accidental death of an anarchist

Prologue

We wish to make it clear that the dialogue in this play is based on a reconstruction of authentic documents from the Pinelli case. There was no need to invent any of the situations that you will find represented here.

There is no greater equaliser than the stupidity of men– especially when those men have power.

An interesting point worth noting:

At the moment that the anarchist was about to plunge from the window down onto the pavement where Pinelli had fallen, there was a group of journalists present, from various major Milan-based newspapers. These journalists were coming from a press conference that had been taking place at police headquarters

Start of Act 1 Scene 2

What does he want? Who is he?

Constable: I don't know, Sir. He came sweeping in here like he was God Almighty. He says that he wants to talk with you and the Superintendent.

Wants to talk, does he? Good morning, I gather you wanted to see me.

Maniac: Good morning. What have you done to your hand?

Er, nothing... Who are you?

Maniac: Nothing, eh? So why do you keep rubbing it? An affectation, is it? Or is it a nervous tic?

Could be... I said, with whom do I have the pleasure...?

Maniac: I knew a bishop once who used to rub his hand like that. A Jesuit.

Are you suggesting...?

Maniac: You should see a psychiatrist. When people keep rubbing their hands like that it's a sure sign of insecurity... guilt complex... and a lousy sex life. Do you have problems with women, perhaps?

Right! That'll do!

Maniac: Impulsive! There's the proof! Tell me the truth – it isn't a tic at all, is it...? You've just given someone a right-hander, haven't you? Come on – own up!

What d'you mean, 'own up'? Would you mind telling me who

you are? And among other things, you might care to remove

your hat!

Maniac: You’re right. I hope you don't think I was being rude, keeping it on... It's just that you've got the window wide open... and I have a real problem with draughts. Don't you? Would you mind if we closed it?

Yes I would!

Maniac: Oops, sorry I spoke! Pleased to meet you. Professor Marco Maria Malipiero, first counsel to the High Court...

Oh I see…

Maniac: What do you see?

Nothing, nothing.

Precisely... You see nothing! Who was it told you that I was supposed to be arriving to take a second look into the business of the anarchist's death?

Well, actually… I…

Maniac: I'd like the truth, please... I get terribly upset when people lie to me... I have a tic too, see... here in my neck, and when people lie to me, look, it starts to vibrate.... look, see? So, did you know I was coming, or didn't you?

Yes, I did know... But we weren't expecting you so soon... actually...

Maniac: Of course – and that's precisely why the Supreme Court decided that I should come up early... We too have our informants, you know. And so we've caught you on the hop, eh? Does this worry you?

No, no, of course not... Oh, alright, yes, it does... Sit down, please... Can I take your hat for you...? Or maybe you'd prefer to keep it...?

Maniac: No, no, help yourself, it isn't mine anyway.

Eh? Would you like me to shut the window?

Maniac: Not at all. Don't put yourself out on my account. I wonder, would you mind calling in the Superintendent... I'd like to start as soon as possible.

Certainly... But wouldn't it be better if we all went to his office. It's a bit more comfortable.

Maniac: I'm sure it is. But it was in this office that the unfortunate business with the anarchist happened, wasn't it?

Yes, it was.

Maniac: If you don't mind, Inspector, I'll have no whispering while I'm here. Out loud, please!

I'm sorry. Ask the Superintendent to join us at once, if he can.

Maniac: And even if he can’t.

Yes, even if he can’t.

Constable: Yessir… [exits]

Hello, get me Bertozzo... Where's he gone? Upstairs to see the Superintendent?

Maniac: Pardon my interrupting, Inspector...

Yes, your Honour?

Maniac: This Inspector Bertozzo that you're so concerned about, would he maybe have something to do with the re-opening of the anarchist's inquest?

Yes... no... I mean, well, since he's the one with all the paperwork...

Maniac: We don't need it... I have everything we need here, so why bother getting a second copy?

Well I suppose we can do without.

Super: What exactly did you mean by that, Inspector, to come to your office if I can, and even if I can't?

I'm sorry, Super... It's just that since...

Super: Just that since be damned! You're getting too damn big for your boots, d'you know that? What's more, I'm not at all amused by your insolent style of behaviour... Especially when it comes to punching your colleagues in the face!

But Superintendent... Didn't Bertozzo tell you about the raspberry and his moronic joke about underground police stations in Calabria?

Maniac: Certainly I'll allow you... Sit down, and let's get started... By the way, did your colleague tell you that I...

Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot... This gentleman is Professor Marco Maria Malipiero, first counsel to the High Court...

Maniac: I wouldn't insist on the 'first'... Let's just say 'one of the first'!

As you wish.

Super: Your Honour... I really don't know...

His Honour the Judge is here to re-open the inquiry into the case of the...

Maniac: Bandieu says that a 'raptus' is a heightened form of suicidal anxiety which can seize even people who are psychologically perfectly normal, if something provokes them to extremes of angst, in other words, to utter desperation. Correct?

Correct.

Maniac: Tut, tut, tut, it's not very nice to pass the buck to your subordinates. In fact I find it rather naughty... Come on, now, play your part...

I think I should explain, your Honour, it was just one of those tricks of the trade that the police occasionally use, to put pressure on a subject to confess.

Maniac: So let's get on with it! Here it says: 'The anarchist seemed unaffected by the accusation, and was smiling incredulously.” Who made that statement?

Me, your honour.

Maniac: Well done. So he was smiling... But it also says here – and this is word for word what you said at the time: 'Undoubtedly one element in his suicidal crisis had been the fear of losing his job, of being sacked.' So? One minute he's smiling incredulously, and the next he's terrified? Who was it terrified him...? Who was it hit him with the bombshell that he was about to lose his job?

Er, well I, er…

Maniac: Now look, please, there's no need to play coy with me. I know you're not running a girls' school here... I don't see why, when every police force in the world comes down like a ton of bricksyou have to be the only two going gently-gently. Don't you ever watch the police crime serials on TV? It's your absolute right to carry on like that. Of course it is!

Thank you, your honour!

Maniac: Speaking of persecution, Superintendent...? Oh no, my goodness, what am I saying?! Anyway, to recapitulate, you put the anarchist in a state of terminal depression, blacken his day for him, and he throws himself out...

If you'll allow me, your honour, it didn't happen straight away... There's still my contribution to come...

Maniac: Ah yes, Inspector, you're right... First of all you went out. Then you came back in again... And after a dramatic pause, you said... Come on, Inspector, let's have your lines... Imagine that I'm the anarchist again...

Right, fine. 'I've just had a phone call from Rome... I've got a bit of news for you: your friend – sorry, your comrade – the dancer, has confessed... He's admitted that he was the one who planted the bomb at the bank in Milan.'

Maniac: Was this true?

Of course not.

Maniac: And how did our railwayman take this?

Badly, in fact. He went white as a sheet, asked for a cigarette... lit it...

Maniac: I'm not interested in 'ifs' and 'buts'! Is it or is it not the case that at this precise moment there are two or three old age pensioners right here in Milan who could have corroborated the anarchist's alibi?

It is.

Maniac: So you lied, on TV and in the papers, when you said that his alibi had collapsed and that there was a whole pile of evidence against him? It seems that you don't only use your tricks and traps and porky-pies to get suspects to confess – you're quite happy to foist them onto an unsuspecting public too! Where did the information come from, that the anarchist dancer had confessed?

We made it up.

Super: What? I don't believe it!

How could they…?

Super: Ours?!

That’s right!

Maniac: Well, who am I, if not your executioner?

What a poxy job!

Maniac: I'd say a lot of people are going to be very happy to see you two get your come-uppance...

They'll make mincemeat of us! Can you imagine the headlines? The humiliation... the sniggering... the jokes behind our backs...

Super: Everyone turning their backs on us, pretending they don't know us... They won't even give us a job as car park attendants by the time we're finished!

What a bastard world!

Maniac: How should I know?

Yes—what would you advise?

Maniac: I'd throw myself out of the window!

What?!

Maniac: There's no hope, you're done for... Understand...? Done for!! Jump!

Help! No, stop...! Don't push!

Constable: No, sir.

It's not true, though – it was you, your Honour, you were trying...

Constable: Throw yourself out, Sir? You yourself, personally?

Yes. Me too!

Super: Those bastards in the government... Who else? ...First they give you a free hand...'Let's have a bit of repression, create a climate of subversion, the threat of social disorder...'

You bend over backwards for them, and then...

Maniac: Doesn’t exist.

And the business about the Ministry wanting our heads on the block?

Maniac: If anything, it'd be the other way round! And if a dog happened to die in the fray, the king would immediately send its owner a wreath and a telegram of condolence.

Unless I’ve got this wrong…

Super: Of course you've got it wrong... Leave this to me, Inspector...

Certainly, sorry, sir…

Maniac: But you just said as much yourselves, a moment ago... when you panicked!

But we weren't even in the room when he threw himself out! Ask the officer, here!

Maniac: Fair enough. Let's take a look at this 'correction'.

Well, we have…

Maniac: Don't forget that here I also have your statements for the second version. Please, go ahead...

We've altered the time of our... what can I say... our ploy about the anarchist's alibi and so on...

Super: Yes, well, you see, we stated that our session with the anarchist, when we tried to trick him, didn't happen at midnight, it happened at about eight in the evening.

Twenty-hundred hours, if you prefer!

Maniac: Ah, so you've brought the time of his flying lesson forward by four hours! A sort of super-summer-time, eh?

No, not the time of his fall. That still happened at midnight... the same as before. There were witnesses.

Maniac: So that way nobody is going to be able to lay the blame at your door! Alright, a few white lies were told, but they couldn't have been the reason for his death!

Exactly. So we’re not guilty.

Maniac: How do you mean?

That you’d made up your mind that we were guilty.

Maniac: You might even say 'collaborator'...

Of course.

Super: Absolutely.

My pleasure.

Maniac: Well, the first thing we're going to have to prove – absolutely irrefutably – is that during that four-hour gap the anarchist had lost all trace of that famous 'psychological collapse', as the inquest judge called it at the time.

Well, there's the statement by the officer here – and mine too – where we say that, after a moment's uneasiness, the anarchist relaxed again...

Maniac: Do we have that in black and white?

Yes, I think so…

Maniac: I believe he himself had said as much to the dancer: 'The police and fascists are using you as a way of creating a climate of social disorder... Your group is full of paid provocateurs... who seem to be able to do what they like with you... and the Left's going to carry the can for all this...'

Maybe that was why they had a row?

Maniac: And therefore not worth worrying about. Case proven. The anarchist was happy!

In fact he was smiling... You remember – I said so, in the first version.

Maniac: You know what I say? The only way to find a sensible solution to all this is to chuck it all in the bin and start over again.

You mean draw up a third version?

Super: So this gives us plenty of time to change his mood... and to delay his suicidal intentions.

Things were going swimmingly!

Maniac: Right, now, for a start, can we say that you were both a bit moved by the state the anarchist had got into?

Yes. In fact I felt really sorry for him.

Maniac: You, on the other hand, gave him a friendly pat on the cheek... like this.

No, I'm sorry to disapoint you, but I most definitely did not... No friendly pats on cheeks.

Maniac: You do indeed disappoint me... And do you know why? Because that man was not only an anarchist, he was a railwayman! Have you forgotten that? And do you know what this railwayman means? It's something that goes back to the childhood of every one of us. It means train sets – clockwork... electric... Didn't you ever have a train set when you were a kid?

Yes, I did... A steam train... With real steam... An armoured train, of course.

Maniac: And did it go toot-toot?

Sure, toot-toot…

Maniac: See...? We have witnesses! And what did you say as you were patting him on the cheek...?

I don’t remember…

Maniac: I'll tell you what you said: you said, 'Cheer up... don't look so miserable (and you called him by his name), you'll see, this won't be the death of anarchism!'

No, I don’t think so…

Maniac: Oh come now... for goodness sake... You did say it... Otherwise I'm going to get annoyed. My neck, look at my neck. Did you or did you not say it?

Oh alright, if it makes you any happier…

Maniac: Well say it, then... I have to put it in the statement.

Well, I said... 'Cheer up [name of actor], don't look so miserable... You'll see, this won't be the death of anarchism!'

Maniac: Well done. And then you sang a song.

We sang a song…?

Maniac: Of course... Because you were all in such a good mood... You were all friends, comrades, even... And you couldn't resist having a good sing. Let's see, what could you have sung? How about an anarchist song? 'Nostra partia *e il mondo intiero', I imagine...

No, I'm sorry, your Honour, but we really can't go along with that, an anarchist sing-song...

Maniac: Well done, brilliant! I think we can say that we've done it. How could anyone possibly doubt that at that moment the anarchist was in an extremely good mood?!

I’d say he was probably even happy.

Maniac: So, no 'raptus'. The 'raptus' comes later. When?

Around midnight.

Maniac: Well you should be thinking, Superintendent... Pay attention... So, as Totò said in one of his farces, 'At this time, the Superintendent was not in the station'! But the Inspector was.

That’s true, I was. But I went out shortly afterwards…

Maniac: Oh, here we go, passing the buck again. Now, there's a good chap, tell me what happened around midnight.

There were six of us in the room: four constables, myself, and a lieutenant from the carabinieri.

Maniac: Oh yes, the one who then got promoted to captain.

That’s the one.

Maniac: And what were you doing?

We were interrogating him.

Maniac: What, again? 'Where were you... what were you doing... don't get funny with me, son...!'

Not at all, your Honour... No, we were interrogating him jokingly...

Maniac: You're kidding! Jokingly?!

No, really... Ask the officer, here...

Maniac: No need to. It may seem incredible... but here it is, in the statement made to the judge who adjourned the inquest!

Certainly, and he never raised any doubts about it.

Maniac: Ha, I can well believe it... But in what sense, 'jokingly'?

In the sense that we were being playful... We were interrogating him but trying to have a laugh at the same time.

Maniac: I don't understand; were you playing Blind Man's Buff? Putting funny hats on? Blowing trumpets?

Well, we didn't quite go that far... But we were having a bit of a chuckle... A few jokes, a few gags...

Maniac: Now I understand why the government's decided to change your motto.

Change our motto?

Maniac: Well, not so much change it as complete it... How does it go at the moment?

'The police – at the service of today's citizens.'

Maniac: Well, from now on it's going to be: 'The police – at the service of today's citizens – to give them a good laugh!'

Ha, ha, pull the other one, your Honour!

Maniac: Go ahead... You're right, it has turned a bit parky!

That’s because the sun’s just gone down.

Maniac: Exactly. But on the evening in question, it appears the sun didn't go down.

What?

Maniac: So you opened the windows. And the shutters too?

Yes.

Maniac: In December? At midnight, with the thermometer sub-zero, and a freezing fog...? 'Open the windows – who cares if we all die of pneumonia!' You must at least have had your coats on?

No, we were in our jackets.

Maniac: Oh very sporty!

But it wasn’t cold at all. Honestly!

Maniac: Oh yes? That evening the weather forecast for the whole of Italy said that it was going to be cold enough to freeze the bollocks off a polar bear, and you weren't cold... In fact it was positively springlike! What do you have here – your own personal Gulf stream running through the drains under police headquarters?

Excuse me, your Honour, but I don't understand; a short while ago you told us you were here specially to help us, but instead all you've done is cast doubt on everything we say, poke fun at us and make us feel like shit...

Maniac: ...and let's concentrate on the nitty-gritty: the anarchist's jump.

I agree.

Maniac: So, our anarchist, seized by this 'raptus' (in a minute we'll have to see if we can find a more plausible reason for this) ... suddenly gets up, takes a short run, and... wait a minute – which of you gave him a leg-up?

What do you mean, a 'leg-up'?