Eva Mikula - Loose End

Instead, alas, it was me, Eva Mikula, they were talking about me. My fork dropped to the ground, “Oh my God, what have I done now?” The reporter said: “Eva Mikula's husband arrested for robbery”. “But who is he?” I wondered, they didn't even mention his name, I didn't understand who they were referring to. They only transmitted my photo and my personal details. In the evening edition they slightly corrected the game: “Ex-husband arrested”. Finally, at the end of the service, I realized who they were talking about: a person I hadn't seen and heard from for fifteen years.

It was a guy I married in 1996, during my trial period. After two years of marriage, we separated and after three, we divorced. We no longer had any kind of connection. His parents were important Roman merchants, owners of some bakeries; most likely influential enough not to allow the personal details of the son arrested for robbery to be disseminated to the press. When we got together he was a clean boy, from a bourgeois family, but with the habit of gambling. Our relationship ended precisely because of this, we were too different, our respective visions of life were irreconcilable.

After 15 years from the end of our marriage, this person, by agreeing with an accomplice, a cashier of a banking institution, had organized a robbery. A stunt that probably would have served him to have money to throw in some gambling den or to pay his gambling debts, he was certainly not a serial robber. The news of the arrests, in itself, would not even have caused a sensation, it would have passed trivially without interest in the local news, good only to increase the aseptic statistics on the productivity of the police: people controlled, people reported, people arrested.

Thus, to satisfy the need to appear in the headlines, the marketing of the carabinieri, to whom that arrest was due, came into action, combined with the incorrectness of the journalists who did not filter the news. I thought that, surely, some press officer of their command fed the reporters without specifying the details, merely saying that one of the responsible was my husband, indeed my ex-husband, obviously taking care not to mention his name, precisely because he belonged to a family very much in sight of the capital.

What a godsend also for journalists eager to be able to chroma key the photo of a beautiful irregular girl, with the past from crime news. Who knows, maybe it was useful for someone to associate my name again with a crime, to sell more copies or to make more audiences, it did not matter to check the news first. Of course, the story ended up in all the news and newspapers, for the benefit of their ratings and their balance sheets.

So I called my lawyer and, through some acquaintances, I tried to understand where the news came from and what the source had been. Thus I had the confirmation that it was an official press release from the carabinieri that issued it to the press. I was told that, while the arrested man was handing his identity document to the carabinieri, a photograph of me slipped from his wallet and he was carrying it with him (he still kept it!). They recognized me and did not miss the wonderful opportunity to be able to go on all the national news. They had gone so far as not to let the details of the robber leak out, preferring to throw my name at the news fairs, without even caring in the least about the effects and consequences that this unfortunate thought of theirs could cause me.

The person who passed that news to the press, in fact, had no reservations about what this senseless and out-of-context news could cause to Mrs. Eva Mikula. What could interest him in the path taken by Eva Mikula after 15 years from the closure of her legal case? Virtually nothing. Such a character, unscrupulous to say the least, could not think that Eva Mikula had an image of a mother and an entrepreneur to defend. He had to emphasize the result of a job at any cost, even passing over the rights of others. To make himself beautiful with the garments by bringing them the rich press review with my photo. Who I had nothing to do with all this. Marketing 1 - right to be forgotten and confidentiality 0.

A truly low-level cunning. I was angry and intent on making a mess. My lawyer stopped me, I don't know if he did well or not, not even why he did it, he told me: “You can't denounce the Carabinieri, it's just news, it goes by. With the story behind you, denouncing them would be a wrong step, the spotlight would turn back on you again”. I gave up, but the incorrectness of that news continues to circulate on the web and, above all, contributes to fueling the final equation in public opinion: Eva Mikula equals crime. There was, in fact, the cynical phone call from Biagio who had heard the news, but not from television. Some friends had called him saying:”What's going on? Are you crazy? Did you make a robbery?”

5.

6.

5. Eva Mikula New Year's dinner 2006

6.The first day of kindergarten of her son Francesco, 2005

My path and my life path were once again crossed by bad people. I was getting the idea that there could be no peace for me. Another oppression, a pure evil was waiting for me around the corner, which took shape through the madness of a person who hurt my good faith towards others.

I lived in a large building, but the needs deriving from the increase in the economic commitments undertaken, the higher real estate expenses at a time when the sector was in crisis, and other personal events (a small girl, a son of whom I tok care for my economic part, the expenses for the babysitter, the mortgage) pushed me to transform the property, obtaining a very nice small two-room apartment, with an independent entrance. In November 2014 I decided to put it on income and looked for who to rent it to. An Italian couple showed up, sent by a local real estate agency to which I had granted the mandate. They made a couple of visits and looked carefully at the small apartment. They seemed immediately interested, the real estate agent told me. In fact, after a while, they called me to confirm their interest and they became my tenants. I handed them the keys on December 12, 2014, I explained in detail all the features of the two-room apartment, they paid the first month and the security deposit as if it were a trial period, with the agreement that upon expiry they would confirm whether to stay, and then sign a long-term contract, or leave.

The numerous work commitments would often take me out of Rome and, in any case, with very busy hours: practically I always returned home very late and went out shortly after dawn. Also, at that time, I often commuted to London. These rhythms, mandatory to cope with everything that can weigh on the shoulders of a single woman, also gave me management problems with my daughter. Today I cannot explain how she at the time was able to get by, untangling myself between professional and family commitments, however I managed, with the strength of a mother, all this tortuous path. I only remember that I often took the baby with me.

One day my mobile phone rang: it was Lucia, a neighbor. I state that I got along very well with the whole neighborhood. Relations were cordial, sometimes even friendly. They appreciated me for who I was, not for the past or for the stories told about me in newspapers and on TV. Lucia told me: “Your tenant is on the balcony yelling with his partner. He wants to attract attention by shouting unique phrases about you”. “On me? And why?” I asked her. “He makes very bad statements about your past” Lucia replied, “it is really shameful” she continued, “I don't even want to repeat what he is screaming. Please do something, call him back”.