Personal Terror Political Terror. Guido Pagliarino
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After turning on the light, she had made the gruesome discovery of her mother lying dead on the floor in the entry hall, with her mouth gaping in a grimace of pain, her eyes wide open, blood and brain matter spilling from one ear and a large hematoma on her head.
It would be established that the bruising had been caused by a heavy domestic vase being dropped onto the head, and on which the anatomo-pathologist would find traces of the victim's scalp. The doctor would also determine that, in all certainty, death was due to an ice pick pushed into the ear until it pierced the brain.
The dead woman’s daughter, who barely had time to drop onto a chair, had fainted. When she came to her senses around 10:10pm as she had ascertained on her wristwatch, she had managed to call 113 even though she was still in shock.
Around 11:00pm I had phoned Vittorio on my mobile phone to let him know about the new murder, fulfilling his request to inform him of any developments which might have arrived at the newpaper. Carla Garibaldi had told me about the new crime when I went past her computer station on the way to my desk. She had just had a phonecall from a colleague who, as a rule, hung out in the atrium of the Police Headquarters in the evening and into the early hours of the night, along with colleagues from the city’d other newspaper and the television stations, waiting for crime news. Carla's deputy had then rushed to the scene of the crime with the others, to give his boss any news.
Vittorio had Evaristo Sordi’s cell phone number, and had learned from him that he was at the scene of the crime. He said that the body had not yet been removed, pending the imminent arrival and authorization of the Public Prosecutor Trentinotti for transfer to the morgue for the necroscopy. Sordi had given my friend permission to enter the dead woman's apartment by mingling with the journalists.
He had never had a drivrer’s license and travelled thriftily around the city by tram, but given the hour and the urgency, he had taken a taxi that time. It had been a waste of time and money, though, as he had arrived on the landing outside the dead woman’s apartment when not just the journalists, including Carla's deputy, had moved on, but the coroner, the magistrate and the commissioner had left too. The commissioner had taken the deceased woman’s daughter with him in the service car to officially take down and record her testimony at Police Headquarters. The body was already en route to the morgue. The only people still there were two officers who were putting seals on the door and their deputy superintendent. Knowing D'Aiazzo, he had greeted him cordially; perhaps he should not have done so, but he had also offered to take him to Police Headquarters in his patrol car, an offer which he was not about to refuse, considering that it was close to his home and quite late.
The next day, during his usual stroll under the colonnades of Via Cernaia, Corso Vinzaglio, Corso Vittorio Emanuele and vice versa, he had decided to call into Police Headquarters on the way back. He had asked for Commissioner Sordi, in the hope that he would be there.
He was, and had received him.
Without any preambles, Evaristo had said to him: "I had to leave before you arrived last night... you did come, didn't you?"
"Yes siree."
"I'm sorry, Vittorio, but the magistrate had ordered us to get out and seal up before you arrived. I couldn’t wait for you, as I had to leave with others and take the witness who had found the body with me, the dead woman’s daughter, to make her statement in writing."
"No problem. If you want to, tell me something about this daughter."
"Nothing suspicious about her. In fact it seems from the testimonies of the mother’s neighbors and, furthermore, from the daughter’s neighbors who were questioned just a short time ago by our people in Asti, where she lives with her husband and two children, that the pair of them were very close; as a matter of fact, the daughter and son-in-law often invited the mother to their home, he or she would come to pick her up by car here in Turin so she didn’t have to go back and forth by train, and then they would take her back at the end of the day."
"I see. That poor woman must be feeling a lot of grief."
"Yes, she was heartbroken. Apart from that, since I couldn't wait for you last night, to make up for it I'll tell you everything I know now. First of all, unlike the Capuò Tron case, the murderer entered through the door and not a window because, as you know, the apartment is on the third floor. Furthermore, nothing was stolen this time, at least according to the dead woman’s daughter: perhaps the something disturbed the killer before he could rummage around and steal, and he slipped away quickly pulling the door closed behind him, and it was closed with only one turn (Translator’s Note: locks on doors in Italy have up to five turns and sometimes also vertical bars floor to ceiling are actioned). But perhaps the most important news concerns the victim’s profile: I checked on whether Peritti Verdani was pigeon-holed in our archives and I found records concerning her... in the DIGOS1 office.”
"Well, how about that! Hmm... whereas the first victim...?"
"No, nothing, Mrs Capuò Tron was an angel, poor woman, and had never had any dealings with us at all. But Peritti was a very different kettle of fish, at least in the past, because then she must have calmed down. In the early 1970s, before she married to Verdani, she was a blue-collar worker at FIAT and had been threatened with dismissal several times because of serious union excesses versus non-communist co-workers and against the foreman, we might also say excesses of a revolutionary kind. That Peritti woman was known by the nickname of Pasionaria in the Marxist-Leninist environment, just like the old Dolores Ibarruri of the Spanish Civil War, la Pasionaria di Mirafiori 2 to be precise. Warnings from the company owners led up to her being sacked. But under the so-called Workers' Statute3 , they had to have just cause, as it was called, meaning that if the person who’d been sacked challenged the dismissal, there had to be a reason which an employment tribunal recognised as valid."
"All things considered, it would have been a good law in normal times, but not for those revolutionary years."
"Yes, Vittorio, in fact at that time, as you know, labor judges recognized the just cause only in really extreme cases and Peritti was almost untouchable. It was only in the mid-1970s that the proprietors finally managed to throw her out after a favorable judgment, thanks to an event which was more serious than the previous ones: during one of the many violent protests at the factory gates, she had physically hit her foreman, after she and other trouble-makers had forced him to take part in it."
"Far from being new to stunts of this kind, la Pasionaria had hit him twice with the pole of the red flag she was holding, once on his shoulder and another much more serious blow on his head, that sent him to the hospital unconscious with a lacerated scalp. Unfortunately for her, that time she had carried out the daring feat in front of one of our platoons on public security duty and they had detained her, not without difficulty by the way, as is evident from the report on file, and brought her here to Police Headquarters. They had taken her personal details and she was charged with resistance."
"She had later been sued by the foreman and with one thing and another had been handed a conviction, albeit with parole. What’s more her termination payout had been seized at the request of the injured person's lawyer and had been used to compensate the victim. But above all, to their great satisfaction, the proprietors had been able to