Gianrico Carofiglio - Reasonable Doubts

Judge Mirenghi read out the ruling with the air of someone who thinks that a certain matter is dragging on and wants everyone else to realize it.

“Having taken note of the witness’s declaration that he wishes to exercise the right to lawyer-client confidentiality regarding all questions pertaining to his conversations with the defendant Fabio Paolicelli while functioning as his counsel; having taken note of the statement by the defendant and the observations of his present counsel, who has requested that the witness be ordered to answer since he has been released from the obligation to observe confidentiality about his conversations with his client, which alone would justify the right to remain silent; noting that the right to invoke lawyer-client confidentiality is there to protect both the client and his counsel and to guarantee the untroubled and confidential performance of the counsel’s difficult professional task; noting therefore that Paolicelli’s declaration is not sufficient to invalidate the above-mentioned right to remain silent, which is also intended to protect the defence counsel; for such reasons the court rejects Avvocato Guerrieri’s motion, declares that the witness Macri has the right to invoke lawyer-client confidentiality regarding all questions pertaining to his relationship with his former client Paolicelli, and stipulates that proceedings continue.”

Then he turned to me. I was looking at him and at the same time observing Macri’s face. He had his old expression back. He was pleased. He must have been thinking that he’d be on his way home in a few minutes.

“Avvocato Guerrieri, you have been informed of the court’s decision. If you have no other questions, I mean questions not pertaining to the substance of the conversations between the witness and the defendant, perhaps we could-”

“I accept the court’s decision, Your Honour. I only have a few more questions. Obviously on topics not covered by lawyer-client confidentiality.”

He looked at me. He was getting impatient and made no attempt to hide the fact. “Go ahead and ask your questions, but please bear in mind that the matter of their relevance will be subject to the most rigorous scrutiny from now on.”

“Thank you, Your Honour. Avvocato Macri, just a few more questions, if you don’t mind.”

I looked at him before going on. His face was telling me different things. One of these was: Guerrieri, you’re a loser. I offered you an opportunity to get out of this mess gracefully, but unfortunately for you you’re an idiot. So in a few minutes I’ll be walking out of here as cool as a cucumber, and with my money still in my pocket.

“The defendant’s wife, Signora Paolicelli, has told us that when the sequestration order on her car was lifted, you personally went and fetched it from the police pound. Can you confirm the circumstances of this for us?”

“Yes. Signora Paolicelli asked me if I’d do this for her as a favour, and as she was alone, and in a difficult situation-”

“Actually, Signora Paolicelli told it rather differently. She said it was you who offered to go and pick up the car.”

“I think Signora Paolicelli’s memory is at fault. Unless someone advised her to remember it that way.”

I felt the blood rush to my face, and I had to make an effort not to rise to the bait.

“Very well. We’ll take note that you and Signora Paolicelli have given different accounts. Now I’d like to ask you if you know a man named Luca Romanazzi.”

He controlled himself, but couldn’t help giving a slight start. The question about the car he’d been expecting. This one he hadn’t. I had the impression he was doing a quick, nervous mental calculation as to what was the best thing to say. He must have concluded – correctly – that as I had brought up the name Romanazzi I presumably had some evidence that they knew each other, so it would be a stupid idea to deny it.

“Yes, I know him. He’s a client of mine.”

“Do you mean you’ve defended him in court?”

“I think so.”

“You think so? In which court?”

“What do you mean?”

“Where was the trial? Reggio Calabria, Rome, Bari, Bolzano?”

“I really don’t remember… And anyway, what has Romanazzi got to do with any of this?”

This was a tricky moment. If Mirenghi intervened now and asked me to explain, then in all likelihood everything would go pear-shaped.

“So you don’t recall where it was. Are you sure you defended him in court, or is it possible you merely gave him legal advice on some matter?”

“That’s possible.”

“I see.”

“But I repeat, I’d like to know what Romanazzi has to do with any of this. Apart from anything else, you’re asking me questions about my relationship with a client, and I have no intention of answering such questions.”

I was about to reply but Mirenghi beat me to it. A few moments earlier, I’d seen Russo whisper something in his ear.

“In point of fact, Avvocato Macri, it isn’t the same thing at all. In this particular case, you are being asked whether or not you know a certain person and under what circumstances. You are not being asked to report anything relating to your professional relationship. There are no grounds for lawyer-client confidentiality. Please answer the question.”

“It’s possible it wasn’t in court.”

“You advised him, then?”

“Yes.”

“When you still worked in Reggio Calabria?”

“No. I’m sure it was later, in Rome.”

“I see. I assume the two of you met in your office.”

He made a movement with his head. It could mean yes, but I wanted it to be in the transcript. In the course of a few minutes, Macri’s mood had changed a lot. His troubles weren’t over yet. On the contrary.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.”

“Is it correct to say that you and Signor Romanazzi met only in your office, and only for professional reasons?”

“I can’t say for certain that we never bumped into each other outside my office…”

“Naturally. Is it correct to say, though, that the relationship between you and Romanazzi was strictly professional?”

And now there were other emotions on his face besides hatred. Including the beginnings of fear. He didn’t answer the question, but I didn’t mind.

“Could you tell us if Signor Romanazzi has a criminal record?”

“I don’t believe he has.”

“You don’t know if he has ever been charged with cross-border drug trafficking?”

I’d have liked to be able to read his mind, to see what was happening in his head. What frantic acrobatics he was doing to decide how to conduct himself, to figure out what he could deny and what he was obliged to say in order not to run the risk of being proved wrong.

“I think he has been charged with narcotics offences, but has never been sentenced.”

His upper lip was covered in small beads of sweat. He was feeling hounded.

“Now I’d like to ask you if you are aware of the fact that Signor Romanazzi was on board the same ferry on which the defendant Paolicelli travelled before he was arrested.”

How the hell did I know that?

“I know absolutely nothing about it.”

“I see. Have you ever had occasion to spend time with Signor Romanazzi outside your professional relationship? For, shall we say, private reasons?”

“No.”

I took a deep breath, before landing the next blow. Always breathe in before hitting hard, and out again once the punch has hit the target.

“Have you and Signor Romanazzi ever travelled together?”

The blow hit him in the solar plexus and took his breath away.

“Travelled together?”

Answering a question with another question is an absolutely foolproof indicator of a witness being in trouble. It means he’s trying to gain time.