“Did he mean people involved in organized crime?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you mention any of this before? In your statements, for example?”

“My lawyer told me it was better not to mention the subject. If I couldn’t say the names it’d be useless, because the judges wouldn’t believe me and at the same time I’d be putting myself in danger.”

“Let’s go back to that afternoon. After saying goodbye to Gaglione, what did you do?”

“I was going back to my car when I met someone I knew.”

“Sabino Arcidiacono?”

“Yes, I didn’t know his surname. I knew him as Sabino.”

“How did you know him?”

“He was a mechanic. A good kid. I’d sold him stuff a few times.”234

“You mean drugs?”

“A bit of grass, a few pills.”

“And that afternoon?”

“I gave him one of the pills Mino had given me.”

“I see. Now let’s go back a bit. At what time did you go out that afternoon?”

“Maybe about five, or a little earlier.”

“When you went out, was your mother at home?”

“No.”

“Do you know where she was?”

“She was working. She used to keep this old lady company. I think she read to her. She was round at her place.”

“Do you know how often she went there?”

“I’m not sure, but I think it was every afternoon.”

“What time did you get home?”

“I don’t know exactly. Between seven and eight.”

“When you got back, was your mother at home?”

“Yes.”

“Then you went out again, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“How long after getting back?”

“Less than an hour.”

I paused for a long time. I pretended to look for something in the papers I had in front of me, but in reality I wanted to take a look at the faces of the jurors. They seemed attentive, the young woman especially; the tic of the man who looked like a sacristan was particularly frenetic.

“Have you ever fired a gun, Signor Cardace?”

“Yes.”

“Once? Several times?”

“Several times.”

“Why?”235

“I used to go shooting with a friend in a quarry, we’d do target practice with bottles.”

“With what kind of gun?”

“Was it yours?”

“No.”

“Whose was it?”

“A friend of mine’s.”

“Can you tell us his name?”

“I prefer not to, I don’t want to accuse a friend of a crime.”

“Why a crime? Was the pistol being kept illegally?”

“Yes.”

“So this friend committed the crime of unauthorized possession and carrying?”

“Yes. Plus, the pistol had its serial number rubbed away.”

“How many times did you go shooting?”

“Several times.”

“You mean you went regularly?”

“Not really. But we did go quite a few times.”

“Where is this quarry?”

“Between Molfetta and Trani. It’s abandoned, so it’s safe to shoot there, you’re not likely to hit anyone or be seen by anyone.”