July 2008.

The paper then went on:

On 6 May 2009, Salvatore Capodacqua, held in custody for a number of serious offences including association with a Mafia-style organization, multiple aggravated homicide, drug trafficking, illegal possession of explosives and heavy weapons, extortion and usury, expressed to the prosecutor at the Court of Bari his intention to cooperate with the law, in the first place admitting his own responsibility for most of the offences of which he was accused and also claiming responsibility for numerous others of which he had not even been suspected.

Apart from admitting his own responsibility, Capodacqua, in his many interviews before the prosecutor in Bari, reported a large number of events and circumstances of direct and indirect relevance to other individuals. In particular, as far as the present proceedings are concerned, the said Capodacqua reported supposed illegal conduct on the part of Judge Pierluigi Larocca, head of the appeals division of the Court of Bari.

It may be useful at this point to refer to Capodacqua's statements on this subject, taken from the transcript of
an interview of 15 October 2009 with the prosecutor of Bari:

        
ANSWER:
I also know about lots of illegal things done by public officials: in particular police officers, directors of local organizations, officials of the court and even judges […] One of these episodes concerns Judge Larocca of the Court of Bari…

        
ANSWER:
It was an episode involving my friend and associate Rocco Ladisa, about whom I have already spoken repeatedly. Ladisa was under investigation for an episode of usury and subsequent extortion for which he had been arrested even though the victim had not cooperated with the police. Ladisa had been released by the court of appeal presided over by Larocca, who had received a payment of fifty thousand euros for that ruling.

        
ANSWER:
I am aware that each time I report something I have to indicate the source of my information. If, that is, these are episodes of which I have direct knowledge (maybe through having been personally involved) or about which I have been told by third parties. In this latter case I have to indicate the person who passed on the information, along with the time and place. Having noted this, I specify that I have knowledge of this fact because it was told to me by the person directly involved, Ladisa. He had boasted on many occasions of being able to count on the favours of police officers and carabinieri. On this particular occasion he boasted about the fact that he had even managed to get to an important judge like Larocca.

        
ANSWER:
The episode was told to me by Ladisa some months after his release, in other words in the autumn of 2008. If I remember correctly, we were having dinner
at a restaurant called Il Pescatore. Ladisa and I often had dinner together, in that and other restaurants, and often talked about confidential matters. Nobody else was present. Ladisa would not talk about certain things in the presence of people he did not trust absolutely.

I broke off reading, thinking that Ladisa's ability to identify those people he could
trust absolutely
didn't seem faultless, given that a few months after these confidences Signor Capodacqua had decided to spill the beans to the prosecutors. I thought of asking Mr Punchbag for his opinion, but saw that he had dozed off. So I took another sip of whisky and carried on.

        
ANSWER:
The contact with Judge Larocca was Avvocato Corrado Salvagno, who died in a road accident at the end of last year and who was apparently a friend of Larocca and other important judges, both civil and criminal. It was rumoured in our circles that Salvagno was able, for the appropriate fee, to fix trials of every kind.

        
ANSWER:
I repeat that it was a rumour in our circles. It was spoken about, and I am unable to say from whom and on what occasion I heard it for the first time. But apart from the episode concerning Judge Larocca, of which Ladisa spoke to me, I am not aware of other specific instances of corruption regarding the late Avvocato Salvagno. Actually, it was the news of the death of Avvocato Salvagno that led Ladisa to tell me about this episode. To introduce the subject he said to me something like: “Did you hear about Salvagno's accident? A pity, partly because he really could do anything. You know how he got me out the last time I was arrested?” And he told me the story.

        
ANSWER:
As far as I know, in the episode we are talking about, the other two judges were not involved. In any case, Ladisa said that “Larocca gave the orders” in that court. He meant that if there was any conflict, his opinion easily prevailed over that of the others.

        
ANSWER:
Salvagno had told him that his situation was somewhat compromised, in the sense that the evidence was strong and there was a distinct possibility that he would remain in prison for a long time. The same lawyer, who was his defence counsel, told him that there was the possibility of obtaining a favourable ruling by paying a large sum of money, because Judge Larocca was his friend and, if the request came from someone he trusted (like Salvagno), he was willing to oblige.

        
ANSWER:
Salvagno had told him these things in prison, during their client–lawyer interviews.

        
ANSWER:
I think that when they talked about such delicate subjects they were very careful because of the risk that they were being bugged. For example, it is possible they communicated by writing, with little notes that the lawyer then tore up and took away with him. I make it clear that this is my conjecture, because Ladisa did not go into details when he told me the facts.

        
ANSWER:
Ladisa told me he had agreed and had paid, through his wife Caterina Amendolagine, the combined sum of one hundred thousand euros in cash to Avvocato Salvagno, who had then made sure that half of it got to the judge a few days before the appeal hearing. The other half was his own fee.

        
ANSWER:
I do not know how Ladisa's wife was able to get hold of such a large sum in cash. He did not tell me and I did not ask him. I can tell you, though, that Ladisa had considerable amounts of cash available, partly linked to
the activity of usury in which he was involved, so when he told me that a sum of that size had been collected and paid I was not at all surprised.

        
ANSWER:
From everything that Ladisa said it was obvious that the things for which he had been arrested, and then released by Larocca, were things he had actually committed. It was not anything explicit like “I did this and that”, but it was clear that he was not innocent of the offences.

        
ANSWER:
Ladisa told me that the money had been delivered to the judge by an employee in Avvocato Salvagno's practice who I think is named Nicola – I do not know his surname. I think the money was in an envelope together with other papers, or in a package. On this point Ladisa was not specific because he was reporting what he in his turn had been told by Salvagno. In fact, when the payment was made, Ladisa was still in prison.

        
ANSWER:
From what Ladisa told me, this Nicola was unaware of the contents of the envelope. He was a clerk in Avvocato Salvagno's office and was simply doing what he was told to do.

The quotations from the interview transcript continued for a few more lines with other non-essential details about what Capodacqua knew and how he had learnt it. But that was the gist of it. Ladisa told him he had paid – through his wife, his lawyer and an apparently unwitting office clerk – five thousand euros to Pierluigi Larocca to obtain his release from a sentence for the serious crimes of usury and extortion.

If it were true, it would be a pretty repulsive story.

“Is there anything more disgusting than a judge who sells himself out? What do you think, Mr Punchbag?”

Mr Punchbag doesn't like bastards, so the question was a rhetorical one. I drained my glass, resisted the temptation to refill it, and went on reading.

After the fragments of Capodacqua's first interview, there were references to a second transcript, this time of a statement before the Prosecutor's Department in Lecce, subsequent to the case being transferred there. There was nothing new: he had basically confirmed what he had said before to the magistrates of the anti-Mafia directorate in Bari.

Before moving on to an analysis of the evidence, the judge in Lecce made a digression on the criteria prescribed by the Supreme Court for evaluating statements made by those who have turned state's evidence.

It may be useful at this point to recall the obvious guidance given by the law in regard to evaluating statements by individuals under article 210 and interpreting articles 192 and 195 of the code of criminal procedure. It is obvious that in the first place it is necessary to examine the reliability intrinsic to the statements of the said individual in accordance with the provisions of article 192, paragraph 3. The judge must firstly address the problem of the credibility of the declarant in relation, among other things, to his personality, his socio-economic and family conditions, his past, his relations with those he is accusing and how recently he has decided to confess and to accuse fellow perpetrators and accomplices; secondly, he must verify the intrinsic consistency of the statements of the declarant, in the light of criteria including, among others, precision, coherence, constancy and spontaneity. Finally, he must examine the so-called external evidence. The judge's examination must be carried out following the indicated logical order, because he cannot proceed with a uniform evaluation of the accusation
and the other elements of evidence that confirm his reliability if he has not first clarified the possible doubts that gather around the accusation itself, independently of the elements of proof external to it.

It should finally be specified that where the statements of the individual concerned are ascribable to the paradigm indicated in article 195 (indirect testimony) the onus to find corroborating evidence is of an even more pressing nature. Those statements that report, even if in a framework of personal reliability and intrinsic credibility, things learnt from others (including those under investigation), pose a twofold demand for corroborating evidence and therefore impose an examination of particular rigour.