THE MORNING PAPERS WERE published too early to cover the killings, but they were full of news of the city council’s decision not to move Casilino 900. There was a short article by Linda Nardi with the headline IF A POLICEMAN DIES. It was a strange coincidence that few seemed to notice.
But the unhappy coincidence of the postponement of moving the travelers’ camp and the shootings in which three brave policemen—Colajacono, Tatò, and Coppola—met their deaths, and the head of the special team, Michele Balistreri, was gravely wounded put the mayor and his supporting majority out of the limelight. It also created more embarrassment for the Church, which had staunchly defended immigrants and their rights. Accusing voices were raised even in parliament and the Senate, which, usually silent, were now explicitly clear about the Vatican’s interference. While the Church had hoped for tolerance by conviction rather than convenience, several political groups were cynically riding the events for their own electoral ends. Someone openly floated the idea of reviewing the Concordat between the Vatican and the Italian government.
Appearing on his balcony in St. Peter’s Square for the Angelus, the pope decried the violence and put out a call for mutual understanding. When he said that he would pray for the dead and that intolerance had already been the cause of too much damage, Italians in the crowd whistled to indicate their disapproval. Italian television channels cut that moment from the footage, but CNN and the Internet broadcast it around the world.
Linda Nardi was able to see all the footage, including what was censored by Italian television. Later she heard that, after operations on his spleen and tibia, Balistreri was out of danger. At that point she bought lots of food from the supermarket and retreated to her apartment. Then she called her editor-in-chief to tell him that she would now be working from home.
At dawn she went down to the newsstand below to pick up the papers and then returned to her living room. She read all she could—picking things out, cutting out, underlining, and cataloguing. She made a sizable synthesis of everything on her computer and saved the file in a folder that already existed, Michele Balistreri.
She named the file “For When You’re Well.”