the initiative and told him: “Listen here, if the property, despite you and your partner having viewed it far and wide before giving the monthly salary, does not match your expectations, given the vehement complaints you would have made in front of the neighbors so that they would hear them loud and clear, you are free to leave; not only that, I also return the monthly payment already paid”.
I stopped for a few moments and then resumed determined: “On the contrary, I'd really ask you to leave, I wouldn't want to have to see you every month, because in case you want to stay, in fact, we would have to stipulate a long-term contract”. I was very angry while talking to him, however I kept a certain calm. However, I wanted to tell him something: “You must not allow yourself to make statements about my person and about my past. I don't have to explain anything to you, you think as you please, but don't involve people in my private sphere, who certainly know me better than you, don't disturb my life anymore and go elsewhere to read about me on the internet. Don't create any other problems for me”.
So I thought I had silenced him. Instead, he changed the focus of his rants to add to the dose of slander and began listing alleged anomalies of the house: “You rented me the apartment without doing any maintenance. Every evening we smell gas from the boiler, there is certainly a leak, the television is not visible, the antenna must be replaced, there is an electrical outlet in the kitchen that has flying wires. How did you dare to rent a house in these conditions?” I was surprised the technician had assured me that everything was in order, as was the cleaning lady, and then I was present on site when I entrusted the property to the agency. However, faced with these complaints, I made the commitment to review any defects complained of and asked for an appointment the next day to go with the technician. The tenant told me that he had to stay at work late and gave me trustee permission to enter the house. While the technician did his work and I inspected every corner of the house for faults or imperfections, his eyes fell on a sheet of paper placed on a shelf in the living room.
He had hit me because I had read my name on a sheet of letterhead from the financial police. I read it without touching it and amazement assailed me. It was a complaint against me filed the previous day. He had insinuated that I was a scammer, because, according to him, probably I was not the owner of the house and I had collected the rent, without issuing the payment receipt. “But how can someone be so mean and liar?” - I wondered.
He seemed to have discovered a fugitive delinquent in me and wanted to prove his good faith as a model citizen. The same day I rushed to the Rome Provincial Command of the Guardia di Finanza where a complaint was recorded, providing all the documents at the same time.
I was intent on making a counter-complaint for slander, but I wanted to consult with a lawyer first.
Meanwhile, at home, the technician had not found the defects that the tenant complained of, except for a door to be adjusted in height and a burned-out light bulb. No problems with the gas, nor with the antenna signal. The next day the tenant called me back and, with an almost threatening voice, told me: “Here the gas comes out every day, even from the stove, I smell the stench!”. Not happy, he continued with the personal offenses: “You had to tell me right away that your name is Eva Mikula and you are the one of the White One. I discovered it, however, from the Internet, there is a lot about your past as a criminal. I suffered damage because of you”. I could hardly believe that a person could talk to me like that, in what capacity did he do it? I couldn't understand where he was going.
It was him who made me understand. Money. He did not finish his delusional phone call that the answer to my doubt arrived on time. “For the inconvenience I demand double the deposit, plus the monthly salary I paid, because to leave I have to face expenses”. So I immediately got the idea that, in addition to being in bad faith, he might be a bit disturbed. So I closed the phone call, which like all the others with him, I had been recording regularly for days now.
I went to the carabinieri to formalize a complaint for all the crimes for which he was responsible: slander, defamation, attempted extortion, blackmail and telephone harassment with requests for money.
In the barracks I explained all the facts in detail, I had also transcribed the telephone records, I provided the traceability of the payments made by him and my proposal for a full refund, as long as they left the house I owned. When the next day he was notified of the complaint, the neighbors told me, he too railed at the carabinieri, insulting me once again out loud in front of them: “But how! Have you taken a complaint against me from such a person? But do you realize? But do you know who Eva Mikula is?”. The military personnel did their best to calm him down. “The best thing is for you to get out of this house,” they told him. He had the nerve to call me for the umpteenth time: “You reported me for extortion, are we kidding? You are a poor fool who only seeks free publicity by hanging out with criminals, from this moment on don't address to me anymore. Forget you frightened me with the complaint, we will stay at home as long as we like”.
His partner called me back to tell me that if I didn't withdraw the complaint, they wouldn't leave. I had entered a state of total stress. After two days, the couple left the two-room apartment. I gave him back what they had left and also the month he had paid; obviously not twice as much as they claimed. The important thing was that they went away forever.
I thought that my complaint would have followed the expected procedure, however, more than two years after the facts, despite the testimony and incontrovertible evidence, the prosecutor strangely asked for dismissal, which was welcomed by the judge. Basically, after two years and a month of investigation, the law had come to the conclusion that my tenant's actions had not been slanderous, detrimental to my personal dignity, extortionate and therefore punishable by law. Perhaps because the plaintiff was named Eva Mikula. From my perspective, however, this umpteenth episode that I had to close in the basket of my dramatic experiences, upset me and all the good reputation hard earned over the years. It had touched my neighbors with brutality and, in particular, it had also muddied my working sphere, especially the relationships with the real estate agency, with which I often collaborated, here in the area and which was managed by some dear friends of mine. It was an episode that affected my daily life, my acquaintances with people who appreciated me for my seriousness, humanity and professionalism. Fortunately, I kept their esteem intact.
However, I felt an unbearable anguish that threatened to undermine everything I had been able to build up to that moment. I also went to the doctor, who prescribed me some anxiolytics and, for a couple of times, I underwent sessions by a psychologist. I feared that all these events would jeopardize the achievement of my full integration into civil society. Once again, however, I found the solution within myself, it could not be external interventions, pharmacological or psychoanalytic, the tool to resume the right path of my path. The right medicine was inner strength, the one I had trained by bearing the enormous weight of the past on my shoulders.
I thought about what I had managed to accomplish by believing only in myself. Difficult episodes can happen to anyone at any time, always when you least expect them. Public opinion had crystallized a distorted image of my person, it could neither be erased, nor modified, nor colored, because many, too many, lies had been told about me from the very beginning.
When I thought about it, I felt small and squashed, tiny and helpless. I was afraid that all prejudices, in addition to annihilating me, could fall on my children. This heavy gray cloud hung over my head, and as time went by it grew darker and darker. “But, mind you”, I mentally repeated to myself “You can say anything you want about me, so it's all false. But stay away from my children, don't even try to touch them. They have nothing to do with it”. My anxieties and my sleepless nights pushed me to write, wondering what was the origin of so much bitterness towards me, of the falsehoods that concerned me publicly exposed in the press. So I got the idea of sending a letter of release, strengthened by my full awareness of the reality that surrounded me, a letter written to the Association of the victims of the White One. Gang.
The
