The original version of this story was written by Salvatore Borsellino. Salvatore is judge Paolo Borsellino’s brother. Judge Borsellino and his bodyguards were brutally murdered on July 19th 1992. To this day, despite emerging new evidence the truth concerning judge Borsellino’s murder remains a mystery. Salvatore Borsellino’s quest is to see truth and justice prevail in a country where justice and freedom of speech began to die the day his brother was murdered. A beautiful piece of music was composed for these words by Giovanni Mancuso and was performed at the Biennale of Music of Venice. The organizers of the event tryed to censor the piece without success.
Since July 19th 1992 darkness covers the scene of a massacre. Clever manipulators control the stage lights. Number 19 of D’Amelio Street shines under the only reflector left on.
The Utveggio Castle, Autonomia Siciliana street, the gulf of Palermo, Arenella and Acquasanta are embalmed in obscurity.
Every day, at 5.00 pm, sirens sound from Autonomia Siciliana street. Armoured vehicles suddenly appear from the dark. The road should be clear of traffic. Cars should not be able to stop or park. Yet, the route is so crowded that, in order to exit vehicles are forced to back out.
Every day, at the same time, a Judge steps out of his car, leaving his leather brief case on the back seat. His mother has an appointment with her cardiologist. The Judge is there to pick her up. He rings the doorbell. All the men and the only woman of the judge’s escort accompany each and every step he makes. Their own bodies are the only means of protection they have to give.
No one knows if the Judge pronounced a few words before hundreds of kilos of Semtex (an explosive used by the military) explode unleashing hell on earth .
In that moment, Antonio Vullo, the Judge’s driver is repositioning the car to be ready to leave quickly. A heat wave lunges him to the back of the vehicle. Fortunately it is armoured and resists the shock wave.
Every day, Vullo steps out of that same car, injured and dazed . As he walks , under his feet, he feels something soft. Vullo realizes that he is stepping on pieces of his friend’s bodies. He goes through puddles of his friend’s blood. Not a day goes by in which Vullo does not wish to have died with them. Every day and every night his mind returns to the same horrifying images like an incessant nightmare.
The judge’s body is sliced in half. In the explosion his torso is thrown between the remains of a gate and the demolished face of a building. Hardly anything remains of the bodies of the men and woman of his escort. Every single day someone’s hand can be seen flying through the air as it lands among the ruins of a balcony on the fifth floor.
The Judge’s mother knows, she knows. The one thing that everyone knew about and talked about for the past two months had, in that moment, killed her son. A bomb, the same bomb that had taken yet another Judge not to long before. Perhaps, out of pity, her mind leads her to believe that the building’s gas pipes have burst. Barefooted she flees down four and a half floors of debris and broken glass, reaching the bottom without a scratch, as though her beloved son had gently embraced her and taken her down before disappearing forever. It seemed as though he had closed her eyes to prevent her from seeing his mutilated corpse, to prevent her from seeing Emanuela, Agostino, Claudio, Vincenzo and Walter. One of the firemen working on the scene caringly takes the woman from her son’s arms and accompanies her to the hospital. In the emergency room she will report to have seen nothing. The scene from hell burning in front of her own home in D’Amelio street did not exist. She had not see her son’s body, she had not see the blood that filled the street.
Every day, at the same time, someone, hiding at Utveggio Castle watches the Judge about to ring the doorbell. That person presses the button on the remote, the same button responsible for unleashing hell. The castle is hidden in gloom. However, number 19 of D’Amelio street is clearly visible. The blinding light of one of the reflectors from the stage clearly identifies the number. The person watching from Utveggio Castle synchronizes his remote to the exact moment in which the judge rings his mother’s doorbell. The man and his bodyguards are left with no chance of survival.
Every day, at the same time, Captain Giovanni Arcangioli approaches the Judge’s armoured Croma. He takes the leather briefcase from the backseat of the car, the same briefcase that contains the Judge’s personal red diary. In the mist of flames and smoke the scene blurs. Arcangioli walks away and heads for Autonomia Siciliana street where someone attends him. Besides eliminating the Judge, gaining possession of the red diary is crucial. While abiding by his orders, without a moment of hesitation Arcangioli steps on the same pieces of flesh and walks through the same blood that floods Agent Vullo’s mind. His face is emotionless. Perhaps he has a precise mission to accomplish. It is like being in war. Human emotions must be controlled, put aside. Finally, he arrives in Autonomia Siciliana street. The scene of the crime becomes murky. The beam of light that shines and allows us to see the scenario falls short. The truth is left unravelled. It is impossible to see to whom Captain Arcangioli delivers the Judge’s brief case to. It is impossible to see who takes the red diary.
One hour later someone reappears under the beam of light. The judge’s briefcase is repositioned in the backseat of the car empty of his red diary. A precious and essential element able to identify his murderers as well as those, who’s interest it was, to eliminate him.
Seventeen years have passed and every year, on July 19th , the able manipulators arrive alongside their masters. They come to deposit flowers by the gate of D’Amelio street. As they pose for the cameras their eyes survey the stage. The blinding light of the reflectors remain pointed on the scene of the massacre, on the blood and flesh of their victims. They watch as all around darkness prevails. Nothing of what took place beyond the light must be visible, nothing.
However, their ability to direct the scene and control the lights is threatened by a powerful element they cannot manipulate: the sky. Every now and then a flash of lightning breaks through the darkness. For a short moment, we witness the crime, we see the truth. All they do not want us to see, everything we must not and cannot see. Upon such truth political balances and crossed threats find their nest. Upon such truths a second republic, a new regime is born, founded on the blood of the massacres of year 1992.
The first flash of lightning hits on July 19th at 7.00 am, on Cilea street, in the judge’s home where the lights have been on since 5 am. He receives a phone call from his boss, Pietro Giammanco.
He had never called so early and never on a Sunday. Giammanco had never warned his judge about a report of the special police force called ROS that revealed the arrival in Palermo of a load of explosive which was going to be used to murder the him. The judge discovers this “detail” by mere chance, from minister Scotti, at the airport, where they happen to meet. Such an omission sparks a violent argument between the judge and Giammanco who has recently become prosecutor of Palermo. This new title gives Giammanco the power to delegate investigations on mafia gangs in Palermo. Despite this, he refuses to authorize the judge’s need to question key mafia witnesses like Gaspare Mutolo. Strangely, on July 19th Giammanco decides to grant the judge the opportunity to go ahead with his work and gives him permission to investigate and interrogate. In that same moment a car filled with explosive is being parked in front of number 19 of D’ Amelio street.
“So, this is how the game ends” are Giammanco’s words as the phomne call ends. Agnese, the judge’s wife remembers her husband cry out: “ No, the game has just begun”.
It turns out that some time before the phone call with Giammanco, a confidential conversation took place between the judge and police official Maresciallo Canale who was helping with the investigations. An interesting intention emerges from a statement made by the judge in which he says that “ during the summer he was going to have Giammanco arrested to force him to reveal what he knew about yet another murder, Lima’s”.
At the time of Lima’s murder, Giammanco had been persuaded by a prosecutor, to avoid his presence at the man’s funeral service.
This is where another flash of lightning strikes. It is still July 19th. The judge is at his summer home in Villagrazia di Carini. Instead of taking his usual afternoon rest the judge smokes nervously. He lights one cigarette after another, enough to fill an ashtray as he takes down notes in his red diary. He then opens his leather briefcase, places the red diary and his cigarettes inside, says goodbye to his family and leaves the house with his guardian angels. The door closes behind him, as he heads for his last appointment, with death.
“I must hurry, I have to be fast”. These were the words he repeated, obsessively, after his friend and colleague Giovanni Falcone had been murdered, two months before. The judge knew he was next.
In Utveggio Castle someone is waiting. The man’s cell phone rings as his eyes remain pointed on number 19 of D’Amelio street. He watches the judge step out of his car. He sees him lift his arm to the doorbell and, in that instant the man presses the button on the remote he is holding in his hands. A grey cloud of smoke lifts toward the sky. A deafening rumble shakes the earth. The man coldly watches the effects of his explosion. He dials a number on his phone. The conversation lasts just a few seconds, long enough to pronounce a few words. The scene tumbles into the cloud of smoke hovering over D’Amelio street.
Another flash of lightning strikes over the gulf of Palermo. A boat full of men sits, in the still waters of the gulf. They are not just ordinary men. They are all from secret services. Their version of the story must be the same, their eyes must witness the same scene in order for their testimonies to coincide. It’s almost time, the car filled with explosive is about to blow up. The silence on the boat is deafening. They are waiting for something to happen. Suddenly a terrible roar can be heard from a distance. Smoke fills the sky over Palermo toward Mount Pellegrino. A phone call reaches the boat. The obstacle in the middle of the path of their negotiations has been eliminated. A number of other phone calls leave the boat as it heads fast toward the port.
The judge’s death was announced by the media four to five hours after the explosion. As the war like images of the scene of the massacre scrolled along the screen, in their minds, Italians knew that it was bound to happen. The men from secret services watching from the boat were informed of the judge’s assassination one hundred and forty seconds after the bomb had gone off.
Another detail finds its way through the darkness. Two captains belonging to the special police force called ROS, Umberto Sinico and Raffaele Del Sole claim they had been told by police officer Roberto Di Legami that mafia man Bruno Contrada was lurking around the scene immediately after the explosion. Di Legami completed a police report stating what he had seen. The report disappeared.
During another brief flash of lightning Vito Ciancimino delivers a hand written document to captain De Donno and colonel Mori. The paper belongs to Riina and contains twelve points, twelve requests written by the head of the cupola to the State. Mafia attacks on the heart of the State would stop on the condition that all twelve requests be satisfied. A guiding light now leads us to July 1st. the judge is at the ministry, standing infront of Mancino’s office. Mancino asks for an appointment with the judge while Gaspare Mutolo is being interrogated. The meeting with Mancino is noted in the judge’s diary: July 1st, 7.00 o’clock: Mancino. Who was waiting for the judge behind those closed doors and what was he told inside that office? Darkness, once again, nothing but darkness. The judge leaves the ministry and continues interrogating Mutolo. He is very nervous. It is not impossible or unrealistic to imagine the topic of discussion in Mancino’s office. The judge was most likely informed that Riina’s twelve requests were going to be met. His reaction was probably so violent, he was probably so disgusted that his physical presence became an obstacle to the negotiations which were going to take place between mafia and State. The judge became an obstacle that was to be removed, quickly. Following July 1st Mancino begins to suffer of a strange form of amnesia, from which he is yet to recover. Minister Mancino recalls nothing of his appointment with the judge. Minister Mancino hasn’t a clue as to the discussion that took place in his own office with the judge. Minister Mancino barely remembers even knowing judge Paolo Borsellino who had been on national tv practically everyday after his friend and colleague Giovanni Falcone was murdered two months before.
An entire country is now left waiting, waiting to discover the truth. The stage is bear and a question haunts our minds. Who, and how many of the people that today rule this country are stained of the blood of the massacres of year 1992 and 1993? Who is behind the murders of men like Paolo Borsellino, murders which fused the bond between mafia and the Italian State?
Salvatore Borsellino
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