A Conviction at All Costs

Once upon a time, acquittal was granted on grounds of a lack of evidence. However, it was a heavy burden that one had to carry their whole life, even heavier than an actual conviction.

The conviction was the prelude to redemption, the punishment after the crime; the lack of evidence was the suspicion no one could get rid of. And if — to some people — a lack of evidence meant justice being defeated, for others, it represented the highest moment, one in which justice itself accepts its own limits and admits that it is impossible to go beyond all reasonable doubt: a justice without delusions of omnipotence. Today, although Article 530 of the Code of Criminal Procedure still refers to lack of evidence, it seems that nobody is willing to acknowledge that there is a boundary at which you have to stop, and the trial of Amanda Knox and Raffaele Sollecito demonstrates this.

Convicted, acquitted, then convicted once more. And at every step of the process, evidence gets thinner and thinner; they get their fingers on a small trace of Amanda’s DNA on a kitchen knife that she may well have used to slice her friend’s throat or to cut onions. However, those three letters — DNA — always seem to be the magic word in order to open the casket of truth. We idolize scientific data as if it can explain everything by itself, and we forget that data should be interpreted. We even manage to put the motives aside. In the course of the trials, the crime in Perugia was depicted as the result of an erotic party gone wrong, as sexual violence and, ultimately, in the indictment of Prosecutor General Alessandro Crini, as the culmination of a house chores dispute.

In these conditions, it is difficult to believe that justice really knew on what it had embarked. But it does not matter; a simple fragment of DNA is sufficient to save the prosecution’s dignity. In March 2009, thieves trespassed in the house on Via della Pergola, where the crime took place, and stole the mattress on which Meredith was murdered. All this was possible because Perugia’s prosecutor had ordered that the window grates not be fixed, in a move to preserve the crime scene. But the prosecution goes on, hoping that no molecule fades away, because pressure from the media is too high and nobody wants to make an act of humility by admitting that the truth can also escape. We have put in place a real media industry for crime: every TV channel broadcasts “Real Crime.” Crime has become a spectacle, entertainment, a morbid display of grief; real-life detectives must stand comparison with fictional detectives, who never get anything wrong and solve everything: Who would ever admit not being up to the task? Nobody, so the prosecution must go on.

Enzo Tortora once said that broadcasting Perry Mason on the TV in Italy had to be prohibited, because Italians were misinterpreting justice. At the time he didn’t think that things could get worse. Obviously, we’ll have to read the verdict to know if a DNA trace is all it took to give out such a heavy sentence, but the sentiment of a conviction at all costs is quite strong. And to this bitterness can be added another one, though more subtle: Raffaele Sollecito’s passport is to be taken, and as for Amanda, the court says no restrictive measures are necessary, as she is already in Seattle. Whether you are suspected of slicing a girl’s throat in Perugia, cutting an aerial tramway’s cable in Cavalese or killing an Italian officer in Iraq, the fact of being a U.S. citizen always gives you a certain peace of mind. But when it is the other way around, that is, a foreign citizen accused in the United States, it is much more uncomfortable: The highly controversial case of Chico Forti comes to mind, as he was convicted of murder in Miami, despite the fact that the jury itself has admitted that there is no evidence.