Looking at him, I remembered an episode I had been told by a magistrate friend of mine about his time in Calabria. During an interrogation he had asked a guy if he had a criminal record, and the man had replied that he guessed he had a criminal record now, because this was the first time he had ever given testimony.

Marinelli informed Arcidiacono that he had to read the oath. He did so, slowly, reading some words syllable by syllable, but without getting anything wrong, which often happens.

Maybe it was because I didn’t have to examine him and was watching the scene from a different perspective, but hearing him read in that way, awkwardly but full of dignity, moved me deeply for a reason I couldn’t understand.216

Consuelo stood up, let a few seconds go by, then addressed the witness.

“Good morning, Signor Arcidiacono, I’m one of the two lawyers representing Iacopo Cardace. I’m going to ask you some questions. Please answer only if everything is clear to you. If you have any doubts don’t hesitate to say so. All right?”

The man nodded half-heartedly.

“Signor Arcidiacono, let me take the opportunity to make one thing clear. Everything here is recorded, but only in audio form. If you just nod without saying anything, nothing will appear in the transcript, and it might be difficult to understand exactly what you meant. So I ask you to always answer out loud. All right?”

“All right,” he replied, just as half-heartedly.

“Then let’s proceed. Do you have a job?”

“Yes, I’ve always worked.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a car mechanic.”

“Do you have a garage of your own?”

“No, I work for someone.”

“Do you know why you were called here today to testify?”

He nodded again, then remembered. “Yes, I do.”

“Do you know the man sitting opposite you, behind the bars?”

“Yes.”

“Have you known him for a long time?”

“Yes, but we’ve never really hung out together. Every now and again we have a coffee or a cigarette. I saw him at the disco a few times.”

“Do you remember his name?”

“Iacopo.”

“Do you remember his surname?”217

“Cardascio, I think.”

“Cardace. Tell me, Signor Arcidiacono, have you ever used narcotics?”

Arcidiacono looked round. Once again he gave the impression he was searching for a way out.

“Don’t worry, nobody’s accusing you of anything. You can answer quite safely.”

“A joint every now and again. But I don’t do it much these days. I got married.”

“Did you ever purchase drugs – grass or anything else – from the accused? For your personal use, of course.”

“A few times.”

“How did that work? Did Cardace have a place where he sold the drugs?”