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Roberto Saviano Gomorrah Translated by Teresa Clavel and Francisco J.

Ramos Roberto Saviano was born in 1979 in Naples, where he lived and worked until September 2006, the success of Gomorrah, his first book, in citing names and places has forced him to do so secretly and under permanent police protection. Member of study group on the Camorra and illegality, and contributor to the newspaper Il Manifesto and Il Corriere del Mezzogiorno, their stories and reports have appeared in numerous publications and anthologies. For S., curse Understand what heinous means not deny it, face reality without bias. HANNAH ARENDT Those who overcome, whatever the means employed, never ashamed. Niccolo Machiavelli People are scum and should remain slag. A recording of a telephone punch The world is yours. Scarface, 1983 Port The container swayed as the crane was carrying him toward the boat. As if floating on air, spreader, the mechanism which engages the container to the crane, was unable to control the movement. Properly closed doors burst open and began to pour tens of bodies. They looked like mannequins. But on the ground broke their heads as if they were real skulls. And they were skulls. The container out men and women. Also some children. Dead. Frozen, close together, one over another. In a row, squeezed like sardines. It was the Chinese who never die. The timeless documents that are passed from one to another. That's where they finish. The bodies most feverish imaginations supposed cooked in restaurants, buried in orchards near the factories, thrown by the mouth of Vesuvius. Were there. Scores fell the container with the name written on a card attached to a cord around his neck. All had saved for burial in his hometown in China. Let them retained a percentage of salary and, in turn, were guaranteed a return trip after death. A space in a container and a hole in a piece of land in China. When the man driving the crane from the port told me, she covered her face with her hands and continued looking through the space that was left between the fingers. As if that mask of his hands infuse courage to speak. Bodies had been dropped and had not even had to sound the alarm, telling anyone. Just had placed the container on the ground, and tens of per-sons from nothing they had gotten in and had removed all debris with a vacuum cleaner. That was how things worked. Still not quite believe it, expect it to be a hallucination due to excessive overtime. He clasped his fingers to completely cover his face and continued his story whining, but I do not understand what he said. Everything that exists passes through here. The port of Naples. No manufactured product, material, plastic goods, toy, hammer, shoe, screwdriver, bolt, video game, jacket, pants, drill or clock that does not pass through the port. The port of Naples is a wound. Wide. End point of the endless travel goods. The ships arrive, enter the gulf and come to the dock as puppies to udders, with the difference that do not have to suck but on the contrary, to be milked. The port of Naples is the hole where they exit the world map

produced in China or the Far East, as it is still fun to call it the chroniclers. End. Faraway. Almost unimaginable. If you close your eyes see kimonos, Marco Polo's beard and a leg up on Bruce Lee kicking. In fact, the East is more attached to the port of Naples than anywhere else. Here, the East has no end. The cercansimo East, the East should call neighbor. Everything that occurs in China is pouring here. How to dump a bucket of water in a hole in the sand: the water, drop, further eroding the hole, it widens, deepens. The port of Naples moves 20 percent of the value of textile imports from China, but over 70 percent of its volume comes here. It is a peculiarity difficult to understand, but the goods have a strange magic, get to be without being, but may never reach, be expensive for the client even being of poor quality, be of little value to the treasury even still valuable. The truth is that there are textile goods of many categories, and just make a mark with the pen in the appropriate form to dramatically lower costs and VAT. In the silence of the black hole at the port, the molecular structure of things seems to decompose to regroup later, once outside the perimeter of the coast. The goods must quickly exit the port. Everything happens so fast that while is going away. As if nothing had happened, as if it had been a simple gesture. A trip nonexistent, a false berth, a ghost ship, a vanishing load. Like it never existed. Volatilization. The goods should arrive to the buyer without a trace of course, must come to your store fast, immediately before that time can start to happen, time that could allow a control. Tons of merchandise move as if they were a COD package delivered at home by the postman. In the port of Naples in its 1,336,000 meters square by 11.5 kilometers, the time presents unique expansion. What out there would take an hour to make, in the port of Naples seems to happen in just over a minute. The proverbial slowness that makes the imagery very slow and every one of the gestures of a Neapolitan is here overruled, denied, denied. The control of active duty in a time dimension beyond the Chinese goods. Ruthlessly swift. Here, every minute seems murdered. A carnage of minutes, a slaughter of seconds stolen paperwork, pursued by the accelerators of the trucks, driven by cranes, accompanied by forklifts that start the bowels of the containers. In the port of Naples owner operates the largest Chinese state, Cosco, which has the third largest fleet in the world and has taken control of the largest container terminal associating with MSC, which owns the second largest fleet in the world, based in Geneva . Swiss and Chinese have joined and have decided to make Naples your most important investments. Here you have more than 950 meters of piers, 130,000 square meters of container terminal and 30,000 square meters outdoors, absorbing almost all the transit traffic in Naples. It is necessary to push the boundaries of imagination to understand how the vastness of China's production may rest on a weak platform port of Naples. The gospel image seems appropriate: the eye of the needle is the port and the camel that crosses are the boats. Colliding bows, huge ships waiting in line outside India to enter the gulf between a jumble of poops bobbing, emitting grunts of anchors, plates and experts who are slowly introduced into the small hole Naples. As a year of sea widens with great pain of the bowels. But no. Not so. No apparent confusion. All vessels entering and orderly and regular leave, or so it seems looking from the mainland. And yet, one hundred fifty thousand containers pass through here. In the port cities rise entire goods to be transported to other locations. The port is under the speed, the red tape, the meticulous control transforms the cheetah of transport in a lazy slow and heavy.

In the spring I always lose. The spring Bausan is exactly like Lego constructions. A huge structure, but that seems to have no space but rather invent it. There is a corner of a dock that looks like a lattice of nests. Combs bastards who fill a wall. There are thousands of outlets for reefer containers food, food containers with frozen and tails attached to this nest. All potato nuggets and fish sticks in the world are stored in these containers ice cream. When I go to spring Bausan, I have the feeling of seeing where to spend all goods produced by the human species. Where they spend the last night before being sold. Like contemplating the origins of the world. For the space of a few hours passing through the port, children wear garments Paris for a month, eat fish sticks in Brescia for a year, the wrist watches that will adhere to the Catalans, silk dresses of all English a season. It would be interesting to read someplace not just where the goods are produced, but even what path you followed to reach the hands of the buyer. The products have multiple nationalities, hybrid and bastard. Half born in central China, was completed in a Slavic periphery, are perfect in northeastern Italy, is produced in Apulia and in the north of Tirana to finish in who knows what store in Europe. The merchandise is in itself the right to move that no human being will ever have. All road sections, the accidental and official routes end in Naples. When the boats approach the harbor, the huge animals fullcontainers seem light, but upon entering the Gulf slowly, approaching the dock, mammoth become heavy plate and chain stitches on the sides that rusty exude water. Boats for which numerous crews imagine living, and instead download handfuls of little men that you seem unable to control these beasts out to sea. The first time I saw a Chinese ship arrived I thought it was before the whole world production. My eyes were unable to count, quantify the present containers. He could not keep track. It may seem impossible not to get a handle numbers, but lost the account, the figures are rising too, were mixed. At present, Naples is almost exclusively download goods from China: 1,600,000 tons. Claimed. At least another million passes without a trace. According to U.S. Customs at the port of Naples on 60 percent of the goods is beyond the customs inspection, 20 percent of tariff receipts are not checked and there are fifty thousand fakes: 99 percent is China origin and calculated two hundred million euros of taxes evaded the semester. Containers must disappear before being inspected are in the front rows. All containers are numbered, but there are many with the same number. Thus, a container inspected gives free rein to all their illegal counterparts. What is discharged on Monday, Thursday may be sold in Modena or Genoa, or end up in the windows of Bonn and Monaco. Much of the merchandise that is introduced into the Italian market alone should have been passing through the country, but the magic of customs allows the crossing point becomes a point of arrival. The grammar of the goods has a syntax for documents and another for trade. In April 2005, launched four operations almost by chance, within walking distance of each other, the Fraud Monitoring Service Customs seized jeans twenty-four thousand for the French market, of fifty-one thousand objects from Bangladesh with the label "made in Italy", and about four hundred and fifty thousand dolls-Barbie, Spiderman, plus other forty-six thousand toys made of plastic, totaling about thirty-six million euros. In a In a few hours he was passing a thin slice of the economy through the port of Port Npoles.Y the world. There is no hour or minute that happens. And the slices of economy become steaks, and then in quarters of beef and cattle trade integers. The port is separated from the city. An infected appendix that has never degenerated into

peritonitis, which has always remained in the abdomen of the coastline. There are desert parts enclosed in the water and land, but they seem not to belong or the sea or land. Terrestrial amphibian, a marine metamorphosis. Humus and litter, debris years carried ashore by the tides have created a new formation. Ships empty their latrines, clean the holds allowing the yellow foam from falling into the water, boats and yachts bring order purged engines and making all the garbage marino.Y everything is concentrated on the coast, first as a soft mass then as a hard crust. The sun creates the illusion of showing a sea made of water. In fact, the surface of the Gulf is similar to the brightness of the garbage bags. The negras.Y rather than water, the sea of the Gulf looks like a huge raft of leachate. The springs with my les multicolored containers seems an absolute limit. Naples is surrounded by walls of goods. Walls that do not defend the city, on the contrary, the city defends the walls. No downloads or romantic armies popular port towns. One imagines the port as a noisy, the incessant coming and going of men, scars and impossible languages, a frenzy of people. Instead, silence reigns mecha-ized factory. It seems that the port is no longer anyone containers, boats and trucks seem animated by a motion moved without noise perpetuo.Velocidad. Going to the port for seafood. The proximity of the sea does not guarantee the quality of a restaurant on the plate was pumice, sand and even the occasional boiled seaweed. Clams threw them to the pan such as fishing. A guarantee of freshness, a Russian roulette of infection. But today everyone is resigned to the taste of the farm, which equals a sepia a chicken. To find the indescribable flavor of the sea, in a way had to take risks. And I gladly ran that risk. While at the restaurant door, wondering where I could find accommodation. "I have no idea. Here there are fewer homes. The Chinese are buying ... Instead, a guy who stood in the middle of the room, big, although less than had been said by the voice that had said looking at me; - Maybe there is still something! Added nothing more. After the two had finished eating, we walked down the street that runs along the harbor. He did not even need to tell me to accompany him. We arrived at the lobby of a building almost a ghost, a block of flats bedroom. We climbed to the third floor, where he was the only student flat that had survived. They were throwing everyone to leave empty space. In homes should not be anything. Or cabinets, or tired, no pictures, no bedside tables ... even walls. Should only be room, room for the bales, room for huge cardboard wardrobes, space for freight. On the floor I was assigned a kind of room, but rather we should say a little room in which barely fit a bed and a wardrobe. There was no talk of monthly, invoices that had to be shared telephone connections. I had four kids, my co-tenants, and that was the thing. I explained that it was really the only apartment building inhabited and served to accommodate Xian, the Chinese who watched "buildings." I had to pay any rent, but I was asked to work all weekend in-store floor. Had gone in search of a room and found a job. In the morning they knocked down the walls in the afternoon, collected the remains of cement, wallpaper and bricks. They got debris in regular trash bags. Tear down a wall unexpected noises. No stone hit, but as of crystals that break down. Each floor was converted into a store without walls. I do not understand how you can keep up the building where I worked. More once and knocked down several walls teachers, aware of being so. But space was needed

for the good, and the preservation of products imported more than any balance of cement. The project to store the bales on the floors had been devised by some Chinese traders in the wake of the Port Authority of Naples submitted to a U.S. congressional delegation on the security plan. The latter provides split into four zones-port for cruises, coastal, for goods and containers, and identify risks in each of them. Following the publication of this security plan to prevent the police force could intervene, the newspapers write about the issue too long and even some television cameras meanders in search of juicy scene, many Chinese entrepreneurs decided we had to cover all of greater silence. Due also to increased costs, had to do even more noticeable the presence of the goods. Them disappear in rented buildings in remote areas of the province, including landfills and areas of snuff, had the disadvantage of not eliminate road transport. Therefore, every day they entered the harbor and out of it no more than ten trucks, loaded with bales to the brim. They just had to walk a few meters to get to the garages of the buildings facing the harbor. Getting in and out, enough with that. Movements non-existent, invisible, lost in the everyday traffic maneuvers. Rented flats. With the walls torn down. Garages that are communicating with each other, crowded basement to the roof of goods. No owner dared to complain. Xian had paid for everything: rent and compensation for the illegal demolition. Thousands of bales were up in an elevator turned into a forklift. A steel cage tucked inside the buildings, which made its rails slide through a platform that rose and fell continuously. The work was concentrated in a few hours. The choice of the bales was not accidental. I had to download in early July. A job that is rife, but you can not do if you're not trained. The heat was tremendous wet. No one dared to ask for an air conditioner. Nobody. And not for fear of reprisals or a cultural issue of obedience and submission. People who downloaded came from all over the world. Ghana, Ivory Coast, China, Albania ... and Naples, Calabria and Lucania. Nobody asked for anything, all became aware that the goods do not pass heat and that was reason enough to not spend money on conditioners. Amontonbamos bales of jackets, coats, raincoats, shirts, yarn, umbrellas. We were in the middle of summer, it seemed a ridiculous decision autumn garments provided instead of accumulating sundresses, sarongs and sandals. I knew the story-deposit is not used to save cuina products in a store, but only to get goods to market immediately. But Chinese businessmen had expected would make a sunny August shortly. I have never forgotten the lesson of John Maynard Keynes on the concept of marginal value: the difference, for example, between the price of a bottle of water in a desert and the same bottle with a waterfall. In line with this, this summer the Italian business community offered bottles next to the sources, while the Chinese built in the desert springs. After a few days working in the building, Xian came home to sleep. He spoke perfect Italian, with the peculiarity that only slightly modifies the 'r' in 'vee'. As decadent nobles that mimics Toto in his films. Zhu Xian had changed his name to Nino. In Naples, almost all Chinese that relate to the native Neapolitan get a name. It is a widespread practice that is no longer surprising to hear a horn presented Chinese twang, Nino, Pino or Pasquale. Xian Nino, instead of sleeping, he spent the night sitting at the kitchen table, telephoning and occasionally throwing out the television. I was lying, but it was impossible to sleep. Xian's voice was not interrupted ever. His tongue darted between his teeth like a burst of

machine gun. He spoke without even breathing through your nose, like a word apnea. In addition, the flatulence of their guar-daespaldas, that permeated the house of a sweet smell, they also plague my room. It was not only unpleasant smell but also the stench raised images on your mente.12, Spring 9litros decaying in their stomachs and Cantonese rice soaked in juices. The other tenants were accustomed. Once the door closed, there was nothing but sleep. For me, however, there was no other than what was happening outside my door. So I went to the kitchen, common area and, therefore, partly mine too. Or it should. Xian stopped talking and started cooking. Fried chicken. To my mind went to ask dozens of questions, curiosities, common places I wanted to scratch to see what is hidden underneath. I started to talk about the Triad. The Chinese mafia. Xian was frying. I wanted to ask for details. Although only be symbolic, not meant, of course, confessions about his affiliation. He implied that he knew in general the Chinese mafia world, as if having read the summary proceedings amounted to own a replica of reality. Xian was the fried chicken at the table, sat down and said nothing. I do not know if it would be interesting what I said. I never knew and still do not know whether it was part of that organization. He drank beer and then back up half the chair, removed his wallet from his pants pocket, fumbled with his fingers without looking and pulled out three coins. He put on the table and covered with a glass upside down. -Euro, dollar, yuan. That's my triad. Xian seemed sincere. No other ideology, any kind of hierarchical command and passion. Profit, business, capital. Nothing more. We tend to look darker the power that determines certain dynamics and, consequently, we attribute to a dark entity: mafia china. A synthesis that tends to exclude all intermediate terms, all financial transfers, all types of investment, all that is the strength of a group econmicocriminal. Had been at least five years, all reports of Anti-Mafia Commission pointed out the increasing danger of the mafia china, "but in ten years of investigation the police had seized only in Campi Bisenzio, near Florence, six hundred thousand euros, some bikes and part of a factory. Something that did not correspond to a force economic capital can move hundreds of millions of euros, according to what they wrote daily U.S. analysts. Businessman smiling at me. "The economy has a top and bottom. We enter at the bottom and get out on top. Before going to sleep, Xian Nino made me a proposal for the next day. - Do you get up early? "It depends ... "If tomorrow you get to stand at five, you come with us to the port and care to help. - Doing what? "If you have a hoodie, put it, the better. He said nothing more, and I, too interested in participating in the matter, not insist. More questions may have compromised the proposal Xian. I had few hours of sleep. And I was too excited to rest. At five o'clock I was ready, at the entrance of the building we were joined by other boys.

In addition to one of my roommates and I were two North Africans of white hair. We got into the van and entered the port. I do not know what route did or why we got recesses. I fell asleep leaning against the window of the van. We went down with rocks, a small pier extending into the recess. There was docked a boat with a huge engine that looked like a very heavy tail in relation to the long, narrow structure of the boat. With the hood rises, seemed a ridiculous band of singers rap.Yo believed that the hood was necessary to avoid being recognized, but its only purpose was to protect the splash of cold water and try to ward off migraine at dawn, at sea open, is embedded between the temples. A young Neapolitan started the motor and the other began to drive the boat. They looked like brothers. Or at least their faces were identical. Xian did not come with us. After a half hour drive, we went to a boat. It seemed that were to collide with it. It was huge. He could not stretch his neck enough to see where the side finished. At sea, ships uttered cries of iron, horn howl when trees are cut down, empty and sinister sounds that make you swallow at least twice a salty mucus. From the boat, with a pulley, made Tub stumbled down net full of big boxes. Each time the package landed on the tables of the boat, this was nodding as I prepared to give me a splash at any moment. However, there ended up in the water. The boxes do not weigh disproportionately. But, having placed in the stern thirties, had sore wrists and forearms because of the continuous red rub against the edges of cardboard. Then he turned the boat toward the shore. Behind us, two boats approached the ship to pick up more bales. Had not left the same pier that we, but suddenly had been made following our wake. I noticed that my stomach was up to my throat every time the boat hit the water with the bow. I rested my head on some boxes. In-tempting to imagine what the smell contained. I stuck an ear to try to deduce what the noise was there. I began to feel a sense of guilt. Who knows what was involved without knowing it, without having conducted a real choice. Convict, fine, but at least consciously. Instead, it had finished downloading illegal goods out of curiosity. Stupidly believe that for some reason a criminal act must be willful and deliberate a neutral act. In fact, no difference. The acts have an elasticity that ethical judgments lack. Once back at the dock, I saw that North Africans were able to get off the boat with two boxes on their shoulders. To me, however, to make me shake my legs enough, and I found disturbing. On the rocks we expected Xian. He went to a big box with a box cutter in his hands and cut a very wide tape that linked two cardboard wings. Were slippers. Sneakers, original, famous brands. New models, the latter, which had not yet reached the Italian shops. Had decided to download the open sea for fear of tax inspectorate. Thus, a portion of the goods could be introduced without the burden of tariffs, wholesalers receive it without customs charges. A competition was won with the discount. Goods of the same quality, but with 4, 6, 10 per cent discount. Percentages than any agent could have offered, and the discount rates make a business grow or die, allow you to open shopping centers, have secure income, and income insurance, bank guarantees. The prices do not lower them. All must come, move quickly, in secret. Increasingly compressed in the dimension of the sale and purchase. An unexpected breath of fresh air for the Italian and European traders. That oxygen entering through the port of Naples. Piled all the packages in several vans. They arrived the other boats. The vans went to Rome, Viterbo, Latina, Formia. Xian sent to take us home. Everything had changed in recent years. Everything. Unexpectedly. Suddenly. Intuit some change, but still do not understand. Ten years ago, the gulf was crossed by

smugglers' speedboats. In the morning a lot of retailers were stocking up on cigarettes. Crowded streets, cars filled with cartons of snuff, corners, chair and desk for sale. The battles were fought between the coast guard, border police and smugglers. Tons of cigarettes were being replaced by an arrest is not practiced, or an arrest is left to save tons of cigarettes piled up in the false bottom of a speedboat. Nights on call, pali1 and whistles to observe suspicious movements of vehicles powered walkie-talkies to signal alarm and rows of men along the coast passing boxes fast. Cars coming apuliense fired from the coast inland and from the inside to the Campania. Naples, Brindisi was a cornerstone, the path of the buoyant economy of cheap cigarettes. Smuggling, South FIAT, the welfare state without a state, twenty thousand people working 1 People who watch while their accomplices are carrying out a criminal act, like stealing, rob, sell drugs, etc. (N. of T.) exclusively on smuggling between Puglia and Campania. The smuggling caused the great war of the Camorra in the early eighties. The clans of Campania, Apulia and reintroducing cigarettes in Europe were no longer subject to state monopolies. Imported thousands of cases a month of Montenegro and billed for them five hundred million liras. Now all that is gone, has been transformed. A clan no longer convenient for them. But in reality, the maximum value of dogma Lavoisier is: nothing is created and nothing is destroyed, everything changes. In nature, but also and above all in the dynamics of capitalism. Everyday products, and no longer the vice of nicotine are the new object of smuggling. War is emerging, terribly ruthless prices. The discount rates of the agents, wholesalers and retailers determine the life and death of each of these business entities. Tariffs, VAT and the maximum weights of the trucks are for profit, real concrete customs for the movement of goods and money. Now big companies move production to Eastern Europe (Romania, Moldova) and East (China) to have cheap labor. But not enough. The goods produced at low cost will have to be sold in a market that increasingly more people access to poor salaries, minimal savings, looking at the penny. The unsold production increases, and then the goods, original, false, or partly true semifalsas, arrive in silence. Without a trace. In a less visible than cigarettes, since they do not have a parallel distribution. As though they had been transported, as if they grew in the fields and hand were collected anonymously. If money does not suck, the merchandise, however, perfumes. But it brings the smell of the sea which has experienced neither the hand that produced it, nor the fat off of the mechanical arms that are mounted. The good smell that smells. That smell does not appear until the counter reaches the seller, does not go away until it reaches the buyer's home. Leaving the sea behind us, we got home. The van just gave us time to download. Then she returned to port to collect, gather, collect more bales and goods. I climbed halffainting in the elevator lift. I took off my shirt soaked with sweat and water before me into the bed. I do not know how many boxes were transported and placed, but the feeling I had was to have downloaded shoes for the feet of half of Italy. I was so tired as if it were the end of a hectic and stressful day. At home, the other kids were waking up. It was early morning. Angelina Jolie In the following days I went with Xian to business meetings. Actually, I had chosen to keep him company while traveling and meals. Or I spent talking or not letting go. Liked both ends. I learned how to be planted and cultivated the seed of money, how it was left

fallow field of the economy. We arrived in Las Vegas. North of Naples. Here we call that area Las Vegas for several reasons. Like Las Vegas Nevada, is built in the desert, so these clusters also seem to emerge from nowhere. It is reached by a desert road. Kilometers of asphalt road in a few minutes immense take you outside this territory to lead you to the motorway towards Rome, directly north. Roads made for cars but not trucks, not to move people but to carry clothing, shoes, bags. Coming from Naples, these people suddenly appear, planted in soil next to each other. Lumps of concrete. The roads become entangled on the side of a line in which stand Casavatore seamless, Caivano, Sant'Antimo, Melito, Arzano, Piscinola, San Pietro a Patierno, Frattainaggiore, Frattaminore, Grumo Nevano. Tangles of roads. People seem identical to a single large city. Roads, which halved, one belongs to a village and the other to another. Will hear hundreds of times to call the area of Foggia "Califoggia", or south of Calabria "Calafrica" or "Calabria Arabia" or even say "Sahara Consilina" instead of Consilina room, or "Third World" to refer to Secondigliano area. But here is really Las Vegas Las Vegas. In lime, anyone who wanted to do business career in this area could have. Make the dream a reality. With a loan, a settlement or a good savings, he rode his factory. Established a company, if he won, he got efficiency, productivity, speed, silence and work at low cost. Won as win by betting on red or black. If he lost, closed after a few months. Las Vegas. Because nothing was the result of detailed administrative and economic planning. Shoes, suits, clothing in general, were productions that were imposed obscurity in the international market. The cities did not display this valuable production. The products had the more successful the more silent and were manufactured clandestinely. Territories for decades produced the best brands of Italian fashion. And therefore, the best clothing in the world. There were no associations, training centers had not had anything but work, sewing machine, the small factory, packaged items, the merchandise shipped. Nothing more than a repetition of these phases. Anything else was superfluous. The training is carried out at the desk, the proven enterprise quality winning or losing. Or financing, or projects or practices. In the overnight, the market arena. Or sell or lose. With rising wages, improved houses, cars that are bought are more expensive. All without a richness that can be called collective. A wealth plundered, ravished with an effort by someone to take her own hole. They came from everywhere to invest, factories producing garments, shirts, skirts, coats, jackets, gloves, hats, shoes, handbags, business Italian, German, French. In this area, from the 1950's did not need to have permits, contracts, spaces. Garages, basements and storage rooms were converted into factories. In recent years, competition has ended with China that manufactured goods of average quality. Left no room for the development of skills of workers. Or work better and faster than anyone else, or someone will be able to work better and faster. A large number of people have lost their jobs. The factory owners have ended up crushed by debt, by usury. Many live in hiding. There's a place that with the disappearance of these low-quality manufacturing, has stopped breathing, to grow, to survive. It seems the emblem of the end of the periphery. With the houses always lit and crowded, with overcrowded courts. Permanently parked cars. Nobody ever goes there. Occasionally someone comes. Few stop. At any time of day silence reigns, that you hear in the morning when everyone has gone to work or school. Here, however, there are always people, a continuous murmur of life. Parcoverde in Caivano.

Parcoverde stands out just outside the central axis, a blade of asphalt that cuts nearly all the villages around Naples. More than a quarter, looks like a pile of cement, aluminum windows swell like pustules on every balcony. Looks like one of those places that the architect has designed buildings inspired by the beach, as if he had designed those buildings thinking sand towers come to dump the bucket. Buildings gritty, gray. In one corner is a tiny chapel, almost imperceptible. Although not always the case. Formerly a chapel. Large, white. A veritable mausoleum dedicated to a boy, Emmanuel, who died at work. A job that in some areas is even worse than illegal work in factories. But, as a craft. Emanuele committing robberies. And always committed on Saturday, every Saturday, for some time. And always in the same road. Same time, same road, the same day. Because Saturday was the day of his victims. The day of the couples. National And 87 is the place to go all the couples in the area. A road of shit, including asphalt patching and microdumps. Every time I pass by and see the couples, I believe we need to harness all your passion to get to be good in the midst of such filth. Right there, Emanuele and two friends were hiding, waiting for a couple parking lot, you turn off the headlights. They left a few minutes after the lights had been turned off to allow time to undress and, at the time of maximum vulnerability, appeared. Broke the window with the butt of the gun and then pointed to the guy with the gun. Cleaned up a couple and ended the weekend with dozens of robberies committed and five hundred euros in my pocket: a tiny loot you can find a treasure. It turns out that one night a police patrol intercepted them. Emanuele and his cronies are so reckless that they do not always provide the same movements and berthing always in the same areas is the best way to be stopped. The two cars chase, was rammed and shootings occur. Then everything is suspended. Emanuele is dead in the car. He had a gun hand and made the gesture of pointing to the police. The shooting killed eleven times in seconds. Eleven times point-blank shooting means to carry his gun drawn, and be prepared to shoot at the slightest signal. Shoot to kill and then think of it so it does not kill you. The other two had stopped the car. The bullets had pierced the car like a thunderbolt. All attracted by the body Emanuele. His friends had tried to open the windows, but once he had realized that he was dead Emanuele had remained quiet. They had opened the doors without a fight to the Pune-tazos preceding any arrest. Emanuele was bent upon itself, was holding a fake gun. One of those toys that were previously used in the field for the homeless away from poultry houses. A toy that is used as if it were true. Moreover, Emanuele was a kid acting like a grown man, pretending to be frightened look implacable, wanting a bit of pocket money pretending to be yearning for wealth. Emanuele was fifteen. Everyone just called Manna. He had a stern face, grim and sullen, one of those who associate the archetype of guy whose company is avoided. Emanuele was a guy in this corner of land where honor and respect do not give them some money, but how you get. Emanuele was part of Parcoverde. And there is no error or crime that may be deleted belonging to certain places you burn. All families of Green Park had made a collection. And had up-do a small mausoleum. Inside they placed a picture of the Virgen del Arco and a frame with the smiling face of Man. Also appeared Emanuele chapel, among the other twenty that the faithful had built all possible virgins, one for each year of unemployment. But the mayor could not afford to build an altar to the Gulf and sent a bulldozer to tear down it. In an instant, cement building collapsed like a

sandcastle. Within minutes, word spread through the Park and the kids came with scooters and motorcycles which was the bulldozer. No one uttered a word. But all looked the man who was moving the levers. Down by the looks, the man stopped his work and started to look at the police officer. Was he who had given the order. It was like a gesture to mark the target of rage, to remove the target on his chest. I was scared. She locked herself inside. Besieged. At a time when the attack began. The man managed to escape in the police car. The punches and kicks undertaken with the bulldozer, beer bottles emptied and filled with gasoline. Mopeds tipped for pouring fuel into the cylinders directly from the tanks. And they began to pelt the windows of a nearby school to Parco. If it falls Emanuele Hood should drop everything else. From the houses thrown plates, cups, cutlery. Then, the Molotov cocktails against the police. Containers lined up as a barricade. Set fire to everything that could burn and spread flames. They prepared for the guerrillas. There were hundreds, could withstand a lot. The revolt was spreading, reaching Naples neighborhoods. Then someone came, not far away. Everything was surrounded by police cars and police, and yet a black jeep managed to cross the barricades. The driver nodded, someone opened the door and a small group of rebels entered. In just over two hours everything was dismantled. Tissues were removed from the face and let it shut down the barricades of trash. The clans were involved, but go to know which ones. Green Park is a bonanza for the Camorra. Anyone who wants to recruit more troops there, the shot, labor which is paid even less than camels Nigerians or Albanians. Everyone is looking for young people Parcoverde: Casalesi, the clan that operates in Casal di Principe, "the Mallard Giugliano, the" puppy "of Crispano. They become traffickers paid no percentage on sales. And later, drivers and pali, to monitor areas sometimes miles away from home. And for that to work, do not even ask that they pay the gas. Guys trust, scrupulous in their work. Sometimes they end up on heroin. The drug of the miserable. Some were saved, he enlisted, he joined the army and goes away, go get some girls never to set foot there. Almost none of the younger generation is affiliated. Most work for clans, but never will be "troublemakers." The clans are not wanted, not join, they make them work taking advantage of this great offer. They have skills, business talent. Many do email. They carry backpacks full of hashish to Rome. The maximum engine speed, and within an hour and Inedia already at the gates of the capital. Receive nothing in return from these trips, but after twenty expeditions they are presented with the bike. He is considered a valuable gain, almost unparalleled, certainly unattainable in any other work that can be found there. But they carried goods with which you can get ten times what the bike is worth. I do not know, and can not imagine. If the stop at a roadblock, the punishment for under ten years imprisonment, and not being members do not have the legal fees paid or family assistance guaranteed by the clans. In the head only have the sound of the exhaust pipe and Rome as a goal. Some barricade continued vented albeit slowly, according to the amount of anger stored in the belly. Then it all fizzled. The clans did not fear the revolt or protest. They could spend days killing and burning, nothing would have happened. But the revolt would not have stopped working. Green Park would have to stop being the quarry of emergency where labor always get a very low price. Everything should be back to normal soon. Everyone had to return to work or, rather, to be available for possible employment. The game had to end the revolt.

I had been at the funeral of Emanuele. In some corners of the world, fifteen years are simply a number. Died at fifteen years in this area seems, be deprived of life, advancing a death sentence. In the church had many, many young people, all with the grim countenance, from time to time uttering a cry, and even heard them sing in chorus a refrain out of the church, "always with not-so-centers is -ta-flush always with nonSotres ... always with not-so-ters .... The fans usually sing some old glory when he retired from football. It seemed they were in the stadium, but they were songs of rage. Plainclothes policemen who tried to stay away from banks. All we recom-known, but there was no room for skirmishes. Inside the church managed to identify them immediately, or, rather, they identified me as I find no trace of my face in his mental file. As if to assuage my grief, one of them approached me and said: "All these have a history. Drug trafficking, theft, concealment, robbery ... Someone even made badges. None clean. Here, the more die, the better for everyone ... Words to which one responds with a punch or with a header against the nasal septum. Although in reality was what everyone thought. And maybe even was a wise thought. I watched one by one youth who end up in jail for the theft of two hundred euros: slag, artificial men traffickers. None of them was over twenty years. Mauro's father, the pastor who held the office, I knew who was ahead, and also knew that children who were around did not have the stamp of innocence. "Today was not a dead hero ... He had his hands open, like the priests when they read the parables on Sundays. Her fists clenched. His tone was not at all himself of homilies. When he began to speak, his voice was affected by a strange hoarseness, such as that occurs when you've been quiet too long. He spoke with anger, no compassion for the creature, no concessions. Like one of those South American priests, during the guerrilla movements in El Salvador, by dint of holding funerals for many killings, left to pity and began to scream. But nobody here knows Romero. Mauro's father has a rare energy. For more responsibility attributed to Emanuele we can not forget that he was fifteen. At that age, children of families who are born in other parts of Italy are going to the pool or dance classes. Not here. The Eternal Father will take into account the fact that the error has been committed by a fifteen year old boy. If southern Italy fifteen years are enough to work, decide to rob, kill and be killed, are also sufficient to assume responsibility for those acts. Then forcefully inhaled the stale air of the church: "But fifteen years are so few that allow us to better see what is behind and force us to spread the responsibility. Fifteen years is an old flame, not knuckles but with nails, to the conscience of those who are talking mouth full of legal, labor, effort. The pastor finished his homily. Nobody quite understood what he meant, nor did the authorities or institutions. There was a huge racking among young people. The coffin left the church, four men held him, until he suddenly stopped being supported on his shoulders and began to float above the crowd. All you hold with the palm of their hands, as with the rock stars when they are released from the scene on the audience. The coffin was sailing through the sea of fingers. A procession of young people formed by the car motorcycle, the long dead car, ready to move to Manu the cemetery. Accelerated.

Pressing the brake. The engines roar accompanied the last round of Emanuele. Screeching tires, roaring leaving the exhaust pipe. It seemed like to escort with motorcycles to the gates of the afterlife. Soon, thick smoke and a stench of gasoline everywhere, now and impregnated clothes. I tried to enter the sacristy. Wanted to talk to that priest who had spoken the words on. Beat me to a woman. I wanted to tell that deep down the boy had asked for, that his family had taught him nothing. Then confessed proudly: "My grandchildren, if they are on strike, nobody ever would dock ... He added, nervously "But what he had learned that boy? Nothing. The priest looked down. He was in sweats. He did not attempt to answer, not even looked at his face, still looking for sneakers, he whispered: "The fact is that we only learn how to die. - What does the father? "No, ma'am, nothing. But not everyone is here on earth. Not everyone has finished in the swamp of failure. For now. Factories there are still winners. The strength of these companies is that they get to face the market in China labor because they work with big brands. Speed and quality. Very high quality. The monopoly of the beauty of the exceptional items is still yours. The "made in Italy is built here. Caivano, Sant'Antimo, Arzano ... Las Vegas to complete Campania. "The face of Italy in the World" has the features of fabric attached to the bare skull of the province of Naples. Firms are hesitant to send all the East, to sign contracts in the East. The factories are crowded into the basement on the lower floors of the townhouses. In the ships on the outskirts of these towns on the outskirts. It works sewing, cutting leather, riding shoes. In a row. With fellow back before your own eyes and before the eyes of who is behind you. A textile worker works ten hours a day. Salaries range between five and nine euros. Overtime hours are generally well paid. Up to fifteen euros more than the normal value of one hour of work. Companies rarely exceed ten employees. In the rooms where they work, features a radio or television on a shelf. Listen to the radio for music, and how much someone hums. But in the mountains of maximum production, all is quiet and just rattle the needles. More than half of the employees of these companies are women. Business, born with the sewing machines. Here, the factories do not formally exist, not even the workers there. If the same high quality work were legalized, the prices would rise and would still be market and would work outside Italy. Employers in this area are known by heart this logic. In these factories there is often no clashes between workers and owners. Here, the class struggle is softer than a biscuit to soak. In many cases, the pattern is a former worker, shared the hours of work with their employees in the same room at the same bank. When you make a mistake, pay di-rectly with mortgages and loans. Their authority is paternalistic. It discusses a holiday or a few cents increase. There are no contracts, no bureaucracy. Face to face. And thus defining the space of concessions and obligations that have the flavor of rights and entitlements. The entrepreneur's family lives in the upstairs where we work. In these factories, employees often leave their children by the daughters of the owner, who become kangaroos, or

mothers, grandmothers become vicarious. Children of employees grow with the families of the owners. All this creates a common life, the dream comes true Horizontal post-Fordism: making workers and leaders eat together, do they relate in private life, make them feel part of a community. In these mills there looks stuck in the ground. They know they do excellent work and know they paid paltry wages. But without the one, do not have that. Work to buy what you need, the best way possible, so no one will find reason to kick you out. There is no safety net. Rights, right causes, permits parties. The right what you want. The festivities, the have to beg. There is no reason to complain. Everything happens as it should happen. There is only one body, a skill, a machine and a salary. No precise data are available on how many illegal workers are in this area. Or how many are, by contrast, regularized, but are forced to sign payrolls every month in which amounts are not collected. Xian had to participate in an auction. We entered the classroom of an elementary school. No child, no teacher, only cardboard taped to the walls with huge letters drawn. In the waiting room about twenty people representing their companies, Xian was the only foreigner. Greeted only two of these and yet without much confidence. A car stopped in the playground. Three people entered. Two men and a woman. The woman wore a leather skirt and patent leather shoes with high heels. All rose to greet her. The three sat down and started the auction. One of the men drew three vertical lines on the board. He began to write what he dictated women. The first column: "800." Was the number of dresses she had to produce. The woman listed the types of fabric and garment quality. Sant'Antimo a businessman approached the window, his back to everyone, its price and its proposed term "Forty euros per piece in two months ... Noted on the board his proposal: "800 / 40 / 2." The faces of the other businesses did not seem concerned. With similar proposal had not dared to enter the limits of the impossible. Which, obviously pleased at all. But commissioners were not satisfied. The auction continued. The auctions that large Italian firms are in these places are strange. Nobody loses and nobody wins the contract. The game is to participate or not in the race. Someone throws a proposal, says the term and the price can be guaranteed. But, if its terms are accepted, will not be the only winner. Your proposal is like an impulse that other employers may try to follow. When you accept a price intermediaries, entrepreneurs present can decide whether to participate or not. Those who accept receive material: fabric. Are sent directly to the port of Naples and every owner will collect there. But only one will be paid once the work is finished. When you return the items first made, provided they have the highest quality. The other entrepreneurs who have participated in the auction will remain the material, but will not charge a penny. Fashion companies earn so much material sacrifice is not a significant loss. If an employer fails to deliver several times, which means that uses the auction to get free stuff, is excluded from subsequent auctions. Through this system, firms are intermediaries ensure fast production, because if someone tries to delay the delivery, another will take the job. There is no possible extension for periods of high fashion.

Another arm was raised, to the delight of the woman sitting behind the desk. A welldressed businessman, elegant. "Twenty euros in twenty days. At the end accepted the latter proposal. He was joined by nine of twenty. Xian even dared to declare available. I could not coordinate speed and quality in such short time and with such low prices. After the auction, she noted the names of employers, the addresses of the factories and phone numbers. The winner invited to eat at home. I had the factory floor, on the first floor he lived with his wife, and the second floor was occupied by his son. Had pride "Now I have asked permission to build another plant. My other son is getting married. As we climbed, I kept talking to his family, like your house construction. "Never put men to control women workers are no more surprises. Two sons I have, and the two are married with our employees. Put fags. Put queers to organize and control the work shift, as before ... Male and female workers rose to toast the contract. Would have to shift very strict: from six o'clock to nine o'clock at night, with a break of one hour for lunch, and another round of nine in the evening at six o'clock. All workers would make up, with earrings and a gown to protect the tails, dust, grease the machines. As Superman, he removes his shirt and worn under his blue overalls, these girls when they took off the robe, were ready to go out to dinner. The workers, however, were rather sloppy, with sweats and fatigue pants. After the toasts, the host turned away with a guest. Slipped along with the others who had accepted the auction price. Not hidden, but they respected cos the old custom of not talking about money on the table. Xian explained in detail who was that person. Was identical to the image we have of bank tellers. Should anticipate liquidity and was discussing interest rates. But it did not represent a bank. Italian firms only pay when the job is finished. Rather, only after having given approval to work. Salaries, production costs and even shipping: forward all the producers. The clans, according to their territorial influence, lend money to the factories. In Arzano, Di Lauro, in Sant'Antimo, the greens, the Cennamo in Crispano, and so in each territory. These companies receive Camorra liquidity with low interest rates. Between 2 and 4 per cent. No company could only access their own banks to credit-tion: to produce elite Italian market for markets. But they are empty factories, and spectra are not received by the directors of the bank. The liquidity of the Camorra is also the only way for employees to access a loan. Thus, in municipalities where more than 40 percent of the residents live underground work, six out of ten families manage to buy a home. Employers who fail to meet the demands of the firms will also find a buyer. We sell all the clans to enter it in the market for fakes. All the fashion runways, all the light of the more mundane trappings come from here. Naples and Salento. The main centers of the textile industry illegal. The people of Las Vegas and the de-lu dintra Capu 2 Casarano, Tricase, Taviano, Melissano, or Capo di Leuca, Salento low. From here. This hole. All goods are obscure. It is the law of capitalism. But look at the hole, have it before, produces a strange feeling. A disturbing heaviness. How to get the truth in the stomach. Lu Capu 2 is Salento in the dialect of the area (N. of T.) Among the employees of the employer won, I met a particularly clever. Pasquale. It was

a shotgun. Tall, thin and slightly stooped, bent at the height of the shoulders, behind the neck. A physicist hooked. Working with materials and designs submitted directly by the designers. Sent the exclusive models for your hands. His salary was not different, but what you charge them. Seemed somewhat satisfied. Pasquale liked me right away. When I saw his nose ta.Tena old face but was a young man. One side always stuck between scissors, cut fabric, fingers, flatten seams. Pasquale was one of the few who could buy directly from the web. Some firms have confidence in your abilities, we did ask for materials directly to China and then he checked his quality. For that reason, Xian and Pasquale had known. At the port, where once we were eating bread together. Finished food, Xian and Pasquale said goodbye and then we ride in the car. We were heading towards Vesuvius. Typically, the volcanoes are represented by dark colors. Vesuvius is green. Seen from afar, like a mantle of moss infinite. But before taking the road leading to the Vesuvian towns, the car went into the porch of a house. Pasquale was there waiting. He left his car and went directly into the Xian car trunk. I tried to ask for explanations: - What? Why get into the trunk? "Do not worry. Now let Terzigno, to the factory. Got behind the wheel a kind of Minotaur. Had left the car and seemed Pasquale knew by heart what he had to do. Backed off, left the garage and, before going on the road, pulled a gun. A semi-automatic. He pulled the pin and put it between his legs. I did not say a peep, but saw the Minotaur through the rearview mirror staring at him with concern. "Once out of the way they wanted. - Who? I tried to explain it all from scratch. ---- Those who do not want the Chinese to learn to work with high fashion. Those who want fabrics from China and nothing more. Not understand. Still did not understand. Xian spoke with his usual reassuring. -Pasquale helps us learn. Learn to work with quality garments that have not charge us. We learn from him how to make dresses ... After the summary of Xian, Minotauro attempted to justify the presence of the gun: "Once there came one right there, you see, in the middle of the square and fired on the car. Gave the engine and the windshield. If they wanted to liquidate, we liquidated. But it was a warning. Even if you try again, this time I am ready. After the Minotaur I explained that when you're driving, take the pistol between the thighs is the best technique, leave on the dashboard slow down the gestures, movements to get it. To reach Terzigno, the road climbed, the clutch smell that stank. More to fear a burst of machine gun, was afraid that the motion of the car could make the gun went off in the scrotum with producer. We arrived without incident. Nothing to stop the car, Xian went to open the trunk. Pasquale came out. He looked like a crumpled Kleenex trying to stretch. He approached me and said: "Always the same story ... Not to be a fugitive from justice! But you better not see me in the car. If not ... And he made the gesture of slicing the neck. The ship was great. Not huge. Xian proudly

described to me. Was his property, but inside there were nine microfactories assigned to nine Chinese entrepreneurs. Upon entering, it looked like you were before a chessboard. Each factory had its own workers and their own workbenches perfectly confined within the square. Xian was allocated to each works the same space available to the factories of Las Vegas. The attached contract the auction. The method was the same. Had decided not to let children in the area would work, and had organized shifts as did the Italian plants. Also, when working for other companies, not asking money in advance. In summary, Xian was becoming a true Italian fashion entrepreneur. Chinese factories in China were in competition with Chinese factories in Italy. So Prato, Rome and the Italian media Chinatown were sinking miserably had boomed so fast that the fall was even sharper. Chinese factories could be saved only one way: making workers in high fashion experts, capable of doing quality work in Italy. Learn from the Italians, of small businesses scattered around Las Vegas, stop being shoddy goods producers to become the benchmark for firms in southern Italy. Unseat clandestine Italian factories, take their logic of action, occupy spaces, copy the language to do the same job as them. Just that a little less and in-pouring a few hours. Pasquale drew a fabric bag. It was a dress that should be cut and assembled in the factory. Instead, performed the operation on a table in front of a video camera filmed it and sent the image to a huge curtain hanging behind him. A girl with a microphone translated into Chinese what he said. Was its fifth class. "You must be very careful with the seams. The stitch should be loose, but not nonexistent. The Chinese triangle. San Giuseppe Vesuviano, Terzigno and Ottaviano. Entrepreneurship is the hub of Chinese textiles. Everything that happens in Chinese communities in Italy has happened before in Terzigno. The first manufacturing, production quality and also the first murders. Here Dingjm killed Wang, an immigrant from forties who had come by car from Rome to participate in a party of his compatriots. They invited him and then shot him in the head. Wang was a snakehead, or a guide. Linked to organized criminal cartels Pekinese that the illegal entry of Chinese citizens. The various heads of container be-often conflict with human merchandise buyers. Entrepreneurs promise a number of people who actually then do not bring. In the same way you kill a camel when it has been a part of the proceeds, you kill a snake's head because he played dirty with their goods, with human beings. But those who die are not just gangsters. Outside the factory had a picture hanging on a door. The picture of a tiny girl. A pretty face, cheeks rosy, eyes so black that seemed painted. Was placed right in the place where, in the traditional iconography, expect to see the yellow face of Mao. Zhang was Xiangbi, a pregnant girl whom they had killed and thrown into a pit a few years ago. Work here. A mechanic in the area had his eye, she walked past his shop, he had liked, and thought that was enough to have it. The Chinese are working like animals, they creep like snakes, are quieter than the deaf, unable to resist or express their will. In the minds of everyone, or almost all, is that axiom. Zhang, however, had resisted, he tried to escape when the mechanic had accosted her, but could not complain. It was China, and Chinese people are denied any expression that can reveal their existence. When he tried again, the man could not stand the rejection. The peppered kicked until he fell unconscious and then slit her throat and threw the corpse at the bottom of an artesian

well, which was swelling day by water and moisture. Pasquale knew that history had impressed him greatly, and each time she took a class, was approaching the detail of Zhang's brother and ask him how he was, if I needed anything, and always received the same answer: "No, thanks. Pasquale and I became good friends. When he spoke of the tissues, like a prophet. In stores was picky as could be, it was impossible to walk with him, was planted in front of all showcases for criticizing the cut of a jacket, or to feel embarrassed by the design of a skirt. He was able to predict the lifespan of trousers, a jacket, a dress. The exact number of washes that would support these damaged tissues before. Pasquale me started on the complicated world of tissues. He had also started to go home. His family, his three children and wife passed me joy. They were always moving, but not in a frenzy. That night the younger children were also running around the house barefoot. But without fuss. Pasquale had turned on the TV, while changing from one channel to another, stood motionless in front of the screen, with pleats and a myopic eyes despite looked great. Nobody was talking about, but the silence seemed to become more dense. Luisa, his wife sensed something, because he drew the television and put her hands to her mouth, as when one witnesses a fatal event and gasped. On television, Angelina Jolie walked the carpet on Oscar night with a business suit beautiful white satin. One such custom-made, those that Italian designers, disputes, given away to the stars. That dress she had made in a factory Pasquale Arzano underground. Solo had told him: 'This is going to America. " Pasquale had made hundreds of dresses that had come to America. He remembered well that white business suit. He still remembered the measures, all measures. The cut of the neckline, the millimeters of the dolls. And the pants. Had passed hands through the legs and the naked body still remembered all the designers think. A naked without eroticism, drawn in their muscle fibers in their bone china. A naked and dressed, a mediation between muscle, bone and size. He had gone to search the web to the port, still remember that day perfectly. We had ordered three dresses, without saying anything more. They knew who they were intended, but no one had reported. Japan had offered to the designer of the wife of the heir to the throne an official banquet, a Berlin newspaper had devoted six pages to the designer of the first woman who occupied the post of chancellor in Germany. Pages that spoke of quality craftsmanship, fantasy, elegance. Pasquale was mad, but it was impossible to externalize anger. However, satisfaction is a right, if there is merit should be recognized. Felt in the depths, in some part of the liver or stomach, which had done an outstanding job and wanted to say. He knew he deserved another thing. But they had not said anything. He had learned by chance, by mistake. A sterile anger, born full of reasons that they can not do anything. I could not tell anyone. Whisper even before the next day's paper. He could not say, "That suit I have done." No one would believe such a thing. The night of the Oscars, Angelina Jolie wearing a suit made in Arzano by Pasquale. The two extremes. Six hundred million dollars per month. When everything possible has been done, when talent, skill, expertise and tenacity merge into one action, a praxis, when all that does not serve to change anything, then they will want to lie face down on nothing, in the nothing. Slowly disappear, the minutes pass, sink into like quicksand. Stop doing everything. And try to breathe. Nothing more. Overall, nothing can change the conditions: not even make a

costume to look at Angelina Jolie's Oscar night. Pasquale went home without even bothering to close the door. Luisa knew where he was going, I knew I was going to Secondigliano and knew who was going to see. She collapsed on the sofa and buried his head on the pillow, like a child. I do not know why, but when he began to mourn Luisa came to my mind a verse of Vittorio Bodini. A poem that spoke of the stratagems employed farmers in the south to avoid being called up, not to fill the trenches of the First World War in defense of borders not know existed. Read: At the time of another war peasants and smugglers / Xanthi leaves were placed under the armpits-Yaca / to fall ill. / Artificial fevers, the suspected malaria / which made them shake and teeth chatter, / was your opinion / about government and history. Luisa's cry seemed to me also judge the government and history. Not a relief. Not a distaste for not meeting satisfaction. I found a chapter corrected from Marx's Capital, a paragraph of The Wealth of Nations by Adam Smith, a fragment of the General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money by John Maynard Keynes, a note of The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism by Max Weber. A page added or deleted. Or perhaps forgotten to write continuously written, but not in the space of the page. It was an act of desperation but an analysis. Severo, detailed, accurate, argued. I imagined Pasquale down the street, feet pounding the ground like when you take off your snow boots. As a child she was surprised that life should be so painful. Until then he had gone ahead. He had managed to restrain from exercising their profession, want to exercise it. And do it better than anyone. But at that moment, when he saw that dress, her body moving into the fabric that he had stroked, he felt alone. Solsimo. Because when someone has something just at the edge of his own flesh and his skull is as if they knew. And so, when work only serves to keep afloat, to survive, only to oneself, is the worst of the desert. I went back to Pasquale two months later. They had gone to work with trucks. Carrying all kinds of goods-legal and illegal for companies linked to the Secondigliano Licciardi family. Or at least so they said. The best designer in the world driving the trucks of the Camorra between Secondigliano and Lake Garda. He invited me to eat and I took a walk with his big truck. His hands were red and chapped knuckles. Like all truckers who spend hours at the wheel, he froze his hands and had poor circulation. The expression on his face was serene, had chosen that job out of spite, out of pique at their destination, a kick in the ass to her life. But it was impossible to supporting it, while sending everything to the devil meant to live worse. While we ate, got up to greet friends. He left the wallet on the table. Vi stand a magazine page folded in four. The unfolded. It was a photo, a cover of Angelina Jolie in white. The dress made by Pasquale. The jacket directly on the skin. Had to have talent to dress without hiding it. The fabric should accompany the body, making movement delineate mark it. I'm sure sometimes Pasquale, when alone, perhaps after lunch, when children at home, tired of playing, they sleep upside down on the couch when his wife, before washing dishes, he starts talking phone with his mother, just then you happen to open the wallet and look at that page re-view. And I'm sure, looking at the masterpiece he created with his hands, Pasquale is happy. A rabid happiness. But that did not know nobody. System It was the system that had fueled big international apparel market, the vast archipelago of Italian elegance. Companies, men, products of the system had reached all corners of the

globe. System, a term that everybody knows here but in other sites has not yet been deciphered, an unknown reference for anyone not familiar with the power dynamics of the criminal economy. Camorra is a nonexistent word, police. Used by judges and journalists, and writers. Is a word that brings a smile to affiliates, is a generic term, a term of scholars, relegated to the historical dimension. The term that referred to themselves as belonging to a clan system "Secondigliano belong to the system." An eloquent term, a mechanism rather than a structure. The criminal organization directly coincides with the economic, commercial dialectic is the skeleton of the clan. Secondigliano System and directing the entire textile chain, the outskirts of Naples was the true productive territory, the real business center. All that was impossible elsewhere because of the rigidity of contracts, the law of copyright, in the north of Naples was achieved. The periphery, structured around the corporate power of the clan, allowed to move capital astronomical unimaginable for any legal industrial conglomerate. The clans had established industrial estates entire textile and shoe manufacture and capable of producing fur garments, jackets, shoes and shirts identical to the major Italian fashion houses. Available in the territory of a workforce of high quality work that had formed over decades in the major brands of haute couture, the most important designs of Italian and European designers. The same officers who had worked in secret for the most important firms were hired by the clan. Not only the execution was perfect, but even the materials were the same, were bought directly in the market were Chinese or firms were sending a clandestine factories involved in the subastas.As therefore pirated clothing by the clans was not the typical secondiglianeses counterfeit goods, the bad imitation, like posing as real. It was sort of true copy. A single garment lacked the last step, the permission of the parent company, its brand, but that permission clans adjudicated it without asking anything to anyone. Moreover, nowhere in the world, the customer was interested in the quality and model. The mark was, then as well. No dience, then. Secondiglianeses clans had established a trade network that stretched across the world, able to acquire whole chains of stores and, therefore, dominate the international market for clothing. Economic organization also provided for the outlet market. Lower quality products just had another market, the street dealers African seats on the streets. It took every production, without discarding anything. From the factory to the store from the retail to distribution, involved hundreds of companies and workshops, thousands of arms and pushing entrepreneurs to enter the large textile business of secondiglianeses. Everything was coordinated and managed by the Board. Consistently pronounce heard that term. In any conversation from bar to try on some business or simple common complaint about the lack of work: "It was the Board who has made that decision ',' is the directory that should move and make things even more big. " They looked like excerpts from a speech from the Napoleonic era. Directory was the name the judges of the DDA (District Anti-Mafia Directorate) of Naples had given an economic, financial and operational business and boss compuestapor representatives of different families of the Camorra in the area north of Naples. An economic structure committed itself. The Board, as the French Thermidor collegiate body, represented the real power of the organization rather than the batteries of fire and military sectors. Were part of the clans Directory for the Alliance of Secondigliano, the cartel brawler who

gathered to different families: Licciardi, Contini, Mallard, Lo Russo, Bocchetti, Stabile, Prestieri, Bosti and, at a level of more autonomy, Sarno and Di Lauro. A territory under desde'Secondigliano, Scampia, Piscinola, Chiaiano, Miano and San Pietro a Paterno to Giugliano and Ponticelli. A federal structure of clans that have become increasingly autonomous, allowing scattering is definitely the organizational structure of the Alliance. On the production side, on the Board of several companies included entrepreneurs, comoValent, Vip Fashion Vocos yVitec, who concocted in Casoria, and Melito Arzano copies of Valentino, Ferre, Versace and Armani which is then sold on every corner land. Research 2004, coordinated by the prosecutor Filippo Beatrice, the DDA of Naples, had laid bare the economic empire of the Camorra in Naples. It had all started for one detail, one of those that may go unnoticed. A clothing store in Germany, Nenentz Fashion, Dresdner Strasse 46, Chemnitz, had hired a Secondigliano boss. A strange, unusual. In fact, the store, put the name of a figurehead, was his property. Following this track, came out all production and commercial network of clans secondiglianeses. The DDA of Naples had succeeded, through repentance and wiretapping, rebuild all the commercial channels of the clans, from warehouses to stores. There was no place where they have established their businesses. In Germany there were shops and warehouses in Hamburg, Dortmund, Frankfurt, in Gneisenaustrasse Witzlebenstrasse 800 and Berlin were 15 stores laudanum. In Spain were on the ride to the chapel of Santo 30, Madrid and Barcelona, in Belgium, in Brussels, in Portugal, in Porto and Boavista, in Austria, in Vienna, in England there was a store jackets in London Ireland, Dublin, in the Netherlands in Amsterdam, and were also in Finland and Denmark in Sarajevo and Belgrade. On the other side of the Atlantic, secondiglianeses clans had invested in both Canada and the United States and had come to South America. They were in 253 Jevlan Montreal Drive in Woodbridge, Ontario. The U.S. network was immense: millions of jeans were sold in stores in New York, Miami Beach, New Jersey and Chicago, and had almost completely monopolized the market for Florida. The owners of shops and malls Americans wanted to try secondiglianeses intermediaries exclusively. Clothing couture from top designers at affordable prices allowed their shopping malls are crowded. The marks on the fabric were perfect. At a workshop on the outskirts of Naples was an array to print Versace Medusa head. In Secondigliano had gotten out that the U.S. market was dominated by clothing of the Board, and that make things easier for young people who wanted to go to America to do business staff, following the success of Vip Fashion Jeans that filled the Texas stores, which sold like Valentino jeans. Business is also expanding on the other hemisphere. In Australia, the Italian Fashion Emporium of New South Wales, 28 Ramsay Road, Five Dock, had become one of the favorite places to buy fancy clothes, and also in Sydney had stores and shops. In Rio de Janeiro and Sao Paulo, Brazil, the secondi-glianeses dominated the fashion market. In Cuba they planned to open a shop for European and American tourists, and in Saudi Arabia and the Maghreb had long since begun to invest. The distribution mechanism used by the Board was the warehouse. So they called on the telephone conversations: be authentic men's distribution centers and goods. Deposits which came all kinds of garments. The stores were the center of the commercial network of agents who came to

remove the goods to be distributed to stores or other retailers clans. The person who coordinated the more substantial capital of Nuvoletta was, according to the charges, Pietro Nocera, one of the most powerful managers in the territory. Was invariably in Ferrari and had a private plane. The Court of Naples in 2005 decreed the seizure of property and companies worth more than thirty million euros, in fact, only 5 percent of its economic empire. Salvatore Speranza, associate justice, revealed that Nocera is the administrator of the entire clan Nuvoletta money and investment deals das organization money in land and construction in general. " The Nuvoletta invest in the Emilia-Romagna, Veneto, Marche and Lazio by Enea, cooperative production and maintained by Nocera work even while he was a fugitive. High figures billed as Enea had won public contracts by millions of euros in Bologna, Reggio Emilia, Modena, Venice, Ascoli Piceno and Frosinone. For years, the Nuvoletta also doing business in Spain. Nocera had gone to the city of Tenerife to call to order Armando Orlando, according to researchers at the apex of the clan, for the expenses generated by the construction of an urban imponentecomplejo, Marina Palace. Nocera be criticized him for spending more than necessary due to the use of materials too caros.Yo Marina Palace have only seen on the web, but your page is telling: a large resort swimming pools and concrete that had been built to participate Nuvoletta in the business of tourism in Spain and feeding. Paulo Di Lauro came from the maraneses school and began his criminal career as his lieutenant. Gradually, Di Lauro moved away from the Nuvoletta to become in the nineties, in the right arm of Castellammare boss Michele D'Alessandro and deal directly with him as he fled from justice. His project was to coordinate the sale of drugs places with the same logic with which he had managed chain stores and factories of jackets. The boss noticed that after the death in custody of Gennaro Licciardi, the territory north of Naples could become the biggest drug market had been open ever seen in Italy and Europe. All handled by his men. Paulo Di Lauro had always acted quietly possessed qualities more financial than military, apparently did not invade the territories of other boss, was not subject to investigations and searches. One of the first to reveal the organization of his organization had been the repentant Gaetano Conte. A contrite with a particularly interesting story. Was policeman and had served in Rome as a bodyguard for Francesco Cossiga. His qualities as a member of the escort of a president had allowed a friend of the boss agreed Di Lauro. Conte, after having organized extortion and drug trafficking on behalf of the clan, had decided to collaborate with the judges providing other data and details that only a policeman could have known. Paolo Di Lauro is known as "Ciruzzo the Millionaire", a ridiculous nickname, but nicknames and nicknames have a specific logic, a calibrated sedimentation. I've always heard calling those who belong to the system by his nickname, to the point that in many cases the name and last name come to be diluted, to be forgotten. A nickname is not chosen, arises suddenly, for some reason, and someone repeated. Thus, by chance, the nicknames are born in the Camorra. Paolo Di Lauro was renamed to "Ciruzzo the Millionaire 'by boss Luigi Giuliano, one night he saw him coming to the poker table with pockets full of hundred-thousand lire banknotes and exclaimed," Wow, " Who have we here? What Ciruzzo the Millionaire. " A name that someone comes up during an evening proves to be a successful discovery. But the anthology of nicknames is endless. Carmine Alfieri A "'or` Ntufato ", the

curmudgeon, the boss of the new family, named for the permanent grimace of dissatisfaction and anger in his face. Then there are the nicknames that come from the nickname of the ancestors and which also apply to the heirs, as in the case of boss Mario Fabbrocino, called "'or Graun," the coal: coal sold their ancestors had not been necessary else to call it the boss who had colonized Argentina in the capital of the Camorra Vesuvian. There are nicknames of passion fruit characteristics of a brawler, as '' or Wrangler, "the Nicola Luongo, an affiliate todoterrenosWrangler obsessed with, which have become favorite models of Sistema.Y men are also inspired nicknames in particular physical features: Giovanni Birra "" Mazza "with your body dry and long, Costantino lacomino" Capaianca "with gray hair that came out while still very young, Ciro Mazzarella '' or Scellon" because of his shoulder blades protruding; Nicola Pianese called '' or Mussuto ", ie, cod, for his white skin; Rosario Privato" Mignolino "and Dario De Simone" 'or Nano', the dwarf. Inexplicable nicknames such as Antonio Di Fraia, called "'u Urpacchiello", a term that means "whip", the kind that are made with donkey dicks secas.Y Girolanm Di Carmine also called "'or Sbirro" for its ability to engage in police operations and police. Monteriso Cyrus '' or Magician "by who knows what reason. Pasquale Gallo, Torre Annunziata, delicate features, so-called 'or Bellillo. " The Lo Russo, called the "Capitoni", like the Mallard the Carlantoni "; the Belforte, the Mazzacane 'and Piccolo, the "Quaqquaroni" Mazzarella familiares.Vincenzo old names, "' or Pazzo ', and Antonio Di Biasi, nicknamed "Pavesino" because when I went to military operations always took over biscuits pavesind Domenico Russo, nicknamed "Mimi dei Cani" boss of the Spanish Quarter, so named because small puppies sold in Via Toledo.Y Antonio Carlo D'Onofrio, "Carlucciello 'or Mangiavate", ie the co-Megata Affections, which according to legend had learned to shoot using cats as target. Gennaro Di Chiara A, which reacted violently whenever someone touched her face, called "File Scupierto." Nicknames are also derived from onomatopoeic expressions untranslatable: Augustine Tardi, called "Little Picco" Ronza Di Domenico, "Scippa Scippa"; Simon's family, called "Quaglia Quaglia ', the Aversano, called" Zig Zag ", Raffaele Giuliano"' or Zui 'and Antonio Bifone, "Zuzu." Only by ordering the same drink often, Antonio DiVicino became "Lemon." Benitozzi Vincenzo, who had a round face, called him "Cicciobello"; to Gennaro Lauro, perhaps because the number of the house where he lived, "'or diciassette"; to Giovanni Aprea,' Punt 'and Curtiello "because in 1974 his grandfather participated in the film Blood Brothers Pasquale Squitieri, playing the role of old brawler who taught kids to use the knife. Instead, there are carefully designed nicknames that can determine the fortune or misfortune of a media boss, like the famous Francesco Schiavone, known as "Sandokan", a fierce nickname chosen for their resemblance to Kabir Bedi, actor who played the hero Salgari. The tavoletta Pasquale, called "Zorro" also for its resemblance to the actor from the television series, or Luigi Giuliano "'and Re', also called" Lovigino ", a nickname inspired by his American lover, that intimacy will whispered "I love Luigino." From there it's Lovigino. The nickname his brother Carmine, "'or Done", and Francesco Verde, alias' or Negus, "as the Emperor of Ethiopia, for his inscrutable boss and being a long time. Mario Schiavone, called "Menelik" as the famous Ethiopian emperor who fought Italian troops, and Vincenzo Carobene called "Qaddafi," for his extraordinary resemblance to the son of the Libyan

general. The boss Francesco Bidognetti is known as "Cicciotto di Mezzanotte", a nickname born of that which you want to interpose between him and his business he would swoop down on midnight but was dawning. Some say that it got the nickname because as a young man had begun to climb toward the top of the clan protecting whores. In his entire clan was called as "the clan Mezzanotte." Almost every boss has a nickname, is undoubtedly the quintessential feature, which identifies them. The nickname is for a boss that the stigmas are for a saint. The proof of membership in the System. Anyone can be Francesco Schiavone, but only one will Sandokan, anyone can be called Carmine Alfieri, but only one call you back when "'or' Nufato ', many may be called Francesco Verde, but only one answer to the name of' 'or Negus ', anyone can be entered in the register as Paolo Di Lauro, but only one will be "Ciruzzo the Millionaire." Ciruzzo had opted for a silent business organization with a broad military profile but low intensity. He had long been a boss unknown even to the police. The only time I had been summoned by the judges, before becoming a fugitive, was because of his son Nunzio, who had assaulted a teacher because he had dared to scold. Paulo Di Lauro was able to interact directly with South American cartels and creating important networks of distribution through alliance with the Albanian cartels. In recent years, the drug has precise routes. The coca leaves from South America, arrived in Spain, and there is either collected directly or sent to Al-bania by road. The heroine, however, comes from Afghanistan and goes to Bulgaria, Kosovo or Albania. Hashish and marijuana out of the Maghreb and pass through the hands of Turks and Albanians in the Mediterranean. Di Lauro had managed to have contacts Direct access to all drug markets had succeeded, thanks to a careful strategy to become a major employer of the skin and drug trafficking. In 1989 he founded the famous company Confezioni Valent Paulo Di Lauro & C., which according to its statutes would end its operation in 2002, but in November 2001 was foreclosed by the Court of Npoles.Valent had been awarded several contracts in throughout Italy to install cash and carry. Corporate purpose was a huge variety of activities from the sale of furniture to textiles, from clothing to meat trade and distribution of water supplied mineral.Valent meals to various public and private facilities and slaughterhouses had to be slaughtered all kinds of animals. Moreover, according to its objects, the Di Lauro Paul Valent proposed in order to build resorts, food chains, restaurants and all the 'right to free time. " At the same time declared that "the company may acquire land, either directly or indirectly build buildings, shopping centers or housing." The business license was granted by the City of Naples in 1993 and the company was run by Cosimo, son of Di Lauro. Paolo Di Lauro, for reasons related to the clan, had left the scene in 1996 and transferred their shares to his wife, Luisa. Di Lauro are a dynasty built with dedication. Luisa Di Lauro had produced ten children, as the great midwives in the Italian industry had steadily increased the rate of successful offspring industrial.Todos were integrated in the clan: Cosimo, Vincenzo, Ciro, Marco, Nunzio, Salva-more, and after the small, still minors. Paolo Di Lauro had a kind of preference for investment in France, had their shops in Nice, Paris, 129 Rue Charenton, and Lyon, at 22 Quai Perrache. Wanted them to their stores that make themselves known Italian fashion in France, their trucks that transports it, the Champs Elysees that the smell emanating from the power of Scampia. But the massive undertaking Secondigliano Di Lauro danger. Had grown rapidly and

each of its parts had done with great autonomy in the streets selling drugs, the atmosphere began to charge. In Scampia in Instead, he hopes that everything would be resolved as the last time. When, with a drink, all crises were resolved. A particular shot, taken while Domenico, a son of Di Lauro, dying in hospital after a serious car accident. Dornenico was a restless youth. The sons of the boss often suffer a kind of delirium of omnipotence and believe they can have whole cities and the people who inhabit them. According to the investigations of the po-Lycia, in October 2003 Domenico raided at night, along with his bodyguard and a group of friends, a small town, Casoria: smashed windows, garages, cars, burned container smeared with spray paint and melted portals lighters plastic buttons and intercoms. Damage that his father paid without question, with the diplomacy of the families who have to remedy the disasters of their offspring without jeopardizing their own authority. Domenico NIOTO driving in when in a curve, lost control and fell. Died from severe injuries after spending a few days in a coma in hospital. This tragic episode gave rise to a summit meeting, a punishment while amnesty. In Scampia all know this story, a legendary story, perhaps invented, but important to understand how to resolve conflicts within the Camorra. They say that Gennaro Marino, called the "McKay" dolphin Paolo Di Lauro, went to hospital where he was admitted to comfort the dying boy to boss. His consolation was accepted. After Di Lauro was an aside to him and invited him to drink. Peed in a cup and handed it. Had reached the ears of news boss some behaviors of your favorite did not approve at all. McKay had taken some economic decisions without discussion, certain sums of money had been misappropriated without accountability. The boss had noticed the dolphin will be his alone, but wanted to forgive him, as if it had been an excess of zeal on the part of someone who is too good at his job. McKay have drank it all, every last drop. A long shot of urine solved the first schism had occurred within the policy of the Di Lauro clan cartel. A fragile truce, that after no kidney could drain. The War of Secondigliano Angioletta McKay had made a decision. Wanted to formalize the formation of a separate group, all older leaders agreed, had made it clear they did not want to face the organization but to become his competitors. Competitive practices in the vast market. Side by side, but independently. So, "as declared by Pietro Esposito sorry," the message sent to Cosimo Di Lauro, the ruler of the cartel. Wanted to meet with Paolo, the father, the leader, the apex, the main reference of society. Talk to him in person, say they did not share the restructuring that had taken their children. Since they could not use mobile phones to avoid being spotted, they wanted to look at him and not let his words pass one by one from mouth to mouth, wrapping messages in the saliva of many languages. Genny McKay wanted to see Paolo Di Lauro, the boss who had allowed their business promotion. Cosimo formally accepts the meeting request, it is, moreover, to bring together all the top of the organization: bosses, managers, regional managers. No one can deny. But Cosimo thought has everything, or so it seems. It seems really knows where it is focusing its business management and how to organize their defense. Thus, according to investigations and the statements of co-laborers of justice, Cosimo not send subordinates to the appointment. Do not send the "emissary", Giovanni Cortese, the official spokesman, who has always dealt with family relations with the outside Di Lauro.

Cosimo sends his brothers Marco and Ciro to inspect the venue. They will see, check what was the atmosphere, do not warn anyone that will go through there. Unescorted pass, perhaps by car. Fast but not too much. Observed escape routes prepared, the sentries without attracting attention. Cosimo relate to what they saw, they tell the details. Cosimo understand. They had prepared everything for a trap. To kill Paul and anyone who accompany him. The meeting was a trap, was a means of killing and enact a new era in the management of the cartel. Moreover, an empire splits giving a handshake, but by cutting with a blade. This is what counts, what the research says and repentant. Cosimo's son Paolo in whose hands the control of drug trafficking began with a role of great responsibility, you must make a decision. There will be war, but not the states, it keeps everything in mind, waiting to understand the movements, not to frighten opponents. He knows that soon he cast over who will try to stab their claws into the flesh, but you have to buy time, to decide a precise strategy, infallible winner. Find out who can count, what forces can handle. Who is with him and who is against him. There is no other space on the board. Di Lauro justify the absence of his father by the difficulty to move due to police investigations. Fugitive sought for more than ten years. Missing a meeting is not a serious matter for someone who is among the thirty most dangerous fugitives in Italy. The largest holding company of drug trafficking, one of the strongest national and international level, is undergoing the most terrible crisis after decades of flawless operation. Di Lauro clan has always been a well-organized company. The boss structured as a multitier enterprise design. The organization is comprised of a first level of developers and financiers, made up of clan leaders who are responsible for controlling traffic and sales activities through its direct members and trained, according to the Anti-mafia prosecutor of Naples, Pariante Rosario, Raffaele Abbinante, Enrico Arcangelo D'Avanzo and Valentino. The second level includes those who physically handled the drugs, buy and prepare, and handle relations with the camels, which guarantees legal protection in case of arrest. The most relevant are Gennaro Marino, Lucio De Lucia and Pasquale Gargiulo. The third level is represented by the heads of space, ie clan members who are in direct contact with the camels, coordinate the Pali and means of escape, and also address the security of the stores where they keep the merchandise and places where it is cut. The fourth level, the most dangerous, is made up of the camels. Each level is divided into sublevels, which are related solely with their leader and not to the entire structure. This organization allows a benefit equal to 500 percent of the initial investment. The business model of the Di Lauro always reminded me of the mathematical concept of fractal as explained in the manual, or a bunch of bananas bananas each of which is in turn a bunch of bananas, whose bananas are bunches of bananas, and so on to infinity. Di Lauro clan only to drug trafficking bill hundred thousand euros a day. Camels, managers of warehouses and the links are not usually part of the organization, but are simply employees. The business of selling drugs is huge, thousands of people working on it, but do not know who leads them. They sense more or less what rowdy family work, but nothing more. As if a detainee decides to repent, limited knowledge of the structure to a specific perimeter, at least not possible to understand and know the whole organization, the huge journey of economic and military power of the organization.

All economic and financial structure has its military equipment: a savage assault group and a vast network of collaborators. Among the killers included Emanuele D'Ambra, Ugo De Luda, called "Ugariellos, Nando Emol, called" 'or Schizzatos, Antonio Ferrara, called "' or Tavano" Tamburino Salvatore, Salvatore Petriccione, Umberto La Monica and Antonio Mennetta. Below, the employees, ie, heads of neighborhood Aruta Gennaro Ciro Saggese, Fulvio Montanino, Antonio Galeota, Giuseppe Prezioso, Cosimo's personal bodyguard, and Costantino Sorrentino. An organization that had at least three hundred people, all paid. A complex structure where everything was placed in a precise order. It was the park of cars and motorcycles, huge, always available, as a structure of an emergency. It was the armory, hidden and connected to a network of blacksmiths prepared to destroy the weapons immediately after use to the killings. There was a logistical network that allowed the killers to go, right after the ambush, to train in a regular polygon of fire where entries were recorded in order to mix the powder traces of bullets and have an alibi for the tests, stub . The stub is the most feared killers all, the powder bullet that never leaves and is the overwhelming proof. There, take hold, a network that provided the clothing to the shock groups: tracksuit year-dino and motorcycle helmet, which was destroyed immediately. A company invulnerable, of perfect or near perfect mechanisms. There is no attempt to hide an action, a murder, an investment, but simply make it provable in court. Secondigliano frequented long ago. Since Pasquale had stopped working as a tailor, I reported on the atmosphere that was present in the area, a rapidly changing environment, at the same speed with which capital and transform the financial directions. I moved through the area north of Naples on a Vespa. What I like when I travel Secondigliano and Scampia is light. Streets huge, wide, oxygen compared with the maze of the historical center of Naples, as if under the asphalt, near blocks of flats, were still alive the open field. On the other hand, Scampia has its own space in the name. Scampia, a Neapolitan dialect word missing, designated open land, the area of weeds, where the mid 1960's raised the sails and the famous neighborhood. The architectural symbol of delirium rotten or maybe just a concrete utopia, which could not stand against the machine-building drug that has permeated the social fabric of this part of the world. Chronic unemployment and the absence of social development projects have made has become a place capable of storing tons of drugs, as well as a workshop to transform the money charged with selling drug in living economy and legal. Secondigliano is to step down from the footboard on the illegal market, brings renewed strength to legitimate business activity. In 1989, the Camorra Observatory wrote in one of his publications in the area north of Naples re-cords of the relationships camel-highest number of inhabitants of Italy. Fifteen years later, that relationship has become the highest in Europe and ranks among the top five in the world. Over time, my face had become known, a knowledge that Watchers clan, the Pali, was a neutral value. In a visually controlled territory every second, there is a negative value-cops, police, infiltrated with rival families, and a positive value: the buyers. Everything that is not annoying, all that is not a hindrance, is neutral, useless. Enter this means not exist. In the streets of drug sales have always fascinated me the perfect organization and contrast degradation. The mechanism of sale is like a clock. It is as if individuals move exactly like the gear that start time. There is no

movement from anyone that does not trigger another's. Every time I was fascinated watching him. Salaries are distributed weekly: one hundred euros for the guards, five hundred for the coordinator and clerk of the camels of a square, eight hundred thousand for the camel and for dealing with the drug stores and hides at home. Shifts are three in the afternoon at twelve o'clock and twelve o'clock at 9. am, in the morning is very rarely sold because there are too many police hanging around. Everyone has a day off, and whether there are late to the square of drug sales, for each hour and fifty euros are deducted from the weekly pay. Via Baku is a constant coming and going of people wheeling and dealing. Customers arrive, pay, pick up and go. Sometimes there are even lines of cars queuing up behind the vendors. On every Saturday night. Then come camels from other places in this area. Via Baku is billed in half a million euros a month. The Bri-sion of Narcotics says sold an average of four doses of marijuana and cocaine four per day. When the police arrive, the camels know what they have to go home and where they must hide the goods. When the police vehicles will go into a place of sale of drugs, almost always placed before a car or motorcycle to slow up and allow Pali camels pick up bike and take them. The pali not usually have a history or be armed, so that although the stop, at very low risk of being indicted. When multiplying the arrests of camels, you call the reservations people, mostly drug addicts or habitual users of area, which lend themselves to work as vendors in emergency situations. For every camel arrested, calls to take his place. The trade must continue. Even at critical moments. Via Dante billing is another area of great capital. Here, all the camels are very young kids, is a thriving place of distribution, one of the newer seats mounted by Di Lauro. And Viale della Resistenza, old square of heroin, as well as kobret and cocaine. Those responsible for the plaza have real operational headquarters from where they organize the defense of territory. The Pali communicate by phone what is happening. The coordinator of the plaza, listening to every word of mouth with a flat front, get the eyes to have realtime movements of the police and the movement of customers. One of the innovations that the Di Lauro clan Secondigliano is introduced in buyer protection. Before they begin their work as organizers of places, protected only Pali camels arrests and identifications. In previous years, buyers could be arrested, identified and brought to the station. Di Lauro, however, he also pali to protect buyers, so anyone can safely access the places controlled by their men. The maximum degree of comfort for small consumers, who are a leading souls to the drug trade in Secondigliano. In the area of the neighborhood Berlingieri, whether phone, I have prepared the goods. Are also Via Ghisleri, Park tries, the whole neighborhood Don Guanella, H Via Labriola, Sette Palazzi. Territories turned into profitable markets, streets guarded in places where people who live there have learned to take a selective look as if the eyes, when given with something awful, darkening the object or situation. A custom of choosing what to see, a way to continue living. The huge supermarket of drugs. In all, of any kind whatsoever. No drug is introduced that does not happen in Europe first by the square of Secondigliano. If the drug was only for the Naples and Campania, the statistics would score delusional. Virtually all Neapolitan families, at least two members should be cocaine and a heroin addict. Excluding the hashish and marijuana. Heroin kobret, soft drugs and pills, such that some still call there really ecstatic when seventy-nine variants of ecstasy. In

Secondigliano sold like hotcakes, the file called X, or chips, or candy. With the pills huge profits. One euro to produce three to five dollars the wholesale cost, then sell them in Milan, Rome and other areas of Naples, between fifty and sixty euros. In Scampia, fifteen euros. Secondigliano market has surpassed the old rigidities of selling cocaine drug recognizing the new frontier. Drugs elite in the past, today, thanks to new economic policies of the clan, has become fully accessible for mass consumption, with varying degrees of quality but able to meet all requirements. According to Abele group analysis, 90 percent of cocaine users are workers or students. The coca is no longer associated with Tonerse blind, has been freed from that category to become a substance used at any time of day, after which overtime is taken as a relaxant, for strength to do something that is pa-sage to human activity and experience, not just a substitute for fatigue. The coca is taken by truck drivers to drive at night, is taken to stand hours in front of the computer to go on without stopping, working for weeks without any break. A solvent of fatigue, pain anesthetic, a prosthesis jumped into the air. Gaetano McKay is always with a companion, a sort of butler holds the position of his hands, but when you hold the pen to sign with the prosthesis, making it a bolt, a nail fixed on the page, and then twists the neck and wrists and gets drawn to a letter imperceptibly crooked signature. According to research by the Anti-Mafia Prosecutor of Naples, Genny McKay had managed to create a place capable of storing and selling. On the other hand, the good price offered providers is precisely its ability to accumulate, and it helps the concrete jungle of Secondigliano, with its hundred thousand inhabitants. The body of the people, their homes, their daily life becomes the great wall deposits surrounding the drug. Indeed, the square of Heavenly Homes has a stunning decline in the costs of coca. Usually, we start from between fifty and sixty euros a gram and comes at a hundred or two hundred. This has dropped to between twenty and fifty maintaining a very high quality. Reading the reports of the DDA is found to Genny McKay is one of the most competent Italian businessmen in the area of coca, thanks to which has been imposed in a market that is experiencing exponential growth can not be compared with anyone else. The organization of the squares of drug sales could have also occurred in Posillipo, in Panoli in Brera, but has been in Secondigliano. Elsewhere, the workforce would have a very high cost. Here, the total absence of work, inability to find another way out other than immigration drives wages are low, very low. There is no mystery, no need to appeal to any sociology of poverty, to any metaphysics of the ghetto. Ghetto can not be considered a territory able to bill three hundred million euros a year just with a family business. A territory where they operate dozens of clans and profit figures are comparable only to those provided by a financial transaction. The work is meticulous and productive passes cost a lot. A kilo of coca billion euros it costs the producer, when it comes to wholesale and costs thirty thousand. Thirty kilos become one hundred and fifty after the first cut: a market value of about fifteen million euros. And if the cut is larger, three kilos can take up to two hundred. The cut is essential: caffeine, glucose, mannitol, acetaminophen, lidocaine, benzocaine, anfetamina.Y too, when the emergency is imposed, talc and calcium for dogs. The court determines the quality and the wrong court appeals death, police arrests. Trade clogs arteries. Also in this Secondigliano clans are ahead of others, and the advantage is precious. Here are the Visitor: heroin addicts. The call and the characters of the television series of the

eighties they ate rats and, under an apparently human epidermis, hid and slimy greenish scales. Visitors use them as guinea pigs, human guinea pigs to experience cuts: check if a cut is bad, what causes reactions, how far they can stretch dust. When the "cutters" takes many guinea pigs, prices fall. Twenty euros dose down to ten. Word spreads and heroin come to Marks and Lucania in small doses. Heroin is a market that has suffered a brutal collapse. Heroin addicts, junkies, are becoming less. They are desperate. They ride on buses swaying, down and up on the trains, traveling at night, hitchhike, walk miles on foot. But the continent's cheapest heroin worth every effort. The "cutters" of the clan gathered to Visitors, gave them a dose and wait. In a telephone conversation played in the order of protective custody in prison in March 2005, issued by the Court of Naples, both talk of organizing a test, a test with human guinea pigs to test the court of the substance. First call to organize: "You take away five t-shirts ... What for allergy testing? After a while are recalled: - Have you tried the car? "Yes ... Referring, of course, whether he had been tested. "Yes. My mother, colleague, wonderful! We are the number one, will have to close all. They were jubilant, thrilled that guinea pigs had not died, indeed, they had enjoyed it. A successful court doubled the sale, if the best quality, is then applied in the domestic market and sink the competition. Until I read this exchange of words I did not understand the scene he had witnessed some time ago. Then I could not understand what was actually happening before my eyes. By Miano area near Scampia, had a dozen visitors. They had been convened in an open, compared to some ships. Had landed there by chance, but it supposed to feel the breath of the real, warm, authentic as possible, you can get to understand the substance of things. I'm not sure which is essential to observe and be present know things, but this bread is essential to be things they know you. There was a guy all dressed up, I would say that impeccably dressed in a white suit, blue shirt and sports shoes brand new. Deployed to cloth on the hood of the car. Inside were a few syringes. Visitors came pushing. Resembled one of those scenes-identical, traced, always the same for years, which show the news when a truck arrives in Africa with sacks of flour. But a visitor started shouting: "No, not lame. If regalis, not lame ... You want to kill us ... The suspicion was enough of one for others to move away immediately. The guy seemed to have no desire to convince anyone and waited. Occasionally spitting on the floor dust lifted the visitors to walk and that stuck to the teeth. However, one came, one not, a couple. Shaking, were really on the limit. They had the monkey, as they say. He had the veins of the arms useless, took off his shoes, but the soles were also vandalized. The girl took a syringe of cloth and placed in the mouth to hold it as he unbuttoned his shirt, slowly, as if he had a hundred buttons, and then stuck the needle into the neck. The syringe contained cocaine. Make the blood flow can very quickly see if the cut works or is done badly, if it is too pure or of poor quality. After a moment, the boy began to falter, he got a bit of foam at the corner of his mouth and fell. In the ground began to have seizures. Then she lay on his back stiff and eyes closed. The guy dressed in white started the mobile phone. "I'd say he's dead ... Yeah, okay, I do massage ...

He began to stomp on the boy's chest loot. Raise the knee and then he dropped his leg snapped. Cardiac massage was kicking. The girl beside him, muttering some words which you stayed glued to his lips: "You do wrong, you do it wrong. You're hurting ... Meanwhile, trying, with the strength of a tail. Away from the body of her boyfriend. But the guy was embarrassed, almost frightened by her presence and visitors in general: "Do not touch me ... You disgust ... Do not you dare approach me ... Do not touch me or I'll shoot! He continued to kick against the boy's chest, then with the foot resting on his sternum, he telephoned again: "I think this has palmed. Ah, the scarf ... not expected to encounter ... She pulled a tissue from his pocket, dipped it with water from a bottle and held it out on the boy's lips. If breathing, albeit very weakly, agujereara the tissue and thereby prove that he was still alive. One precaution he had taken it, would not touch that body. Last called: "He's dead. We have to make it lighter ... The guy got into the car, whose driver had not stopped for even a second to jump on the seat, dancing to music of which I could not hear even the slightest rumor, despite being moved as if the whole volume. Within minutes, everyone walked away from the body for that speck of dust. The boy lay on the ground. And his girlfriend crying. Her lament is also stuck to his lips, as if the only form of vocal expression that allows the heroine was a raucous chant. Could not understand why he did it, but the girl got off tracksuit pants and bending right over the boy's face, he urinated on her face. The scarf is stuck to the lips and nose. Soon, the boy appeared to regain consciousness, ran a hand through his nose and mouth, as when you remove the water from the face to get out of the sea. This Miano Lazarus resurrected the effect of unknown substance in the urine rose slowly. I swear, if I had not been so embarrassed by the situation, have loudly proclaimed that it was a miracle. Instead, I walked up and down. I always do when I do not understand what happens when I do not know what to do. Occupy space, nervously. That should attract attention, as the visitors started coming to me crying. Believed it had something to do with the guy who almost killed that guy. I shouted: "You ... you ... wanted to kill him ... Reached me, quickened his pace to leave them behind, but still following me, collecting soil and rubbish of all kinds against in.Yo throwing them had done nothing. But unless you're a junkie, you're a camel. Suddenly, a truck appeared. Out dozens of tanks every morning. Slowed beside me, and I heard a voice calling me. Was Pasquale. Opened the door and pulled me up. There was a guardian angel who saves his protege, we were more like two mice running through the same manhole and pull the tail. Pasquale looked at me with the severity of the proactive parent. This expression is sufficient by itself and does not even have to spend time rebuking answer. I, however, he looked at his hands. Increasingly, red, cracked, cut across the knuckles and palms white. It is difficult for some buds accustomed to the silks and velvets of high fashion can be adapted to ten hours behind the wheel of a truck. Pasquale spoke, but still distracting images of Visitors. Monkeys. Not even monkeys. Guinea pigs. To test a drug court that will cover half of Europe and can not expose you to kill someone. Human guinea pigs to

allow the Romans, Neapolitans, the Abruzzo, the Lucania and the Bolognese not end badly, losing no nosebleeds or foam at the mouth. Visitor died in Secondigliano is just a desperate yet another on which one will investigation. And be a lot if collected from the ground, he cleaned the face of vomit and urine and he is buried. Elsewhere he would analysis, research, speculation about the death. Here, simply overdose. Pasquale's truck ran national roads linking the area north of Naples. Ships, warehouses, gathering places where debris, and items scattered, rusty, thrown everywhere. There are no industrial estates. Fireplace stinks, but there are factories. The houses are scattered along the roads, and squares are built around a bar. A desert confusing, complicated. Pasquale had realized that I was not listening and stopped suddenly. Without handle, just to give me a good shake. Then I looked up and said: "In Secondigliano things are getting bad ... 'A is Vicchiarella Spain with the money of all. You have to stop coming to this area, I notice the tension everywhere. Until the asphalt off the ground to go from here ... Had decided to find out what was happening in Secondigliano. Pasquale The more stressed how dangerous the situation, the more I became convinced that it was impossible not to try to understand the elements of disaster. And to understand meant at least part of them. There is no choice, I do not think there is another way of understanding things. The neutrality and objective distance are places I've never mana

The nurses reported that, before going to help someone, anyone, not just those injured by firearms, but also an old lady with a broken femur or a man who had suffered a heart attack, had come down, let cache , climb to the ambulance leaving a guard that checked if it was really a medical transport or hiding weapons, killers or people trying to flee. In the wars of the Camorra does not recognize the Red Cross, no clan has signed the treaty in Geneva. Even the camouflage of the police cars are saved. Once unloaded a flurry of shots at a car in which were assembled a group of plainclothes police mistook them for rivals, ti-rotate only wounding. Days after the quarter is presented in a kid with a travel bag which has several changes, well aware of how to behave during an arrest. Confesses everything immediately, perhaps because it would have received punishment for shooting the police would have been much worse than prison. Or more likely, the clan, for no special raise personal hatreds between public forces and rowdy, had to encourage him to surrender, promising to pay his due and defense spending. The boy said without hesitation in the barracks: "I thought you were the Spanish and fired. On 7 December a call woke me up at night. A photographer friend told me about the blitz.5 anyone not a blitz. But the blitz. The fact that you asked local and national politicians as a reaction against Faida. The Third World neighborhood is surrounded by thousands of men between the police and police. A great neighborhood, whose nickname, and the graffiti on the wall at the beginning of the main street, "Barrio Third World, do not enter," offers a clear picture of your situation. It becomes a big media hype. After the blitz, Scampia, Miano, Piscinola, San Pietro a Paterno and territories Secondigliano be invaded by journalists and TV crews. The Camorra back into existence after years of silence. Suddenly. But the analytical instruments are old, very old, there has been constant attention. As if a brain had frozen and thawed for twenty years now. As if we

were facing the Raffaele Cutolo Camorra mafia and the dynamics that led to blow the freeway and kill the judges. Today everything has changed, except the eyes of observers, experts and less experienced. Among those arrested was Ciro Di Lauro, a son of the boss. The accounting of the clan, someone says. The police break down the doors, frisk people and point their guns at the children. The only scene I get to see is a police officer yelling at a kid who pointed a knife: - Throw it down! Throw it down! Come quick! Throw it down! The boy drops it. The policeman away razor a kick, and hit the gun against a wall, the blade is inserted into the handle. Is plastic, a razor ninja turtles. Meanwhile, military watch, photograph, move everywhere. Are killed dozens of outposts. Cast concrete walls down ar-mately raised in the basements of buildings to make deposits of drugs, break down the gates that whole sections of streets closed to organize drug stores. 5 Quick military or police operation carried out with extreme caution and without notice (N. of T.) Hundreds of women down the street, burn containers, throwing objects at police cars. Are holding their children, their grandchildren, their neighbors. In their employers. However, I could not see in those faces, those words of anger at those legs encased in trousers so tight that seem to explode, no sign of criminal solidarity. The drug market is a source of livelihood, a minimum livelihood for most people has no value Secondigliano enrichment. Entrepreneurs of the clans are the only ones who stand to gain exponentially. Everyone who works in the sale, storage, concealment and monitoring current receive only a salary in exchange for exposing themselves to arrest, to months and years in prison. Those faces were masks of rage. A rage that knows gastric juice. A rage that is either one's own territory, or a charge against those who have always considered this place absent, lost, a place to be forgotten. This huge deployment of forces that occurs suddenly after dozens of deaths after the body was found burned and tortured a girl from the neighborhood, it seems staged. For the women here, it smells bad joke. The arrests, the bulldozers did not seem something that will change the situation, but simply an operation that now favors those who need to arrest and bring down walls. As if someone suddenly changed the categories of interpretation and said that his life is misguided. They knew all too well that there was misled, it was not necessary that they were helicopters and armored cars to remind you, but until now this error was the main way of life, strength of survival. Moreover, after that breakthrough that did nothing but complicate it, nobody really try to change for the better. Therefore, those women wanted to jealously guard the neglect of that isolation, that error of life, and drive out those who had suddenly noticed the dark. The journalists were stationed in their cars. But only after leaving the police act without impeding their work, began filming the blitz. At the end of the operation, handcuffed to fifty-three persons, the youngest was in 1985. All had grown up in Renaissance Naples, in the new path should have changed the fate of individuals. While entering the police vans while being handcuffed by the police, everyone knows what to do: call this or that lawyer, expect that on 28 you get home the salary of the clan, the pasta packets to their wives and mothers. The most worried are the men who have adolescent children do not know the role assigned after his arrest. But it can not intervene. After the blitz, the war continues unabated. On December 18, Pasquale Galasso, namesake of one of the most powerful boss of the nineties, is settled behind a bar. Day 20

is charged to a pizzera.Y Lorio Vincenzo on 24 kills Giuseppe Pezzella, thirty-four years. Try to take refuge in a bar, but emptied a full magazine firing at him. At Christmas break. The batteries in fire stop. Reflow. Seek to provide rules and strategies, the less regulated conflict. On December 27, Leone Emanuele kill shot in the head. He was twenty years. On 30 December violate the Spanish: Antonio Scafuro killed, twenty-six, and wound in the leg to his son. Was related to the head of the Di Lauro area in Casavatore. The hardest thing was understanding Di Lauro understand how they managed to handle a conflict as winners. Hit and disappear. Blend in with people, getting lost in the quarters. Lotto T, Candles, Park Postale Celestial Houses, Houses of the Smurfs and the Third World become a kind of jungle, a concrete rain forest where confused, which disappear more easily than elsewhere, where ghosts seem easier. Di Lauro had lost all the leaders and heads of area, but had managed to trigger a vicious war without serious losses. It was as if a State had suffered a coup and deposed President, to retain power and defend their own interests, had armed the schoolchildren and converted to letter carriers, officials and department heads in the new military replacements . Allowing them to enter the new center of power and not re-relegated to secondary gear range. A Ugo De Lucia, Di Lauro unconditional accused by the DDA Naples be responsible for the murder of GelsominaVerde, he recorded the conversations through a microphone hidden in his car, as stated in the order of December 2004: "I do not move without orders, I am. The perfect soldier demonstrates his total obedience to Cosimo. Then makes a comment about someone you have hurt, "I killed him, no shot in the leg. If it were me, I crushed the membranes, you know ... Go to my neighborhood is quiet, there can work ... Ugariello, as they call in their neighborhood, kill, hurt never be limited. "Now, I say, we are only us metmonos ... all on one site ... let's stay in the area, five in one house ... five other ... and five in another, and you send us only when we have to call down to blow the brains out. Organize shock groups of five, do they hide in safe houses, leaving only caches to kill. Do not do anything else. A shock groups are called paranze.6 But Petrone, his interlocutor, is quiet, "Yes, but if one of these bastards just finding a hidden Paranza somewhere, they see us, follow us, we skipped the top of the brains ... LET 'At least a couple to go before he died, I say! At least let me settle for four or five! Ideally, Petrone is to kill those who do not know they have been discovered: "The easiest thing is when they are colleagues, they do riding in the car and you take them ... They win because they are more unpredictable in the attack, but also because they provide for their destination. However, before the end must inflict maximum losses on the enemy. Kamikaze logic without bangs. The only one at a disadvantage augurs a victory. Before Paranze organize quickly begin to attack. 6 In common usage, this term covers motopesqueros fishing in a couple and the crew (N. of T.) On January 2, 2005 killing Crescenzo Marino, the father of McKay. They find a strange car for a man of seventy years: Smart. The most expensive of the series. Maybe he thought it was enough to distract the guards. Apparently, a single shot hit him in the middle of the forehead. Nothing except a trail of blood that crosses his face. Perhaps he believed that leaving home for a moment, just a few minutes, it would be dangerous. But it was enough. The same day the Spanish settled

Salvatore Barra Casavatore in a bar. That day is going to Naples, President of the Republic, Carlo Azeglio Ciampi, to ask the city to react, to utter words of encouragement institutional, proximity of the state. Three ambushes occur only in the duration of his speech. January 15 shot in the face to Carmela Attrice, mother of the secessionist Francesco Barone, "or Russo, described as intimate investigations of McKay. The woman left the house not long ago, so I used a child as bait removed. Intercom call ringing. The lady knows, he knows exactly who he is, does not think there's any danger. Still in pajamas, low, open the door and someone on the barrel of a gun in his face and shoot. Blood and brain fluid out of his head like a broken egg. When I arrived at the scene in the Houses Celestial had not yet proceeded to remove the body. People walking on his blood and left footprints everywhere. I swallowed to soothe the stomach. Carmela Attrice had not fled. She had been advised, knew his son was with the Spanish, but the uncertainty of war is that the Camorra. There is nothing definite and clear. Everything becomes real only when it meets. In the dynamics of power, total power, there is nothing that goes beyond the concrete. So flee, stay, away, exposing elections become too delayed, uncertain, all advice is always a counter argument, and only a particular event may make a decision. But when it happens, the decision can only suffer. When you die in the street, forming a sound just awful about. It is true that you die alone. Faces that just do not know under my nose, people touching your legs and arms to see if the body is already dead or worth going to ask for an ambulance. All the faces of serious injuries, all the faces of people who are dying seem united by the same fear. And the same shame. It seems strange, but a moment before ending feels a kind of shame. Scuorno say here. Something like being naked among the people. The same feeling is experienced when one is hurt to death in the street. I never used to see people killed. Nurses, police, everyone is calm, impassive, running memorized gestures has he been ahead. "We have hardened the heart and stomach lining leather," he said a very young hearse driver. When you arrive before the ambulance is difficult to remove the injured eye, if you wanted to not having seen it. There have never understood this is how it dies. The first time I saw a man must have killed thirteen. I remember that day perfectly. I woke up with a tremendous rush for the pajamas, she wore no underwear, clearly betrayed an unwanted erection. The typical morning, impossible to conceal. I remember this episode because as I went to school I saw a corpse in the same situation. There were five, with backpacks full of books. Alfetta had shot one way to school and we passed. My companions rushed to look with curiosity. There were feet up on the seat. The most daring of us asked a policeman how the feet were at the site where the head rests. The police officer did not hesitate to respond, as if he had not realized how old he was his partner. "The rain squalls have done overturn ... I was a kid, but I knew it meant rain bursts of machine guns. He had been so rowdy that his body was upside down, head down and feet up. Then the police opened the door and the corpse fell to the floor like a melted icicle. We looked smooth, without anyone I said was that this was not a show for children. Without any moral hand to come to close our eyes. The dead man had an erection. The tight jeans let him see clearly. And what

impressed me. It stuck with me during the scene long time. I spent days wondering what could have happened. What he was thinking, what he was doing before he died. I took the afternoon trying to guess he had in mind before you croak, I was obsessed until I mustered the courage to ask for an explanation and was told that the erection is a common reaction among those who died violent deaths. That morning, Linda, a girl in our group, when he saw the body slip out of the car, began to mourn, infecting more than two children. A broken cry. A young man in civilian clothes grabbed him by the hair, spat in his face and turning to us, said: - Why do you cry? This was scum, nothing happened, so good. Nothing happened. Do not cry ... Since then I have never managed to believe the forensic scenes with gloves, walking quietly, careful not to move dust and shells. When I next to the bodies before the ambulance and watched the last moments of life for someone who is conscious of being killed-do, always comes to mind the end of Heart of Darkness, when a woman asks Marlow, back and in your country, the man she loved, she asks what Kurtz said before he died. And Marlow is lying. Replied that she asked, when in fact it had not given any kind word, no phrase pretty. Kurtz had only said: "The horror." It is believed that the last word uttered by a dying is your last thought, the most important fundamental. Who dies as saying that it was worth living. Not so. When you die do not come to light anything but fear. All or nearly all, repeat the same phrase banal, simple and immediate: "I will not die." Faces that have always overlapped with that of Kurtz, faces the anguish, disgust and rejection that occurs in a horrific end in the worst of all possible worlds. The horror. After seeing dozens of people killed, stained with his own blood mixed with dirt, emitting foul smells, looks with curiosity or indifference professional avoided as hazardous waste or discussed with convulsive screams, I have come to one conclusion, an idea so elemental to border on idiotic disgusting death. In Secondigliano, the kids, the kids, the kids know exactly how you die and how best to die. I was about to leave the place where he had laid the trap to Carmela Attrice, when I heard about a kid with a friend. The tone of both was Serene: "I want to die like this lady. In the head, heart pam ... and it's all over. "But you have given on the face, and face worse. "No, worse, is a moment too. Front of or behind all the same, in both cases is the head. I got into the conversation, trying to give my opinion and asking questions. "You'd better give you chest, right? "I told the kids. A shot in the heart and that's it. But the boy knew better than I the dynamics of pain and began to tell in detail the pain caused by the impact of the projectile, with a professional expert. "No, chest hurts, a lot of damage, and take ten minutes to die. They have to fill their lungs with blood, and also the impact it's like you stick a pin-fire and you removed it inside. Hurt even in the arms and legs. There is very strong as a snake bite. A bite that does not loosen the meat. At the head is better, so do not pee over and not you miss the shit. Do not spend half an hour in the soil agitndote ... Had seen. And more than one body. Shot in the head keeps shaking with fear, urinate on and expel bad smell, the stench from the heart through the holes in the belly. Continue asking questions about details of the death, on the ambush. All possible questions except the one I should have done, or why fourteen thought how to die. But that idea never happened to me for a moment by the mind. The boy was presented with his nickname. He

came from Pokmon, the Japanese cartoon. The boy was blonde and flat enough to call him "Pikachu." He noted, among the crowd that had Agol-ticipated around the body of the murdered woman, two guys who were watching the body. Pikachu lowered his voice: "Look at those in there, did you see? These are the ones who killed Pupetta. Carmela Attrice called it "Pupetta." I tried to look into the faces of children who had indicated Pikachu. He looked excited, throbbing, aside heads and shoulders the better to see the police covered the body. Women had been killed openly, they sat around, under the statue of Padre Pio, and as she had a few people gathered around the corpse had gone to see. A few days after they laid down the gauntlet. A large group for an ambush of a harmless woman, who was murdered in his pajamas and slippers. A group at his baptism of fire, the business of selling retail drug con-poured into armed. The youngest was sixteen, the oldest, twenty-eight. The alleged murderer, twenty. When arrested, one of them, seeing the flashes and TV cameras, he began to laugh and wink at reporters. Also arrested the alleged bait, the boy of sixteen who had been called ringing the intercom to bring down women. Sixteen years, the same as the daughter of Carmela Attrice, when you hear the shots out on the balcony and begins to mourn because he quickly realizes what has happened. According to research, the executors had returned to the scene. Too much curiosity. How to attend the film's own life. First on the role of actor and then the viewer, but within the same film. It must be true that anyone who fails to have triggered a precise memory of the gesture you make, because those guys were back filled with curiosity to see who had organized and which side was its victim. Pikachu asked if those guys were one of the Di Lauro Paranza or if they wanted to form one. The boy laughed: - A Paranza? ... That want them ... but they've seen a few pelagatos.Yo Paranza ... Do not know if Pikachu was telling fibs or simply had collected things that were heard by Scampia, but his account was accurate. A boy thorough in their stories, accurate to the point of having any doubts seem unreal. He was glad to see my stunned face as he spoke. Pikachu told me he had a dog named Careca, as the Brazilian striker Italian champions Napoli. One dog came often to the top of the stairs. One day he heard someone behind the front door of the flat, usually empty, and began scratching with toenails. After a few seconds, a burst of machine gun fired from the other side of the door gave him full. Pikachu episode had me playing all the sounds: -Tra-tra-tra-tra-tra ... Careca died on the spot ... and the door, pam ... swung open. Pikachu sat on the floor with your feet flat on the wall and arms as if holding a machine gun. I played the position in which he was the guard who had killed the dog. The guard was behind the door. Sitting with a pillow behind his back and the soles of the feet flat on both sides of the door. An awkward posture to prevent him from sleep one especially because bottom-up shoot safely eliminate anyone who stood in front of the door, without danger to the caretaker. Pikachu told me when they killed the dog, gave money to apologize to the family and then invited into the house Taron. On the floor where he was hiding a whole Paranza. He remembered all the empty rooms, only with beds, a table and a television. Pikachu was talking rapidly, gesturing a lot and playing positions and movements of members of the Paranza. Nervous, tense, and one of them was "cones" around their necks. The cones are hand pumps of the Paranze men carry with them. Pikachu said that next to a window was a basket full of pineapples. Camorra clans have always had a

particular fondness for hand pumps. Everywhere, the stocks of the clans were brimming with hand pumps and tank, all from eastern Europe. Pikachu in the floor had spent hours playing playstation and that he had challenged and beaten all members of the Paranza. Always won, and he promised that "one of those days I would carry with them a real shot." One of the legends of the neighborhood that Ugo De Lucia obsessively played Winning Eleven, the most famous football game of the playstation. It seems, "according to allegations in four days, which not only committed three murders but also ended a football tournament in the game. Instead, what counts the repentant Peter Esposito, called "Kojack seems not to be a legend. He entered a house where Ugo De Lucia was lying in bed watching television, commenting on the news: - We made two pieces! And those others have a part in the Third World. Television was the best way to continue the war in real time without having to make embarrassing phone calls. From this point of view, the media attention that the war had brought upon Scampia supposed military strategic advantage. But what most impressed me was the term 'parts. Part was the new way to describe a murder. Speaking of the war dead of Secondigliano, Pikachu also spoke of the pieces that had been made by Di Lauro and the pieces that had made the secessionists. "Making a piece 'is an expression taken from the work piece, the murder of a man equated with making something, anything. One piece. Pikachu and I started walking and he told me things about the children of the clan, the true strength of the Di Lauro. I asked where they met and offered to accompany me, everyone knew him and wanted to prove it. There was a pizzeria where they met at night. Before going, we went to pick up a friend of Pikachu, one of which formed part of the system for some time. Pikachu adored him, described him as a kind of boss, was a relation between the children of the system because he had been given the task of feeding the refugees and, he says, make the purchase directly to the Di Lauro family. Tonino called "Kit Kat" because they ate tons of chocolates. Kit Kat is the boss was small, but I'm skeptical. I asked him questions to which he tired to respond, so he got up the jersey. Entire chest was covered in bruises round. In the center of purple circles appeared greenish yellow spots and broken capillaries. "What have you done? "The vest ... - Does the vest? "Yes, the vest ... - And the vest makes these cardinals? "Of course, the eggplants are the bullets that have reached me ... Bruises, eggplant, were the result of gun shot the vest stopped an inch before you get to come in the flesh. To teach not to fear arms, wear a vest made the kids and shoot them. A life alone is not sufficient to drive an individual to not flee from a gun. A vest is no vaccine against fear. The only way to numb all fear was to show how weapons could be neutralized. I was told they were being taken to the countryside, just outside Secondigliano. I did get the body armor under his shirt and gun unloaded carrier means

against each other. "When it's bullet hit the ground and stop breathing, open your mouth and take in more air, but is not nothing. Can not get over. They are like Slap Shot in the chest, you think you're going to explode ... But then you wake up, that's what matters. After the shot, get up. Kit Kat had been trained with others to being shot, a training to die, rather, to almost die. Recruit them as they are capable of being loyal to clan. Have between twelve and seventeen years many are children or siblings of members, while many come from families of workers in precarious employment. They are the new army of the clans of the Camorra napolitana.Vienen the historic center, the neighborhood of Sanit, Forcella, Secondigliano, the neighborhood San Gaetano, the Spanish Quarter, the Pallonetto, are recruited by various clans structured affiliations . By number, are a real army. The advantages for the clans are manifold: a child charges less than half the salary of an adult member of the category low, rarely should keep parents, does not have family obligations, no schedule, you do not need a salary point and, above all, is willing to be permanently on the street. The duties are varied and diverse responsibilities. It begins with the sale of soft drugs, especially hashish. The children are almost always located in the busiest streets. With time starting to sell pills and almost always provide a moped. Finally, cocaine: the lead directly to universities, to the vicinity of the premises and hotels, metro stations. Groups of children are central camels flexible economy of drug sales because they draw less attention, sell for kicking the ball and a motorcycle race, and often go to the customer's home. In many cases, clan does not require the children to work in the morning, in fact, continue to attend class during the primary, in part because if they decided not to go could more easily discover. After the first few months of work, many kids go into the streets armed to defend themselves and at the same time to assert themselves: a field promotion that promises the possibility of climbing to the top of the clan. Learn to use automatic and semiautomatic pistols in landfills in the vicinity or in the galleries of the Naples underground. When shows that are legit and have total confidence head of area, can play a greater role than that of camel become a cop. Control on a city street, entrusted to them, that the trucks unload goods for supermarkets and stores are places where the clan, and when not, report that the dealer of a particular trade is not " selected. " In covering the works is also important the presence of poly. Contractors often subcontract to builders rowdy group, but sometimes the work is awarded a "non-advised." To find out if a work is subcontracted the work to firms 'external', clans need to exercise vigilance and not arouse suspicion. This task is entrusted to the children, who observe, monitor, report to the head area and receive orders on how to act in this case in a work the contractor has "failed." The children behave like rowdy members mature and have responsibilities comparable to those of the latter. Start the race very soon, burn at high speed stages, and his rise to positions of power within the Camorra is radically changing the genetic structure of the clans. Heads of area children, very young boss become unpredictable and ruthless partners are guided by the logic further, the dynamics is incomprehensible to the police and the Anti-Mafia. They are totally new and unknown faces. With the restructuring of the clan held by Cosimo, whole fields of drug sales are handled by adolescents of fifteen or sixteen, who give orders to men of forty and fifty

without feeling uncomfortable even for a moment and believe that there are height. A hidden microphone installed by the police in the car with a boy, Antonio Galeota Lanza, can intervene in a conversation in which this account, with loud music, how they live making camel "Every Sunday night win eight or nine euros, but make camel is a job that takes you to handle crack, cocaine and you bet five hundred years in prison ... Increasingly often, the children of the system trying to get everything they want by using the "iron", which is what they call the gun, and the desire for a mobile phone or a stereo, a car or a motorcycle, easily converts to a murder. In the Naples of child soldiers is not unusual to hear next to the box stores, all stores and supermarkets, statements like: "I belong to the Secondigliano System" or "I belong to the Barrios System." Magic words by which the children take what they want and to which no trader ever require the payment of products. In Secondigliano, this new structure had been militarized kids. They had become soldiers. Pikachu and Kit Kat took me to a pizzeria in the area whose owner, Nello, was responsible for feeding the children of the system when they finished their shift. Nothing more set foot in the pizzeria, was a group. It I saw logs, inflated, because under the jersey wearing the vest. Left mopeds on the sidewalk and entered without greeting anyone. The way to move and it bears inlaid chest made them look like football players. Faces of kids, some began to grow a beard, had between thirteen and sixteen. Pikachu and Kit Kat made me sit with them, which did not seem to bother anyone. Ate and, especially, drink. Water, Coca-Cola, Fanta. An incredible thirst. Even with the pizza they wanted refresh: asked for a bottle of oil, oil and more oil added to the pizzas because they said they were too dry. In his mouth had dried everything from saliva to the words. Suddenly I realized that they came to do the night watch and had taken pills. MDMA tablets were given. In order not to sleep, to avoid wasting time eating twice a day. Moreover, MDMA was patented by Merck in Germany to be provided to soldiers in the trenches in the First World War, the soldiers whom they called Menschenmaterial, human material, which thus bear hunger cold and terror. Then the Americans used in espionage. Now, these young soldiers also received a dose of artificial and resistance value adulterated. Sipping ate pieces of pizza that they cut. From the table it was clear a noise like that make old when sipping the broth from the spoon. The children were put back to speak, continued to call agua.Y bottles so I did a thing that could have been punished with violence, but I sensed he could do it because we were kids in front of him. Sausages lead ballast, but the kids after all. I put a recorder on the table and walked out loud to everyone, trying to eye contact with each of them: "Cheer up, speak here before, say what you like ... No one thought it strange a gesture, no one thought he was at a cop or a journalist. Some insults were made before the recorder. Then a boy, abetted by some of my questions, told me his career. And he seemed eager to do so. "I started working in a bar, earning two hundred euros per month, with tips came to two hundred, and the work I did not like. I wanted to work in the office with my brother, but they caught me. The system won three hundred euros a week, but if I sell enough also won a percentage of each brick (the tablet hashish) and I can reach three hundred fifty four euros. I have to currrmelo, but in the end always gives me something else.

After a flurry of belching that two buck wanted to record, the little boy, whom they called "Sator"-a combination of Sasa and Totoro ", continued: "At first I was always in the street, but I hated not having a moped, having to go on foot or by bus. The work I like, all respect me and also I can do whatever I want. But now I have an iron and I have to be always there. The Third World and the Houses of the Smurfs. Always locked in here, up and down. I do not like. Sator I smiled and laughed and cried in front of the recorder, "iSacadme of here ...! Tell them to master! They had been armed, they were given an iron, a pistol, and a very limited area to work. Kit Kat began to speak in front of the recorder, playing the holes with lips so that the microphone was taped to his breathing. "I want to start a company to restore homes, or a warehouse or store, the system has to give me money to ride it, I take care of everything else I also decide who I marry. I have to marry one that is not here, with a black model or German. Pikachu took a deck from his pocket and put four of them playing cards. The people got up and stretched, but none took off his vest. I kept asking why Paranze Pikachu, but was beginning to tire of my harping. He said he had been home a few days ago a Paranza and had been dismantled, he had only been an MP3 player to listen to when going to "make parts." MP3 overheard by the men of the Paranza as they went to murder, collection of music files, hanging from the neck of Pikachu. With an excuse, I asked him to lend me a few days. He laughed, as to say he was not offended if you had thought was so stupid, stupid enough to walk to give things. So I bought it, took out fifty euros and got the reader. I immediately got headphones on, I wanted to know what the background music of the massacre. Expected to hear rap music, hard rock, heavy metal, but it was an unbroken succession of fragments neomeldicos and pop music. U.S. rap gorging fire, the killers would kill Secondigliano listening love songs. Pikachu began to cut the deck, wondering if he would participate, but I always gave me bad play cards. So I left the table. The waiters in the pizzeria had the same age as the children of the system and looked on with admiration, not daring even to serve them. Was concerned that the owner personally. Here, an apprenticeship, a waiter or a work is a disgrace. Besides the usual reasons-eternal underground work, holidays and unpaid sick leave, ten hours on average daily, "you have no hope of improving your situation. The system at least offers the illusion that the effort is recognized, there career opportunities. An affiliate will never be seen as an apprentice, the chavalas never think that courting a failure. These kids inflated these ridiculous-looking puppet guards football did not have in mind become Al Capone but Flavio Briatore, not gunmen but businessmen accompanied by models: wanted to become successful entrepreneurs. January 19 Pasquale kill Paladini, forty-five years. Eight shots. Chest and head. A few hours later shot in the legs Antonio Auletta, nineteen years. But on January 21 it appears that the situation takes an unexpected turn. Suddenly begins to spread the word, without news agencies. Cosimo Di Lauro has been arrested. The ruler of the band, the leader of the massacre, according to allegations by the Anti-Mafia Prosecutor of Naples, the commander of the clan as the repentant. Cosimo was hiding in a hole forty meters and slept in a bed half broken. The heir of a criminal society able to bill only for the drug five hundred thousand euros a day and could

have a residence of five million euros in the heart of one of the most miserable of Italy, was forced to withdraw into a tiny hole smelly and not far from his alleged mansion. A residence emerged from nowhere in dell'Arco Via Cupa, near the family home of the Di Lauro. An elegant villa of the eighteenth century Pompeian restored as a residence. Impluvium, columns, stucco and plaster, suspended ceilings and staircases. A residence that no one suspected existed. Nobody knew his own for-males; the police were investigating, but no one doubted the neighborhood. It was for Cosimo. The police discovered the town by chance, springing the thick walls surrounding it. Found in some workers who, when they saw the uniform, escaped. The war was not possible to complete the residence, fill it with furniture and pictures, making it the regent's mansion in the heart of gold marcescent body of the construction of Secondigliano. When Cosimo hears the sound of rubber boots of the police who will arrest him when he hears the sound of the guns, do not try to escape, not even a weapon. Stands in front of the mirror. Dip the comb, remove the hair back from his forehead and picks it up in a ponytail at the nape of the neck, leaving the curly hair falling on the neck. It puts a black turtleneck jersey and a black trenchcoat. Cosimo Di Lauro is dressed as a clown for the crime, a warrior of the night, and down the stairs straight. Limp, a few years before, he was an unfortunate fall from the bike and the lameness is the gift he received from that accident. But downstairs has thought of this. Based on the forearms of the police who escorted him, get to hide his disability, walking with normal gait. The new military rulers of the Neapolitan criminal societies are not as cool neighborhood, have no wild-eyed and lost in Cutolo, do not think they have to behave like Luciano Liggio or Lucia Lucky cartoons and not Al Capone. Matrix, The Crow and Pulp Fiction to get better and more quickly understand what they want and who they are. These models all know and have no need for excessive mediation. The show is over sibilant code or limited Wink mythology underworld crime neighborhood. Cosimo watch the television cameras and photographers objectives, lower your chin, lift the front. He has left to be found as Brusca, with frayed jeans and a shirt stained with salsa, is not afraid as Ftiina, who walked on a helicopter, nor have caught half asleep as happened to Misso, boss of Sanita . He is a man trained in the society of spectacle and knows to leave the stage. It is presented as a warrior in his first truce. Seem to be paying to have much value, for leading the war with an excess of zeal. It says his face. Not appear to take him arrested, but simply to change its base of operations. By unleashing the war knew it was going straight to the arrest. But I had no choice. Or war or death. And you represent the arrest as proof of his victory, the symbol of value, able to dismiss all sorts of selfprotection in order to save the family system. People in the neighborhood just to see you turn the blood. Start the revolt, overturn cars, filled with bottles of gasoline and release. The hysteria is not intended to avoid arrest, as it seems, but avert vengeance. Eliminate any possibility of suspicion. Cosimo indicate that no one has betrayed. Nobody has left the language, which the hieroglyph of his hiding place has not been deciphered with the help of their neighbors. It is a huge rite almost apologetically, a chapel of expiation metaphysical people in the neighborhood wants to build the cars burned the police patrol, containers placed as a barricade, black smoke covers the tires. If Cosimo suspect, will not have time or you pack, the military ax will fall on them relentlessly condemns the umpteenth horn. A few days after stopping the stem of the clan, the face that looks arrogant television

cameras appears as screensavers in cell phones from dozens of boys and little girls from schools in Torre Annunziata, Quarto, Marano. Mere gestures of provocation, banal stupidity of teenagers. No doubt. But Cosimo knew. So we must act to be recognized as capos, to reach the hearts of individuals. We must also know how to use the screen, the ink in the newspapers, you should know be the queue. Cosimo is clearly the new System employer. Laimagen of the new bourgeoisie freed from all restraint, driven by the absolute will to dominate all areas of the market, to take over everything. No compromise. Making a choice does not mean limiting the scope itself, deprived of any possibility. No one who considers life to a space where you can conquer all and risk losing everything. Means having to be arrested, to end badly, with death. But it means giving up. Want it all and quickly, and have it soon. That is the beauty and strength that embodies Cosimo Di Lauro. Everyone, even those most concerned about their integrity, they end up in jail for the pension, all discovered before or after they are cuckolds, all served by a Polish finish. Why fall into depression looking for a job that only gives to bad life? Why stop answering the phone on a part-time employment? Become an entrepreneur. But really. Able to trade with all and doing business up to scratch. "Ernst Jnger say that greatness is exposed to the storm. Repeating the same boss, employers, the Camorra. Being the center of all action, the center of power. Use it all as a means and as an end themselves. Those who say it is immoral, there can be no life without ethics, the economy has limits and rules to follow, are only those that have failed to send, which have been defeated by the market. Ethics is the limit of the loser, the protection of the defeated, the moral justification for those who have failed to go all out and win everything. The Act has its codes set, but justice is another matter. Justice is an abstract principle that affects everyone, which allows, depending on how you interpret, to absolve or condemn every human being responsible ministers, popes guilty, guilty, saints and heretics, guilty of revolutionaries and reactionaries. All guilty of having betrayed, killed, wrong. Guilty of aging and death. Found to have been overcome and defeated. Guilty all the universal court of historical moral and acquitted by the need. Justice and injustice have only one meaning in the concrete. In victory or defeat, of action taken or suffered. If someone offends you, if he treats you badly, is committing an injustice if, however, I reserve a preferential treatment, it makes justice. Noting the power of the clan, you have to abide by these categories. At these endpoints. Enough. Should be. This is the only real way to value justice. The rest is nothing but religion and confessional. The eco-nomic imperative is shaped by this logic. There are bullies who persecute businesses are businesses that are chasing the troublemakers. The logic of criminal business, the thought of the boss agrees with the more radical neo-liberalism. The rules issued, the rules imposed are the business, profit, victory over any competitor. The rest is zero. The rest does not exist. Being in a position to decide about life and death of all, to promote a product, to monopolize a market segment to invest in advanced sectors is a power that is paid out or life imprisonment. Have power for ten years, for a year, for an hour. The length does not matter: live, send really, that's what counts. Winning the market arena and get to watch the sun directly, as he did in jail Raffaele Giuliano, boss of Forcella, daring, proving that he does not even light dazzled by excellence. Raffaele Giuliano, who had been sprinkled with pepper cruelty of the blade of a knife before nailing it to a relative of one of his enemies, to make

you feel an excruciating burning while the blade came in the flesh, inch by inch. In prison he was feared not for this bloody thoroughness, but her gaze defiant able to stay high even looking at the sun. Awareness of being businessmen destined to succumb, death or life imprisonment, "but with the relentless desire to dominate and unlimited powerful economies. The boss is killed or stopped, but the economic system he has created remains, still to change, transform, improve and profit. This awareness of samurai liberals, who know they have the power, absolute, requires a payment, I found summarized in a letter from a guy locked in a juvenile institution, a letter handed to a priest and that was read during a symposium. I still remember what he said. Memory: Everyone I know or have died or are in jail. I want to be a boss. I want to supermarkets, shops, factories, I want women. I want three cars I want when I go into a shop to respect me, I have stores worldwide. And then I die. But as real bous dies, one that actually sends. I want to kill me. This is the new beat that mark the criminal entrepreneurs. This is the new strength of the economy. Dominate at the expense of anything. Power over everything. Economic victory more precious than life. That anyone's life, and even their own. System The children had even begun to call "dead speakers." In a tapped telephone conversation that is on the order of arrest issued by the Anti-Mafia Prosecutor in February 2006, explained by telephone a boy who are the heads of Secondigliano area: "They're brats, speaking dead, dead, dead, moving ... No more, no more catch and kill you, but overall life is already lost ... Heads children, kamikazes of the clans that will not die for no religion but by money and power at the expense of whatever, as the only way worth living. On the night of January 21, the night of the arrest of Cosimo Di Lauro, Giulio body appears Ruggiero. They find a burned out car, a body in the driver's seat. A decapitated body. The head was in the rear. It had been cut. Not a hack, but with a radial toothed circular saw that blacksmiths used to smooth welds. The worst instrument of all, but that is why the most dramatic. First cut the meat and then shattered collar bone. They must have made the task there, as there were bits of flesh on the ground. Even before the investigations were initiated in the area all seemed to be sure it was a message. A symbol. Cosimo Di Lauro could not have been arrested without a tip. That body was truncated in the imagination of all the traitor. Who has sold only a boss can be destroyed in this way. The sentence is imposed before starting the investigations. Whether you are telling the truth or lie. I looked at that car and that head left in Via Hugo Pratt without lowering of the Vespa. I arrived at the hearing details of how they had burned the body and head cut, how they fill the mouth of gasoline, as a wick between the teeth and, after having lit, had waited until his head exploded. Start the Vespa and I left. On 24 January, when I was lying on the floor tiles, dead. A swarm of police walked nervously in front of the store where the execution took place. The nth. "One died a day has become the mantra of Naples," says a nervous guy who walks by. It is to be discovered over the dead, she never sees, and leaves. When the killers entered the store and pressed the gun butts. It was clear they did not want to steal but to kill, punish. Attilio tried to hide behind the counter. I knew it was no good, but perhaps expected to indicate that he was unarmed, had nothing to do, I had not done anything. Maybe he realized that those two were soldiers of the Camorra, the war unleashed by the Di Lauro. He shot, emptied the boots and after "service" came out, some say it calmly, as

if they had bought a mobile instead of killing an individual. Attilio Romano is there. Blood everywhere. It almost seems that the soul has left him for the bullet holes that have marked the whole body. When you see so much blood on the floor begin to touch you, you find that you are not injured at that blood is not yours too, you start to enter a state of psychotic anxiety, try to make sure there are no wounds on your body, that you have not injured by accident, without realizing it. And yet, do not believe that a man can have so much blood, you are sure you have a lot less. When you become convinced that the blood you have not lost you, is not enough: you feel bleeding but the bleeding is not yours. You yourself become bleeding, notes the legs loose, pasty mouth, hands notes that lake dissolved in dense, you want someone looked inside the eyes to determine the degree of anemia. You want to call a nurse and ask for a transfusion, would like to have closed the stomach as a steak, if you can not vomitar.T Gotta close your eyes and not breathing. The smell of clotted blood that has permeated the walls also iron room oxidado.T know You gotta go outside before they set sawdust on the blood, because the mixture gives off a terrible odor that makes it impossible to contain the urge to vomit. Did not understand why he had decided to once again come to the crime scene. One thing was certain: it is important to trace the path that leads to what has been completed, reconstruction of the terrible tragedy that has taken place. It is useless to observe the chalk circles around the remains of the caps, which seem almost child's play bowling. What it takes is to notice if something has been. Maybe that's what I find. I try to understand if fleet still something human, if there is a path, a gallery excavated by the worm of existence which can lead to a solution, in a reply given by the real sense of what is happening. Attilio's body remains on the ground when the relatives arrive. Two women, maybe his mother and his wife do not know. Walk hugging the shoulder of a hit to the shoulder of the other, are the only hope still has not happened already know exactly what has happened. But they caught, they say to each other for a moment before meeting with the tragedy. At such times, in steps of women and mothers to the encounter with the body shot is when it senses an irrational, foolish, foolish faith in human desire. Wait, wait, wait and still waiting was a mistake, a lie that has been passed by word of mouth, a misunderstanding of the police official who announced the murder and the murderer. As if you persist in believing something could really change the course of events. At that time, blood pressure of hope reaches an absolute maximum with no minimum. But there is nothing to do. The screams and cries show the gravity of the real. Ring is on the ground. Worked in a phone shop and, to round salary, in a call center. He and his wife, Natalia, yet had no children. Was not yet the time may not have financial resources to maintain and perhaps waiting for the opportunity to grow it elsewhere. The days were limited to working hours, and when he had the opportunity and savings, Attilio considered desirable become a shareholder in the store where he met his death. But the other partner is far from Pariante family, the boss of Bacoli: Di Lauro a colonel, one of those who have turned against him. Attilio does not know or at least obscure the fact, he trusts his partner, you just know it is a person who lives working very hard work, too. In short, not here decide its own destiny, the work seems to be a privilege, something that once obtained is not loose, almost like a fortune that I had touched a kindly fate has chosen you, but the

work forces you to be Away thirteen hours a day, you leave half Sunday off and give you a thousand euros a month barely enough to pay you a loan. Regardless of how he or work, give thanks and do not ask too many questions, or to oneself or to the destination. However, someone dropped the suspect. And from that time, the body is exposed Roman Attilio to join the Camorra soldiers killed in recent months. The bodies are the same, but the reasons for death are different but it falls into the same front line. Are the families who decide who you are, what your Risiko7 sides in the conflict. The sides are determined independently of individual will. When armies move down the street, it is not possible to establish an external dynamic strategy, it is they who decide the meaning, reasons, causes. At that moment, the shop where I worked was Attilio expression of an economy linked to the Spanish group, and the economy had to be eliminated. 7 Game Table or computer that simulates an international conflict and provides strategies for war (N. of T.) Natalia, "Nata", such as Attilio called, was a girl overwhelmed by the tragedy. Had been married just four months, but is comforted at the funeral is not the president, a minister, the mayor shaking hands. Maybe it's better this way, it saves the institutional staging. But whatever floats about Attilio's death is the unfair suspicion. And mistrust is silent conformity to the order granting the Camorra. Consensus yet another performance of the clans. But the companions of the call center of "Attila", as he was known for his violent desire to live, organize marches night and insist on walking but in the course of the demonstration continued occurrence of ambushes, although blood staining the street continues. Continue, turn lights, are heard, remove all traces of shame, erase any suspicion. Attila died working and had no connection with the Camorra. In fact, after each ambush suspicion falls on everyone. The machine is too perfect clans. No error. No punishment. So is the clan to which a vote of confidence, not relatives, who do not understand, not the co-workers, who know, not the biography of an individual. In this war, people were crushed without being guilty of anything, they are included in side effects or the likely culprits. A boy, Dario Scherillo, twenty-six, was killed on December 26, 2004, while riding his motorcycle, shot in the face and chest, let it die on the floor bathed in his own blood, who has time to permeate shirt completely. An innocent boy. He has enough to be Casavatore, a town battered by the conflict. For him, again silence and incomprehension. No reminder, plate or registration. "When the Camorra kill someone, you never know, 'says an old man making the sign of the cross near where Dario has fallen. The blood in the soil is of a red blood vivo.Toda not have the same color. The Dario is purple, it seems that still flows. Piles of sawdust is not just absorb it. After a while, a car, taking advantage of the empty space, park on the bloodstain. And everything ends. Everything is covered. Has been killed to send a message to the country, a message of meat stuck in an envelope with blood. As in Bosnia, as in Algeria, and Somalia, as in any confused civil war, when it is difficult to know which side you belong, just kill your neighbor, the dog, a friend or relative. A rumor of kinship, a similarity is a sufficient condition to become white. Simply go through a street immediately receive an identity of lead. The important thing is to concentrate the maximum possible pain, tragedy and terror. With the sole purpose of demonstrating the absolute force, the undisputed command, failure to oppose the power

true, real, prevalent. So get used to think like those who may be offended by a gesture or a word. Stay tuned, quiet, be prudent to save life, not to touch the high voltage cable of the vendetta. As I walked away, while carrying Audio Romany, I began to understand. To understand why there is not one moment that my mother did not look at me with concern, not understanding why I'm out of here, why do not go running away, why continue to live in this infernal place. I tried to remember how many fallen, killed, has been affected since birth. It would not count the dead to understand the economies of the Camorra, moreover, are at the least sign of royal power, but they are the most visible sign and getting to reason with the stomach immediately. Start the count: in 1979, one hundred dead in 1980, one hundred forty, in 1981, one hundred and ten, in 1982 two hundred and sixty-four in 1983, two hundred and four, in 1984, one hundred and fifty-five in 1986, one hundred and seven; in 1987, one hundred twenty-seven; in 1988, one hundred sixty-eight in 1989, two hundred and twenty eight in 1990, two hundred and twenty-two in 1991, two hundred and twenty-three in 1992, one hundred sixty, in 1993, one hundred and twenty, in 1994, one hundred and fifteen; in 1995, one hundred forty-eight in 1996, one hundred forty-seven in 1997, one hundred and thirty, in 1998, one hundred thirty-two in 1999, ninety-one, in 2000, one hundred and eighteen, in 2001, eighty, in 2002 sixty-three, in 2003, eighty-three in 2004, one hundred forty-two in 2005, ninety. Three dead in 1600 from birth. The Camorra has murdered more than the Sicilian Mafia, but the 'Ndrangheta, but the Russian mafia, rather than Albanian families, rather than the total number of deaths caused by ETA in Spain and the IRA in Ireland, more than Red Brigades, the NAR8 more and more that all state crimes committed in Italy. The Camorra has killed more than anyone. It comes to my mind an image. The world map which appears frequently in newspapers. Stresses in some numbers Le Monde Diplomatique, the map is indicated by a bright flame all places on earth where there is a conflict. Kurdistan, Sudan, Kosovo, East Timor. Just put your eyes on the south Armed Nuclei Revolucionariso 8, right-wing group held responsible for killing twentythree, including the judge Amato (N. of T.) Italy. Adding up the lumps of flesh that accumulate in every war connected with the Camorra, the Mafia, 'Ndrangheta, the sacristy of Apulia or Basilischi of Lucania9 But there is no sign of sparks, no drawn any fire. This is the heart of Europe. Here is forged most of the nation's economy. What are the strategies used to obtain, is not important. It is necessary that the slaughterhouse meat remains mired in the neighborhoods of the periphery, burst into chaos and filth cement in underground factories and warehouses of coca. And no one mentions it, everything looks like a gang war, a war between outlaws. And then also understand the look of your friends who have emigrated, returning from Milan or Padua and do not know what you've become. You look up and down to figuring out and guess your weight if you are a chiachiello, a calamity, or bduono, a man of means. A failure or a troublemaker. And in the parting of the ways, you know what you're walking and you see nothing good at the end of the course. I returned home, but I could not sit still. I went down and started to run, faster, faster and faster, twisted knees, heels rattled the buttocks, arms seemed disjointed and waved like a puppet. Run, run, keep running. The heart goes on a rampage, mouth saliva language almost swamped and flooded the teeth. He could feel the blood swelling carotid overflowing in the chest was out of breath, inhaled through the nose as much air as possible and immediately expelled him as a bull. I took running back, eyes closed, with the feeling of having cold hands and

face burning. It seemed that all that blood at the floor, lost as a last tap screw, had re-The recovered I felt it in my body. 9 The Vestry and the Basilischi are also crime syndicates. (N. of T.) I finally reached the sea. I jumped to the rocks, the darkness was steeped in mist, could not even see the headlights of the boats sailing in the gulf. The sea was ruffled, began to rise some waves, seemed unwilling to touch the mud of the shoreline, but neither returned to swirl far offshore. Remain motionless in the shifting of water in an impossible stubborn resist peer clinging to its crest of foam. Stops, not knowing where the sea is still Tues A few weeks later began arriving reporters. From everywhere, suddenly, the Camorra had returned to exist in the region where it was thought that only existed bands and snatchers. Secondigliano became few hours in the spotlight. Special envoys, photographers most important agencies, until a permanent staff of the BBC. A boy poses for photograph it with a reporter carrying a camera on his shoulder with the CNN Togo visible. "They're the same people who are with Saddam-comment Scampia laughing. Those filmed by television cameras feel transported to the center of the world. Attention which would appear first in those places really exist. The killing of Secondigliano attracts attention that did not raise the dynamics of Camorra for twenty years. In the north of Naples, war kills in a short time, respects the journalistic standards of the chronicle, in a little over a month accumulated dozens of victims. Seems done on purpose to give each sent dead. Success for all. Fellows come in droves to do internships. Microphones appear everywhere to interview camels, to play the grim chambers angular profile of Sails. Some even get to interview alleged camels, taking them back. By contrast, almost all give some money to heroin, to mumble their history. Two girls, two journalists make the operator photographed in front of a burned car case that have not yet retired. Already have a souvenir of his first child as war reporters. A French journalist phoned me asking if I have to bring the bulletproof vest, taking into account that wants to go to photograph the house of Cosimo Di Lauro. The teams go back and forth by car, photograph, film, as explorers in a forest where everything is becoming shorthand. Occasional journalist moving under escort. To describe Secondigliano, the worst option is to be escorted by police. Scampia is not an inaccessible location, the strength of the square of the drug is its total accessibility and guaranteed for everyone. Journalists who are with escorts can only grasp with the view that found on any news provided by news agencies. Like being at the computer in the writing, with the difference to be moving. Over a hundred journalists in less than two weeks. Suddenly the square of the drug in Europe comes into existence. The police themselves are under siege, everyone wants to participate in operations, arresting at least see a camel, a house record. Everyone wants to get into the fifteen minute interview some pictures of wives and some machine guns seized. Many officers are beginning to shake off the many reporters and making research neoperiodistas photograph plainclothes policemen who pretend to be camels. One way to give them what they want without spending too much time. The worst thing possible in the shortest time possible. The worst of the worst, the horror of horror, to convey the tragedy, blood, guts, shooting machine guns, pierced the skull, burned meat. The worst thing about it is only purria the worst. Many historians believe Secondigliano found in

the ghetto in Europe, absolute poverty. If they could not escape, they would realize that they have before the pillars of the economy, the hidden reef, the dark energy where the heart is beating the market. Received from television journalists most incredible proposals. Some asked me to put a micro in one ear and walk the streets "I knew", according to people "that I knew." Scampia dreamed that they provide material for an episode of a reality with murder and selling drugs included. One writer gave me a text that had a history of blood and death, the devil in the New Century was conceived in the Third World neighborhood. Free for a month I had dinner every night, I invited television crews to me absurd proposals, to seek information. During the period of Faida was created in Secondigliano and Scampia accompanying a real market, official spokesmen, confident, Indian guides in the reserve of the Camorra. Many young people had a technique. Roamed around the sites of journalists pretending to sell drugs or pretending to be a cop, and as a collection of value did approach them, then dis-positions were declared to have to explain to shoot left. Immediately announced the rates: fifty euros for the witness, a hundred euros for a journey through the streets selling drugs, two hundred entered the house of a camel that lived on Sails. To understand the gold cycle can not be looking for just the seeds and mine. The starting Secondigliano and keep track of the empires of the clans. The wars of the Camorra situated localities dominated by families in the geographical map, the interior of Campania, the 'land of the bone, "10 territories which some call the Far West of Italy and, according to legend, a violent, are more submachine rich in forks. But apart from the violence that arises in any particular period, this creates an exponential wealth that these flashes are only distant lands. However, there is not any of this, television, the envoys, their jobs, all filled with the aesthetics of the Neapolitan suburbs. On January 29, Vincenzo De Gennaro kill. The 31 in a deli, Vittorio Bevilacqua. The February I, Giovanni Orabona, Giuseppe Antonio Patrizio Pizzone and are killed. Kill them using an old trick but still effective: the killers posing as policemen. Giovanni Orabona, twentythree, was Casavatore Real striker. Iban walk when a car stopped them. He wore a siren on the roof. Two men fell to the identification of the police. Young did not attempt to flee or resist. They knew how to behave, were left handcuffed and got into the car. Soon, the car suddenly stopped and took off. Maybe not immediately understood what was happening, but when they saw the guns all became clear. It was an ambush. They were not policemen, but the Spanish. The rebel group. Two cleared in the act of forcing them to kneel and shot in the head, the third, judging from the footprints found at the scene, had tried to escape, with his hands tied behind his back and head as one balance shaft. Fell. Rose. Fell again. Reached him, they put an automatic in the mouth. The body had broken teeth, the boy must have tried to bite the barrel of the gun, by instinct, as to break it. 10 Expression used by the agronomist, writer and politician Manlio Rossi Doria for designating inland areas of Campania, hills and mountains, as opposed to the "land of pulp, which is the flat coastal areas and On February 27 the news arrived from Barcelona's arrest Raffaele Amato. I was playing blackjack in a casino, trying to lighten their pockets. Di Lauro had only managed to undermine his cousin Rosario burned down the house. According to the indictment of the judiciary Naples, Amato was the charismatic boss of the Spanish. Via

Cupa had grown dell'Arco, street and Paolo Di Lauro family. Amato had become a leader of weight since I was a broker in the drug trafficking operations and managed investment bets. According to the indictment of the repentant and the Anti-Mafia investigations, enjoyed unlimited credit with the international traffickers and came to import tons of cocaine. Before the policemen in balaclavas knocked him down with his face against the ground, Raffaele Amato had been arrested during a raid on a hotel Casandrino, with another lieutenant and a major dealer group Albanians, who had an interpreter luxury help him in business: the nephew of a minister of Tirana. On February 5 it is his turn to Angelo Romano. On March 3, Davide Chiarolanza is killed in Melito. He had recognized the killers, maybe even had met him. The liquidated while trying to escape to his car. But neither the judiciary nor the police and the police to halt the Faida. Law enforcement plugged, arms away, but it would not be able to stop my bleeding-tate. Meanwhile, the press remains entangled in crime news interpretations and assessments, a Neapolitan newspaper breaks the news of a pact between the Spanish and Di Lauro, a momentary peace pact signed with the mediation of the Licciardi clan. A covenant intended by the other clans of Secondigliano and perhaps also by other cartels troublemakers, fearing that the long silence about his power could be interrupted by the conflict. It was necessary to reopen the legal space to set aside the criminal accumulation territories. The covenant was not drafted by a charismatic bous a night in jail. It was released in secret, but published in a newspaper daily. On June 27, 2005 could be read from the kiosks. These are the points of agreement published: 1) The secessionists have demanded the return of displaced households between November and January in Scampia and Secondigliano: some eight hundred people forced by the shock troops of Di Lauro to leave the houses. 2) The monopoly of the Di Lauro in the drug market is broken. He does not back down. The territory will be divided equally. For the secessionist province, Naples for the Di Lauro. 3) The secessionists may use their own channels to import drugs, without necessarily resorting to the mediation of the Di Lauro. 4) The private vendettas are independent businesses, ie businesses are more important than personal issues. Whether they will be running a vendetta connected to the Faida, will not resume hostilities, but remains in the private sphere. The boss of the boss secondiglianeses should be back. Has been seen everywhere, from Apulia to Canada. The intelligence services have spent months moving to get it. Paolo Di Lauro leave footprints, tiny, invisible, as their power before the Faida. It appears that you have operated a clinic in Marseilles, where it is believed he was the boss of the Cosa Nostra, Bernardo Provenzano. He has returned to make peace or to limit the damage. You are here, you feel his presence, the atmosphere has changed. The boss missing for ten years, in a telephone conversation a participant had complied to return, even at the expense of exposure to prison. " The boss ghost face unknown even to members: "Please, let me see, just a moment, looked at him and then I'm going, had asked a member of the boss Maurizio Prestieri. On September 16, 2005 Paolo Di Lauro caught in Via Canonico Stornaiulo. Tucked away in the modest home of Fortunata Liguori, the wife of a low-ranking member. A limited house as he had chosen his son Cosimo to settle when he was fleeing from justice. In the

forest of cement is easier to blend in, live in houses without a face currents and by stealth. The total absence is more urban, more anonymous to hide in a basement or a double bottom. Paolo Di Lauro had been about to be arrested on his birthday. The ultimate challenge was to go home to eat with the family while the police chased him half of Europe. But someone tipped off time. When the police entered the family residence found the table set with an empty place. This time, however, the special units of the police, the ROS, are safe. The police are nervous when they come into the house. It's four in the morning, after overnight observation. But the boss does not bother, indeed, the calm. "Come ... I am calm ... nothing happens. Twenty police cars escorted the car in which he made up, plus four rabbits, motorcycles that precede it to make sure everything is calm. The procession moves away, the boss goes on the armor. There were three possible routes to take you to the barracks. Via Capodimonte Cross to go at full speed on Via Pessina and Piazza Dante, or close all access to the Corso Secondigliano and take the ring road to go to the Vomero. In case of maximum danger, had planned to do to land a helicopter and airlifted. Hares report that in the course there is a suspicious car. Everyone expects an ambush. But it is a false alarm. Transferred to the boss at the police headquarters in Via Pastrengo in the heart of Naples. The helicopter goes down and the dust and litter of the grass in the center of the square began to stir in a swirl of medium height filled with plastic bags, paper towels and sheets of newspaper. A whirlwind of garbage. There is no danger. But we must proclaim the arrest, show that it has achieved the elusive turn, to stop the boss. When it's carousel armored patrol cars, and the police see that journalists are already present at the entrance of the barracks, they sit astride the car door. Using windows as a saddle, and gun-wielding ostensibly wearing balaclavas and vest the police. Since the arrest of Giovanni Brusca, no police officer or police who do not like being photographed in that position. The relief at night surveillance, the satisfaction of the captured prey, cunning press office to fill with certainty the first pages. When Paolo Di Lauro out of the barracks, not the arrogance of his son Cosimo, bend at the waist looking down, just let the bald naked before the cameras and photographers. Perhaps it is simply a way to protect yourself. Being photographed by hundreds of goals from all angles, shooting from left dozens of television cameras would have to show your face to all of Italy, which might have led some residents to complain that he had seen, who had been at his side. Best not to provide research, best not to reveal their secret routes. However, some interpret his head down as a simple gesture of reluctance by the flashes and cameras, the frustration of being reduced to animal fair. A few days later, Paolo Di Lauro was taken to court, room 215. I sat among relatives. The only word he uttered was iPresent boss! . Everything else I said no voice. Gestures, winks and smiles become dumb syntax through which communicates from its cage. Saluda, responding, reassuring. Behind me sat a big man with gray. Paolo Di Lauro looked at me, but he had actually seen the man standing behind me. They looked for the space of a few seconds, then winked at her boss. It appears that many, upon learning of the arrest, had gone to greet the boss, who had not seen for years because I was in search and seizure. Paolo Di Lauro was wearing dark jeans and a polo. Feet, about Paciotti shoes that fit all clan leaders in this area. The guards

released her wrists by removing the handcuffs. A cage just for him. Enters the room the cream of northern clans in Naples, Raffaele Abbinante, Enrico D'Avanzo, Giuseppe Criscuolo, Arcangelo Valentino, Maria Prestieri, Maurizio Prestieri, Britti Salvatore and Vincenzo Di Lauro. Men and former men's boss, now divided into two cages: faithful and Spanish. The most elegant is Prestieri: American navy and light blue oxford shirt. Is he the first one on the protective glass that separates it from the boss. Greet. Enrico D'Avanzo also arrives, they even whisper something between the slits of bulletproof glass. Many leaders did not see him for years. Your hijoVincenzo not been with him since he fled in 2002 and fled justice in Chivasso, in Piedmont, where he was arrested in 2004. Keep your eyes on the boss. Every gesture, every grimace seemed enough to fill pages of interpretations, to create new codes of the grammar of gestures. With his son, however, kept silent a strange dialogue. Vincenzo noted with the index finger of his left hand as if to ask his father: "And the partnership?. The boss ran his hands on both sides of the head and then moved as if it were at the wheel, driving. I had trouble deciphering gestures. The interpretation by the newspapers was that Vincenzo had asked his father how he was not wearing the alliance, and his father had given to understand that the police had seized all the gold. After the gestures, winks, the very rapid movements of lips and hands down bulletproof glass, Paolo Di Lauro stared at his son with a smile. They kissed through the glass. After the hearing, counsel for the boss asked to be allowed to give a hug. The request was granted. Seven policemen watched. "You look pale," said Vincenzo. And his father replied, looking into his eyes: "Many years ago that this face does not see the sun. Many refugees arrive at the limit of their strength before being captured. The continuous flight demonstrates the impossibility of enjoying one's wealth and that makes the boss are even more in harmony with its own staff, which becomes the only true measure of economic and social success. Protection systems, the morbid and obsessive need to plan each step, most of the time locked in a room directing and coordinating the business and enterprise, make the boss fugitives live as prisoners of the business. In the courtroom, a woman told me of an episode when Di Lauro was fleeing from justice. For their appearance could be a teacher, his hair dyed a color more yellow than blonde, with a broad line of natural color. When he began to speak, his voice hoarse and serious. Went back to the time when he was still Paolo Di Lauro by Secondigliano, forced to move following careful strategies. Most seemed to be upset about the hardships of the boss. Di Lauro told me I had five cars of the same color and pattern and with the same registration. When I had to move, had to leave the five, but obviously he just sat in one. The five had an escort, and none of his men knew exactly what car was it. The car left the residence and they were to escort. A sure way to avoid betrayal, if only the most immediate to indicate that the boss was moving. The lady had a tone of deep sympathy for the suffering and loneliness of a man forced always thought they were going to kill him. After the dance of gestures and hugs, after the greetings and winks of the characters belonging to the fierce

power of Naples, the bulletproof glass separating the boss of the other was full of marks of all kinds, handprints, footprints of fat lip shades. Twenty-four hours after the arrest of the boss, found in the rotunda of Arzano a Polish guy shaking like a leaf, trying with difficulty to throw away a huge burden. The Pole was stained with blood and fear their movements difficult. The bundle was a body. A body abused, tortured, disfigured in a manner so egregious that it seemed impossible that it could well destroy a body. A mine that would have made it down to someone and had exploded in his stomach would have caused less damage. The body was Edoardo La Monica, but his features were indistinguishable. The face only had lips, the rest was done cisco. The body full of holes, was covered with scabs of blood. He had been tied up and nail with a sledgehammer, slowly tortured for hours. Each blow on the body was a hole that not only sledgehammer broke bones but pierced the flesh, nails in and out. Ears had been cut, sliced tongue, broken wrists and eyes gouged out with a screwdriver being alive, awake, conscious. And then to kill him, he had crushed his face with a hammer and a knife he had taped a cross on the lips. The body was to end up in the trash to find it rotten, from the filth of a landfill. Everyone understands clearly the message in the flesh, although there is no evidence that torture. Cut the ears with which you have heard the boss where he was hidden, broken wrists that you've moved your hands to receive the money, ripped the eyes that you saw, slice the language in which you have spoken. The face I've lost to the system doing what you've done, ruined. Lips sealed with the cross, closed forever by the faith you have betrayed. Edoardo La Monica was spotless. He had a last name much weight, a family that had made a land of Camorra Secondigliano and a bonanza for businesses. The family in which Paolo Di Lauro had taken the first steps. The death of Edoardo La Monica is similar to that of Giulio Ruggiero. Both abused, tortured meticulously few hours after their respective arrests of boss. Emaciated, crushed, dismembered, flayed. Killings were not as diligent with bloody and symbolic will for years: since the end of the power of Cutolo and his killer Pasquale Barra, called "'or Nimal," famous for being killed in prison and to have bitten Francis Turatello after putting the heart torn from his chest with his hands. These rites were gone, but the Secondigliano Faida had dug and had made every gesture, every inch of flesh, each word in a communication instrument of war. At a news conference, officials stated that the ROS arrest was possible because the supplier had been located that would buy the Di Lauro favorite fish, sea bream. The story seemed too perfect to damage the image of a powerful boss, able to mobilize hundreds of guards but in the end had been trapped by the sin of gluttony. In Secondigliano even a second story was credible monitoring the track of sea bream. Many pointed rather to SISDE (Service for Information and Democratic Security) as the sole responsible for the arrest. The SISDE had intervened, as confirmed even law enforcement, but it was really very difficult to notice its presence in Secondigliano. The hint of something that was very close to the assumptions of many writers, that is, the SISDE had paid to various people in the area in exchange for information or non-interference, had heard fragments in some chat bar. Men who, while taking a coffee or a cappuccino and a croissant, uttered phrases like this: "Since we get paid for James Bond ... In those days heard of it twice furtively or allusion to 007, an event too insignificant and

ridiculous to conclude something from him, but at the same time too abnormal to go unnoticed. The strategy of the secret services in the arrest of Di Lauro could have been to locate the technical officers of the guards and purchase in order to displace all the cops and watch for other areas and thereby give the alarm to prevent and make the boss run. Edoardo's family denied the possible involvement Monica saying the young man had never been part of the system, I was afraid of the clans and their businesses. Maybe paid by another family, but the surgical torture seemed to be responsible received, not sent through your body to another person. One day I saw a bunch of people not far from where they found the body of Edoardo La Monica. A guy started pointing his finger and then touching the head, moving his lips without making a sound. I immediately came to mind, as if he had lit a match in front of my eyes, the gesture Devincenzo Di Lauro in the courtroom, that gesture strange, unusual, first of all ask that, after years without seeing his father on the ring. The ring, in Neapolitan aniello. A message indicating Aniello and ring as an alliance. Consequently, loyalty betrayed, as if pointing to the familiar strain of betrayal. Whence came the responsibility of the arrest. Who had spoken. Aniello La Monica was the patriarch of the family. For years in the neighborhood called the La Monica's "Anielli" as they called the Torre Annunziata Gionta of the "Val" by the boss Valentino Gionta. According to the repentant statements and Luigi Ruocco Giuliano, Aniello La Monica had been settled precisely by his godson mind Paolo Di Lauro. It is true that all people of the La Monica are in the ranks of the Di Lauro. But this horrific death could be punishment for the vengeance of death that twenty years ago, revenge served cold, frost, most violent betrayal by a hail of bullets. A patient's memory, infinitely patient. A memory that seem to share the clans that have occurred at the peak of power in their own neighborhood Secondigliano and where these prevail. But that is still based on hearsay, assumptions and suspicions, perhaps capable of producing effects such as an arrest or a tortured body clamorous, but never really translated. A truth must always be interpreted as a hieroglyph which, as you say, better not decipher. Secondigliano had returned to live inspired by their usual economic mechanisms. The Spanish and Di Lauro all the leaders were imprisoned. New regional managers were towering, very young new leaders began to take the first steps in the areas of command. Faida word disappeared with the passing of months and began to be replaced by "Vietnam." "That ... Vietnam has made ... so now has to be calm. "After the Vietnam here everyone is afraid ... - Vietnam has finished or not? They are fragments of sentences pronounced on mobiles by younger generations of the clan. Calls intercepted by the police to lead the February 8, 2006 in the arrest of Salvatore Di Lauro, son of eighteen years of Boss, who had begun to coordinate a small army of kids to sell drugs. The Spanish lost the battle, but it seems that achieved their goal of becoming self-employed, with a hegemonic own cartel led by very young kids. The police intercepted a SMS to a girl sent to a place very young chief, who was arrested during the period of Faida and returned to selling drugs right out of jail: "Congratulations for the work and return to the neighborhood, I'm thrilled you win, congratulations!

The victory was the military's congratulations for having fought the good side. Di Lauro in prison, but have saved the skin and the business, at least familiar. The situation calmed down suddenly after negotiations between clans and the arrests. Secondigliano wandered by a tired, trampled by too many people, shot, shot, raped. Tired of everything. I stood in front of the murals of Felice Pignataro, before the faces of the sun, hybrids and clown skull. Murals in the concrete stamping a seal of light and unexpected beauty. Suddenly the sky erupted in fireworks and the noise of the rockets obsessive never ends. The reporting teams that were dismantling their barracks after the arrest of the boss were in a rush to see what happened. The latest sensational story, two entire buildings were partying. Connected microphones, spotlights illuminated the faces, section chief phoned to announce a report on the celebrations of the Spanish over the arrest of Paolo Di Lauro. I went to ask what happened, a guy told me, happy for my question: "It's for Peppino, out of the coma. Peppino way to work, a year ago, when his Ape, the motorcar with which went to market, had begun to slide and was overturned. Neapolitan streets are water soluble, after two hours of rain the basalt begins to float and asphalt melts as if mixed with salt. The threewheeler overturned and Peppino suffered a serious head injury. To fill out he had gone to the motorcar, used a tractor that had been brought from the field. After a year in a coma, had awakened, and after a few months the hospital had been discharged to go home. The neighborhood celebrated his return. Getting off the car while they were still installing in the wheelchair, had launched the first rocket. The children were photographed stroking her head completely shaved. Peppino's mother was protecting it with caresses and kisses too effusive for its dwindling forces. The envoys who were on the scene again telephoned the newsroom, I canceled all, they wanted to serenade 38 caliber shooting had become a party for a kid who was out of the coma. They turned around to return to the hotel and I followed. I got home of Peppino, pleased to sneak into a party too happy to miss. Throughout the night I gave Peppino's health with all the people in the building. Divided by the stairs, including landings and open doors without knowing very well who were open houses and tables full of stuff. Came totally soaked, I began to make trips to the Vespa from a bar still open and the home of Peppino, to supply all of red wine and CocaCola. That night was silent and exhausted Secondigliano. No journalists or helicopters. Without vigilant and Pali. A silence that made you want to sleep, for the afternoon on the sand with his arms crossed under the neck without thinking about anything. Women The body had the smell of something indefinable. As the stench that permeates the shelter when it enters a chip shop and that slowly fades out, mingling with the foul fumes of exhaust pipes. Tens of times you shower, put the meat to soak in the bath for hours with the salts and more perfumed balms: do not shake it off. And not because it has penetrated the meat and sweat of the perpetrators have not, you realize that the notes you smell in the body and had it in you, and fired by a gland that had never been stimulated, a gland that suddenly begins sleeping secreting, activated, even before the fear, a sense of truth. As if existing Tier in the body able to point you something when you're facing the truth. With all the senses. Without mediation. Untold truth, not filmed, not photographed, but it's there. Understanding how things work, how will the itinerary of this. There is no

thought that can confirm what you've seen. After-ber has eyes set on a war of the Camorra, the overly large images fill the memory and do not come to mind at a time but all at once, overlapping and blending. You can not have eyes. After a Camorra war ruins of houses there, and sawdust blood dries quickly. As if you were you the only one who has seen or experienced, as if someone was prepared to point you finger and say "not true." The aberration of a clan war-faced capital investments that is slaughtered, financial assumptions that devour-motivation is always comforting, a sense that he can push the risk to another site, able to feel distant, faraway, a conflict, by contrast, is developing in the portal from home. You put everything in a box of sense that you are steadily building, but the odors left tame, they are there. As a sign of a season, and only scattered wealth of experience. Ine in the nose had been odors, not just the smell of sawdust and blood, nor of the after-shave lotions of child soldiers placed on hairless cheeks, but especially that of women's perfumes. He still under the nostrils the smell intense of deodorants, hairsprays, perfumes sweet. Women are always present in the power dynamics of the clans. It is no coincidence that the Faida of Secondighano has been to eliminate two women with a ruthlessness usually reserved for the boss. Nor is that hundreds of women come down to the streets to prevent the arrests of camels and guards, to burn container and pull the arms to the police. I saw the girls run whenever a television camera appeared on the street rushed ahead of the objectives, smiled, chanted, asking to be interviewed, flew around the camera to see what had been in the appliance logo to find out what the TV I was shooting. You never know. Someone could look at them and call for a program. Here the opportunities do not come, but that start with the teeth, are bought, looking for making inquiries. The opportunities have to come to force. The same happens with the kids: do not leave anything to chance of the match, the fact of being in love. Each conquest is a strategy. And girls who do not strategize sin of a lack of foresight dangers and be exposed to hands and tongues everywhere so insistent that can drill teeth. Tight jeans, tight T-shirt: everything must convert the beauty in a bait. In some places, the beauty seems a cheat, even the most pleasant of the traps. So he gives, it seeks the pleasure of a moment, you never know what you're going to meet. The girl's ability is measured by its ability to achieve being courted by the best and, once it has fallen into the trap, keep it, hold it, take it, swallow it with a stuffy nose. But having it for her. Everything. Once passed in front of a school and saw a girl coming down from a motorcycle. Slowly lowered to allow time for all to see well the bike, helmet, motorcycle gloves and boots fine point that barely managed to touch the floor. A janitor, one of those eternal porters ahead of where the eyes move generations of children, approached her and said: "But France ', did you have a boyfriend? And none other than Angelo! Do not you know it will end in Poggioreale? The Angelo that had recently entered into the system and did not seem to occupy positions unimportant. According to the caretaker, soon end up in prison Poggioreale. Before even attempting to defend her boyfriend, the girl had a ready reply. One of these replicas that are kept on hand: - And what is the problem, anyway if I get the monthly payment? This really loves me ... The monthly payment. That is the main success of the girls. Although her boyfriend end

up in jail, have conquered a salary. The monthly payment is the monthly salary that clans give the families of members. Being committed, the fee is paid to the bride, but it needs to be sure that is the beneficiary, be pregnant. Not necessarily married; enough to have a son, although still in the womb. If only you were promised, you risk having to come before the other girl clan, perhaps kept secret until then, girls who know nothing of each other. In this case, your regional or clan decides whether the monthly payment is split between two women, risky thing because it creates much tension between the families, or made to the member decide which girl is given. Most of the time the decision to make no allowance for any of the two, but pay it directly to the prisoner's family and resolve the conflict. Marriage or postpartum are the elements that ensure safe pay. Salaries are usually delivered by hand to avoid leaving too many traces in the accounts. They are taking the "submarine." The submarine is in charge of distributing the payments. The so called because they crawl along the bottom of the street. Not be seen ever before should not be easily located because they can blackmail, pressure them, berthed. Spring from the street and suddenly go into the homes becoming a different trajectory. The submarine is responsible for payment of the lowest levels of the clan. The leaders, however, are saying the amount they need and deal directly with the ATMs. The submarines are not part of the system are not affiliated, may, for dealing with salaries, exploit this critical role and aspire to move up the clan. They are often retired, business experts, accountants antique shops, working for the clans, paid a bonus to round out the board and, especially, have a reason to leave home and not consumed before the TV. Call the 28 of each month, leave the plastic bags on the table and then, inside the American, abultadsimo pocket, pull out an envelope on which is written the name of the member killed or imprisoned and give it to his wife or, if not, the eldest son. Almost always have too, along with the monthly, some groceries. Ham, fruit, pasta, eggs, bread. Climb the stairs rubbing the bags along the wall. This continuous rubbing and slowly is the ringer of the submarine. Are always loaded like donkeys, do their shopping in the same delis and greengrocers them, do it all at once and have families. You can calculate how many women prisoners or ca-morristas widows living on a street that is loaded at the submarine. Don Ciro is the only sub I've ever known. It is the historic center and has dealt with the payments currently clans dissolved but slowly, in this new fertile phase, are trying to regroup and not just to survive. The families of the Spanish Quarter and for some years also of Forcella. Now working occasionally for the clan in the neighborhood of Sanita. Don Ciro was so able to find in the labyrinth of alleys Neapolitan houses, ground floors, basements, buildings and countless stories added in the corners of the landings that sometimes the postman, who continually lost, gave the mail to take him to their customers. Don Ciro had torn shoes: the thumb made him a bundle as a bubo, at the tip and heel soles were completely worn out. These shoes were actually the emblem of the submarine and authentic symbols of kilometers on foot made streets and hills, paths deliberately elongated along the streets of Naples, besieged by the paranoia of persecution or armed robbery. Don Ciro wore faded jeans, seemed clean, but without iron. No longer had a wife and her new partner Moldovan was too young to actually deal with it. Scared to the bone, always looking down, even when I spoke, had a yellowish mustache effect of nicotine and the index and middle fingers of his right hand. The subs also deliver monthly to the husbands of female prisoners. For this is humiliating to

receive the allowance of the wife in jail, so generally the submarines, to save mock reproach, yelling at the landings and the throw home with a lot of theater but, yes, without ever forgetting to take before the envelope with the money to save all that will house the mothers of the members and handed out to including the allowance for the family of the dam. The subs listen to all complaints of women members. Complaints about rising bills, rent, for children who fail or who want to go to college. Listen to all requests, all comments on women in the other members, who have more money because their husbands have been more ready and have managed to move up a category within the clans. While they talk, the endlessly repeated submarine "I know, I know, I know." To which the ladies off steam better, when just one pronounce two responses: "It depends on me" or "I only bring money, to decide not me." Women know very well that the submarines do not decide anything, but hope that, filling the head of complaints, sooner or later something will come out of his mouth in front of a head of area, and may decide to increase the sa-wages and provide more favors. Don Ciro was so used to saying 'I know, I know, I know "that if you spoke to him on any subject, like a litany whispered" I know, I know, I know. " He had brought the bills to hundreds of women in the Camorra, have been able to have accurate memories of generations of women, wives and girlfriends, as well as single men, play critical comments on the boss and politicians. But Mr. Cyrus was a quiet and melancholy submarine had turned his head into an empty body which bounced, without a trace, the words heard. As he spoke, I had brought the center to the outskirts of Naples, then said goodbye and took a bus to take back the point from which we started. It was part of the strategy of distraction to keep sensed, even remotely, where he lived. For many women, marrying a brawler is usually as a loan, how to get a capital. If the destination and expertise allow, that capital will bear fruit and make women entrepreneurs, leaders, usually with unlimited power. Things can go wrong and just be hours of waiting in prisons and to make humiliating pleas competing with the Slavic assistant, to pay the lawyers and feed the children, if the clan is coming down and can not keep paying the monthly fee. The women in the Camorra provided through her body basis for alliances, his face and his behavior reflect and show the power of the family publicly recognizing their black veils at the funeral, cries during the arrests, kisses cast into Across the bar during the hearings. The image of women in the Camorra appears composed of views predictable: women can do just echo the pain and the will of men are brothers, husbands or children. Not so. The transformation of the rowdy world in recent years has also been a metamorphosis of the female role, that of a maternal identity, a support in misfortune has become an authentic figure of directors, engaged almost exclusively in financial and business activity, delegating other military tasks and illegal. A historical figure is certainly rowdy leader Anna Mazza, widow of Afragola godfather, one of the first women convicted in Italy on charges of Mafia association, as head of one of the most powerful companies and corporate criminals. Initially, Anna Mazza exploited the aura of her husband, Gennaro Moc-ing, killed in the seventies. The "black widow Camorra," as they called it, was the real brains of the Moccia clan for over twenty years capable of branching so incredible power, so much so that, when the 1990 was confined near Treviso, succeeded, according to several investigations, to contact the Brenta mafia

to try to consolidate its network power even in complete isolation. She was charged immediately after the death of her husband of having armed the hand of his son, who was not yet thirteen years to kill that he had ordered to kill the father of this. However, he was acquitted of this complaint for lack of evidence. Anna Mazza was carrying out a vertical management, business and decidedly hostile to military intervention, which can influence all areas dominated by it, as evidenced by the dissolution in 1999, leaks troublemakers, the municipality of Afragola. Seconded the politicians, seeking their support. Anna Mazza was a pioneer. Before she only Pupetta been Maresca, beautiful vengeful killer who became famous in Italy in the mid 1950's, when, being six months pregnant, decided to avenge the death of her husband, Pascalon "'and Nola." Anna Mazza was not just revenge. He realized it would be easier to take the cultural backwardness of the boss rowdy and enjoy a kind of impunity reserved for women. A cultural lag that made it immune from ambushes, jealousies and conflicts. In the eighties and nineties managed to lead the family with a strong tendency to improve their businesses, to obtain benefits through a steady escalation in the construction sector. Moccia clan became one of the most important in the management of contracts in the field of construction, the control of quarries and mediation for the purchase of building land. The entire area spanning Frattamaggiore, Crispano and Sant'Antimo, as well as Frattaminore and Caivano, is dominated by regional managers linked to Moccia. In the nineties became a mainstay of the New Family, the cartel broad clans who opposed the New Organized Camorra, Raffaele Cutolo and was able to overcome in turnover and power cartels Thing Nostra. With the collapse of the parties that had obtained benefits from the alliance with companies in the clans, the boss of the New Family found that they were the only ones arrested and sentenced to life imprisonment. Would not pay them by the politicians who had helped and supported. They would not be considered a cancer that, by contrast, had stood still alive and productive part of it, even criminal. Decided to repent. In the decade of 1990, Pasquale Galasso, Poggiomarino boss, was the first high level character and military business began to collaborate with justice. Names, logical, capital ..., a choice of full repentance was rewarded by the state with the protection of family assets and partly theirs. Galasso revealed everything he knew. Moccia was the family of the great confederacy which he undertook to silence him forever. Galasso's words would have destroyed the family of the widow in a few hours and a few rounds of revelations. They tried to buy his escort to poison him, planned remove a bazooka shots, but after the failed military attempts organized by men of the house to liquidate intervened Anna Mazza, who sensed that it was time to change strategy. Proposed decoupling. He moved the concept of terrorism to the Camorra. The militants of the armed groups are dissociated without repentance, without disclosing names or accuse payer and executors. The dissociation was ideological distance, a decision of conscience, an attempt to discredit a political practice whose very moral outrage, officially, was enough to provide sentence reductions. According to the widow Mazza, would really be the best trick to avoid any risk of regret and also to believe that the clans were independent of the state. Away from the Camorra ideologically enjoy the benefits, penalty reductions, improvements in prison conditions, but without revealing mechanisms, names, accounts, alliances. What some observers might be considered an ideology, the Camorra, for clans was only economic and military action of a group

dedicated to business. The clans were being transformed: the rhetoric is just criminal, mania ideologize cutoliana of rowdy action had been exceeded. The dissociation could be the solution to the lethal power of repentance, which, though full of contradictions, is the real axis of attack power of the Camorra. And the widow realized the high potential of this trick. His children wrote to a priest showing signs of wanting to redeem himself, would leave a car full of weapons in Acerra, in front of a church as a symbol of "decoupling" of the clan, as does the IRA with the British. De-position weapons. But the Camorra is not a separatist organization, an armed nucleus, and their arms are not their real power. That car was never found and the decoupling strategy born of a woman's mind was slowly becoming less attractive boss, neither Parliament nor the judiciary took notice, and no clans continued to support it. Were repentant and increasingly becoming less useful truths, and the revelations of Galasso condemned the military apparatus of the clans, but left intact to political and business plans. Anna Mazza continued to build a kind matriarchy of the Camorra. Women as a true center of power, and men armed services, brokers and executives, only after the decisions of women. Important decisions, economic and military, waited for the black widow. Clan women displayed more entrepreneurial, less obsessed with the glitz and less willingness to conflict. Leaders were women, women bodyguards, and women entrepreneurs in the clan. One of her 'bridesmaids' Immacolata Capone, over the years made a fortune in the clan. Immacolata was the godmother of Teresa, the daughter of the widow. He did not look matronly, with molded hair and face plump and Anna Mazza. Immacolata was petite, blonde, wore short hair and always well groomed, had an understated elegance. There was nothing like the dark fighter. And more to find men who confer authority, it was men who came to her for protection. She married Giorgio Salierno, rowdy involved in attempts to obstruct the repentant Galasso, and later joined a Klansman Sant'Antimo Pure, a family of powerful Cutolo spent close to a clan made famous by brother Immacolata companion, Antonio Puca. I found a notebook in your pocket with the name of Enzo Tortora, television presenter wrongly accused of being rowdy. When Immacolata reached economic maturity and policy, the clan was in crisis. Jail and repentant had endangered the tireless work of Donna Anna. But I bet all the Immacolata cement also ran a brick factory in downtown Afragola. The business had done everything possible to link the power of the Casalesi clan, which is the most controlled businesses in the construction sector at the national and international. According to research by the DDA of Naples, Immacolata Capone was who managed companies in the newly conquered Moccia leadership in the construction sector. Had at his disposal MOTR company, one of the most important in the field of construction machinery in southern Italy. Had established a mechanism according to research impeccable, with the consensus of a local politician. The politician gave the contracts, the employer of obtaining and Dona Immacolata was taken into subcontracts. I have seen it only once. Afragola precisely, to reach a supermarket. His bodyguards were two girls. The following it with a Smart escorting the little roadster with all the women in the Camorra. By the thickness of the door, however, that Smart seemed bulletproof. Often women bodyguards imagine how those bodybuilders whose muscles bulging give a masculine look. Clenched thighs, pecs that have engulfed the breasts hypertrophied biceps, bull neck. The bodyguard who I saw,

however, had nothing to virago. One was short, with a big lurching back and a black dyed hair too, the other thin, tall, bony. I noticed how the clothing care, both had something to remember the color of the Smart, fluorescent yellow. One wore a shirt the same color as the car, while behind the wheel had the rim of his yellow sunglasses. A yellow could not have been chosen by accident, nor that they had put the two little green for a match. It was one of the highlights of professionalism. The same shade of yellow overalls Uma Thurman motorist who has been in Kill Bill, Quentin Tarantino, a film where for the first time women are first-rate criminal actors. The yellow monkey Uma Thurman has also in the movie poster, with the samurai sword drawn, and that sticks in your eyes and perhaps in the taste buds. A yellow so artificial that it becomes a symbol. The winning company must provide a winning image. Nothing is left to chance, even the color of the car and uniform of the guards. Ca-put Immacolata had set an example, for many women integrated into different title and clan-level female escort and care require the harmony of his style and image. But something was going on track. Perhaps he had invaded their territories were not perhaps had secret enemies: Immacolata Capone was murdered in March 2004 Sant'Antimo, the people of his partner. He wore no escort. Maybe I did not think those at risk. The execution took place in the center of town, the killers were on foot. As he sensed that followed, Immacolata Capone fled, all around, people thought they had given him a jerk and was persecuting the thieves, but he had the bag slung over his shoulder. He ran with the bag tightly against his chest, obeying an instinct can not drop, throw down what makes the race to save life. Immacolata entered a poultry, but had no time to take refuge behind the counter. The reach and support the barrel of the gun to his head. Two shots dry: the cultural lag that prevented touch women and had taken Anna Mazza was resolved. The skull shattered by bullets, his face bathed in blood showed dense course the new military policy of the clans. No difference between men and women. No alleged honor code. However, the matriarch of Moccia has been slow, remaining at all times ready to do big business, controlling a territory with prudent investment and financial mediation first order, dominating the land acquisition, avoiding Faida and alliances that could have been interfering family businesses. Now, in a territory controlled by their companies, stands the largest Ikea center of Italy, precisely in that area begin to build high-speed line in southern Italy. For the umpteenth time, in October 2005 the City Council was dissolved by infiltration Afragola fighter. The allegations are serious: a group of municipal councilors asked President Afragola a commercial structure to hire more than two hundred fifty people linked by close ties of kinship with the Moccia clan. The decision to dissolve the council weighed also works concessions granted in violation of the rules. There megastructures on land owned by the boss, and also speaks of the hospital should be built on land purchased by the Moccia clan precisely coinciding with the city council debates. Land bought at low prices, very low, and having been turned into soil on which to build the hospital sold, obviously, at astronomical prices. A benefit of 600 percent over the initial price. A benefit that only women could get the Moccia. Women willing to do anything to defend the assets and property of the clan, as did Anna Vollaro, granddaughter of Portici clan boss, Luigi Vollaro. Had twenty-nine years when the police came to seize yet another local family, a pizzeria. He

took a can of gasoline, poured it over a match and caught fire. To prevent someone from trying to extinguish the flames, ran to and fro. He finally hit a wall and the paint was black as when a socket is a short circuit. Anna Vollaro burned alive to protest the seizure of property acquired with illicit funds, which she considered simply the result of normal business history, natural. It is believed that the military vector criminal practice has once succeeded, the role of entrepreneur. Not, or at least not always. Without going any further, the slope of Quindici, a town in the province of Avellino suffering for years the suffocating presence perennial Cava and Graziano clans, is an example deello. The two families are facing and women always represent the true economic hub. The 1980 earthquake destroyed the Lauro valley, the rain of billions of lire for reconstruction gives rise to a rowdy entrepreneurial bourgeoisie, but Quindici something else happens, something different from what happens in all other areas of Campania not only a clash between factions, but a family farda over the years has led to record a ferocious ambushes quarantine, which cause strife between the two nuclei contenders. There is a burden of hatred and incurable disease that infects the soul to all representatives of the two families for several generation. The people helplessly into the ring where the two factions were killed. In the decade of 1970, representing a Cava rib Graziano. The crash occurs when, in the 1980's, raining down on Quindici hundreds of billions of lire for reconstruction after the earthquake, an amount that triggered the conflict by disagreements over contracts and percentage shares that are to be distributed. The capital raised will go to both families, through the management of women of both clans, building little empires. One day, while the town mayor for choice by Graziano, was in his office, a command of the Cava knocked on his door. They do not shoot right away, and that given time the mayor to open the window, leaving the office, climb onto the roof of city hall and escape over the rooftops. Graziano clan has had among its ranks five mayors, two killed and three dismissed by the President to maintain relations with the Camorra. At one point, however, it seemed that things could change. A young pharmacist, Olga Santaniello, was elected mayor. Only a tenacious woman could respond to the power of women in the Cava and Graziano. Tried all means to eliminate the grime of the power of the clans, but to no avail. On May 5, 1998 a terrible flood flooded the Lauro valley, the houses were filled with water and mud, the land became muddy ponds and canals became impassable. Olga Santaniello drowned. He choked mud was doubly beneficial to the clans. The flood took more money, and the new capital increased the power of the two families. On the other hand, was elected Antonio Siniscalchi, confirmed in office four years later in a plebiscite. After the first election victory Siniscalchi, from the headquarters of the electoral college out a procession on foot involving the mayor, aldermen and more open supporters. The procession reached the village of Brosagro and paraded in front of the house of Arturo Graziano, nicknamed "Guaglionei, but it was not him who were targeted banner. Were aimed primarily at women of Graziano, who lined up in the balcony in order of age, received the homage of the new mayor after the death had permanently removed Olga Santaniello. Later, Antonio Siniscalchi was arrested in a blitz of the DDA in Naples in June 2002. According to the indictment of the Anti-Mafia Prosecutor of Naples, with the first reconstruction funds had been awarded the contract to repair the access road and near the villa-bunker of Graziano. The villas scattered Quindici, secret hiding places, paved streets and street lighting were a

matter of the council, that public money helped the Graziano and made them immune to attacks and ambushes. Members of both families were entrenched behind insurmountable fences and guarded around the clock on closed-circuit video cameras. The boss Biagio Cava was arrested in Nice airport as he prepared to embark bread New York. Once in jail, all power passed to his daughter, his wife, the women of the clan. Only show themselves in the village women. Besides being hidden administrators, brains, became the official symbol of the families in the faces and eyes of power. When they were down the street, families fierce rivals exchanged glances, of superiority, the kind that stick in the cheek in an absurd game considered losers eyes looking down. The tension in the town was high when the women of the Cava realized it was time to take up arms. Should move from being entrepreneurs killers. Were trained in the doorways of their homes, with loud music to cover the noise of the guns to shoot bags of hazelnuts from their estates. While celebrating the 2002 municipal elections, began to go armed the people in his Audi 80. They were Maria Scibelli, Michelina Cava adolescents and Felicetta Clarissa Cava, sixteen and nineteen, respectively. In Via Cassese, car Cava women in the car crossed the Graziano, which were and Chiara Stefania Graziano, twenty and twenty years. From the Cava car started shooting, but the women of the Graziano, as if they wait for the ambush, they nailed the car and managed to turn around. Accelerated and took to escape. The fire had broken windows and holes the plate, but had not reached. The two girls returned to the village screaming. They decided to avenge the insult directly the mother of two girls, Anna Scibelli, and the boss Luigi Salvatore Graziano, the septuagenarian patriarch of the family. Were in the Alpha, followed by an armored car with four persons armed with machine guns and rifles. Audi intercepted the Cava and rammed it repeatedly. The support car was blocking the side entrance, then stood before the pursued car, blocking other escape route. After the first attempted armed conflict, women of the Cava, fearing that the police did stop, they got rid of the weapons. So, faced with the car, turned it, opened the doors and rushed out to try to escape on foot. Graziano dropped the car and started shoot women. A rain of lead crossed legs, heads, shoulders, breasts, cheeks, eyes. All fell to the ground in seconds, scattering shoes and standing with bare feet. Graziano appears that savaged bodies, but did not realize that one was still alive. Cava Felicetta saved. In the bag of one of the Cava found a vial of acid, perhaps in addition to shooting, his intention was to disfigure his enemies by pouring acid on his face. Women are more able to cope with the crime as if it were only the space of a moment, the opinion of someone, and immediately reached a step beyond. This clan women show him a more obvious way. They feel insulted, vilified when called troublemakers, criminals. As if it were only a criminal trial of an action, not a gesture objective behavior, but merely an accusation. Moreover, to date, unlike men, no woman boss of the Camorra has repented. Never. Dedicated to the stubborn defense of the assets of the family has always been Erminia Giuliano, call Celeste for the color of his eyes, the beautiful and striking and Luigi sister Carmine, the boss of Forcella, which, according to research, is the absolute reference in the clan with regard to the management of real estate and capital invested in the commercial sector. Celeste has the image of the Neapolitan classic, the blatant historical center, dyed blond hair, clear eyes and cold always painted with black shadow. She managed the financial and legal affairs of the clan. In 2004 they were seized from the

property Giuliano result of the business, twenty-eight million, the real economic heart of the clan. Had a number of chain stores in Naples and the province, and a business owner of a brand that had become very famous thanks to the entrepreneurial skills and economic and military protection of the clan. A brand that has a franchise network consists of fiftysix sales outlets in Italy and Tokyo, Bucharest, Lisbon and Tunisia. The Giuliano clan, hegemonic in the 1980 and 1990, was born in the belly undulating Naples, Forcella, the neighborhood that attracts to itself Kasbah mythologies, rotten belly legends of the historic center. The Giuliano clan seem to have reached the end of the journey after slowly emerged from misery, from smuggling to the whores, from the management of door to door to extortion, kidnapping. A huge dynasty based cousins, nephews, uncles, relatives. The peak power overtook the late 1980's and now have a kind of charisma that can not disappear. Even today, who wants to send in the historic center has to deal with Giuliano. A clan with the breath on the neck of the misery and terror to go back to being miserable. The journalist Enzo Perez had picked one of the claims of Luigi Giuliano, the King of Forcella, that best showed the repugnance caused him misery, "I do not agree with Tommasino, me I like the crib, are pastors who I get squeamish. The face of absolute power system increasingly takes rowdy female traits, but the beings crushed, crushed by tanks of power are women. Annalisa Forcella During died in the March 27, 2004, victim of a crossfire, at age fourteen. Fourteen years. Fourteen years. Repeat it is like to spend in the back a sponge soaked in ice water. I was at the funeral of Annalisa Durante. I arrived early at the church near Forcella. The flowers had not yet arrived, there were posters plastered everywhere, messages of sympathy, tears, heartrending memories of classmates. A Annalisa was killed. That warm night, perhaps the first really warm night of terrible rain that season, Annalisa had decided to pass at the gate of the building where a friend lived. She wore a beautiful and seductive. Clung to her firm body and smooth, and tan. Those nights seem to be born specifically to meet boys, and for a girl Forcella fourteen is the proper age to start choosing a potential boyfriend to drag until marriage. The girls from poor neighborhoods of Naples at age fourteen and females seem experienced. Van richly painted, her breasts have become swollen by the work of tiny melon puses-up, fine tip wear boots with heels that threaten injury to the ankles. Must be skilled tightrope to walk rapidly to stand on the basalt lava stone lining the streets of Naples, which is always the enemy of all shoes femeninos.Annalisa was beautiful. Very pretty. I was listening to music with his friend and cousin, the three threw glances at the kids who spent mounted on motorcycles, rearing, wheels screeching, striving into dangerous obstacle courses between cars and people. It is a game of courtship. Atavistic always identical. Favorite music girls Forcella is the neomeldicos, popular singers on a circuit that sells a lot in the Naples neighborhoods, as well as those of Palermo and Bari. Gigi D'Alessio is the myth enshrined. Which has managed to leave the chip imposed in Italy, the other, hundreds of them, have remained in small neighborhood idols, divided by areas, streets, and buildings. Each has its singer. But suddenly, while the stereo out a shrill strident singer, spend two full gas mopeds chasing someone. This flee, run like the devil takes soul. Annalisa, his cousin and his friend did not understand anything, they think it's a joke or maybe a challenge. Shots ring out. Bullets bounce everywhere. Annalisa is in the ground, two bullets have attained. All flee, the first heads start appearing on the balconies are still

open. The screaming, the ambulance, the race to the hospital, the whole neighborhood streets full of curiosity and anxiety. Salvatore Giuliano is a big name. Called that now seems to command a sufficient condition. Forcella but not the memory of the Sicilian bandit which gives authority to the boy. It's just his name. Giuliano. The situation has worsened due to the decision to talk about Lovigino Giuliano. He has repented, he has betrayed his clan to avoid imprisonment. However, as almost always happens in dictatorships, although out of the way the boss, only one of his men can take their place. Thus, Giuliano, despite carrying the brand of infamy, remained the only ones in position to maintain relationships with major drug couriers and enforce laws for protection. But, over time, Forcella tires. No longer want to be dominated by an infamous family does not want more arrests and police. Whoever wants to take his position should be charged to the heir, should be imposed as a sovereign and officially start the root of Giuliano, the new heir, Salvatore Giuliano, the grandson of Lovigino. That night was the time chosen to officially hegemony, to finish off the shoot that he was lifting his head and show Forcella the beginning of a new domain. We hope to identify it. Salvatore walk quietly when suddenly realizes that they are pointing. So she ran, the killers are after him, keep running, want to get into a lane. Start shooting. Most likely, Giuliano passes in front of three girls, used as a shield and in the confusion, take out the gun and start shooting. A few seconds and runs away, unable to catch the killers. There are four legs that run into the portal for cover. The girls go, Annalisa needed. Salen. Is on the ground, blood everywhere, has opened a projectile head. In the church approached him at the altar. There is the coffin of Annalisa. On the four sides are no guards in full uniform, the homage of the region of Campania to the family of the girl. The coffin is covered with white flowers. A mobile, your mobile is supported against the base of the coffin. Annalisa's father moans. Stirring, mumbles something, move their fists in his pockets. Approached me, but it is not me you are going. Says: - What now? What now? As the father breaks to mourn, all the women of the family start to cry, to be beating their breasts, to balance emitting shrieks, as the head of the family left to mourn, all women are silent. Behind banks distinguish occupied by the girls, friends, cousins, neighbors of Annalisa simple. Mothers imitate their gestures, head movements, in which repeated chants: - This has not happened! No way! They are endowed with an important role: comfort. However, exude pride. A funeral for a victim of the Camorra is for them an initiation, as menarche or the first sexual relationship. Like their mothers, this event are active in neighborhood life. The television cameras focus, photographers, all seem to exist for them. Many of these girls will marry before too long with troublemakers, high or menial. Camels or employers. Killers or accounting. Many of them have children who kill and will line up in jail Poggioreale news and money to bring their husbands in prison. But now only in black girls, not to mention low-waist pants and thong. It's a funeral, but are dressed impeccably. Perfect. Mourn a friend, knowing that death will make them women. And, despite the pain, they could not wait. I think of the eternal return of the laws of this land. I think that peaked Giuliano Annalisa power when not yet born and his mother was a little girl who was related to little girls, which later

became the wives of Giuliano and its affiliates, adults listened to the music of D ' Alessio and applauded Maradona, who always shared with cocaine and feasts Giuliano, memorable photo of Diego Armando Maradona at the tub-shaped shell Lovigino. Twenty years later, dies Annalisa Giuliano chasing a shooting, while a response to the aggression Giuliano using it as a shield or perhaps just passing by. A historical tour identical, eternally the same. Timeless, tragic, perennial. The church is now overflowing. The police and the police are nervous. I do not understand. You see them restless, lose patience over trifles, nervous walking back and forth. I understand what happens when you leave the church. I walked away and I see a police vehicle separates from the crowd of people who have attended the funeral of a group of individuals all dressed in luxurious motorcycles, cars, convertibles, powerful scooters. Are members of the clan Giuliano, Salvatore recent stalwarts. The police fear they may cross the bullies and insults between people and one candle is armed. Luckily, nothing happens, but his presence is deeply symbolic. Show that anyone can master in the historic center of Naples without them decide or at least, it is OK. Show that they are there and are still the bosses, however. The white coffin leaves the church, a crowd pushed to touch, many faint, monstrous cries begin to destroy your eardrums. When the coffin passes in front of the house of Annalisa, her mother, who has not felt able to attend the ceremony in the church, trying to jump off the balcony. Cries, struggles, your face is swollen and red. A group of women the subject. Is the usual tragic scene. Let me be clear that the ritual cry of pain and the scenes are not lies or simulations. Not so. Show, yes, the cultural conviction that still live in much of Neapolitan women, forced to continue using heavily symbolic behavior to demonstrate their pain and make it recognizable to the entire community. Despite being extremely real, the pain remains frenetic appearance characteristics of a performance. The reporters just come. Antonio Bassolino, president of the Campania region, and lervolino Rosa Russo, mayor of Naples, are terrified, afraid that the neighborhood might rise up against them. Not so. The people of Forcella has learned to take advantage of the policy and does not want to antagonize anyone. Someone applauds law enforcement. This gesture makes some journalists exalt. Carabineros applauded in the neighborhood of the Camorra. What naivety. That applause was a provocation. Best of police officers who Giuliano. That is what they meant. Some cameras try to collect evidence, come to a fraillooking old lady. The woman seized the microphone and shouts: - Because of these ... my son will spend fifty years in jail! Murderers! Hatred is held against the repentant. The crowd pushed, the stress is tremendous. To think that a girl died because she had decided to play music with her friends in front of the portal from home, a spring night, makes you sick to your guts. I feel nauseous. I have to keep calm. I have to under-stand, if possible. Annalisa was born and lived in this world. His friends told him on getaway bike with the boys of the clan, maybe she would love with a handsome and rich guy, capable of making a career in the system, or perhaps a nice guy who is working all day deslomara for little money. Their fate would have been working ten hours a day in a clandestine factory for five hundred bags euros per month. Annalisa was impressed by the mark on the skin with the leatherworking. In his diary he wrote: "The girls who do hand bags are always black and are all day stuck in the factory. Manu also my sister, but at least her head is not obliged to work

when it is not good. " Annalisa has become a tragic symbol, because the tragedy has occurred in its most terrible and consubstantial: murder. However, there are no instant the business of living does not seem like a life sentence, a sentence that must be deducted over a primitive existence, identical, fast, fierce. Annalisa is guilty of having been born in Naples. Neither more nor less. Annalisa while the body of the white coffin is brought to shoulder, left bank partner blows his mobile. Sounds on the coffin: the new requiem. A continuous sound, then music, repeats a gentle melody. Nobody answers PART TWO Kalashnikov He had spent the fingers on top. Even had their eyes closed. Let slip the tip of the index over the entire surface. From top to bottom. After passing over the hole, I hooked the middle of the nail. He did all the windows. Sometimes the index fell entirely into the hole, sometimes only went halfway. Then increase the speed, ran the smooth surface of a disorderly manner, as if my finger were a kind of crazed worm in and out of holes, overcoming the bumps and running back and forth on the glass. Until I did a clean cut in the bud. I kept sliding on the glass, leaving a watery halo red-purple. Then I opened my eyes. Shooting pain, immediately. The hole was filled with blood. I stopped doing the stupid and started to suck the wound. Kalashnikov holes are perfect. Stamped violently on the glass armor, pierce, dented, termites seem to nibble and then left the gallery. From afar, the machine-gun fire give a strange impression, as if they form dozens of balls in the heart of glass between the various layers reinforced. After a flurry of Kalashnikovs, no merchant changes the crystals. Some silicone paste gets inside and out, some people cover them with black tape, but most leave everything as is. A screened window of a shop can cost up to five thousand euros, so it's best to keep these violent decorations. And basically, to be attractive to customers who linger with curiosity, wondering what have happened, expounding to the business owner, and, ultimately, end up buying something more than necessary. Far from replacing the bulletproof glass, which is rather expected that the next blast of pop. In that case the insurer pays, because if you arrive early in the morning and washes away the clothes, the burst of machine gun robbery becomes classified. Shoot the windows is not so much an act of intimidation, a message that the bullets are to pass, as more of a military necessity. When new items arrive Kalashnikovs have to try. See if they work, check whether the well mounted cannon, familiar, verify that the chargers are not jammed. Could test the machine guns in the field, with the old glass and armored plates can buy with confidence shattered. But do not. Instead, shoot the windows, the blast doors, the metal shutters, as a reminder that there is nothing that can not be yours and all, at bottom, is only a temporary concession, a delegated power from an economy that only they manage. A concession, nothing more than a concession that can be revoked anytime. And besides, is also an indirect benefit because the glassworks in the area who have the best prices on bulletproof glass are all linked to the clans, then ruined the more windows, more money for the glassware. The previous night had arrived thirty Kalashnikovs from the East. Of Macedonia. From Skopje to Gricignano d'Aversa, a quick trip and calm that had filled the garages of the Camorra of machine guns and rifles. As the curtain fell socialist, the Camorra met with leaders of communist parties in decomposition. He sat at the negotiating table

representing the West powerful, capable and quiet. Aware of its crisis, clans unofficially bought the Eastern states, Romania, Poland, former Yugoslavia, whole warehouses of weapons for years, paying the salaries of guards, the guards, the officials responsible for the conservation of military resources. In sum, therefore, a part of the defense of those countries came to be paid for by the clans. The best way, in essence, to hide weapons and having them in the barracks. Thus, for years, and despite the alternation of leaders, internal conflicts and crises, the boas have kept as a reference, the black market in weapons, but the deposits of the Eastern armies at your disposal. This time the machine guns were loaded into military trucks sported on their flanks the command of NATO. TIR trucks. U.S. stolen from garages, thanks to anagram that could leisurely roll half of Italy. In Gricignano d'Aversa, the NATO base is a little inaccessible colossus, a sort of reinforced concrete column in the middle of a plain. Structure built by Coppola, like everything else in this area. Americans are almost never seen. There are few controls. NATO trucks enjoy maximum freedom, and thus, once the weapons have entered the country, drivers stop and take their croissants with your cappuccino, while at the bar wondering where to find "a couple of download black clothes urgently. "And everyone knows what you mean by" urgent. " Weapons boxes weigh only slightly more than the boxes of tomatoes, the African boys who want to take off some extra money after working in the fields take two euros per box, four times what they provide for a box of tomatoes or apples. I once read in a magazine devoted to NATO military families stationed abroad-a little article aimed at those who had come to Gricignano d'Aversa. I translated the passage and I signed up with an agenda to remember. He said: "To understand where you are going to live, you have to think about the films of Sergio Leone. It's like the Wild West, is in charge, there is gunfire, unwritten rules and unassailable. But do not worry: to citizens and U.S. military will have the utmost respect and hospitality. In any case, come out of the military zone only when necessary. " U.S. writer that helped me better understand where he lived. "That morning I found the bar Mariano prey to a strange euphoria. Front of the bar was very excited, charging early morning martinis. What happens? Everyone asks the same thing. Even the waiter refused to fill the fourth cup until know. But he did not respond, as if the others could understand perfectly by themselves. "I go to meet him, I am told he is still alive, but is it true? - Is it true what? - How is it possible? Holiday lame I'm going to know ... "But to whom?, What ...? - Do you realize? It is very light, accurate, can shoot twenty or thirty shots, not even five minutes have passed ... Is a great invention! I was ecstatic. The waiter looked at him as he looks at a boy who has penetrated to a woman for the first time and displayed on the face an unmistakable expression, the same as Adam. Then I understood where he came from the euphoria. Mariano had first tested a Kalashnikov, and had been so impressed with this gadget that I wanted to go to meet its inventor, Mikhail Kalashnikov. I had never shot anyone in the clan had come to control the distribution of some brands of coffee in different bars of the territory. Extremely young, a graduate in economics and trade, was responsible for a lot of millions of euros,

as the bars and coffee companies seeking to enter the commercial network of clan numbered in the dozens. However, the area manager did not want his men, licensed or not, soldiers, business executives, were not able to shoot, and so had put the machine gun in his hand. At night, Mariano had downloaded a few bullets in several windows, choosing random bars. There was a warning, though, in short, although he did not know the real reason for firing on those windows, no doubt the owners would find a valid reason. There is always cause to feel false. Mariano machine gun called the fiery tone and professional use: AK-47. The official name of the world's most famous gun. A simple enough name, where AK stands for Avtomat Kalashnikova, ie the "automatic Kalashnikov., And 47 refers to the year he was selected as a weapon for the Soviet military. Often weapons have code names, letters and numbers that should hide their lethal power, symbols of his ruthlessness. But in reality it is trivial names for some officer positions responsible to record the deposit of new weapons unless the new screws. Kalashnikovs are lightweight and easy to use and require only simple maintenance. Its strength lies in its ammunition middle: not too small like revolvers, to avoid losing the firepower nor too large, to avoid the decline and poor manageability and accuracy of the weapon. Maintenance and installation are simple enough that the boys from the former Soviet Union what they learned in school desks, in the presence of a military officer, in a average time of two minutes. The last time I had heard gun shots had been for some years. It was near the University of Santa Maria Capua Vetere, can not remember exactly where, but I'm sure it was at a crossroads. Four vehicles blocked the car Caterino Sebastiano, always a troublemaker Antonio Bardellino near the boss of bosses of the Camorra Casertana in the 1980 and 1990, and shot him with a Kalashnikov Orchestra. When Bardellino disappeared and changed leaders, Caterino had managed to flee, to escape the slaughter. For thirteen years he had left home, had lived in hiding, just poked his nose at night, camouflage, leaving the doorway of her cottage in an armored car, and passing his life outside his homeland. After many years of silence believed to have invested with a new authority. He hoped that the rival clan, the past forgotten, not attack an old leader like him. Thus, had begun to forge a new clan in Santa Maria CapuaVetere, and the ancient Roman city had become his fiefdom. The commander of San Cipriano d'Aversa, Caterino's hometown, to get to the scene just uttered a phrase: "I really have hurt!". In fact, here you reserve treatment is evaluated in terms of the shots you get. If they kill you with finesse, shot in the head or the belly, is interpreted as a necessary, surgical, without rancor. In contrast, over two hundred shots hit the car and the body over forty is a resounding way to erase from the face of the earth. The Camorra has a very long memory and is capable of infinite patience. Thirteen hundred and fifty-six months, four Kalashnikovs, two hundred shot, a bullet for each month of waiting. In some areas, weapons also have traces of memory, which preserved with hate in themselves, then spit out a sentence at the right time. That morning, running his fingers over the ornaments of the gun to the backpack. I was about to leave: he had to go to Milan to see my cousin. It's strange how, talk to talk to, and whatever the reason, since you say you are about to leave you become the subject of wishful thinking, attention and juienthusiastic services: - Well done! You do well, I would. Do not give details and specify what you're doing. Whatever the reason, it is always

better than you'd find to keep living in this area. When people ask me where I am, never answered. I would like to respond to the south, but it seems overly rhetorical. When you ask me on a train, I look down and pretend not to hear, since it always comes to my mind the book would talk in Sicily, Vittorini, and if I open my mouth I risk repeating the words of its protagonist, Silvestro Ferrato.Y not about that. Times change, the voices are the same. On one trip, however, occurred to me that I met a lady coming into meat stuffed in a bad way in the reduced Eurostar seat. Bologna had risen to an incredible desire to stifle talk time, plus his own body. Insisted on knowing where he came from, what he did, where would ... I wanted to respond just showing the wound in the fingertip and nothing else. But I refrained. Instead I replied: "I am from Naples. A city that gives so much to say, that just say his name to escape from any kind of response. A place where bad becomes all bad and good in all good. Then I fell asleep. The next morning, very early, Mariano telephoned me anxious. It was part of accounting and organizing part of a very delicate operation that some employers in our area were made in Rome. John Paul II was very wrong, perhaps even had died, but had not yet officially given the news. Marian asked me to accompany him. I got off at the first stop I could and turned back. Businesses, hotels, restaurants, supermarkets, were in need in a few days of massive and extraordinary supplies of all kinds of products. There was a sea of money to be made: in a very short time, millions of people flooded the capital, living on the streets, spending hours and hours on sidewalks, and having to drink, to eat, in a word, to buy. Could triple the price, sell at all hours, even at night, take advantage of every minute. Mariano called, he asked me to accompany him, and in return for my kindness would give me some money. Nothing is free. A Mariano had promised a month's vacation so he could realize his dream of going to Russia to meet Mikhail Kalashnikov, even had the assurance of a man of Russian families who had sworn that he knew. Thus, Mariano could meet him, eye contact, touch the hands that had invented a powerful machine gun. The day of the funeral of the Pope, Rome was swarming with people. Impossible to distinguish the faces of the streets, paths or sidewalks. A single skin of meat had coated the asphalt, building entrances, windows, a flood that was channeled through any available space. A flood that seemed to increase its own volume, to blow up the channels that converged. There were people everywhere. Everywhere. A frightened dog was hiding under a bus trembling, as he had seen their living space invaded feet and legs. Mariano and I stopped in the doorway of a building, the only one left the shelter of a group that had decided, as a vote for six hours singing a tune inspired by San Francisco. There we sat down to eat a sandwich. I was exhausted. Mariano, however, never tired, any effort will be remunerated, and that made him perennially at full capacity. Suddenly I heard someone calling me. Before you turn around and guessed who it was, was my father. Two years since we met, we lived in the same city without ever crossing. It was incredible that we find ourselves precisely in the labyrinth of Roman meat. My father was very violent. I did not know how to say hello, and perhaps could not do as I would have liked. But I was elated, and in those hikes they say that in a few hours you will spend wonderful things, they may not be repeated for at least three months, and therefore want to absorb them all, feel all the way, but quickly, for fear of losing the other joys in the little time you have left. Had taken advantage of the fact that a Romanian

company had lowered the price of flights to Italy because of the Pope's death, and had paid the ticket to the entire family of his partner. All women in the group wore their hair uncovered with a veil and a rosary wound around the wrist. It was impossible to know what street we were, just remember a huge banner that flew between two buildings: "Eleventh commandment: do not push and not push you," written in twelve languages. New relatives of my father was happy. Thrilled to participate in an event as important as the pope's death. Everyone dreamed of indulgences for immigrants. Suffer for the same reason, to participate in a demonstration so massive and universal, was for those Romanians the best way to acquire citizenship of Italy sentimental and objective, even before the law. My father adored John Paul II, he was excited about the fascination of the man who made everyone kiss his hand. He was intrigued by how he came to meet this immense drawing power without coercion obvious or clear strategies. All powers knelt before him. For my father, that was enough to admire a man. I saw him kneel next to her partner's mother to recite a rosary improvised on the street. Among the Romanians saw plenty of relatives poke a child. I immediately understood that he was the son of my father and Micaela. I knew he was born in Italy to have citizenship, but at the wish of the mother, had always lived in Romania. The boy was not released in the lap of her mother. I had not ever seen, but knew his name: Stefano Nicolae. Stefano, as the father of my father, Nicolae, as father of Micaela. My father called Stefano, his mother and his uncles, Nico. Nico would finally call, but the timing of the loss of my father still had not arrived. Obviously, the first gift he had received from his father had just descended the steps of the plane was a ball. It was the second time my father saw his son, but it was as if I had ever in mind. Picked him up and approached me. "Now Nico comes to live here. In this land. In the land of his father. I do not know why, but the boy put a sad and dropped the ball on the floor, I managed to fix it with his foot before it irretrievably lost in the crowd. I suddenly came to mind the smell of salt and dust mixture, cement and debris. A musty smell. I remembered when I was twelve, on the beach Pinetamare. My father entered my room, I had just woke up. Possibly it was Sunday. - Do you realize that your cousin and can shoot? And you? Are you going to be less than him? Villaggio Coppola took me on the coast Domitia. The beach was a deserted field utensils eaten by salt and limestone covered with a crust. I have been digging for days, looking for blades, gloves, boots bottomless, broken hoes, picks clipped ... but I had been there to rummage through the trash. My father paced back and forth looking for potential targets, preferably bottles. His favorite was the beer Peroni. Then put the bottles on the roof of a 127 burned, because the place was full of skeletons of cars. Pinetamare beaches were also used to deposit all burnt cars previously used in robberies and assaults. I still remember the Beretta 92 FS from my father. Was all scratched, as if tiger, an old lady gun. Worldwide known as M9, I do not know why. Whenever I hear mention of that name: "In an M9 that I put you between the eyes!", "Will I have to take the M9?", "Damn! I have to get an M9. " My father put the Beretta in his hand. I found it very heavy. The butt of the gun is very rough, looks like sandpaper, you get hooked on the palm and when you take the gun from the hand looks almost as if you scratch with micro teeth. My father had told me how to unlock, load the gun, extended his arm, close your right eye if the target was

left, and aim. "Robert, relaxed and strong arm at a time. So, quiet but not limp ... use both hands. Before I pull the trigger with the full force of the two indexes pushed each other, closed my eyes and lifted his shoulders as if to cover my ears with the shoulders. Even today the sound of the shot makes me sick. I have a problem with the drums, and after hearing a shot I'm deaf for half an hour. In Pinetamare, Coppola, a powerful business family, built the largest urban agglomeration in the West illegally. Hundred and sixty-three thousand square meters of concrete, just the Villaggio Coppola. Not asked permission, it was not necessary: in the land bids and permits are ways to increase production costs dramatically, because you have to "grease" too much paperwork. So that Coppola went directly to the mixer. Today, several pounds of concrete have taken the place of one of the most beautiful pine forests of the Mediterranean sea. Whose buildings were constructed doorphones heard the sea. When I finally gave in the first target of my life, I experienced a sense of pride and sense of guilt at a time. Had been able to shoot, had finally been able to. Nobody could hurt me. But he had learned to use a terrible instrument. One that, once you know how to use, you can never stop using it, is like learning to ride a bicycle. The bottle had not broken at all. Rather, it was still standing, split in half, right half. My father walked to the car. I stayed there with the gun, but I felt strangely alone, surrounded as he was about ghosts and metal waste. Reached out to the sea, and fired two bullets into water. I did not see a splash, and perhaps not even reached the water, but shoot the sea seemed a brave indeed. My father returned with a leather ball that had drawn the portrait of Maradona. Was the reward for my good accuracy. Then his face went as usual to me. I could feel her breath like coffee. I was pleased: now his son was nothing less than the son of his brother. So recite the usual mantra, their catechism: "Robert, what is a man without race and gun? "A cocoon gun. - Well! What is a man with stroke and no gun? - A cocoon race. - Well! What is a career man with a gun? - A man, Dad! - Okay, Robertito! Nico walked still insecure. My father spoke of bursts. The Small did not understand him: he was the first time I heard speak in Italian, although her mother had been clever enough to make you be born here. - Do not you think that you think, Robert? I looked carefully. And I was happy for him, not at all like me. - Fortunately, I can not think! My father looked at me with her usual expression of disappointment, how to say that at that stage not even in jest hear me say what I would have liked to hear! I always had the impression that my father was at war with someone. As if he had fought a battle with alliances, precautions, machinations. For my father, going to a two-star hotel was like losing face to not know who. As if to be accountable to an entity that would have

punished with violence if they had not lived in wealth and an authoritarian attitude and extravagance. "The best, Robert, should not need anyone, should know is true, but also to inspire fear. If you do not inspire fear nobody, no one feels embarrassed to look at you, then that basically has not become truly capable. When we eat out, it bothered her that often in some restaurants the waiters served the first of some local characters even if they had entered an hour after us. Those boss sat down, and within minutes had all the food in front. My father greeted them. But mumbled murmured his desire to enjoy the same respect. A respect which was to generate the same jealousy of power, the same fear, the same wealth. - Do you see those? Are in charge of truth. It is they who decide everything! Some people sent in words and who governs in things. You must find out who runs things, and pretend to think who sent in words. But you always know the truth within. Just send the boss really into things. Those leaders of the things, as I called my father sat at the table. Had always decided the fate of these lands. They ate together and smiling. Then, over the years, have been killing each other, leaving a trail of thousands of dead, the characters of their financial investments. The boss knew well how to fix the snub that they serve the first, invited to eat at all present on the site, but only after they had left, fearing for receiving expressions of gratitude and adulation. All the food had paid, except two people: Professor lannotto and his wife. They had not been welcomed, and they had not dared to offer them food. Although they had been given away through a waiter, a bottle of liquor. A rowdy knows to look fair even enemies, as these are always more precious than hidden. When I had to show a negative example, my father always pointed lannotto teacher. They had gone to school together. lannotto lived rent, had been expelled from his party, had no children, and was always Malcarado and badly dressed. Taught in high school, I remember always struggling with parents, and those asking why his friend could send their children to private lessons to approve. My father was considered a condemned man. A dead man walking. "It's like being a philosopher and who decides who decides to become a doctor. According to you, which of the two decide on a person's life? - The doctor! - Very good! The doctor. Because it can decide on the life of people. Decide. Saved or unsaved. So as does good only when you do wrong. If instead you were a failure, a clown, one who does nothing, then you can only do good, but that is voluntary, a good trash. The real good is when you choose to do it because you can do wrong. I did not respond. I never understand what he really wanted to prove. And deep down even now I have come to understand. Perhaps it is also why what I majored in philosophy, not to decide on the place of anyone. My father had worked in the ambulance service as a young doctor, back in the 1980's. Four deaths a year. In areas where they came to kill five people a day. Arrived with the ambulance, but if the wounded lay on the ground and the police had not yet arrived, they could not carry. That's because, when word spread, the killers turned back, followed the ambulance, shut him in inlocked in the car and finished the job. That had happened lots of times, and both doctors and nurses knew that before an injured person had to sit still and wait for the killers back to finish the operation. Once, however, my father came to Giugliano, a village situated

between the provinces of Naples and Caserta, a stronghold of the Mallard. The boy was eighteen, or perhaps less. He had been shot in the chest, but a rib had deflected the bullet. The ambulance arrived quickly, as it was in the area. The boy was dying, screaming, losing blood. My father got into the ambulance. The nurses were terrified. They tried to dissuade him, it was clear that the killers had been shot without looking, and a patrol had put to flight, but no doubt it again. The nurses tried to calm my father "Hopefully. Come, finish the job, and we took But my father did not accept. Death, after all, has its time. And at eighteen he did not think it was time to die, even for a soldier of the Camorra. So I climbed into the ambulance took him to hospital and saved his life. That night, the killers had not hit the mark as they should have went home. A house of my father. I was not, then lived with my mother. But they got to tell me this story many times, always truncated at the same point, that I also remember it as if I had stayed home and had seen everything. I think my father gave him a brutal beating. For at least two months there was seen, and during the following four dared not look at anyone's face. Deciding who should die to save means wanting to share their fate, because here will not change anything. It is a decision that achieves get you out of a problem, it is an awareness, a thought, a decision that really give you achieve the feeling of acting in the best possible way. Whatever you do, will always be a mistake for one reason or another. That is the true solitude. Little Nico laughed again. Micaela has more or less my age. She, too, declaring his desire to move to Italy, left, will be given Congratulations No questions asked, not knowing if he would make a bitch, as wife, housekeeper or maid. Knowing only that he was leaving a sufficient condition to be considered lucky. Nico, however, obviously did not think anything. Absorbed with relish the nth beat his mother gave him to swallow. My father, to make him eat, put the ball at his feet, and Nico chute with all his might. The ball bounced on the knees, shins and tops of the shoes of dozens of people. My father ran after her. Knowing that Nico was looking at him awkwardly pretended that he dribbled a nun, but the ball got away again from the feet. The little laugh, the piles of ankles that spread to his eyes saw made him feel like a forest of legs and sandals. He enjoyed watching his father, our father, struggling to recover that ball. I tried to raise his hand to greet him, but now they blocked a wall of flesh. It would be stuck there for a good half hour. It was useless to wait, it was late. And even its silhouette was suspected: the stomach of the crowd had swallowed. Mariano had managed to meet Mikhail Kalashnikov. He had spent a month traveling through Eastern Europe. Russia, Romania, Moldova: a holiday that the clan had given horn prize. I saw him just in a bar in Casal di Principe. The same bar as usual. Mariano was wearing a thick packet of photographs tied with a rubber like stickers ready for exchange. There were autographed pictures of Mikhail Kalashnikov with dedications. Before returning, had been to reveal lots of copies of a Kalashnikov picture portrayed in the uniform of the Red Army general, and with a row of medals on his chest: the Order of Lenin, medal of honor of the Great Patriotic War , Medal of the Order of the Red Star of the Order of the Red Flag to Work ... Mariano had achieved through the indications of some Russians who did business with the groups in the province of Caserta, and it is they had presented to the general. Mikhail Kalashnikov Timofievich lived in a rented apartment in a small town situated at the foot of the Urals, Izhevsk, Ustinov, who until 1991 was not even on the maps. It was

one of many held in secret locations by the USSR. Kalashnikov was the only attraction of the city. For he had made a direct connection with Moscow, and had become a kind of elite tourist attraction. A hotel near his home, where he had stayed Mariano, made on Aug. accommodating all admirers of General in the city waiting his return from a trip to Russia, or simply waiting to be received. Mariano had come with the camcorder in hand at the General Kalashnikov and his wife. The general had allowed just asking not to make public what they filmed, and Mariano, obviously, had accepted, especially knowing that the person who had mediated between Kalashnikov and he knew his address, phone number and your face. Mariano was presented to the general with a bucket of polystyrene closed with tape and filled with faces of buffalo stamped on the cover, had been kept in the trunk of the car that box full of buffalo mozzarella Aversano the countryside bathed in milk. Mariano showed me the footage of his visit to the home of Kalashnikov on the small monitor that opened on one side of the camcorder. The video jumped, the images were moving, dancing faces, the eyes distorted zooming and objects, and the target collided with fingers and wrists. It seemed like the video shot on a school trip while you jump and run. Kalashnikov's house seemed to Gennaro Marino Marino dacha, or maybe it was just a classic dacha, but the fact is that the one I had seen was indeed the boss of Arzano secessionist, why it seemed identical buildings . The Kalashnikov family home had the walls hung with reproductions of Vermeer, and the furniture was packed with trinkets of glass and wood. The floor was completely covered with carpets. At a certain time of filming, the general put his hand in front of goal. Mariano explained that fiddling with the camera, and provided with a good dose of bad manners, he had finally come into a room that Kalashnikov did not want to come out on video under any circumstances. In a metal bargueo against the wall, clearly visible behind the bulletproof glass, was preserved the first model of Kalashnikov, the prototype built from the drawings, according to legend, the old general ( then, an unidentified officer) had drawn on sheets of paper while in the hospital, shot and eager to create a weapon to make invincible numb and famous Red Army soldiers. The first AK-47 history, hidden as the first penny he had won the Paperone uncle, the famous number one in the blast cabinet, the "number about obsessive-mind kept away from the hands of Amelia. That model was priceless. Many would have really given anything to have that sort of military relic. As Kalashnikov die, eventually sold at auction at Christie's, as the canvases of Titian and Michelangelo's drawings. That day, Mariano spent all morning at the home of old Kalashnikovs, the Russian who had introduced them to be truly influential in the general grant him such confidence. The camera shot as they sat at the table and a tiny old lady opened the polystyrene box of mozzarella. They ate at home. Vodka and mozzarella. Mariano did not miss even that scene, and put the camcorder at the top of the table to grasp it all. I wanted to test some of General Kalashnikov eating mozzarella cheese from the boss for whom he worked. The goal, placed on the table, caught in the distance a village where he had framed pictures of children. Although I was hoping that the finished video once, I felt an unbearable dizziness, could not contain my curiosity: "Hey, Maria, do all those children and grandchildren have Kalashnikovs? -! What the hell's children! Are all sons of people who send photos of children named

after him, maybe people who have been saved thanks to his machine gun, or simply admire it ... Such as surgeons are the pictures of the children who have been saved, healed or operated, and the frame placing on the shelves of his office as a reminder of the success in his profession, so the general Kalashnikov was in the room be the pictures of the children who bore the name of her child. Movement, which had declared: "I called my son Kalsh, because it is synonymous with freedom." Kalashnikov is an eighty-four, still active and well maintained. We invite all parties, as a kind of substitute mobile icon most famous machine gun in the world. Before retiring as army general was receiving a salary of five hundred rubles, which at that time amounted to approximately a few hundred dollars monthly. If Kalashnikov have, been able to patent his machine gun in the West today would surely be one of the richest men in the world. Are calculated with approximate figures, which has produced over one hundred and fifty million machine guns of the Kalashnikov family, all originating from the general project. Would have sufficed for each of them had received a dollar for now swim in abundance. But this tragic lack of money does not troubled at all: he had fathered the child, he had breathed his breath, and this seemed to be a sufficient condition to be satisfied. Or perhaps it was actually an economic benefit. Mariano had told me that occasionally his fans sent him money, stocks, thousands of dollars on their own, valuable gifts from Africa, including talk of a tribal mask of gold given to him by Mobutu and a canopy of ivory inlaid sent Bokassa, of China, by contrast, said he had LLE-gado nothing less than a train, with its locomotive and wagon, a gift from Deng Xiaoping, who knew of the general difficulties of getting on the plane. But they were only legends, rumors circulating in the signatures of those journalists who, unable to get to interview the general, who did not receive anyone without an important recommendation, "were dedicated to interview operators of the Izhevsk arms factory . Mikhail Kalashnikov automatic answer, always the same answer whatever the question, using plain English, learned as an adult, he used as he used a screwdriver to loosen a screw. Mariano questioned him useless and general-a way of reducing their concern, on the metra-lleta: "I did not invent the gun to be sold for profit, but only and only to defend the homeland in the time when I needed it. If I could go back, I would do the same and live in the same way. He worked all his life, and my life is my job. A repeated response to all questions posed to him on his machine gun. There is nothing in the world, organic or inorganic, metal or chemical element that has caused more deaths than the AK47. The Kalashnikov has killed more than the atomic bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the AIDS virus, bubonic plague, malaria, that all attacks by Islamic fundamentalists, that the sum of deaths from all earthquakes that have shaken Earth's crust. An inordinate number of human flesh impossible to even imagine. Only one advertiser did, at a conference, give a convincing description: advised that to get an idea of the dead produced by SMG fill a bottle of sugar, grains dropping through a hole in the tip of the package, each grain of sugar equivalent to one death caused by the Kalashnikov. The AK-47 is a weapon capable of firing in the toughest conditions. It is impossible to be jammed, is ready to fire even when filled with soil or water soaked, is comfortable to

grip, a trigger is so smooth that even a child can tighten. Fortune, error, inaccuracy: all elements of life-saving in the clashes appear to be eliminated by the completeness of the AK-47, an instrument that prevents the fate has a role. Easy to use, easy to carry, shoot with an efficiency that can kill without any kind of training. "It is capable of transforming into fighter until a monkey", said Kabila, the Congolese political leader feared. In the conflicts of the past thirty years, more than fifty countries have used the Kalashnikov assault rifle as their hosts. Massacres have occurred with the Kalashnikov, the UN, Algeria, Angola, Bosnia, Burundi, Cambodia, Chechnya, Colombia, Congo, Haiti, Kashmir, Mozambique, Rwanda, Sierra Leone, Somalia, Sri Lanka, Sudan and Uganda. More than fifty regular armies have the Kalashnikov, and impossible to become a statistic of the illegal groups, paramilitaries and guerrillas who use it. Killed by fire of the Kalashnikov: Sadat, in 1981, General Dalla Chiesa, in 1982, Ceausescu, in 1989. In the Palacio de la Moneda Chile, Salvador Allende was found with Kalashnikov bullets in the dead eminent cuerpo.Y these are the real historical letter machine gun. The AK-47 has even finished forming part of the flag of Mozambique and is also in hundreds of symbols of political groups, from al-Fatah in Palestine until the MRTA in Peru. When video appears in the mountains, Osama bin Laden uses it as one symbol threatening. Has accompanied all the roles: the freedoms of dor, to the oppressor, the regular army soldier, the terrorist, to the abductor, to the bodyguard escorting the president. Kalashnikov has created a highly effective weapon, capable of improving over the years, a weapon that has had eighteen twenty-two new model variants and forged from the initial project. Is the true symbol of economic liberalism, its absolute icon. Could be agreed even in its emblem, no matter who you are, no matter what you think, no matter where it comes from, no matter what religion you are, no matter who or what you please, just what you do, you do with our product. With fifty million dollars can buy nearly two hundred thousand machine guns, ie with fifty million dollars you can create a small ejrcito.Todo that destroys the political ties and mediation, all of which allows a consumer and a exorbitant power, becomes the winner in the marketplace and Mikhail Kalashnikov, his invention has allowed all groups of po-der and micropower have a military component. After the invention of the Kalashnikov, no one can claim to have been defeated because they had access to weaponry. Has carried out a matching action: for all weapons, killing up for grabs. The battle is no longer the exclusive domain of international ejrcitos.A, the Kalashnikov has done what clans have Secondigliano locally, cocaine and fully liberalized allowing anyone to become a drug dealer, consumer or camel, releasing the market for simple criminal mediation and hierarchical. Similarly, the Kalashnikov has become all soldiers, including children and scrawny little girls, and has become the army general who would not know or guide a herd of ten sheep. Buy guns, shoot, destroy people and things, and buy back. The rest is just details. Kalashnikov's face appears serene in all the photos, with his angular face and her eyes Slavic Mongolian, over the years, become increasingly subtle. Sleep the sleep of the righteous. She lies, if not happy, at least quiet, with the slippers under the bed, in order, even when he is serious is tight lips, arched like the face of the recruit Pyle in Full Metal Jacket. The lips smile, but the face is not. When I look at the portraits of Mikhail Kalashnikov I always think of Alfred Nobel, famous for the award that bears his name, but actually the father of dynamite. Photos of Nobel in the years following the development of dynamite, then you understand the use

to be made of a mix of nitroglycerin and clay-portray him upset by the unrest, with fingers gripping the chin. Perhaps my impression, but when I look at the photos of Nobel, frowning and lost eyes, seem to say one thing: "I did not want. I intended to open mountains crumble rock mass, creating galleries. He did not want what has happened. " Kalashnikov, however, always has a serene air of old Russian pensioner, with a head full of memories. You imagine the breath smelling of vodka and talking to friends who lived during the war, or sitting at the table whispering that young man was able to stand for hours in bed without stopping. Following the children's game impressions, the face of Mikhail Kalash-nikov seems to say: "All is well, not my problem, I just have invented a machine gun. How to use the other, is something that concerns me. " Liability limits outlined in the flesh, circumscribed by the gesture. Just what one's hand has been a matter for the conscience. I think this is one of the elements that made the old general agreed involuntary icon clans worldwide. Mikhail Kalashnikov is not an arms dealer, is not involved at all in mediation to buy machine guns, has no political influence, nor has a charismatic personality, but everyday brings with it the imperative of the man at the time the market: do what you must do to overcome, the rest do not care. Mariano was wearing a knapsack slung over his shoulder and wore a hooded sweatshirt, all with the signature Kalashnikov. The general had diversified its investments and was making himself a talented businessman. No one like him could enjoy a well-known name so. Thus, a German businessman had set up a garment factory with the Kalashnikov brand, and the general had become the pleasure to distribute your name, also investing in a company of fire extinguishers. Mariano while continuing his story, suddenly stopped shooting and ran outside the bar. He opened the trunk of his car and, after grabbing a small military backpack, put it on the bar bar.Yo believed that his obsession with the machine gun had completely mad. He feared that he had crossed half of Europe with a machine gun in the trunk, and now would like to display in front of everyone. But instead, he took out a small military backpack filled glass Kalashnikov vodka. It was a very kitsch bottle with a stopper rod tip shape. And in the countryside Aversano, all the bars that had to source through Mariano had now as a new business proposal Kalashnikov vodka. Already imagined playing behind glass highlighting all the waiters between Teverola and Mondragone. The film was termi-ordinating, eyes narrowed to force to compensate for my myopia, I hurt. But the last picture really worth. Two old men at the door of house, shoes slippers, waving his young guests while still in his mouth the last piece of mozzarella. Meanwhile, Mariano around me and had formed a group of boys who looked to the traveler as a choice, a kind of genius from the interview: someone who had met Mikhail Kalashnikov. Mariano looked at me with a feigned complicity that I ever had with him. He removed the rubber band to the photographs and began to pass. After taking a look at several dozen, took a: "This is for you. Not to say that I agree. On the portrait of the old general appeared written in black marker: "To Roberto Saviano with Best Regards M. Kalashnikov. The international economic research institutions are constantly serving data, which feed each day to newspapers, magazines and political parties, for example, the index famous "Big Mac", which considers a country more prosperous the more expensive cost of a sandwich at McDonald's. Instead, to assess the human rights situation, analysts note the price at which sold the Kalashnikov. The

machine gun is cheaper, more human rights are violated more corrupt is the rule of law, and more rotted and ruined is the frame of social equilibrium. In West Africa, the price of the weapon can reach fifty dollars. In Yemen you can find AK-47 used in the second and third hand even six. The dominance of this, his imprint on the arms depots of the socialist countries decomposing the clans have become Casertano and Neapolitans in the best reference for arms dealers, with Calabrian bands, with those that are in permanent contact. The Camorra, taking a huge slice of the international arms market, determines the price of Kalashnikovs, making indirectly judge the health status of human rights in the West, draining the right level, slowly, like a drop down a catheter. While the French and U.S. criminal gangs used the M-16 Eugene Stoner, the thick, bulky and heavy assault rifle of the marines, a rifle should be oiled and cleaned regularly if one does not want to blow up in their hands, Sicily and in Campania, from Cinisi to Casal di Principe, and in the 1980 Kalashnikovs ran hand in hand. In 2003, after the declaration of a repentant, Raffaele Spinello, Genovese clan, unrivaled in the city and the province of Avellino, "came to light the story of the relationship between ETA and the Camorra. The Geno-vese clan is allied to the Cellar and families Quindici Casertana. Not a clan of first order, and nevertheless was unable to supply weapons to one of the main armed groups in Europe, which in the course of thirty years had used multiple ways to stock up on weapons. The clans of Campania, however, were privileged partners. According to research, investigations by prosecutors in Naples in 2003, two ETA, the Basque Jos Miguel Torres Morillo Arrt and Grace, stayed for ten days in a suite in a hotel in Milan. Price, schedule, delivery, agreed on everything. ETA send cocaine by militants of the organization to receive arms to change, constantly reducing the price of coca to be sought through their contacts with the Colombian guerrilla groups and assume the cost and responsibility of transporting the goods to Italy, all in order to maintain relations with the cartels Campania, probably the only ones able to provide entire array. But would not only Kalashnikovs ETA: also wanted heavy weapons, high explosives and especially missile launchers. Relations between the Camorra and guerrilla groups have always been prolific, even in Peru, second home of the narcos Neapolitans. In 1994, the court of Naples submitted an appeal to the Peruvian authorities in order to initiate investigations after Lima was loaded in a dozen Italians, research aimed at revealing the relationships that clans Napolitan, we had maintained-through of the Rodriguez brothers, with the MRTA, the group of guerrillas placed red and white scarf on his face like a mask. They too had dealt with the clans, even they coke in exchange for weapons. In 2002 he arrested a lawyer, Francesco Magliulo, connected according to the indictment of the Mazzarella clan, the powerful family of San Giovanni a subsidiary Teduccio a criminal in the city of Naples, in the Santa Lucia and Forcella. They had followed more than two years in business between Egypt, Greece and England. An intercepted phone call from Mogadishu, the villa of General Aidid, the Somali warlord who, facing Ali bands Mandi, Somalia had been reduced to a ruined and rotten corpse destined to be buried next to toxic waste half of Europe. Research on the relationship between the Mazzarella clan, and Somalia continued in all directions, and certainly the element of trafficking in weapons became a critical clue. Even the warlords became mere gentlemen against the need to stock up on weapons by the clans of Campania.

Especially impressive was in March 2005, the outdoor firepower Sant'Anastasia, a village on the slopes of Vesuvius, a discovery that was partly coincidence and partly due to indiscipline of the traffickers, who began to stick in the street because buyers and carriers they could not agree on prices. When police arrived, they proceeded to remove the panels from inside a van that was parked next to the place of the fight, finding one of the largest mobile magazines ever seen. Uzi machine guns equipped with four bedrooms, seven magazines and 112 rounds of caliber 380, weapons of Russian and Czech capable of firing bursts of 950 rounds per minute. Nearly new, well oiled and intact serial number, machine guns had arrived in Krakow. Nine hundred and fifty shots per minute was the firepower of U.S. helicopters in Vietnam. It was, therefore, weapons designed for men gutted divisions, and armored cars, and not fire batteries rowdy families in the region of Mount Vesuvius. The firepower thus becomes, in yet another possibility to take over the levers of real power of the Leviathan to impose authority on behalf of their potential violence. In the armories are bazookas, hand grenades, antitank mines, machine guns ... but is that what you use only are the Kalashnikovs, Uzi submachine guns and automatic and semiautomatic pistols. The rest is part of the envelope used in the construction of its own military arsenal, it must be shown on the ground. With this potential war, the clans are not opposed to legitimate state violence, but they tend to monopolize all the violence. In the Campania no truce obsession, like that of the old clans of the Cosa Nostra. The weapons are a direct extension of the dynamic management of capital and land, the mix of power pop groups and rival families. It is as if they possessed the exclusive concept of violence, the meat of violence, the instruments of violence. The violence becomes their territory equals exercise to exercise their power in the power of the system. The clans have even created new weapons, designed, planned and carried out directly by its members. In Sant'Antimo-north of Naples in 2004, police found hidden in a hole dug in the ground and covered with lots of grass, a strange rifle wrapped in a cotton cloth soaked in oil. It was a kind of deadly homemade rifle in the market is at a price of about two hundred and fifty euros, very little compared to a semi-automatic, with a mean price of 2500 euros. The rifle of the clan is made up of a reserve of two tubes that can be transported separately, but once assembled become a deadly short-barreled shotgun loaded with ammunition or bullets. Was projected on the model of an old toy gun 1980's, that shot ping-pong balls if the stock pulled strongly blowing a spring inside one of those toy guns that would train thousands of Italian children in war games. Hence, from these toy models, from which today called simply "the tube". This actually consists of two tubes, the first of these larger diameter and forty centimeters long, with a handle. Brings together into a thick metal screw, which makes the plug tip. The second part consists of another tube of smaller diameter, capable of holding a 20 caliber cartridge, and a side handle. Incredibly simple and terribly powerful. This rifle had the advantage of not creating complications after use: after a bombing run was not necessary to destroy the weapon was enough to remove it, and turned the gun is only a pipe cut in half, harmless against any possible investigation. Before the kidnapping, I heard of this gun to a poor man, a pastor, one of those emaciated Italian peasants still moving with their herds, the fields surrounding the highway viaducts and houses on the periphery. Often this shepherd his flock was split in two, torn rather than cut, those bodies of sheep Neapolitan flaqusimos through whose fur guess even the ribs, chewing a grass charged. dioxin rotting teeth and grays wool. The pastor thought

maybe it was a warning of a provocation of their miserable competitors also earned sick. Did not understand. Actually happened that proved tube manufacturers pulling power on light animals. The sheep were the best target to immediately check the strength of the shells and the quality of the weapon. It understood, then, that the impact would make them blow up and split in two as if they were targets of a videogame. The arms issue has been hidden in the guts of the economy, contained in a pancreas of silence. Italy spent 27,000 million dollars in weapons, more money to Russia and Israel twice. The classification was publicized by the International Institute for Peace Research Institute (SIPRI). If these legal economy data is the fact that, according to Eurispes, others $ 3,300 million which constitute the bulk of the arms business who manage the Camorra, the 'Ndrangheta, the Cosa Nostra and the Sacra Corona Unita That means that, following the trail of weapons that manage both the state and the clans, it reaches threequarters of weapons in circulation in all world. The Casalesi cartel is by far the corporatecriminal group better able to act as a benchmark in the international arena not only for groups, but to entire armies. During the Anglo-Argentina, 1982, the so-called Falklands War, Argentina experienced its most intense period of economic isolation. As a result, the Camorra entered into negotiations with the defense of Argentina, became the funnel through which weapons were down that nobody would have officially sold. The clans had been equipped for a long war, but instead, the conflict began in March and June already guessed its conclusion. Few shots, few deaths, and little expense. A war that served more to political entrepreneurs, who served more to diplomacy than to economics. A casertano clans did not suit them undersell the genre to grab an immediate benefit. The same day he declared the end of the war, British intelligence intercepted an intercontinental telephone call between Argentina and San Cipriano d'Aversa. Only two sentences, but sufficient to understand the power of families Casertano and diplomatic skills: - Hello? - Yes! "Here the war is over. What us? "Do not worry, there'll be another war ... The wisdom of power implies a patience that often have no more business entrepreneurs. In 1977, the Casalesi had negotiated the purchase of armored cars, and the Italian secret services had detected a Leopard disassembled and ready for shipment at the station of Villa Literno. The Leopard armored car trade has been a market long controlled by the Camorra. In February 1986, it intercepted a phone call that representatives of the clan Nuvoletta negotiated the acquisition of some Leopard with the former East Germany. Despite the succession of the various bosses, the Casalesi remained a leader in the international arena not only for groups, but to entire armies. A 1994 report of the SISMI and counterintelligence center Deveron says Zeljco Raznatovic, better known as the "Tigre Arkansas, had contacts with Sandokan Schiavone, head of the Casalesi.A Arkan killed him in 2000 in a Belgrade hotel . He had been a Serbian war criminal most ruthless, capable of wiping in raids the Muslim populations of Bosnia, and founder of a nationalist group, Volunteers Guard Serbia. The two tigers were allied. Asked Arkan weapons for its fighters, and, above all, the possibility of circumventing the embargo against Serbia would make the capital and weapons under the guise of humanitarian aid,

hospitals, medicines and medical equipment. According to the SISMI, however, these stores-a total value of tens of millions of dollars were paid in Serbia proper reality through withdrawals from their own deposits in an Austrian bank, equivalent to about eighty-five million dollars. Then that money is sent to an entity allied clans of Serbia and the Campania, which would have proceeded to instruct the relevant goods companies had to send in humanitarian aid, paying with money from illegal activities, and contributing That way the money of their own capital. It is precisely at this point that enters the scene Casalesi clan. It is they who provided the firms, transport and goods needed to carry out the laundering operation. Using his intermediaries, Arkan, still under the in-form, required the intervention of the Casalesi to silence the Albanian mafia that could have ruined their financial war, attacking from the south or blocking the arms trade. The Casalesi calmed their Albanian allies, providing weapons and granting a guerrilla Arkan quiet. In return, business ad-Quiros clan factories, companies, businesses, farms and hatcheries at an unbeatable price, and the Italian company is spread through Serbia. So, before getting into the thick of the war, Arkan turned to the Camorra. Thus, the wars, from South America to the Balkans, fought with the claws of the families of the Campania. Concrete Long ago it was not going to Casal di Principe. If Japan is considered the birthplace of martial arts, Australia's surfing and the Republic of Sierra Leone diamonds, Casal di Principe is the capital of the corporate power of the Camorra. In the Neapolitan province Casertana the mere fact of coming from Casale11 horn was a kind of guarantee of immunity meant to be something more than oneself, as directly emanating from the ferocity of criminal groups casertano. It enjoyed full respect, a kind of natural fear. Even Benito Mussolini had tried to remove the mark of origin, this criminal aura, and had renamed the two municipalities of San Cipriano d'Aversa and Casal di Principe Albanov name. To launch a new dawn of justice, even sent dozens of police with the task of solving the problem ea iron and fire. " Today, the name of Albanov that remains is the ruined station Casale. 11 In Italian farmhouse is short for casale, hence the author refers to either or Casale Casal di Principe (N. of T.) You may have been punching the bag for hours, having spent all afternoon in a rocker to exercise the chest, have swallowed a pill blister after another to inflate the muscles, but against the accent should be compared to the strong gesture, it's like materialize all the bodies on land covered with sheets. There are old ways of saying these places very well come to synthesize lethal load some violent mythology: "The Camorra is made, the pairs born." Or when it is waged, when challenged with a glance, a moment before bundling it myself or stabbing, clarifies one's view of life: "For me, life and death is the same! . Sometimes the source itself, the very place of origin, can be beneficial, can be used as an element of fascination, confusion left willingly with the image of violence, using them as veiled intimidation. You can take off credit to film and any assignment terrible. But it happens that your place of origin is a burden you too much harm, and do not want to stay there even to say that not all members, not all are criminals, that bullies are a minority, and you take a shortcut off with the mind to a nearby town, more anonymous, you can remove any link between the criminals and You: well, it is generally agreed Secondigliano in Naples, Aversa Casal di Principe and

Caserta. One feels ashamed or proud by game, depending on the time or situation, like a suit, but with the difference that this is the one who decides when to carry you. Corleone, compared to Casal di Principe, looks like a city designed by Walt Disney. Casal di Principe, San Cipriano d'Aversa, Casapesenna: a territory with less than 100,000 inhabitants, but with 1,200 convicted for the 416 bis, the crime of criminal association, and an inordinate number of investigated and convicted for Mafia association external collaboration. This land is suffering from time immemorial the weight of rowdy family, a violent and vicious bourgeoisie that has in its vanguard bloodiest clan and powerful. The Casalesi clan, which takes its name precisely from Casal di Principe, is a confederation that unites in herself, in a ratio of federal autonomy to all families in the region rowdy Casertana: from Castelvolturno, Villa Literno, Gricignano, San Tammaro, or ceases to Villa di Briano, Mondragone, Carinola, Marcianise, San Nicola La Strada, Calvi Risorta, LUSCIANO and dozens of people. Each zone with his head, and all integrated in the network of Casalesi. The founder of the families Casale, Antonio Bardellino, was the first in Italy that he understood that eventually the cocaine would largely replace heroin. And yet, for the Cosa Nostra and the Camorra many families, heroin remained the main commodity. Heroin addicts were seen as authentic safes, while in the 1980 cocaine was the characteristic of being an elite drug. Antonio Bardellino had understood, however, that the market had to be more of a drug can not kill in a short time can be an appetizer bourgeois poison the outcasts. Created and a company of import and export of fish meal, which exported to South America and imported to the reregion of Aversa, fishmeal between hiding tons of cocaine. With which heroin trafficked, also sold Bardellino the United States, where he sent John Gotti, introducing the drug in filters for espresso machines. On one occasion, the brigades of U.S. narcotics intercepted sixty-seven kilos of heroin, but for the boss of San d'Aversa Cipria-no that did not represent a defeat. A few days later ordered that it be telephoned Gotti: "Then we send twice by other routes. Aversano was born in the countryside knew the cartel oppose Cutolo, and the ferocity of that war is still present in the genetic code of the clans casertano. In the 1980's, families cutolianas were eliminated with a few military operations, although very violent power. Di malting, four men and four women, were killed within a few days. The Casalesi just let a child live eight years. The Simeone, however, were killed in seven, almost all at the same time. In the morning the family was alive, present and powerful, that night was gone. Exterminated. In Ponte Annicchino-in March 1982 - Casalesi bet on a hill a machine gun campaign, which are used in the trenches, and fired to kill four cutolianos. Antonio Bardellino was a member of the Cosa Nostra, was associated with Tano Badalamenti was partner and friend of Tornmaso Buscetta, who shared a villa in South America. When Corleonesi ended the power-Buscetta Badalamenti also tried to eliminate Bardellino, but without success. The Sicilians, during the first phase of the rise of the socalled New Organized Camorra, Raffaele also tried to eliminate Cutolo. For this was sent to a killer, Minamo Bruno, a ferry from Palermo, but this was shot as he stepped out of the port. La Cosa Nostra has always felt by the Casalesi a kind of respect and submission, but when, in 2002, they killed Lubrano-boss Raffaele Pignataro Maggiore, near Capua, "a man affiliated with the Cosa Nostra, concluded directly by Toto Riina, many feared the outbreak of the Vengeance. I remember the day after the ambush, a newsagent, selling a local newspaper,

addressing a client muttering his fears: -ICOM also are bundled to fight the Sicilian lose the peace for three years! - What Sicilians? "The mafia? "Yes, the mafia. "Those have to kneel in front of the Casalesi and swallowing. That's all they have to do: swallow and nothing else. One of the statements that have attracted my attention to the Sicilian mafia made Carmine Schiavone, a repentant Casalesi clan, in a 2005 interview. He spoke of the Cosa Nostra as a slave to political organization, unable to think in terms of business, unlike the rowdy casertano. For Schiavone, the Mafia claimed to be a kind of anti-state, and that was not exactly a proper business address. There is no paradigm State / anti-state, but only a territory in which they do business, either through or without the state. We lived with the State. For us, the State had to exist and was to be the state it was, but had a different philosophy from that of the Sicilians. While Riina was from the island isolation of the mountain, was ultimately an old leg, we had exceeded those limits, we wanted to live in the state. If someone in the State was stonewalling us, we found another willing to favor us. If it was not a politician we voted, if it was one of the institutions was the way to coax. Carmine Schiavone, a cousin of Sandokan boss, was the first to uncover business Casalesi clan. When you chose to collaborate with justice, Giuseppina his daughter gave him a terrible punishment, perhaps even more deadly than a death sentence. Written in some newspapers with letters of fire: "It's a fake, a lie-ro, a thief and a hypocrite who has sold his own deceit. A beast. It has never been a father to me. I do not even know what the Camorra. Entrepreneurs. This defines the Caserta Brawlers: nothing more than business. A violent clan formed by executives, managers killers, builders and landowners. Each with their own armed bands, conspired among themselves and with diverse interests in all economic fields. The strength of the Casalesi cartel has always been to negotiate with large consignments of drugs without the need to feed a domestic market. The great Roman square is your reference for retail, but has assumed the character much more relevant intermediary in the sale of large items. The minutes of the Anti-Mafia Commission of 2006 indicate that the Casalesi supplying drugs to the families of Palermo. The alliance with Nigerian and Albanian clans have been allowed to emancipate itself from direct management of the retail and drug trafficking. Clan pacts with Nigerians in Lagos and Benin City, alliances with Mafia families in Pristina and Tirana, the agreements with the Ukrainian mafia Lvov and Kiev have emancipated Casalesi criminal activities class. At the same time, the Casalesi received preferential treatment in investment in Eastern Europe and the acquisition of international cocaine traffickers based in Nigeria. New leaders, new wars, everything had occurred after the emergence of clan Bardellino, source of corporate power of the Camorra in these lands. Having achieved complete mastery in all areas of economic legal and illegal, from drug trafficking to the construction, Antonio Bardellino had settled in Santo Domingo with a

new family. Had given to American children the same names as those of San Cipriano, a simple and convenient way to avoid confusion. His most faithful men in their hands the reins of the clan in the area. They had come unscathed from the war with Cutolo had set up businesses and were invested with authority, had spread far and wide, both in northern Italy and abroad. Mario Iovine, Vincenzo De Falco, Francesco Schiavone "Sandokan, Francesco Bidognetti" Cicciotto Zagaria Vincenzo di Mezzanotte and were the lords of the confederation Casale. In the early 1980's, Cicciotto di Mezzanotte and Sandokan, military officials but also businessmen with interests in all areas, had matured and the ability to target the huge body of the confederation multicfalo. However, in Mario Iovine had a boss too tied to Bardellino, a reluctant boss bet on autonomy. Therefore adopted a strategy cryptic, but politically effective. They used the rough rowdy diplomacy the only way that could enable them to conduct their goal: to set off a civil war in society. As relates the sorry Carmine Schiavone, both Antonio Bardellino boss pressured to make return to Italy and push to eliminate Mimi Iovine, brother of Mario, who had a furniture store and was officially oblivious to the dynamics of the Camorra, while according to the two boss had played too often the role of the police informer. To convince the boss had told him that even Mario was ready to sacrifice his brother in order to maintain the power of the clan strong. Bardellino was persuaded and did kill diminished when going to work in his furniture store. Shortly after the attack, and Sandokan Ciciotto di Mezzanotte Mario Iovine pressured to eliminate Bardellino, saying he had dared to kill his brother with an excuse, just a rumor, a double play to achieve confront each other. They began, therefore, to organize. Bardellino dolphins were all agreed to kill the boss of bosses, the man who more than anyone in the Campania, had created a system of criminal power and business. Convinced the boss to be moved from Santo Domingo to his villa in Brazil, saying that Interpol at his heels. In Brazil, in 1988, went to see Mario Iovine under the pretext of successfully doing business in the company of import and export of fish mealcocaine. One afternoon, Iovine, who at that time had no gun in the leg, took a sledgehammer and opened his head to Bardellino. Then buried the body in a pit in a Brazilian beach, where ever you find, so was born the legend that Antonio Bardellino actually still alive and enjoying their wealth on an island in South America. After running the operation, the boss immediately telephoned Vincenzo De Falco to break the news and to start killing all bardellinianos. Paride Salzillo Bardellino nephew and practice the true heir, was invited to a summit of leaders of the cartel all pairs. Carmine Schiavone account sorry they did lay the head of the table, on behalf of his uncle. Then, suddenly, Sandokan pounced on him and began to strangle him, while his cousin, his namesake, known as "Cicciariello ', and two other individuals, Raffaele Giuseppe Diana and Caterino, being restrained by the arms and legs. There have killed him a shot or stabbed in the stomach as did the old boss. But instead, I had to do with his own hands, as it kills the old kings when they are replaced by new ones. Ever since 1345, Andrew of Hungary was strangled in Aversa, in a plot organized by his wife, Juana 1, and the Neapolitan nobles led by Carlos Durazzo, who coveted the throne of Naples in the countryside Aversano had become the bottleneck the symbol of the throne, the violent replacement of another sovereign. Sandokan had to show everyone the boss that he was the heir that he, by right of ferocity, was the new leader of the Casalesi.

Antonio Bardellino had created a complex domain, and all business cells were generated in her womb and could not stay for much longer limited to magazines, which he directed. Had reached maturity, they should express their power, no more links in the hierarchy. Sandokan Schiavone became thus the leader. Had erected an extremely efficient system, linked at all to his family. His brother Walter batteries coordinated fire his cousin Carmine managed the economic and financial, his cousin Francesco was elected mayor of Casal di Principe, and another cousin, Nicola, council of economy and finance. All important steps to get a foothold in the territory, which in the boom phase means a lot. Sandokan the power stated in the first years of its rule also through his close political ties. By a conflict with the old Christian Democrats in Casal di Principe, in 1992, clans supported the Italian Liberal Party, which saw the greatest comeback in its history: a mere 1 percent passed, after having clan support no less than 30 percent. However, all the other men in the front line of the clan were opposed to the absolute leadership of Sandokan, especially the De Falco, a group capable of having their own police and police officers, business and political alliances. In 1990, several meetings of leaders of the Casalesi. One of them even invited Vincenzo De Falco, nicknamed "The Fugitive." Apparently, the trawlers tried to remove it. But not presented. If present, however, the police, who arrested all the guests. In 1991, Vincenzo De Falco was killed, shot him dead in his car. Police found him des "leaded, with the stereo pierced by a bullet and a case: Modugno you still working. After his death there was a split among the families of the confederation of the Casalesi. On the one hand, families close to Sandokan "Iovine: Zagaria, Reccia, Bidognetti and catering. On the other hand, families close to De Falco: Quadrano, La Torre, Luise and housed. The De Falco responded to the death of Mario Iovine Fugitive killed in Cascais , Portugal, in 1991. I shot dead when he was in a phone booth. With the death of Iovine cleared the way for Sandokan Schiavone. There were four years of war, continued killing between families around Schiavone and close to De Falco. Years of updates and alliances, clans passing from one side to another, there was no real solution, but a division of territory and power. Sandokan became the symbol of the victory of the cartel on the other families . After all his enemies became allies. Cement and drug trafficking, organized crime, transport, waste, and monopoly of trade and taxes on supplies. This was the business area of the Casalesi Sandokan. consortia of cement became a basic weapon for Casalese clans. Any construction company was supplied with the cement of such consortia, and thus, this mechanism was going to be critical for clans come into relationship with all the construction companies that were in the area and all potential business. The price of cement pools managed by the clans, and often declared Carmine Schiavone, came to have great advantages, since, in addition to cement, ships of the consortia distributed weapons to Middle Eastern countries on the weighing attachment . This second level of trade cost reductions legal level. Casalesi clans gained in every phase of construction economics. Providing cement companies providing outsourced, and receiving a commission on big business, a commission that was to be a starting point, because without it their efficient economic enterprises would not have been able to work, nor would any other firm could do no harm and cheaply. You can quantify the volume of business managed by family Schiavone at 5,000 million euros. All economic power cartel Casalesi families, including real estate, farms, stocks, liquid, construction companies, sugar, cement, usury, drug trafficking and

arms trafficking, is about 30,000 million euros. Casale La Camorra has become a multi company, the strongest of Campania, able to participate in all businesses. The amount of capital that has accumulated illegally often enables you to have a cheap credit, which in turn allows companies to thwart competition with low prices and intimidation. The new bourgeoisie rowdy Casale has transformed the relationship of extortion in a kind of additional service, and organized crime, a stake in the company of the Camorra. Pay a premium to the clan can mean only give money to their businesses, but at the same time, it can also mean financial protection available to banks, transportation service and respected traders point: organized crime as a planned acquisition of services. This new concept of organized crime comes from a study conducted in 2004 by the police headquarters in Caserta, which ended with the arrest of eighteen people. Francesco Schiavone, Sandokan, Michele Zagaria and Moccia clan were the most important partners and Parmalat12 Cirio in Campania. In the province of Caserta, an important part of Naples, around the low Lazio, part of the Marche and Abruzzo, and also part of Lucania, milk distributed by Cirio and, later, Parmalat had conquered 90 percent of the market, a result achieved through close partnership with the Camorra Casalese and commissions paid to firms clans to maintain a position 12 In both cases these are important food businesses (N. of T.) predominant. Several brands were involved, but they all ultimately related to the rule Eurolat, the company changed hands in 1999, the Cirio de Cragnot to those of Tanzi's Parmalat. Judges were willing seizure of three dealerships and several companies involved in distribution and sale of milk, all these, under charge, controlled by the Camorra Casalese. The dairy companies were registered in the name of nominees acting on behalf of the Casalesi. For special customer's role, first Cirio and Parmalat then had dealt directly with the brother of Michele Zagaria, a fugitive from justice for a decade and regent of the Casalesi clan. The favored treatment was achieved mainly through trade policy. Brands Cirio and Parmalat granted to distributors a discount especially from 4 to 6.5 percent instead of the usual, which was about 3 percent, as well as various production bonuses, so that also supermarkets and retailers could get good discounts on prices: Casalesi thus creating widespread compliance with respect to its market dominance. Then came the conviction where no peaceful or common interest, entered into action violence, threats, extortion, destruction of freight trucks ... Truckers assaulted, raided the TIR of the competitors, or fire hit the stores, creating a climate of widespread fear, so much so that in areas controlled by the clans was impossible not only distribute, but also find someone willing to sell brands other than those imposed by the Casalesi. Who ended up paying at the end were the consumers, because in that situation of market monopoly and locked, the final prices were out of control due to lack of real competition. The broad agreement between the national dairy companies and the Camorra was broken in the fall of 2000 when a member of the Casalesi Cuon Lettiere, began working with the judges and explain the close trade relations between the clans. Uncertainty as to have a constant turnover was the most direct and automatic availability of a guarantee against banks;'s dream great company. In this situation, Cirio and Parmalat were to be officially "injured parties", ie, victims of extortion, although researchers are convinced that the business climate was relatively relaxed and that the two parties, domestic firms and rowdy local,

worked with mutual satisfaction. Cirio and Parmalat or ever had been reported to suffer the impositions of the clans of Campania, although in 1998 an employee of Cirio had been assaulted at his residence in the province of Caserta, where he was brutally beaten with a cane before his wife and daughter of nine years because no-bia has obeyed the orders of the clan. Or rebellion or complaint about: the security of the monopoly was preferable to the uncertainty of the market. Payments distributed to maintain a monopoly and occupy the market in Campania were justified in the balance sheets of companies, but that was not a problem in the country of creative finances and the decriminalization of false balance sheets: fake invoices , false, false sponsorships and year-end bonuses on the volume of milk sold came to solve any accounting problem. In 1997, for example, were funded non-existent events: Fair Mozzarella, outdoor music, and even the feast of San Tammaro, Villa Literno pattern. In the case of Cirio, the company came to finance, in gratitude for the work done, even a sports company maintained, in fact, by the Moccia clan, the Polisportiva Afragolese, along with a dense network of sports clubs, musical and Recreation: The "<civil society" of the Casalesi in the territory. The power of the clan in recent years has grown tremendously, reaching eastern Europe: Poland, Romania, Hungary ... Precisely in Poland in March 2004, was arrested Francesco Schiavone, Cicciariello, the cousin of Sandokan, the mustache and chubby boss, one of the most important societal fighter. He was wanted for ten murders, three kidnappings, nine attempted murders and numerous violations of the laws on weapons, as well as extortion. Was caught when he went shopping with his girlfriend Romanian Boetz Luiza, twenty years old. Cicciariello called himself Antonio, and appeared to be a simple Italian businessman fifty-one years. However, your partner Luiza should have sensed that something was wrong in his life, because to meet him in Krosno, near Krakow, he had to take a circuitous detour by train to throw off the hounds of the police. A multi-leg trip, which had followed her across three borders and then by car to the outskirts of the Polish city. A Cicciariello he had been arrested in the box for groceries, he had cut his mustache and had pulled her hair curled, and it was thinner. Although he had moved to Hungary, had traveled to Poland to meet his partner. He had huge businesses, farms, building land owned companies and brokerages place. The Italian representative of the SECI, a body dedicated to combat cross-border crime in Southeast Europe, he alleged that Schiavone and his men traveled frequently to Romania and had important business in the cities of Barlad (east of the country), Sinaia (center ) and Cluj (west) and the Black Sea coast. Cicciariello Schiavone had two lovers: besides Luiza Cristina Coremanciau Boetz was also Romanian. In Casale, the news of his detention "by a woman," seemed to be a source of derision from the boss. A local newspaper headline, almost taunting him: "Cicciariello arrested with his lover." In fact, the two lovers were true managers who had watched on their behalf by their investment in Poland and Romania, becoming indispensable to their business. Cicciariello was one of the last boss of the family Schiavone detainees. Many leaders and soldiers of the Casalesi clan had ended up in jail for over twenty years of power and conflict. The macro trial "Spartacus", named after the rebel gladiator just tried this same land since most inputs-correction that Rome had ever known, recorded the amount of research on the Casalesi cartel and all its ramifications. The day of sentencing I went to court in Santa Maria CapuaVetere. Fit my Vespa in a gap between two cars, and prepared to enter the building. I expected some

camcorders and cameras, but there were very few, and only newspapers and local television stations. The police and the police, however, were everywhere: there were almost hundred. Two helicopters hovered at low altitude court, letting the sound of the blades to frighten us all in the ears. Bomb dogs, patrols ... A high voltage. And yet, the national press and television were conspicuous by their absence. The biggest criminal case against a cartel of both the number of defendants and by sentencing proposals had been completely ignored by the media. Managers know the process management "Spartacus" with a number: the 3615, which is the general registration number assigned to the summary, with about one thousand three hundred investigations initiated by the District Anti-Mafia Directorate (DDA) in 1993 based on the Carmine Schiavone statements. A process that lasted seven years and twenty days, with a total of 626 views. The most comprehensive anti-Mafia process in Italy in the last fifteen years, 500 witnesses, in addition to 24 collaborators of justice, of which six were charged, 90 folders of records, statements of other processes, documents, transcripts of listening. Almost a year after the 1995 season also came summaries subsidiary of "Spartacus": "Spartacus 2" and "Regi Lagni ', the latter related to the recovery of Bourbon hydrographic channels of the same name that dates back to eighteenth century , and since then there had been proper restructuring. The recovery was led Lagni Region for years by the clans, which, according to the indictment-generated dollar contract then not used to rebuild the old Bourbon structures, but instead were diverted to their construction companies in subsequent years would acquire a leading role in Italy. And then there was also the Ainia process "on the Casalesi clan fraud had been committed in the centers where the European Community gathered the fruit produced in excess to destroy it, giving monetary compensation to farmers. In large craters where the fruit is poured, the clans threw debris, scrap iron and construction work. But before all this confusion posing like fruit. And of course money received compensation, while the fruit of their land was being sold everywhere. 131 decrees were issued, however, that affecting businesses, land and agricultural industries, for a total value of hundreds of millions of euros. They were also seized, two football clubs, the Albanov, who played in the league C2, and Casal di Principe. The research also considered the imposition by the clan of the award of public works subcontracts to companies around the organization, resulting in supply management of concrete and earth-moving activities. Another relevant chapter of the research was on the fraud committed against the EEC, in particular with regard to subsidies illegally obtained in the food industry. And hundreds of killings and business alliances. While there, waiting for the sentence as everyone thought that this was not a process like the others, was not a simple and ordinary trial rowdy families in the southern province. That seemed rather a process of history, as a kind of Nuremberg for a generation of the Camorra, although, unlike Reich's generals, many of the troublemakers who were there were commanding, remained the referents of empire. A Nuremberg no winners. The accused remain in their cages, in silence. Sandokan was appearing via videoconference, immobilized in jail Viterbo would have been too risky to move there. In the room you could hear only the voices of lawyers, involving more than twenty firms, and over fifty people, including lawyers and interns were studied, followed, observed and upheld in the case. Relatives of the accused were all crammed into a small room next to the room-

bunker, carefully watching the monitor. When the presiding judge, Catello Marano, took the thirty pages of the sentence there was silence: one could hear the heavy breathing, swallowing hundreds of throats, the hundreds of clocks ticking, the silent vibration of dozens of phones Mobile .... It was a nervous silence, accompanied by an orchestra of eager foreign sounds. The president began by first reading the list of convicted and then acquitted of. Twenty life sentences, more than seven hundred fifty years in prison. The He repeated twenty-one times the life sentence, often repeating also the name of the damned. And read other seventy times a year than other men, soldiers and officers, were to spend in prison to pay the price of their alliances with the terrible power pairs. A onethirty it was all about to end. Sandokan asked to be allowed to speak. Stirring, wanted to respond to the ruling, clinching his thesis and his law firm, that he was merely a businessman who had triumphed, that a plot by jealous and Marxist judges had found the power of the bourgeoisie of the Aversano countryside was a criminal force, and not the result of business and economic exercise. I wanted to scream that the sentence was an injustice. All deaths in the province of Caserta, in its usual argument, had given to brawls due to the peasant culture of the area, not conflict, the Camorra. But this time Sandokan not allowed to speak, and was forced to shut as a bustling school. He started screaming, and the judges sent off the audio, continued to be a bearded man that turned up that also disconnected the video. The room quickly emptied, and the police and carabinieri were moving slowly while the helicopter was flying over the bunker judicial. It was strange, but I had the feeling that the Casalesi clan had been defeated. Many men had been punished with a few years in prison, the boss would not leave prison in his lifetime, but over time is likely that some decided to repent and recover a few years of life outside the bars. Sandokan's anger was probably due to the suffocating feeling of power that man has in mind the entire map of his empire, but can not directly control. The boss who choose not regret living in a metaphysical power, cai imaginary, and must do everything possible to forget the business to which they themselves have sustained and strengthened, and that, not being members of the clan, they can leave free of dust and straw. If they wanted, the boss could do that they also end up in jail, but this would have to repent, and that would put an immediate end to its highest authority and would represent a risk for all family members. Besides, all the more tragic thing for a boss, often could not even get to track where he has gone to its capital, legal investments. Even admitting, even revealing his power, I would never know until the bottom where your money is over. The boss always pay, it is impossible not to. Mata, managing military batteries, are the first link in the illegal extraction of capital, and thus prove that their crimes will always identifiable and not so clean as the economic crimes of white collar employees. Moreover, the boss can not be eternal. Cutolo gives way to Bardellino, Bardellino Sandokan, Sandokan to Zagaria. La Monica Di Lauro, Di Lauro to the Spanish, and these God knows who. The economic strength of the Camorra system lies precisely in the continuous turnover of leaders and criminal options. The dictatorship of one man in the clear is always short, if the power of a boss will last too much, prices would skyrocket, begin to monopolize the market, causing it to become stiff, always invest in the same market space, unexplored never new. Instead of becoming an added value to the criminal economy, would be an obstacle to business. So, just a boss comes to power soon after new figures emerge ready to take his place with the will to expand and rise above the shoulders of giants that they have helped

create. It always reminded one of the most attentive observers of the dynamics of power, the journalist Riccardo Orioles: "The crime is not power, but one branch." There will never be a boss who intends to sit in government. If the Camorra was all power, their businesses would not be essential in the ladder mechanism of legal and illegal. In this sense, every arrest, every macro trial, it seems rather a way to replace capos, stopping phases, rather than an action intended to destroy a system of things. Published faces in a row the day after the newspapers, alongside each other, the faces of the boss, soldiers, members of the boys and the old dregs of society, did not represent a fence hell for criminals but tesserae of a mosaic of power for twenty years no one could ignore or challenge-rar. After the ruling of the 'Spartacus', the boss with convictions prison started throwing implicit and explicit threats to judges, lawyers, journalists, and those whom they considered responsible for having made a handful of managers clumsy cement and killers in the eyes of the law. The senator Lorenzo Diana was still the prime target of their hatred, with letters sent to local newspapers and explicit threats uttered during the trial. Immediately after the decision in "Spartacus", some people had entered the trout hatchery and the senator's brother had spread around, leaving them to die slowly, writhing on the ground, smothered by the air. Some sorry had referred also to attempted attacks by the "hawks" of the organization against the senator, some operations have been interrupted then by the more diplomatic of the clan. No doubt, also contributed to dissuade the senator's bodyguard. Normally, the armed escort is never an obstacle for clans: these have no fear of the armored cars or the police, but it is a sign, a sign that the man they want to remove is not alone, and they can not rid of him as easily as if it were an individual whose death no more concerned than his own family circle. Lorenzo Diana is one of those politicians who have decided to show the complexity of the power pairs generically rather than denounce the criminals. Born in San Cipriano d'Aversa, has lived closely watching the rise to power of Bardellino and Sandokan, conflicts, killings, the busi-ness ... You can talk about this power better than anyone, and clans fear their knowledge and memory. They fear that any moment could attract the attention of national media about the power pairs, they fear that the Anti-Mafia Commission to denounce Senator what is now the press is still unknown, relegating the whole thing a sort of provincial crime . Lorenzo Diana is one of those few men who knows how to fight the power of the Camorra involves a steadfast patience, which is required to start from scratch each time, from the start, one by one pulling the strings of the tangle economical to reach the criminal kingpins. Slowly but steadily, angry, even when the attention is lost, even when everything seems really pointless and lost in a transformation that replaces a criminal powers by others, without ever defeat. With the process now completed, including Schiavone Bidognetti and could erupt into open conflict. For years they had experienced through the various clans with their confederates, but then the usual business had always prevailed over conflict. The Bidognetti have powerful batteries of fire, y. its territory is the northern province of Casera, a domain that reaches the sea dominates. Of an extremely fierce, were burnt alive Castelvolturno a waiter, Francesco Salvo, owner of the premises where he worked,

the Tropicana, as punishment for having dared to replace the video poker machines Bidognetti other managed by a rival clan. The Mezzanotte had come to launch a phosphorous bomb against Spenuso Gabriele car while driving on the highway of Nola Literno Avilla. Domenico Bidognetti in 2001 had ordered the removal of Antonio Magliulo because, despite being a married man, had dared to make advances to a girl who was a cousin of a boss. He had been tied to a chair, on a beach facing the sea had begun to fill the mouth and nose with sand. Breathing, swallowing and spitting Magliulo sand while trying to eject the nose. Vomiting, chewing and stirred up the neck, kneading the sand with saliva and thereby creating a kind of primitive cement, sticky stuff that was slowly choking him. The ferocity of the Mezzanotte was directly proportional to its corporate power. Linked to the management of waste, had forged alliances Bidognettiaccording to various investigations by the DDA in Naples in 1993 and 2006 - with Freemasonry derived from P2. Illegally removed, and very good prices, toxic waste entrepreneurs linked to the lodge. A nephew of Cicciotto di Mezzanotte, Gaetano Cerci, arrested in connection with the operation-Adelphi on eco-mafias, was the contact between the Camorra and certain Masons Casale, and used to meet frequently to discuss business directly with Licio Gelli; business researchers have come to identify with the financial volume of one company involved, has been measured in more than thirty-five million euros. Each of the boss, Bidognetti and Schiavone, both in prison, and both with a life behind him, might have sought to capitalize on the conviction of another street to launch his own men and try to eliminate the clan rival. There was a time when everything seemed to degenerate into a huge conflict, which every day carry piles of dead. In the spring of 2005, the youngest of the children of Sandokan had gone to a party at Parete, territory of the Bidognetn, where, according to research-had begun to woo a girl despite the fact that this was already together. The offshoot of the Schiavone was unescorted, and he believed that the mere fact of being the son of Sandokan did immune to any kind of aggression. But it was not. A small group of people dragged him out of house and gave him a beating of slaps, punches and kicks in the butt, after which there was to rush to hospital to give him stitches in his head. The next day, a group of about fifteen people on motorcycles and cars, stood before the bar Penelope, where they used to meet the boys who had attacked the offspring. They came in with baseball bats and smashed everything, hitting with a vengeance to all who found inside, but failed to identify the perpetrators of the insult to Schiavone, who had probably escaped, probably because the back door of the bar . Then the command pursued them down the street and started shooting the crowd, hitting a passer in the abdomen. In response, the day after the coffee arrived three motorcycles Matteotti of Casal di Principe, where they usually meet the younger members of the clan Schiavone. Motorists slow down to allow time to escape to passersby, and they also began to destroy everything. There were fist fights and more than six people stabbed. The atmosphere was stifling: I was about to start a new war. The unexpected confession from a repentant came to raise even more stress. It was Luigi Diana, who had declared, according to a local newspaper, which was responsible Bidognetti the first arrest of Schiavone, it was he who had collaborated with police revealing whereabouts of the boss in France. The batteries were preparing fire, and police were preparing to collect the bodies of the massacre. Sandokan was himself who stopped the

process with a public gesture. Despite being subject to a harsh prison regime, managed to send an open letter to a local newspaper, published on September 21, 2005 directly on the front page. The boss, as a famous manager, resolved the conflict denying what he had said the penitent, who, among other things, regret shortly after he had killed a relative: "The tip-off, or rather, who announced to the four winds and allowed my arrest in France, was, as has been proved conclusively, Carmine Schiavone, not Cicciotto Bidognet you. The truth is that the individual by the name of Luigi Diana says sorry and wants to sow discord falsehoods personal interests . Also "suggested" to the editor to explain well the news: "Please do not instrumentalised to this informer, which is nothing more than a mercenary, and not make the mistake of making their information on a daily tabloid, which inevitably would lose credibility as it has happened to a competitor with which I have not renewed my subscription, which, as I will many others, leaving to buy a newspaper so manipulated. " In the letter, Sandokan delegitimize the newspaper competitor from that to which he had directed, while officially chose this as his new partner. "Not even commented that his competitor newspaper is used to writing falsehoods. The undersigned is like water from the source: transparent at all! " Sandokan invited his men to buy the newspaper in place of the old, in dozens of prisons across Italy arrived subscription applications for the new day selected by the boss and low subscription for which had criticized. The boss concluded his letter by writing Bidognetti peace: "Life will always ask what you can afford. In these so-called sorry life has asked that tackle the mud. As the pigs! ". The Casalesi cartel was not defeated. Even out strengthened. According to research by the Anti-Mafia Prosecutor of Naples, currently ruled by a cartel formed by Antonio Iovine diarchy called "or Ninno," ie, the baby, because he reached the top of the clan was still a boy, and Michele Zagaria, the boss Casapesenna manager, called "Capastorta" by the irregularities of his face, but it seems that now calls "Way." The two boss are fugitives from justice for years, and the Ministry of Interior has a list of Italy's most dangerous fugitives. Unreachable, but probably always present in their home. No boss can leave for a long time their own roots, since it builds on them all the power and also because they can collapse. Just a few miles, tiny towns, few trails and some farm houses lost in the countryside, yet it is impossible to catch them. They are on their land. Move across international journeys, but always return home: during most of the year are on their land. Everyone knows that. And despite that, they were not caught. Protection structures are so efficient that prevent

his arrest. Their villages are still inhabited by relatives and family. Antonio Iovine The San Cipriano like a modernist palace, while Michele Zagaria, however, is a real complex located between San Cipriano and Casapesenna, a house instead of roof has a glass dome to let in the light and fuel the growth of a huge tree that presides over the center of the room. Zagaria family has dozens of subsidiaries in Italy, and is, according to the judges of the DDA of Naples, the first Italian company in the earthmoving sector, the most powerful in absolute terms. Economic supremacy is not born directly from criminal activity, but the ability to balance legal and illegal capital. These companies tend to act extremely competitive. Colonies have real criminals in the regions of Emilia, Tuscany, Umbria and the Veneto where anti-Mafia audits and controls are smoother and allow the transfer of entire business sections. The Casalesi first bite imposed on employers in the north of Campania, and now directly manage the market. In the provinces of Modena and Arezzo, the Casalesi are holding most of the construction business, and basically bring Casertana labor. The current research shows that construction companies linked to the Casalesi clan have infiltrated the works of high-speed train in northern Italy, after The have done in the south. As shown in a study coordinated rpor Judge Franco Imposimato and in July of 1995.1 as large companies that were awarded the main contracts of works in the TAV (High Speed Train) Naples-Rome had subcontracted, in turn, to Edilsud, linked to none other than Michele Zagaria, and dozens more companies linked to the cartel pairs. A business, the high speed line Naples-Rome, which has produced about ten billion lire. Investigations revealed that the Zagaria clan had already established agreements with the 'ndrine or Calabrian clans to participate in their own companies in the contracts when high-speed lines arrived in the region of Calabria. The Casalesi were ready, horn they are now. Casapesenna branch Casalese society has managed to penetrate, according to research by the Anti-Mafia Prosecutor of Naples in recent years, a series of public works in the center and north of the country, participating in the reconstruction of the Umbria region after the 1997 earthquake. All major contracts and work can be dominated in all phases of the Camorra businesses in the countryside Aversano: freight, earthworks, transportation, materials, labor ... Companies in the countryside Aversano are ready to intervene: organized, economic, fast and efficient. The construction companies are officially Casal di Principe 517. Many derived directly from the clans, and several hundred of them are found in all populations from the countryside Aversano, a true army ready to cement all that is his path. Clans do not seem to have hindered the development of the territory, which they derived more benefits when the cash. In an area with very few square kilometers have been built in the last five years commercial real cement kingdoms: one of the largest multiplex cinemas all over Italy, in Marcianise, the largest shopping center south of the country, Teverola, the largest center Europe's trade,

also in Marcianise, and all in a region with extremely high unemployment rates and a steady flow of emigrants. Some large commercial complex, far from being "non-places', defined as the anthropologist Marc Aug, seem to be rather" places "home" supermarkets where everything can be bought and consumed can "baptize> capital that otherwise would not have been able to find his legal birth certificate, places where "you start, then, the legal origin of the money, his" official baptisms. How many more malls are built, more work is raised, more goods are brought, more providers are working, more transports arrive, and quickly achieved the loose money beyond the perimeter of the territory to enter the illegal legal. The clans have benefited from the structural development of the province and are ready to collect his share of the spoils. Looking forward to the start of the great works on their territory: the subway and airport Ayers Grazzanise, which will be one of the largest in Europe, built within walking distance of the cottages that were Cicciariello and Sandokan. The Casalesi have spread their assets across the province. Only property seized by the DDA of Naples in the last few years is equivalent to 750 million euros. The list is shocking. Only in the framework of "Spartacus" has been arrested 199 buildings, 52 sites, 14 companies, 12 cars and three boats. In the course of the years has been arrested for Schiavone and their trust, following a process 1996, goods worth 450,000 million, businesses, houses, land, buildings and big-engined cars (including the Jaguar in Sandokan they found in their first arrest). Liens that would have destroyed any business losses that would ruined any entrepreneur, real economic sledgehammer ASFI-xiado have any economic group, to anyone, least Casalesi cartel. Every time I read news about the kidnapping of property, every time I had before my eyes the lists of goods that the DDA arrested for the boss', he felt a sense of discomfort and fatigue. Look where you looked, it seemed that everything was there. All: land, buffalo farms, farms, building sites, parking lots and dairies, hotels and restaurants. It was like a rowdy kind of omnipotence: I could not see anything that was not his property. There was a businessman who, more than any other, had enjoyed the full power of becoming the master of all: Dante Passarelli, Casal di Principe. He was arrested years ago for rowdy association, accused of being the cashier Casalesi clan, and the prosecutor suggested a sentence of eight years imprisonment for the crime 416 bis. This was not simply one of the many businessmen who did business with the clans, or through them. Passarelli was Entrepreneur in absolute terms, the number one, the closest and most reliable. He was a former butcher with large commercial skills and such skills had been enough, since he was elected, according to the indictment, to become the investment of part of the capital of the clan. It became a wholesaler, then industrial. Pulp employer also became building contractor, and later went from sugar to catering, to get to football. Passarelli Dante's heritage, according to estimates by the Anti-Mafia Investigation Directorate (DIA), was worth between three and four million euros. Much of that wealth was the result of its shareholding and its considerable market share in the food industry. Ipam owned one of the most important sugar in Italy. Was a leader in the distribution of meals prepared with the company Passarelli Dante e Figli, which had awarded the

contract to the dining room at the hospital of Santa Maria CapuaVetere of Capua and Sessa Aurunca.Y owned hundreds of apartments, commercial offices and industrial. At the time of his arrest on December 5, 1995, all these goods were subject to seizure: Villa Literno new buildings, an apartment in Santa Maria CapuaVetere, another in Pinetamare; a building in Casal di Principe, and more Later, various fields in Castelvolturno in Casal di Principe, Villa Literno and Cancello Arnone, in addition to the agricultural complex Balzano, Santa Maria La Fossa, comprising 209 hectares of land and 40 rural buildings. And then there was the jewel in the crown: the Anfra a luxurious yacht with dozens of rooms, floors and whirlpool, that had docked at Gallipoli. In the Anfra Sandokan and his wife had made a Greek island cruise. The investigations were leading to the gradual seizure of all such property when Dante Passarelli was found dead in November 2004 after falling from the balcony of one of their homes. It was his wife who found the body, head and spine broken shattered. The investigation is still ongoing. Not yet known if it was fate or a well known anonymous hand, which brought down the balcony under construction entrepreneur. With his death, all assets that should have been available to the State, has returned to his family. Passarelli's fate has been a merchant, for his entrepreneurial skills, had received much more capital than could ever manage, but who knew how to increase dramatically. Then came the offense, the judicial investigation, nor the same wealth could defend the embargo. Like their employer skills had earned him an empire, so the defeat of the embargo earned him death. The clans do not allow errors. When indicated Sandokan, at trial, that Dante had died Passarelli, the boss merely said calmly: - Rest in peace! The power of the clans was still the power of cement. In its construction activities I had been physically, viscerally, full power. For several summers he worked in construction, and cement myself to amass enough for me not to mention my home but the foreman, and nobody ever denied me the job. The Campania region supplying the best builders from all over Italy: the most determined, the fastest, most economical and least hinchapelotas. Bestial work, I have ever come to learn too well, a job that can give you good money only if you're willing to do it with all your forces, all your muscles, all your energies, to work in any weather conditions, the same with the balaclava on his head in his underpants. Closer to the cement, hands and nose, was the only way to understand on what basis the power, real power. Francesco lacomino was when he died, however, when I realized all the way in building mechanisms. He was thirty-three when they found him working with the monkey lying on the pavement at the intersection of Via Quattro Orologi and Via Gabriele D'Annunzio, in Ercolano. Had fallen from a scaffold. After the incident had all fled, including the foreman. No one had called the ambulance, fearing that it could arrive before they could abscond. So, as they fled, they left the body in the middle of the street, still alive and spitting blood from the lungs. The news of yet another death, one of the three hundred construction workers each year busting works all over Italy, in a way I had penetrated deep. With the death of lacomino I woke up rage of those who are more like an asthma

attack than a nervous breakdown. I would have liked to do as the protagonist of The visa agra Bianciardi Luciano, who comes to Milan with the intention to blow up the skyscraper Pirellone to avenge Ribolla the 48 miners, killed in an explosion in the mine In May 1954, the Camorra well, named after his infamous conditions. Perhaps I should also choose a representative building and blow it, but even before falling into terrorist schizophrenia, just started a flare of anger, I rang in the ears the famous letter of complaint to Pasolini, the ' I know "as a musical piece that is repeated ad nauseam. And so, instead of looking for buildings to blow, I went to Casarsa, to visit the tomb of Pasolini. I left alone, although these things, that are less pathetic, it would have to be done in the company or group. With a group of loyal readers, or with a girlfriend. But I stubbornly went alone. Casarsa is a beautiful place, one of those places where it's easy you think of someone who wants to live literature, and instead you find it hard to think of anyone who leaves their homeland to fall lower, beyond line from hell. I went to Pasolini's grave not as a tribute, even as a celebration. Pier Paolo Pasolini, the Triune name, as I said Caproni, not my secular saint nor a literary Christ. He was looking for a place, a place where they still think were possible without embarrassment about the possibility of speech. The possibility of writing about the mechanisms of power, beyond the stories, beyond the details. Reflect on whether it was still possible that the names one by one, pointing out the faces, strip the bodies of crime and making them elements of the architecture of authority. If you still could be prosecuted as truffle pigs dynamics of the real, the affirmation of power, without metaphors, without mediation, the single flame of writing. I took the train from Naples to Pordenone, a very slow train, whose name was particularly eloquent about the distance he had to meet: Marco Polo, the great distance that seems to separate the regions of Friuli and Campania. The train left at seven and ten, and came to Friuli to seven-twenty the next day, going through a very cold night gave me no respite to achieve even a little sleep. From Pordenone, bus, I arrived at Casarsa, got out and started walking with his head down as one who knows where it goes and can recognize the way looking just the tip of the shoes. Obviously, I missed. But after having wandered in vain I made it to the street Valvasone, the cemetery where they buried Pasolini and his family. On the left, shortly after entry, there was a strip of bare ground. I went to that plot in the center of which stood two small white marble headstones, and saw the tomb, "Pier Paolo Pasolini (1922 - 1975) . On one side, a little further, was that of his mother. I thought it was less lonely, and there I began to mumble my anger, clenching his fists until the nails are nailed me in the palm of the hand. I began to articulate my own 'I know', the 'I know' of my time. I know, and I have the evidence. I know where they originate and where economies take their smell. The smell of the affirmation and victory. I know what exudes the benefit. I know. And the truth of the word does not prisoners, because it devours everything around it a test. And do not drag or baste summary rebuttal. Observes, weighs, look, listen. Known. No condemnation of any train and not recant testimony. No regrets. I know, and I have the evidence. I know where they defoliate the pages of economics

textbooks, transforming their fractal on things, iron, time and contracts. I know. The tests are not hidden in any put-drive kept in a hole underground. I have no incriminating videos in garages hidden in inaccessible mountain populations. Not possess documents cyclostyle secret service. The evidence is unmistakable because they are partially captured by the iris, explained with words and emotions that bounce forged in iron and wood. I see it, feel it, look, speak, and thus witness an ugly word that can still be worth when he whispers "is false" to the ear of the listener the couplet ballads in the mechanisms of power. The truth is partial, in the end, if it could be reduced to an objective formula, would be chemistry. I know, and I have the evidence. And so I speak. Of these truths. I always try to calm the anxiety that comes over me whenever I walk, every time I go up stairs, I catch a lift to drag the bottoms of rugs and crosses thresholds. I can not help constantly ruminating about how buildings and houses have been built. And when I have someone listen to me, only with great difficulty achieving refrain from telling how floors and balconies up to the ceiling. There is a universal guilt that comes over me, not a moral redemption with whom he has been erased from historical memory. Rather try to disrupt that mechanism Brecht, which, however, is inherent in me, consisting of thinking about the hands and feet of history. That is, to think more about the empty bowls perennially led the turns of the Bastille in the proclamations of the Girondins and the Jacobins. I can not stop thinking about it. I have this vice. As someone who, looking at a Vermeer, who has thought about mixing colors, stretch fabric with wood or pearl earrings crimp instead of looking at the portrait. A true perversion. I can not even remember how the cycle of cement when I see a flight of stairs, and do not distract me from how to ride the tower of scaffolding the sight of a vertical window. I can not do business as usual. I can not just see the fabric, think of the mortar and the palette. Perhaps it that those born in certain meridians is related to some substances in a singular, unique. Not all matter is welcomed in the same way everywhere. I think that in Qatar the oil and gas smell evokes sensations and flavors that speak of huge homes, sunglasses and limousines. That same sour smell of oil, in Minsk, I imagine that evokes grim faces, gas leaks and smoky cities, while in Belgium evokes the smell of garlic and onion Italians from North Africa. The same goes for the cement to Italy for the Italian south. Cement. Southern oil. Every born cement. There is no economic empire was born in southern Italy that does not pass through construction, procurement, contracting, construction, cement, gravel, mortar, bricks, scaffolding, workers ... This is the instrumental of Italian businessman. The Italian businessman who does not have the base of his empire in the cement has no hope. It is the simplest job to earn money in the shortest time possible, acquire credit, hire people at the right time for elections, distributing wages, seize financially, multiply one's own face on the facades of the buildings are constructed. The talent of the con-builder is the intermediary and the Raptor. First has the compiler unfailing patience of paperwork, the endless waiting, permits sedimented as slow drops of stalactites. And then the talent of the predator, capable of planning on land unsuspected, removing them for little money and then reserve them until every inch and every hole is made resalable at exorbitant prices. The rapacious businessman knows how to use the beak and claws. Italian banks to the builders know how to give the most credit, say Italian banks seem built by the builders. And when you have no credit and build

houses that will not suffice as a guarantee, there's always a good friend to support it. The cement concrete and brick is the only material that truly know the Italian banks. Research Laboratory, agriculture, handicrafts, banking managers are conceived as diffuse areas, places even without the presence of gravity. Rooms, flat tiles, phone jacks and power: these are the only recognized concretions. I know, and I have the evidence. I know how it was built half of Italy. And on average. I know the hands, fingers, projects. And the sand. The sand was poured into buildings and skyscrapers. Neighborhoods, parks, villas. In Castelvolturno anyone forget the endless rows of trucks that preyed on the sand of the river Volturno. Trucks in a row, spanning the border lands of farmers who had never seen such mammoth iron and rubber. They had managed to stay, stand without having to emigrate, and now take everything in their eyes. Now that sand is in the walls of the tenements of the Abruzzi, in buildings of Varese, Asiago, Genoa. Now there is the river that flows into the sea but the sea that goes into the river. " Now in the Volturno bass are caught, and farmers have disappeared. With no land, have started raising buffalo, and after the buffaloes have mounted small construction companies, hiring young Nigerians and South Africans excluded from the seasonal chores, and when there are associated companies of the clans have found a early death. I know, and I have the evidence. Authorizing the mining companies to extract only small amounts, but in reality bite and devour entire mountains. Mountains and hills crumbled and kneaded end in cement. Tenerife at Sassuolo. The deportation of things has followed the men. In a tavern in San Felice a Cancelo met Don Salvatore, an old foreman. It was a kind of walking corpse: it was over fifty years, but he looked eighty. He explained that for ten years had the task of dealing in powder mixers fume extraction. With the mediation of the companies of the clans, hidden waste in cement are the strength that enables companies to bid priced labor from China. Now garages, walls and landings are built poisons. Nothing will happen until a worker, maybe Maghreb, inhale the dust, exploding a few years later, blaming their cancer to bad luck. I know, and I have the evidence. Italian entrepreneurs who succeed from the cement. They themselves are part of the cycle of cement. I know that before becoming a cover model husbands in executives boat, predatory financial groups, buyers of newspapers, before all that and behind all that is cement, subcontractors, sand, gravel, fur-Gonet crowded workers who work at night and disappear in the morning, the scaffolding rotten, phony insurance. The thickness of the walls is the basis on which people rely pull the Italian economy. Would have to change the Constitution. Writing that is based on cement and builders. They are the founding fathers. And Ferruccio Parri, and Luigi Einaudi, and Pietro Nenni, no commander worth it. Speculators who were dragged by the hair to Italy Sindona sunk by scandal and unequivocal condemnation by the International Monetary Fund. Cement, contracts, buildings and newspapers. In the construction end members who want to make a fresh start. After a career as a murderer, extortionist or rompesquinas, just in construction or picking up trash. Before passing films and lecturing in schools, it might be interesting to catch the new members and bring them to walk around the works, showing the fate that awaits them. If they avoid the imprisonment and death, will be in a work, aging and spitting blood and lime.

Meanwhile, entrepreneurs and businessmen to create controlling the boss will order millionaires. Working dies. Without stopping. The pace of construction, the need to save in any kind of security measure and in any respect to schedules. Inhuman shifts from nine to twelve hours a day, including Saturdays and Sundays. Hundred dollars a week as payment, plus a night and Sunday plus fifty euros every ten hours. Most young people come to make fifteen. Perhaps pulling coca. When you die in the works, is put in place a mechanism tested fed. Is taken away the lifeless body, and simulate a traffic accident. They put in a car that they then fall embankments or cliffs, not to mention it on fire first. The amount paid by the insurer is sent to the family as a settlement. It is not uncommon to simulate the incident seriously hurt even mind the simulators, especially when it comes to crashing a car into a wall, before the corpse inside arson. When the foreman is present, the mechanism works well. When absent, often panic grips the workers. And then you take the seriously injured, the almost dead, and almost always lets near a street near the hospital. It happens to the car, leave the body, and fled. When you have too many qualms of conscience, is called an ambulance. Everyone who takes part in the disappearance or abandonment of the body about body knows that so will their counterparts in the event that your body is the one that happened to be torn or impaled. Knows for sure that in case of danger, who have showered next to you right away just to get rid of or to give the coup de grace. And because it works on is a sort of suspicion. Next to you who could be your executioner, or you own. It will not suffer but he shall let you just go bust you on a sidewalk or catch fire in a car. All builders know how it works. And firms in the South are the ones that best guarantees. Work and go and solve any problem quietly. I know, and I have the evidence. And the tests have a name. In seven months in the works north of Naples died fifteen construction workers. That have fallen below that have ended shovels or crushed by crane operated by workers exhausted by hours of work. We must act quickly. Although the works last year, contracting companies must quickly give way to others. Winning, to cash and go elsewhere. More than 40 percent of firms operating in Italy are in the south. In the countryside Aversano, Naples or Salerno. In the south they can be born empires, the networks may force the economy, and the balance of primitive accumulation has not yet been completed. In the South would have to hang posters, from Apulia to Calabria, which say "Welcome to entrepreneurs who want to jump into the arena of cement penetration in a few years in the Roman and Milanese salons. A 'WELCOME' that tastes good luck, because the crowd is very large and very few are able to stay afloat in quicksand. I know. And I have the evidence. And you new builders, banks and owners of yachts, captains of gossip and majesties of new hookers, jealously guards its profits. Maybe you still have a soul. Be ashamed to declare where they came from their own earnings. In his model country in the United States, when an entrepreneur succeeds in becoming a financial reference, achieves fame and success when it happens that calls to analysts and economists to teach young people their economic characteristics and reveal the path to victory in the market. Here, silence. And money is just money. And the successful entrepreneurs from the area of Aversa, a sick land Camorra, who respond shamelessly asked about their success: "I bought 10 and I sold 300. Someone said that in the south you can live like a paradise: just look at the sky, and never dare not look down. But it is

not possible. The expropriation of the entire space perspective has also stolen in view. Any remaining prospect faced with balconies, storage rooms, lofts, tenements, buildings embraced, knotted neighborhoods. Here you do not believe that something might fall from the sky. Here you down. You rush. Because there is a gap in the abyss. So when I put my feet on stairs and rooms, when I go up in elevators, I can not be indifferent. Because I know. It is a perversion. And so when I am among the best and brightest entrepreneurs do not feel right. Although these guys are smart, talk to and vote quietly left. I feel the smell of lime and cement, which emanates from his socks, his twin Bulgari, of their libraries. I know. I know who has built my country and who's building now. I know tonight is a train to Reggio di Calabria to Naples to stop at quarter past twelve and then go straight to Milan. Will be filled. And at the station, vans and Fiat Punto dusty pick kids for the new works. A residence emigration without anyone examine or assess, since only end in the footsteps of lime dust, and only there. I know what the real Constitution of my time, what is the wealth of enterprises. I know how much each pillar is the blood of others. I know, and I have the evidence. I do not prisoners. Don Peppino Diana When I think of the struggle of the clan of Casal di Principe, St. Cyprian, Casapesenna, and in all the territories where they are hegemonic, since Parete to Formia, I always think white sheets. In the white sheets hanging from every balcony, all tied to the rails, tied to all windows. White, all white, like a rain of pristine tissue. These were the angry black when developed lifting the funeral of Don Peppino Diana. I was sixteen, and was in March 1994. I woke my aunt, as usual, but this time with a strange violence: I woke up pulling the blanket in which I was curled up like a sausage when removed from its packaging. I almost fell out of bed. My aunt said nothing and walked by a very strong noise, as if they vent all their nervousness at the heels. Knotted sheets to the railings of house with force, not even a tornado could have let go. Windows opened wide, letting the voices and noises out of the house, including furniture drawers were open. I remember the flood of boy scouts who had left his carefree air of courageous children in families and that seemed to take their fancy scarves knotted yellow and green, strong anger, since Don Peppino was one of them. I have never seen him so nervous boy scouts and so little attentive to all forms of order and composure, unlike that time, always accompany them on their long marches. From that day I have only fragmented memories as spots, a memory like Dalmatian fur. Don Peppino Diana was a strange story, one of those once known, we need to keep somewhere in the body: deep throat, tight in your fist near the chest muscle in the heart .. . A strange story, unknown to most. Don Peppino had studied in Rome and had to stay there for a career away from his village, far from land in the provinces, away from business dirty. A clerical career, good or bourgeois. But suddenly had decided to Casal di Principe, and who can not get rid of a memory, a habit, a smell. Perhaps as one who has perennially the upsetting feeling to do something, and you can not find peace until it does, or at least try. Don Peppino became the young priest of the church of San Nicola di Bari, a modern structure building seemed, even in its aesthetic, perfect for his idea of compromise. He walked around in jeans instead of his cassock, as had hitherto been normal in the priests, who had authority over as dark as the clerical garb. Don Peppino no

trouble listening to the families, did not condemn the affairs of men and women walked comforting horned, had naturally changed the role of the priest in the provinces. And decided interest in the dynamics of power, not only by the corollaries of poverty, not only wanted to clean the wound, but to understand the mechanisms of metastasis, blocking gangrene, stop the source of what made their land a deposit of funds and a trail of corpses. From time to time also smoked cigars in public, which elsewhere might have seemed a harmless gesture. But those payments priests tended to adopt an attitude of feigned withdrawal of the superfluous, and only in their rooms vented his clumsy weaknesses. Don Peppino had decided to let her face increasingly resembled himself, as a guarantee of transparency in a land where, by contrast, faces should be oriented towards faces ready to imitate that which is represented, aided by nicknames that load the body of the power that you want to sew in their own skin. Was obsessed by the action, and had set up a reception center where they provide food and shelter to the first African immigrants. It was necessary to accommodate you, avoid, and then happen, that the clans could begin to make them soldiers for you. To make the project had given up even some personal savings he had accumulated with teaching. Expect institutional support can be as slow and difficult to finish becoming the most real of the reasons for immobility. Since I was a priest had seen a succession of boss, eliminating Bardellino and power of Sandokan and Cicciotto di Mezzanotte, killings among bardellinianos and Casalesi, and then among the victorious leaders. A famous episode in the chronicles of that period was the train of several cars parading through the streets. It was about six o'clock in the afternoon when a dozen cars formed a sort of carousel outside the homes of the enemies. Schiavone group winners were to challenge their opponents to the door of his house. I was still very young, but my cousins swore they had seen with his own eyes. The cars moved slowly through the streets of San Cipriano, Casapesenna and Casal di Principe, and the men were sitting astride the windows with one leg inside the car and the other hanging. All the machine gun in his hand and face uncovered. Moving slowly, the train was picking up little by little to other members who left their homes and semi-automatic rifles, and then continuing to stand behind the cars. A veritable army of a public demonstration against other members. They stopped at the homes of opponents, who had dared to oppose their dominance. - Come, men of shit! Come home, if you have eggs! Courtship that lasted at least an hour. Was running smoothly while the shutters of shops and bars down in the act in its path. For two days there were strict curfew. No one left the house, even to buy bread. Don Peppino saw a need to develop a battle plan. Had to tread a new path open, and not enough to give individual testimony, but such testimony was necessary to organize and coordinate a new commitment to all churches in the territory. He wrote, signing it with all the priests of the vicariate of Casal di Principe, a document unexpectedly, a religious text, Christian, with signs of a desperate human dignity, which made those universal words, able to overcome religious and do perimeters the voice trembled, the assurances of the boss, who came to dread those words more than a raid Antimafia, rather than the seizure of the quarry and cement mixers, rather than intercepting a wiretapping order of murder. It was a living document, with a strong romantic title: "For love

My people will not keep silent. " He distributed the letter on Christmas Day. No pages hung on the door of his church was not, like Luther, a Roman Catholic Church to reform. Don Peppino had other things to think about: try to understand how he could create a cross-road credentials, the only way to put economic crisis and criminal authority of the families of the Camorra. Don Peppino took a path in the cortex of the word, extracted from quarries in the syntax of the power of public speaking, clearly marked, it could still grant. He had the intellectual laziness of those who believe that the word has exhausted all its resources and is only able to fill the gap between the eardrum and the other. The word as concrete as aggregate material atoms to intervene in the mechanisms of things, as mortar to build, as the tip of beak. Don Pepino 'played a necessary word as the bucket of water on hot coals. In this land, the street is not the banal is rendered silent omerta caps and looks low. It has to do more with it's "no business ally." The usual approach in these places, as in others, closing is an option that represents the true vote deposited in the urn of the state of affairs. The word is converted into a cry; controlled acute launched against a plate glass top, with the desire to explode. Helplessly witnessing the pain of many families who see their children end up miserably as victims or constituents of the Camorra organization. [...] Today, the Camorra is a form of terrorism that instills fear, imposes laws and tries to become an endemic part of society in Campania. The rowdy imposed through violence, guns and fists, rules unacceptable: extortion that have made our land increasingly become areas under grants and aid, with no autonomous capacity development, commissions and 20 percent more about the construction, which would discourage the boldest entrepreneurs; trafficking illicit purchase and sale of drugs whose use makes a lot of marginalized youth and laborers at the disposal of criminal organizations, clashes between different factions that are folded as devastating scourges of the families of our land; negative examples for the whole strip teen population, authentic laboratories of violence and organized crime [...] Don Peppino was horn priority remember that the attacks against the power of the clans, it was necessary to limit the activity to stop the silence of the confessional. Let us, therefore, the voice of the prophets to support the priority need to go out, to denounce, to act, as an absolute condition to still give meaning to self: Our commitment prophetic denunciation should not and can not fail, God calls us to be prophets. The Prophet makes sentinel sees injustice, complaint and claim the original plan of God (Ezekiel, 3, 16-18); The Prophet recalls the past and uses it to understand what is new in this (Isaiah 43); The Prophet invites himself to live and live the solidarity in suffering (Genesis, 8, 18-23); The Prophet said as a priority the path of righteousness (Jeremiah, 22, 3, Isaiah, 58).

At our pastors and priests, brothers asked them to speak out in homilies and in all those times that it takes a courageous witness. Ala Church, which does not give up his role "prophetic> so that the instruments of the complaint and the message translate into the ability to produce a new consciousness in the sign of justice, solidarity, ethical values and civic . The document had no desire to be right against political power, which not only felt supported by the clans, but also determined by common goals with them, never condescending to the social reality. Don Peppino not believe that the clan was the option chosen by someone evil, but rather the result of certain conditions, some specific mechanisms, some identifiable causes and entrenched. Church never, never anyone in these territories had adopted a commitment as a clarifier. Mistrust and suspicion of man against Southern institutions, secular due to the failure of an appropriate policy to address the deep problems afflicting the South, especially those relating to employment, housing, health and education, the suspect, not always unfounded, of complicity with the Camorra by politicians who, in exchange for electoral support, or even due to common goals, we ensure coverage and favors, the general feeling of personal insecurity and ongoing risk arising from inadequate legal protection of persons and property, the slowness of the judicial machinery of the ambiguities of the instruments legislation. [...] What determines often resort to the defense of clans or acceptance of rowdy protection, lack of clarity in the labor market, find an occupation that is more of a brawler type operation -client that the achievement of a right based on employment law, the lack or inadequacy, even in the pastoral, a true social education, almost as if we could train without forming a mature Christian man and the citizen mature. Don Peppino had organized a march against the Camorra in the late 1980's, after sustaining a massive attack to the police headquarters in San Cipriano d'Aversa. Dozens of people had tried to destroy the offices and beat up some police officers because they had dared to intervene during a fight between two boys in the village at an entertainment during the festival of the patron saint. San Cipriano's headquarters is located in a dead end, there was therefore no escape for the officers and NCOs. Had to intervene clan chiefs area to quell the revolt, sent directly from the boss to save the handful of police. At that time Antonio Bardellino still commanded, and his brother Ernesto was the town mayor. We, the pastors of Bell, we do not intend, however, than simply to denounce these situations, but in the scope of our competence and ability, we intend to contribute to its improvement, including through a review and integration of content and methods of pastoral action. Don Peppino began to doubt the Christian faith of the boss, to deny explicitly that there might be alliances between the Christian creed and power business, military and political clans. In the land of the Camorra is not considered that the Christian message is in contradiction with the rowdy activity: the clan which directs its

activities to the benefit of all its members considered that the organization respects and pursues the good Christian. The need to kill enemies and traitors as a transgression is judged lawful, according to the arguments of the boss, the "no kill" inscribed on the tablets of Moses could be suspended if the killing was caused by a higher motive, or due to the safeguarding of the clan, the interests of its leaders, the good of the group, and thus to all. Killing is a sin to be understood and forgiven by Christ on behalf of the necessity of the act. In San Cipriano d'Aversa, Antonio Bardellino accept new members with the ritual of the puncture, also used by the Cosa Nostra, a mode that belonged to a series of rituals that have been disappearing gradually. Was pricked fingertip of the candidate with a pin, and dropped the blood on a picture of Our Lady of Pompeii. After the picture was burned in a candle and passed from hand to hand to all of clan leaders, who were standing around the perimeter of a table. If they all kissed the image of the Virgin, the new presented officially became a member of the clan. Religion is a constant re-ference to the Camorra organization, not just as a spell or cultural residue but also spiritual force that determines their most intimate decisions. Families hooligans, and particularly the most charismatic boss, often considered his conduct horn an ordeal, a way of taking in one's consciousness the pain and burden of sin for the welfare of the group and on which men rule. . In Pignataro Maggiore, the clan Lubrano made at its expense restore a fresco depicting the Virgin. It is known as the "Virgen de la Camorra" because she is who are directed to ask the most important protection of refugees fleeing the Sicilian Cosa Nostra to Pignataro Maggiore. Not difficult, in fact, imagine Rune Toto, Michele Greco, Luciano Liggio and Bernardo Provenzano, inclined to the cool banks of the Virgin, imploring them shine in their actions and protect them in their leakage. When Vincenzo Lubrano was acquitted, he organized a pilgrimage to several coaches at San Giovanni Rotondo to thank Padre Pio, 13 artificer, he says, his acquittal. Size statues of Padre Pio, or copies of terracotta and bronze of Christ stands with open arms about the Sugar Loaf in Rio de Janeiro, are present in many of the villas of the boss of the Camorra. In Scampia, in the laboratories of the drug store, they often cut the loaves of hashish in groups of thirty-three, as the years of Christ. Then closed for thirty-three minutes, making the sign of the cross and resumed the work. A kind of homage to Christ in order to earn profits and tranquility. The same goes for the bags of coca that often, before distribution to the camels, the head of bathing area and blesses Lourdes water, thereby hoping that the game did not kill anyone, not least because of the poor quality of the goods would meet him personally. The System of the Camorra is a power that does not involve only the bodies, nor has only the lives of all but aims to grasp even the souls. Don Peppino wanted to begin to bring clarity to the words, meanings, the contour of the securities. The Camorra called "family" to a clan organized criminal purposes, which is absolute fidelity law excludes any expression of autonomy, and is considered treason, and worthy of death, not only the defection, but also the conversion honesty, the Camorra uses every means to extend and consolidate this type of "family", exploited even the sacraments. For the Christian, educated in the school of the Word of God, "family" means only one set of people bound together by a communion of love, where love is selfless and attentive

service, where service who exalts provides and who receives it. The Camorra is intended to take own religiosity, sometimes getting fooled, in addition to their faithful pastors of souls even unsuspecting or naive. 13 Francesco Forgione (1887-1968), Italian mystic and priest, canonized in 2002 by Pope John Paul II as St. Pio of Pietrelcina (N. of T.) The document was even going into the quality of the sacraments, dispel any overlap between the communion, the role of godfather, marriage and rowdy strategies; to distance pacts and alliances of clans of religious symbols. At the thought of saying something, the local priests would come running to the bathroom holding his stomach with his hands in panic. Who would take the altar to a boss willing to baptize the child of a member? Who would have refused to enter into a marriage just because it was the result of partnerships between families? But Don Peppino was clear. Do not allow the role of "godfather" in the sacraments that require it to be exercised by people whose honesty is not noticeable in both private and public life and Christian maturity. Do not take the sacraments to anyone who tries to exert undue influence to lack the necessary sacramental initiation. Don Peppino challenged the power of the Camorra in the same time that Francesco Schiavone, Sandokan, had fled, when he hid in a bunker beneath his house in the village, while families Casalesi was at war with each other and big business cement and the waste is converted into the new frontiers of their empires. Don Peppino did not want to be the healing comfort that accompanies the coffins of young soldiers killed in the pit while muttering "Courage!" Mothers dressed in black. In an interview, he said: "We should censure people to bring it into crisis." Even had taken political stance, explaining that the priority would be fighting the political power as an expression of "criminal enterprise that would support specific projects, renewal options, that there would be fairness on your part. "The party is mistaken for its representative, often the favorite candidate of the Camorra have no political or party but only a role to play or hold a position." The goal was not to defeat the Camorra. As he recalled, "winners and losers are in the same boat." The aim was, however, understand, transform, witness, to denounce, make the electrocardiogram to the heart of economic power as a way of knowing how to ward off attacks from the hegemony of the clan. Never in my life, even for a moment, I have been devoted, and yet the Don Peppino word was in me an echo that could transcend the religious line. Forging a new method that came to refound the word religion and politics. A faith in the ability to criticize reality, without leaving if not slashed. One word can trace the course of money following the trail of their stench. It is believed that the money has no odor, but that is only true when it is in the hand of Emperor before it reaches your right palm is that pecuniary olet. And it smells like a latrine. Don Peppino acted in a land where money bears traces of her scent, but only for a moment. The moment that is extracted, before Convert into something else, before they can find standing. Similar scents can recognize only when they rub their noses

against that which emanates. Don Peppino Diana was understood that should keep your face on that land, stick to the back, the gaze, not away to continue watching and reporting, and understand where and how to accumulate the wealth of businesses and how to trigger the killing and arrests, the fights and the silences, taking the tip of the tongue the instrument, the only possible to try to transform their time: the word. And this word, unable to silence, was his death sentence. His killer did not choose a date at random. The day of his birthday, March 19, 1994. In the morning, very early. Don Peppino had not yet worn the clerical garb. I was in the meeting room of the church, next to the office. No one recognized him immediately. - Who is Don Peppino? "It's me ... The last response. Five shots rang out at the ships, two bullets hit him in the face, the other pierced her head, neck and hand. He had joined the side, shooting at close range. The cap of one of the bullets had remained in his clothes, jacket and jersey. Another bullet had broken the key ring that he wore pants. Don Peppino was preparing to celebrate the first Mass of the day. He was thirty-six years. One of the first who went to church and found his body on the ground was still Renato Natale, communist mayor of Casal di Principe. Scarcely four months he had been chosen. It would not be a coincidence that that body would also like to break down after a brief political management. Natale was the first mayor of Casal di Principe which was established as priority the fight against the clans. In protest, he had even left the council because, he said, had been reduced to a mere ratification of decisions taken elsewhere. One day, in Casale, the police had broken into the home of a councilman, Gaetano Corvino, where they were meeting all the highest di-rigentes Casalesi clan. A meeting while the council was on the council to a council meeting. On the one hand, businesses in town, on the other, business that passed through town. Business is the only reason that makes you get out of bed early in the morning, I pulled the pajamas and I stand up I always looked far Renato Natale, as is done with people who have unwittingly become the symbols any ideas of commitment, strength and courage. Symbols almost metaphysical, unreal, archetypal. With a teenager's own embarrassment, I have always found their commitment to the establishment of clinics for immigrants, their complaints in the dark years of wars, the power of the Camorra families and businesses Casalese cement and trash. He had been approached and threatened with death, he was told that if they change their stance would retaliate against his family, but he was denounced, by all means, even hanging around town things, disclosing that the clans were deciding and imposing . The greater was the constancy and courage with which he acted, the more they protect metaphysics. Should know the political history of this land to understand the specific weight here are the terms commitment and will. Since the enactment of the law permitting the dissolution of municipalities Mafia infiltration, sixteen local governments has been infiltrated by the Camorra in the province of hamlets, of which five have been operated on twice: Carinola, Casal di Principe, Casapesenna , Castelvolturno, Cesa, Frignano, Grazzanise, LUSCIANO, Mondragone,

Pignataro Maggiore, Recale, San Cipriano, Santa Maria la Fossa, Teverola, Villa di Briano and San Tammaro. The mayors who oppose clans in the villages, when they do vote to be elected to represent change and economic strategies that cut across any political formation, is faced with having to confront the limits of local managers, a budget and an absolute marginality. Should begin to break down, brick by brick dismantling. With municipal budgets have to deal with multinational companies with headquarters provinces must stop huge fire batteries. As in 1988, when Antonio Cangiano, Casapesenna councilman, opposed the penetration of the clan in some contracts. He was threatened, followed, was shot in the back, in the street in front of everyone. If he had not let go to clan Casaseli, the Casalesi not let him go to him. And Caro giano confined to a wheelchair. The alleged perpetrators of the ambush were acquitted in 2006. Casal di Principe is a Sicilian village hit by the Mafia, which oppose the criminal business is hard, but also where, along with the action itself, there are lots of cameras, reporters standing or in the process of becoming one, and swarms of national anti-Mafia leaders who somehow manage to amplify one's commitment. Everything you do stays on the perimeter of the restricted space in the area of a few. And I think it is precisely in this solitude where forging what could be called courageous, a kind of array in which not think, but they carry with them without realizing it. Straps on, do what you have to do, the rest is worthless. Because the threat is not always a bullet between the eyes or buffalo sacks of shit dumped you at the door of your house. Defoliate you slowly. One sheet each day, until you are naked and alone, believing that you're fighting something that does not exist, a frenzy of your brain. You start to believe the lies that you say as a dissatisfied than making those who have succeeded, who, in frustration, called troublemakers. As you play the game of Mikado: van removing all toothpicks move without you, so at the end you're alone, and loneliness drags you by the hair. And that's a mood that you can not afford here. It's a risk, low guard, no longer come to understand the mechanisms, symbols, options. You risk not because of anything percatarte. And then you exhaust all your resources. You find something that operates the stomach of the soul to move forward. Christ, Buddha, civil commitment, ethics, Marxism, pride, anarchism, the fight against crime, cleanliness, constant anger or perennial Southernism ... Anything. Not a hook to hang. Rather an underground following, unattainable. In the futile battle in which you are sure to play the role of the defeated, there is something you should preserve and knowledge. Please be sure to be reinforced by the waste of your commitment, which has the flavor of madness and obsession. Fusiform root that is embedded in the floor, I learned to re-meet her in the eyes of those who have decided to stand up to certain powers. Suspicions about the murder of Don Peppino suddenly fell on the group Quadrano Giuseppe, a member who had passed the camp of the enemies of Sandokan. There were two witnesses: a photographer who was there to congratulate Don Peppino for her birthday, and the sacristan of the church of San Nicols. Just the news began to circulate that the police directed their suspicions Quadrano, the boss Nunzio De Falco, called "the Wolf," which at that time was in Andalusia, particularly in Granada, which had been

assigned to the territorial partition powers between the Casalesi-phoned the police headquarters in Caserta to request a meeting with officers to clarify a number of issues related to a member of your group. Two officials of the police headquarters in Caserta went to see him in his territory. The airport was to pick up the boss's wife in his car, and then deep into the beautiful Andalusian countryside. Nunzio De Falco was waiting, not in his village of Santa Fe, but run a restaurant where it was likely that most customers who had extras at the time were ready to intervene in the case that officers committed any negligence. The boss immediately said that they had been asked to give his version of the episode, a kind of interpretation of a historical fact, not an accusation or complaint. Was that a clear premise and necessary to not muddy the name and authority of the family could not get to work with police. The boss said bluntly that you had killed Don Peppino Diana were Schiavone, the rival family. Had killed the priest to make the responsibility fall on the killing of De Falco. Wolf maintained that he never could have given the order to kill Don Peppino Diana, since his brother Mario was closely linked to the priest. Don Peppino had even managed to dissuade him from becoming leader of the clan, maintaining a dialogue with him able to circumvent the system the Camorra. He was one of the greatest triumphs of Don Peppino, although the boss De Falco used it as an alibi. Also came to corroborate the thesis of De Falco two other members of the clan: Mario Santoro and Francesco Piacenti. Quadrano Giuseppe was also in Spain. First was housed in the village of De Falco, and then settled in a village near Valencia. I wanted to start a band, and had tried to negotiate with two drug shipments that should have acted as an economic accelerator face to build yet another business-Italian criminal clan in southern Spain. But he failed, at bottom, Quadrano had always been a secondary character. He surrendered to Spanish police, declaring available to collaborate with justice. Denied the version Nunzio De Falco had told the Italian police. Quadrano placed the murder as part of the war that was developing between his group and Schiavone. Quadrano was head of the Carinaro area, and Sandokan Casalesi were soon charged four of its affiliates, two uncles and her sister's husband. Quadrano said it had decided, along with Mario Santoro, killing Aldo Schiavone, a cousin of Sandokan, to avenge the insult. Before the operation called De Falco to Spain, and that can not take any military operation without the approval of the leaders, but the trawlers Granada Schiavone objected on the grounds that, after the death of his cousin, would order the killing of all De Falco's relatives were still in Campania. The trawlers also indicated that Francesco Piacenti send as a messenger and organizer under his command. Piacenti traveled from Granada to Casal di Principe in a Mercedes, the car in the 1980 and 1990 was the symbol of this land. The late 1990's, the journalist Enzo Biagi was stunned after obtaining for an article he was writing, sales figures Mercedes in Italy: Casal di Principe was among the first places in Europe in number of vehicles purchased. But there was also another record that caught his attention: urban areas with the highest homicide rate in Europe was just too Casal di Principe. A relationship, between the number of Mercedes and killed people, which could be a constant observable in all territories of the Camorra. The fact is that, according to preliminary Piacenti revelations Quadrano-reported that it had to kill Don Peppino Diana. Nobody knew the reason for the decision, but everyone was sure that "the Wolf knew

what he was doing." Piacenti said, according to the repentant, that he would commit the murder provided Santoro accompany him and some other clan. Mario Santoro, however, doubted, and called De Falco said he was opposed to murder, but eventually agreed. If you do not want to lose the role of intermediaries in the drug trade with Spain, which had granted the Wolf, an order could not escape so important. But the murder of a priest, and over without a clear motive, no-ba just being accepted as a task similar to the others. In the system the Camorra, the killing is necessary, is like a bank deposit, the acquisition of a concession, such as removing a friend. It is a gesture that differs from the ordinary: it is part of the rise and fall of every family, every boss, all affiliate. But to kill a priest outside the dynamics of power, was something that had shaken the conscience. According to the statement of Quadrano, Francesco Piacenti withdrew, saying that in Casale knew him too, and therefore could not participate in the action. Instead, Mario Santoro accepted, albeit with the com-pany of Giuseppe Della Medaglia, clansman of Sant'Antimo Ranucci and his companion and in other operations. According to the repentant, were organized for the next day at six in the morning. But that was a stormy night for all members of the command. They could not sleep, arguing with their wives, waving. I was more afraid of that priest who fire hydrants rival clans. Della Medaglia did not attend the meeting, but during the night was able to contact with another person who sent in his stead, Vincenzo Verde. Other members of the group did not feel particularly happy with the choice, as Green used suffer from seizures, and there was a risk that, after firing, hitting the ground writhing in convulsions, biting his tongue with his teeth and his mouth full of drool. So they tried to replace him with Nicola Gaglione, but he refused categorically. Santoro began to experience an anxiety attack: I could not think of any solution, so that the end Quadrano sent his brother to accompany Armando Santoro. A simple operation, a car waiting in front of the church, and the thugs who returned safely after completing its mission. As an early morning prayer. Upon execution, the fire group had no hurry to flee. That same afternoon Quadrano was invited to travel to Spain, but declined. He was protected by the fact that the murder of Don Peppino was an action at all linked to the military practice followed until then. And even they knew the motive of the murder, still less the police would know. However, only the police investigations began to be oriented in all directions, Quadrano moved to Spain. He himself said that Francesco Piacenti had shown that Nunzio De Falco, Sebastiano Caterino and Mario Santoro had thought settled, perhaps because they suspected he wanted to repent, but the day saw the ambush in the car with his young son and forgave him. In Casal di Principe, Sandokan ever heard his name more often associated with the disposal of the priest. So let it be known to the family of Don Peppino that if his men had hunted Quadrano before the police, had been cut into three pieces and would have thrown the door of the church. Rather than revenge, that was a clear allegation of lack of responsibility for the ambush of Don Peppino. Soon after, in reaction to the pleas of not guilty by Francesco Schiavone, held a meeting in Spain clansmen De Falco, which proposed Quadrano Giuseppe kill a relative of Schiavone, cut into pieces and left in a bag front of the church of Don Peppino. One way to shift responsibility for Sandokan. So the two factions, despite not knowing any of them the intentions of the other, had reached the

same solution: cut dead and scatter the pieces is the best way to leave a message indelible. While his murderers were talking about cutting meat to ensure your situation, I thought once again at the Battle of Don Peppino, the priority of the word. As incredibly new and powerful that it was the willingness to place the word in the center of the struggle against the mechanisms of power. Words in front of the mixer and rifles. And not in a metaphorical way, but real. There, to denounce, to witness, to be. The word with its unique armor rule. A word that is sentinel testimony provided true never to leave the note. A word-oriented in that direction can only be eliminated by killing. In 2001, the court in Santa Maria Capua Vetere in the first instance sentenced to life imprisonment Vincenzo Verde, Francesco and Giuseppe Della Medaglia Piacenfi. Giuseppe Quadrano had long since begun a campaign to discredit the figure of Don Peppino. During interrogation, he fantasized about a number of phones aimed at stifling the murder of Don Peppino committed a criminal interpretations knot. Nunzio De Falco explained that he had been armed by the priest, then this had happened without authorization Walter Schiavone, and had been for this severe lack of what had been punished. He spoke also of a crime of passion, that is, that he had been killed because he had harassed a bonus boss. And to stop any kind of reflection on a woman simply define it as a "whore, in the same way a priest accused of being a john is the fastest way to close a trial. At the end came the story that Don Peppino was killed for not complying with his duties as priest, because he would not hold in the church the funeral of a relative of Quadrano. Mobile implausible, laughable, due solely to attempt to avoid making a martyr of Don Peppino, to prevent the dissemination of his writings, that is not considered a victim of the Camorra, but a soldier of the clan. Who does not know the dynamics of the power of the Camorra is often believed that killing an innocent is a terrible act of ingenuity on the part of the clans, as legitimate and amplifies his example, his words, since not only confirms its truths . It is a mistake. It never is. Just die in the land of the Camorra hemmed in by multiple suspects, and your innocence becomes a distant scenario, the last possible. You are guilty until proven innocent: in the land of the clan is reversed modern legal theory. The attention is so small that it is sufficient suspicion that news agencies do not publish the news of the death of an innocent. And then, if there is no more dead nobody will talk about the case. So destroy the image of Don Peppino Diana has been a key strategy for alleviating the pressure on the clan, the discomfort of a national interest that would have weighed too much. A local newspaper made a sounding in the campaign of defamation of Don Peppino, with titles as full of ink that the letters were printed on your fingertips when you browsed through the newspaper: "Don Peppino Diana was a troublemaker" A few days later: "Don Peppino Diana in bed with two women." The message was clear: no one can take a stand against the Camorra. Whoever does it is always because of personal interest, a mess, a private matter that wallows in the same filth. Those who have defended their report were old friends, relatives and people who

followed his career as a journalist Raffaele Sardo, who has kept his memory in articles and books, and Rosaria Capacchione journalist who has researched strategies clans, the tricks of the repentant, his complicated and brutal power. The appeals court ruling, handed down in 2003, questioned some passages of the first version of exonerating Quadrano Giuseppe Verde Giuseppe Vincenzo Della Medaglia. Quadrano confessed truths, planning-from the first moment, the strategy of not declaring your own risk. But the killer was there as witnesses acknowledged and confirmed the ballistics expert evidence. Giuseppe Quadrano is the killer of Don Peppino Diana. The court of second instance: Green and Della Medaglia acquitted. The command was composed solely of Quadrano and Santoro, who had acted as chauffeur. Francesco Piacenti had provided more information on Don Peppino, and was the supervisor directly sent from Spain by De Falco to run the operation. Life imprisonment for Piacenti and Santoro was also confirmed by the court of appeal. Even had recorded Quadrano's telephone conversations with various members cas, where he repeated that he had not participated in the killing, recordings that later surrendered to police. Quadrano understood that the order to murder had left De Falco, and would not be exposed as a mere arm of the operation. Most likely all the people involved in the first version of Quadrano had cracked and had not wanted to participate in any way in the ambush. Sometimes not enough machine guns and pistols to face an unarmed and face the clearest terms. Nunzio De Falco was arrested while traveling in Albacete Valencia-Madrid Intercity. Had assembled a powerful criminal cartel with several men of the 'Ndrangheta, and some dissidents of the Cosa Nostra, and also tried-according to research by the Spanish police, to provide a criminal group structure for the gypsies present in southern Spain. He had built an empire. Resorts, gambling houses, shops, hotels ... The Costa del Sol had met a qualitative leap in its tourist infrastructure since Casalesi and Neapolitan clans had decided to turn it into a pearl of mass tourism. In January 2003, De Falco was sentenced to life imprisonment in charge of ordering the murder of Don Peppino Diana. While reading the ruling in court, I wanted to laugh, a laugh that I could include swelling cheeks. I could not resist the absurdity of what was materializing in that room. Nunzio De Falco had been defended by the lawyer Gaetano Pecorella, who happened to be at the same time president of the Justice Commission of the Chamber of Deputies and a defender of one of the top boss of the cartel rowdy pairs. I laughed because the clans were so strong that even the axioms had invested so much of nature as fables. But perhaps mine was nothing but a delusion caused by fatigue and a nervous breakdown. Nunzio De Falco takes his nickname engraved on the face, actually has the face of a wolf. The picture of his mug shot appears fully occupied by his long face, covered with a thin beard and shaggy as barbed wire, pointy ears, curly hair, dark skin and triangular mouth. It seems, in fact, one of those licntrotowards the iconography of terror. And yet, a local newspaper, the same who had aired the alleged relationship between Don Peppino and the clan, devoted several covers to his

qualities as a lover, ardently desired by young and mature women. The headline on the cover of the January 17, 2005 was very eloquent, "Nunzio De Falco, King of the Don Juans. Casal di Principe. They are handsome, but like they are boss, is. Had to do a classification of playboy boss of the province, which would ocuparais the top two men with criminal records in Casal di Principe, certainly not as handsome bearish could be who, however, has always been the most fascinating all Bardellino Antonio. Francesco is Piacenti, alias "Nose" and Nunzio De Falco, alias "El Lobo." Reportedly, the first has had five women, and the second seven. Naturally, we refer here not to mere marital relations themselves, but also other long-lasting relationships that have had children. In fact, Nunzio De Falco seems to have more than twelve children of several women. But more interesting is another thing: that the women in question are not all Italian. One is Spanish, one English and one Portuguese. In all places where they took refuge, even when fleeing from justice, were families. Am I the sea? Almost. [...] It is no coincidence that in his trial testimony was required even some of their women, all beautiful and very elegantes.Tambin is often the weaker sex the cause of the decline of many boss. They have often been the ones who have indirectly contributed to the capture of the most dangerous boss. Monitoring by researchers has allowed the capture of boss Francesco Schiavone gauge Cicciariello. [... 1 In summary, then, women are a delight and the bane of the boss. Don Peppino's death was the price paid for peace between the clans. Even the very court ruling refers to this hypothesis. Between the two warring factions had to agree, and perhaps the agreement was signed on beef Don Peppino. Sacrificed as a scapegoat. Remove equivalent to solve a problem for all families, the trismus time, divert attention from investigations of its business. I had heard of a childhood friend of Don Peppino, Cipriano, who had written a speech to read at his funeral, a tirade inspired by a speech by Don Peppino, but that morning had not even had the courage to move. For many years had left the village, lived in Rome AROUND-ers, and had decided never to set foot on the hood. I was told that the grief over the death of Don Peppino him bedridden for months. When asked by him to an aunt, she responded consistently and always with the same mournful tone: - Have been detained! Cipriano has been detained! From time to time are held worldwide. In that respect, therefore, 'not so rare to hear people say something. Every time I hear it I remember Giustino Fortunato, who earlier in the decade of 1990-to understand the situation of the peoples of the southern slope of the Apennines, had walked for months by traveling all sleeping in the homes of braceros, listening to the testimony of angry peasants, and learning the voices and smells of the socalled southern question. It happened then, being now a senator, returned to those places and asked people who had known years ago, the most combative, which would have liked to incorporate into their political projects of reform. Often, however, relatives responded

to him: "It has been held!". Seclusion, be silent, almost mute, as a desire to escape into itself and let you know, to understand, to do. Stop resisting, an option-mita ere taken a moment before release of the existing commitments. Cipriano also had been held. I told the people that had begun to seclusion since, on one occasion had been submitted to a job interview to qualify for the post of head of human resources of a transport company in Frosinone. To read aloud your resume, the person who examined him stopped in the town of residence: - Ah, yes! I know where it comes from! It is the people of that famous boss ... Sandokan, Right? -No. It is the people of Peppino Diana. - Who? Then Cyprian had risen from his chair and was gone. To live was made by a kiosk in Rome. I had managed to trace his mother, I had stumbled across it by chance, because I had found behind you in line at the supermarket. Surely she must warn-edge base of my arrival, as Cyprian did not answer the intercom. Perhaps he knew what I wanted to talk to him. I waited outside his house for hours, ready to sleep on the landing if needed. It was finally decided to leave. He greeted me reluctantly. We entered a small park near his home. He invited me to sit on a bench, then opened a notebook, one of those pinstriped school notebooks and on those pages, handwritten, was the harangue. Who knows if behind those leaves was also the spelling of Don Peppino, I dared not ask. It was a speech he would have liked to sign together. But then had come the killers, death, the slanders, the abysmal loneliness. Began to read heretical monk tone, with the gestures of a dulciniano it was through the streets announcing the apocalypse: iNo allow men, that our lands will become more Camorra, to become one great Gomorrah to be destroyed! Let not men of the Camorra, and not beasts, men and all, than elsewhere becomes permissible find their energy here illegally, do not let it be built elsewhere so here it is destroyed. Cread the desert around your towns, do not interpongis between what you are and what you want only your absolute will. Remember. Then the Lord rained down from heaven upon Sodom and upon Gomorrah brimstone and fire destroyed those cities, all the plain, all the inhabitants of cities and how growing up in the soil. But Lot's wife turned to look back and became a pillar of salt (Genesis, 19, 12-29). We run the risk of becoming salt, we return to look at what is happening, what is upon Gomorrah, the total destruction where life is totaled and subtracted from your economic operations. Do you not see that this land is Gomorrah?, Do not you see? Remember. When you see your whole land is brimstone, salt, and drought, and has no seeds, no fruit, no grass grow any kind, such as after the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, and Zeboiim Admah, which the LORD overthrew in his anger and his anger (Deuteronomy, 29, 22). Dying to a yes and no, life is given by an order and a decision by someone, are fulfilling decades of imprisonment to achieve a power of death, to earn lots of money to invest in a home that dwell in banks which will never enter in restaurants that do not gestionaris in companies that do not dirigiris; comandis death power trying

to dominate a consumerism life hidden underground, surrounded by bodyguards. You murder and you are killed in a chess game whose king is not you, but those who get rich at your expense by having you eat each other until no one can and to checkmate and is only a piece in the tablero.Y is not you . What devour here as elsewhere escups away, making like birds vomit food into the mouths of their chicks. But there are those chicks which you put the food in its beak, but vultures, and ye are not birds, but buffalo ready to destroy each other in a place where blood and power are the terms of victory. It is time we stop being a Gomorrah ... Cipriano stopped reading. It seemed that his mind could have imagined all the faces that have wanted to throw the muzzle those words. Breathing with a bated breath, like asthma. Then he closed his notebook and left without saying goodbye. Hollywood In Casal di Principe, Don Peppino Diana have dedicated a "Shelter and Temporary Immediate children in care ', an organizing center in a town seized a member of the Casalesi clan, Egidio Coppola. A magnificent villa, which has been possible to recover a lot of rooms. The Italian Agency for the Renovation, Development and Security in the Territory (AGRORINASCE), which includes the municipalities of Casapesenna, Casal di Principe, San Cipriano d'Aversa and Villa Literno, has managed to transform some goods into useful structures of rowdy people on earth. The villas of the boss seized, until they are truly reusable, it retains the mark of who is built and occupied. Although abandoned, retain the command domain. Crossing the countryside Aversano one seems to have before it a kind of catalog summary of all the architectural styles of the past thirty years. The most imposing villas, builders, land owners, are what set the tone for the other, smaller, employees and merchants. If the former is headed by four Doric columns of reinforced concrete, the latter will have only two and half will be high. The role play is, therefore, that the whole territory is dotted with villas sets that rival in grandeur, complexity and inviolability, in a kind of search for the rare and singular, as, for example, by reproducing the lines of a Mondrian box on the outside fence. The villas of cement brawlers are pearls hidden in the streets of towns in the province of Caserta, protected by walls and security cameras. There are lots of them. Marble and parquet, columns and staircases, fireplaces boss' initials engraved on the granite ... But there is a particularly famous, the most splendid of all, or just those about which they have been created more legends. Everyone in the village known as Hollywood. Just saying his name to know. Hollywood is the town of Walter Schiavone, brother of Sandokan, during many years responsible for the cycle of cement on behalf of the clan. Guess the origin of the name is not difficult: just imagine the space and splendor. But this is not the real reason: the villa of Walter Schiavone really has to do with Hollywood. Casal di Principe in mind that the boss had asked his architect to build him a villa identical to that Miami Cuban gangster Tony Montana, who appeared in Scarface. He had seen time and again the film, which had shaken up the point of identifying with the character played by Al

Pacino, and indeed, with some overlap could fancy his bored face to the actor. The whole story has shades of legend. As told in the village, the bous video directly gave the film his architect: the project was to be the price of power, and no other. It seemed to me to be one of those stories that adorn the ascension to power of all boss, an aura that is steeped in legend, myth true metropolitan. Every time someone named Hollywood, there was always another small had gone to see the construction work: all in a row, on bicycles, to contemplate the village of Tony Montana was gradually lifted in the middle of the street arising directly from the screen. Something that, incidentally, was very unusual, because in Casale works of the villas are not usually start until they have raised their high walls. I had never believed in the history of Hollywood. Seen from outside, the village of Schiavone is a bunker, surrounded by thick walls topped by railings threatening. All access is protected by fencing armor. No sight of what may be the other side of the walls, although in view of its defensive structure, one thinks of something precious. There is a single external signal, a silent message, which is precisely the main entrance. On both sides of the fence, which feels like a farmhouse, there are two Doric columns surmounted by a tympanum. There are in harmony one with the disciplined sobriety of the houses of the environment, with thick walls, with the red fence. Actually it is the family brand: the eardrum neopagan, as a message for those who already know the town. Just seeing gave me the certainty that that construction on that fabled for years really existed, and had thought of entering dozens of times to see Hollywood with my own eyes. But it seemed impossible. Even after the embargo was monitored by the gorilla clan. One morning, before they decide their future use, I steeled myself and prepared to enter. I went through a second entrance, away from prying eyes that could have been made nervous by the intrusion. The village appeared impressive, bright, the front instilled the same kind of respect that one feels before a monument. The two-story columns supported by gables of different sizes, arranged in a decreasing vertical structure, which exhibited a truncated semicircle in the center. The entry was an architectural delirium: two huge steps as far back as two wings of marble to the first floor, looming in a gallery on the living room below. The court was identical to that of Tony Montana. He was also a terrace with a central entrance leading into the office, where it ends the same price of power among a hail of bullets. The villa is a waste of Doric columns plastered with pink inside and the outside aqua green. The sides of the building are formed by double colonnades with beautiful wrought iron finishes. The whole property has 3,400 square meters with a 850 square meter building arranged on three levels. In late 1990, the value of the property was about 5,000 billion lire in the same building today would have a market value of four million euros. On the first floor rooms are huge, each one of them, in vain, at least one bathroom. Some are huge and luxurious, others, however, small and modest. It is the children's room, where there are still posters of singers and players on the walls, a box blackened with two little angels, that was probably at the bedside. A newspaper clipping: "The Albanov sharpening their weapons. The team was Albanov Casal di Principe and San Cipriano d'Aversa, dissolved by the Anti-Mafia in 1997, created with money from the clan, a puppet team boss. Those cuts charred moldy plaster attached to were all that remained of the son of Walter, died in a traffic accident while still a teenager. From the balcony you could see the front yard, dotted with palm trees, and was also a small lake

artificial with a wooden bridge leading to a small islet of plants and trees surrounded by a wall. In this area of the house when the family still lived Schiavone, Toy Dogs, the molosos, yet another symbol of the staging of power. In the rear lay a meadow with an elegant swimming pool designed as an ellipse twisted to allow the palm trees give shade during the summer days. This part of the villa had been copied from Venus Bath, English Garden, the pearl of the Royal Palace of Caserta. The statue of the goddess is accommodated to the surface of water with the grace of Vanvitelli. The villa is abandoned since the arrest of the boss, which took place in 1996 precisely in those rooms. Walter did not like his brother Sandokan, who, being pursued by the justice, had built beneath his huge villa in the center of Casal di Principe, a shelter as deep as princely. When I was a fugitive, Sandokan took refuge in a bunker with no doors or windows, galleries and natural caves that can provide escape routes in case of emergency, but also with a hundred square meters apartment perfectly organized. A surreal apartment, illuminated with neon lights and white ceramic floors. The bunker was equipped with videophone and had two hits, impossible to identify from the outside. Upon arrival they were virtually no doors, as these only draw back is opened after a wall of concrete that were on rails. When there was danger of house searches, the boss, from the dining room, and through a hidden trapdoor, reached a series of galleries, no less than eleven, joined together, forming a sort of underground-reductase, the last refuge where Sandokan had sent tents to have: a bunker inside the bunker. To catch him, in 1998, DIA had to watch the house for a year and seven months, reaching through the wall with an electric saw to gain access to the hideout. Only later, when Francesco Schiavone had surrendered, had been possible to identify the main entrance in the cellar of a villa in Sale Street, no, between empty plastic boxes and garden tools. In the bunker there was no shortage of anything. There were two refrigerators, which contain enough food to feed at least six people for about twelve days. There was a entire wall occupied by a sophisticated stereo system, with video cameras and projectors. The scientific police headquarters in Naples had took ten hours to control the alarm installations and closures of the two approaches. Not missing in the bathroom with whirlpool tub. And all of it underground, living as in a burrow, including hatches and galleries. Walter, however, had not been concealed underground. When I was a fugitive from justice came to town for major meetings. He came home in full sun, with his retinue of bodyguards and security of the inaccessibility of the village. The police arrested him almost by accident. I was performing the routine checks. Eight, ten or twelve times a day, police officers and police usually come home for families of refugees, control, recognize, investigate, and above all try to break the nerves and becoming less supportive to the family with the option of secrecy from its parent. Ms. Schiavone received provided the police with charm and aplomb. Always calm, offering tea and cakes that were consistently rejected. One afternoon, however, Walter's wife had been shown to respond to tense intercom, and the slowness with which he had opened the door, the police had immediately intuited that day there was something abnormal. As they walked the town, Mrs. Schiavone followed them on her heels instead of talking from the bottom of the stairs letting his words resounded through the house, as he usually did. Man found freshly

ironed shirts in a pile on the bed, one size too big for that bore the o. Walter was there. Had returned home. Aware of this, the policemen were separated, looking for every room of the villa. I caught while trying to cross the wall: the same wall that had built for him from home impenetrable escape swiftly, caught as a thief who kicks seeking support on a flat wall. The villa was seized immediately, but for about six years nobody has taken physical possession of it. Walter ordered out of there as possible. If he could no longer be available, was to cease to exist: either you, or anyone. So he sent unhinge the doors, remove windows, weeding the park, removing the marble stairs, remove the beautiful fireplaces, ceramic boot even the bathrooms, removing the solid wood railings, lamps, kitchen, take eighteenth-century furniture, display cabinets, tables ... Gave orders to fill the house with tarps and then set fire to destroy the walls and plaster, and weaken the columns. Again, however, seems to have left a message. The only thing unchanged, the only thing left intact was the tub built in the second floor, most precious object of the boss. A princely bath built in the lounge on the second floor; accommodated on three tiers, with the face of a lion by the gushing water. A bathtub in front of an arched window that opened directly into the garden of the villa. A sign of his power as a builder and as a brawler, like a painter who had erased his canvas, but left his signature on the fabric. Walking slowly through Hollywood, which I thought were just voices seemed exaggerated legend now, however, correspond to the truth. The Doric capitals, the imposing building structures, double drum, the tub in the room, and, above all, the steps of the entrance, are a replica of the town of Scarface. Walking those darkened rooms, hinchrseme chest felt as if all the internal organs would have become one great heart. I heard him beating everywhere, and getting stronger. I dried my throat to force a deep breath to calm the anxiety. If any of the gorilla clan guarding the village still had surprised me, I would have filled holes, and could and squeal like a pig slaughtered, no one would have heard me. But obviously nobody had seen me enter, and perhaps no one watched and villa. In a rage I felt grow oppressive, went through my mind as a collage of views only fragmented images of friends migrants, some enrolled in the clan and others in the military, sleepy afternoons in this land of desert, the absence anything outside businesses, politicians tainted by corruption and empires were built in northern Italy and in Europe half trash leaving here alone dioxinas.Y I felt like taking it to someone. I had to de-sahogarme. So I could not resist: I climbed to my feet on the edge for the bathtub, and started to pee inside. A stupid act, but the more I emptied my bladder better I felt. That town seemed to confirm a common place, the concrete realization of a gossip. I had the ridiculous feeling that one of those rooms were about to leave Tony Montana, and gesticulating and drawing himself up proudly waving with pride, was about to say: "All I have in the world are my balls and my word. And I do not play it for anybody, right? Who knows whether Walter will also be dreamed and imagined death as Montana, falling from the top to the floor of the lobby, riddled with bullets before ending his days in a cell used Basedow's disease, which was eroding the eye and triggering blood pressure.

There is film that looks into the criminal world to capture the paradigmatic behaviors. It is exactly the opposite. New generations of boss typically do not have a criminal record, not spend their days on the streets imitating the neighborhood pimp, or carry a knife in his pocket, and have scars on my face. Watch TV, study, go to college, graduate, travel abroad and, above all, dedicated to the study of the mechanisms of investment. The case of the movie The Godfather is very eloquent. No one within the criminal organizations, or in Sicily and in Campania, had ever used the Italian term sponsor, the fruit, however, a little translation of English philological godfather. The word used to designate a capofamiglia or an affiliate has always been to compare (ie "comrade"). After the movie, however, the Mafia families of Italian origin settled in the United States began using the term sponsor to replace the now-outmoded-to compare and compariello (the latter a diminutive of "buddy"). Many young Italian-Americans linked to mafia organizations followed suit with dark glasses, striped suits, hieratic expression ... The same boss John Gotti wanted to become a flesh and blood version of Don Vito Corleone. Even Luciano Liggio, boss of the Cosa Nostra, was photographed as highlighting the jaw capofamiglia from The Godfather. Mario Puzo was not inspired by a Sicilian boss, but in history and the appearance of a boss of the Pignasecca, the market's historical center of Naples, Alfonso Tieri, who, after the death of Charles Gambino, happened to be in control Italian Mafia families in the United States hegemony. Antonio Spavone "evil" man "linked to the Neapolitan bous Tieri, had stated in an interview with a U.S. newspaper that" if the Sicilians had been taught to be silent and quiet, the Neapolitans had made the world understand how to behave when you send, had brought home to send a gesture is better than jo-der,,. Most criminal archetypes, the most representative of charismatic gangster, came from an area of just a handful of miles from Campania. Even Al Capone himself was originally from there. His family came from Castellammare di Stabia. It was the first boss that had to be measured with film. His nickname, "Scarface" - (cut face "due to a scar on her cheek, then recovered in 1983 by Brian de Palma for the film already mentioned on the Cuban boss (Scarface), had already been the title of a film by Howard Hawks in 1932 (Scafface, the terror of the underworld). Al Capone even showed in studies of filming, arrived with his escort whenever there was a scene of action and the exterior shots could attend. The boss wanted to make sure that Tony Camonte, Scarface character inspired by him, not trivialized. And I wanted to be as close as possible to Tony Camonte, sure, after the premiere of the film, the character would become Capone's emblem, ceasing to be the model of that. The film is also a model from which to extract modes of expression. In Naples, Cosimo Di Lauro is an exemplary case. Noting his clothes, all should venirles to mind The Crow, Brandon Lee. The bullies must create a criminal image that often do not have, and find in the movies. Articulating own figure on a recognizable Hollywood mask, take a shortcut to gain recognition horn characters to be feared. The film gets inspiration to condition even technical options horn handle of the gun and shoot mode. On one occasion, a veteran of forensic science of Naples, I explained how the Camorra killers mimic those of the films:

Today, after Tarantino, no longer know how to shoot and godliness! I do not shoot the gun straight. I have always tilted downward. Twisted gun fire, like in the movies, and this practice leads to disaster. Shoot the lower abdomen, the English, the legs without being seriously hurt matar.As, always forced to finish shooting the victim in the neck. A free pool of blood, barbarity entirely superfluous for the purposes of enforcement. The boss's bodyguard women dress like Uma Thurman in Kill Bill: blond hair, and all fluorescent yellow clothing. A woman of Spanish Neighborhood Naples, Vincenza Di Domenico, for a short time collaborator with justice, was an eloquent nickname, "Little girl as the killer protagonist of the film of the same name by Luc Besson. The film, especially the U.S., does not look like the remote territory realm of the aberration, or horn where the impossible is done, but as the closest in the vicinity. I left the town little by little, releasing the foot of eggplant] of brambles and weeds that had become so precious in the English Garden of the boss. I left the door open. Just a few years ago near this place would of course be identified by dozens of guards. Now, however, was out walking with his hands in his pockets and head down to the chin, as when he leaves the theater still upset by what one has seen. In Naples is easy to see that the film Professor of Giuseppe Tornatore (whose original title is E rowdy Italian), is undoubtedly the film that has marked more than any other, the collective imagination. You only have to listen to the conversations of the people, who for years have consistently echoed the dialogues of the film. For its part, the music of the film has become a sort of soundtrack to the Camorra, hummed as it passes an area manager, or often just to disturb any merchant. But the film has even come to the clubs, where I danced all three versions we mixed the most famous phrases of the boss Raffaele Cutolo, spoken in the film by Ben Gazzara. Memory also repeated, imitating them, the two dialogues Professor Boys Casal di Principe, Giuseppe M. and P. Romeo, representing scenes from the film authentic. Did not yet have the driving license when they started to haunt the boys their own age Casale and San Cipriano d'Aversa. And had it not because neither reached eighteen. But it was two thugs. Cocky and funny, leaving a tip ate twice as much coming up the account. With his shirt open over a hairless chest, walked reciting aloud, as if to vindicate every step. The chin high, as an expression of security and a real power only in the minds of both. Iban always in pairs. Giuseppe was the boss, always a step ahead with respect to his friend. Romeo was a bodyguard, the role of the right arm of the faithful. A menu-do Giuseppe Donnie called him as Donnie Brasco. Although this was an undercover cop, the fact that it became a real gangster convinced saves him in the eyes of his admirers, that original sin. In Aversa became the terror of novice drivers. Preferred, especially engaged couples: expressly conflicted with his motorcycle against the car in question, and when the occupants came down to take the insurance data, one of the two approached the girl, spat in the face and waited for the boyfriend react to crush to death. But both challenging even to adults, even those who had really. Iban to its area of influence and did what they

wanted. They were of Casal di Principe, and his imagination enough. They wanted to know that they were real people who had feared to be respected, and that anyone approaching them had to walk on eggshells and do not dare even look at their faces. One day, however, carried too far his bravado. Took to the streets with a machine gun, pulled from who knows what clan armory, and stood before a group of boys. They must have trained very well, as the group shot at taking care of not meeting anyone, but only by the smell of gunpowder in the bullets and shells whistling. Before shooting, however, one of them had recited something. No one had understood what was mumbling, but a witness said it looked like the Bible, and had pointed out the hypothesis that perhaps boys were preparing for confirmation. However, from a few sentences culled it became apparent that this was not the passages of confirmation. It was the Bible, indeed, but not learned the catechism, but Quentin Tarantino. It was the passage recited by Jules Winnfield in Pulp Fiction before killing the boy who had done away with the precious briefcase of Marcellus Wallace Ezekiel, 25, 17: Way of the timid man is threatened on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish people and the tyranny of evil men models. Blessed is he who in the name of charity and good will leads to the weak through the valley of darkness for he is truly his brother's pastor and the finder of lost children and my righteousness will fall on them with the greatest perfectly furious vengeance and indignation upon those seeking to corrupt and destroy more brothers and you will know my name is the Lord when you dropped my vengeance upon thee. Romeo Giuseppe and repeated it like in the movie, and then fired. Father Giuseppe was a rowdy, first repented and then incorporated back into the organization Quadrano De Falco defeated by Schiavone. That is, a loser. But I thought that, by reciting the precise, the movie of your life maybe it could change. They both knew by heart the dialogues, the most notable of all crime films. Most of the time it hit by a glance. In the land of the Camorra, the nitrated form part of the territory, is like an invasion of their own rooms, and break down the door of someone's house and break violently inside. One look is even more than an insult. Stopping to look someone in the face represents now, somehow, an open challenge: - Do I have monkeys in my face? I say that if I have monkeys in my face! And after paraphrasing the famous monologue from Taxi Driver, Liab slaps and punches to the sternum, the kind that resonate in the chest and heard even at a distance. The Casalesi boss took very seriously the problem of those two boys. Fights, fights and threats were not easily tolerated: mothers too nervous, too many complaints. Thus, provided that an area manager will "Advise", making a kind of reprimand. It meets them at a bar and says they are doing to lose patience with the bosses. But Giuseppe Romeo and continue their imaginary film, sticking with whom they please and pissing in the tanks of the bikes of the kids in town. Les 'summon' a second time. The boss wants to talk directly with them, the clan can not stand and his attitude in the people patronizing tolerance, common in these lands, it

becomes the duty to punish, and therefore, give them a good lesson, a violent public spanking to make them behave properly. They disdain the invitation, still sprawled on the bar, glued to the video poker machine, and in the afternoons hanging on the television to watch DVDs of their films, hours and hours memorizing phrases and gestures, speech patterns and shoes carry. Both believe they can handle anyone. Even he tells. or rather, feel that just by addressing who really counts may become truly feared. Without putting any limit, as Tony and Manny in Scarface. No compromise with anyone, continuing their wanderings, their intimidation, and gradually seem to become the viceroy of Caserta. the two boys had not decided to enter the clan. Had not even tried. It was way too slow and disciplined, discreet race starting from the bottom who did not want to do. For years, moreover, the Casalesi got to that really worth in the economic sectors of the organization, and certainly not in its military structure. Romeo Giuseppe and represented the very antithesis of the figure of the new soldier, the Camorra. They were able to ride the wave of the most notorious of his people. were not members, but wanted to enjoy the privileges of the brawlers. Claimed that the bars will serve free petrol for their motorbikes was a tribute due to them, their mothers had to have paid the purchase, and when one had dared to rebel is suddenly breaking glass and handing slapped left and right. Thus, in the spring of 2004 some emissaries of the clan were cited in the periphery of Castelvolturno, in the area called Parque del Mar. An area of sand, sea and waste, all mixed. Perhaps it was a compelling proposal of a business or even participation in a trap. The first ambush of truth in his life. And who had failed to convince the bad, the boss tried to win them over with a good proposal. I imagine on mopeds speeding, going over the most important passages of his films, the moments in which those who have must yield to the obstinacy of the new heroes. Just as the young Spartans went to war in mind the deeds of Achilles and Hector, in this land is going to kill and be killed thinking Scarface, Goodfellas, Donnie Brasco and The Godfather. Every time I pass by chance by Parque del Mar imagine the scene that the newspapers have reported that police had reconstructed. Romeo Giuseppe and brought their motorcycles long before the appointed time, spurred by the situation. There they waited until he got a car, which came a group of people. The two boys came to greet them, but immediately subjected to Romeo and began to beat Giuseppe. Then, pressing the barrel of an automatic in the chest, opened fire. I am sure that Romeo would be before the scene of one of us in the Tommy DeVito is invited to join the leadership of the Cosa Nostra in the United States and instead receive a room with all the boss, you are taken to an empty room and shot in the head. not true that cinema is a lie, not true that you can not live like in the movies, and it is true that the head away from the screen you realize that things are different. There is only a different time: the time when Al Pacino gets up from the source in the machine-gun fire that have brought down his double, and dried her face, wiping the blood, the moment in which Joe Pesci washes the false hair and stops bleeding. But this does not interest you to know, and therefore do not understand. When Romeo saw Giuseppe on the floor, I'm quite sure, with a certainty that may not ever have any kind of confirmation-that understand what was the exact difference between film and reality, between construction and the stench scenic air , between life and a hyphen. It was his turn. He was shot in the throat and finished him off with a shot in the head. Adding the age of both just arrived at thirty years .. This had solved the clan

Excrescence that microciminal Casalesi powered cinema. Did not even make an anonymous call to alert the police or an ambulance. Let the hands of the corpses of the boys were pecked by seagulls, and the lips and nose nibbled by stray dogs that roamed those beaches of debris. But that did not have movies: always stop a little earlier. In the land of the Camorra, there is no real difference between viewers of the films and any other spectators. Everywhere there are the myths relating film as imitation. If other places can you like Scarface and inside you can feel like it, here you can be Scarface, but you get to be to the bottom. In the land of the Camorra, however, are also prolific lovers of art and literature. Sandokan had in his villa-bunker a huge library with dozens of texts focused exclusively on two topics: the history of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies and Napoleon Bonaparte. Schiavone was attracted by the value of the Bourbon state, which boasted ancestors among the staff of Terra di Lavoro, and fascinated by the genius of Bonaparte, capable of conquering half of Europe on the basis of a narrowly military rank, almost like himself, a clan-chief who was among the most powerful in Europe and he had entered as a private. Sandokan, with a history of medical student, he liked to spend the time hiding from justice painted religious icons and portraits of Napoleon and Mussolini. Still being sold in the most unexpected shops Caserta, very rare devotional portraits painted by Schiavone, where, instead of Christ's face, had his Sandokan Schiavone propio.A also liked epic literature. Homer, the cycle of King Arthur and Walter Scott were his favorite reading. Just the fans by Scott led him to baptize one of his sons with the fierce and high-sounding name of Ivanhoe. It is not uncommon, however, that the names of the descendants become clear indication of the passion of the parents. Giuseppe Misso, boss Neapolitan clan Sanita neighborhood, has three grandchildren: Ben Hurjess and Emiliano Zapata. Misso, which during trials has always adopted ways of political leader of rebel conservative thinker, has recently written a novel, The Lion of marble. With hundreds and hundreds of copies sold in Naples in a few weeks, the book, stuttering syntax, although rabid style, is the Naples of the 1980 and 1990, which formed the boss and it emerges the figure, described as a lone fighter against the Camorra organized crime and drugs, on behalf of a sort of code of chivalry, not very well explained, the robbery and theft. During the various arrests it has suffered in his long criminal career has always been found in the company Misso books of Julius Evola and Ezra Pound. Augusto La Torre, head of Mondragone, is a student of psychology and a voracious reader of Carl Gustav Jung, as well as good knowledge of the work of Sigmund Freud. Glancing at the titles that the boss has requested in prison include the lengthy biographies of scholars of psychoanalysis, while during trials Lacan quotes interspersed with reflections on the Gestalt school. Knowledge that the boss has used during his career of power, as an unexpected weapon and military policy. There is also a faithful follower of Paolo Di Lauro among the rowdy fans of art and culture: Tommaso Prestieri is producing a large number of singers neomeldicos, and a refined connoisseur of contemporary art. But many collectors boss. Pasquale Galasso in

his village had a private museum with almost three hundred antiques, whose gem was the throne of Francis I of Bourbon, while Luigi Vollaro called "Caliph" was the owner of a fabric of your favorite artist: Botticelli. Police arrested Prestieri while enjoying his love of music. In fact, he was caught in the Naples Teatro Bellini while attending a concert while weighing a search warrant against him. After a conviction, Prestieri said: "I am free in art, I have no need to be released." A balance made of pictures and songs that gives an impossible serenity to a capo in disgrace as he, that campaign has lost no less than two brothers, murdered in cold blood. Aberdeen, Mondragone The psychoanalyst boss Augusto La Torre had been a favorite Bardellino Antonio, a boy had taken the place of his father, becoming the absolute leader of the clan Chiuovi, as they were known in Mondragone. A hegemonic clan in high Caserta, in the low Lazio and along the coast do-micia. Were aligned with the enemies of Sandokan Schiavone, but over time the clan had shown great entrepreneurial skills and management capacity of the territory, only elements that can change the conflictive relationship between the families of the Camorra. The ability to do business closer to the Casalesi Tower, which gave him the possibility of joint action, but while enjoying autonomy. The Augustus was not a name chosen at random. A family's firstborn Tower were used to give names of Roman emperors. Of course, had spent the historical order: Roman history was the first reign of Augustus and Tiberius then, whereas Tiberius was the name of the father of Augusto La Torre. In the imagination of the families of these lands, the town of Scipio Africanus built near the present Lake Country, Capuana battles of Hannibal, the unstoppable force of Sannita, the first European guerrillas, who attacked the Roman legions and then fled to the mountains, are all present as folk tales, stories of the distant past which, however, everyone feels a part. Historical delirium clan was opposed to the diffuse imaginary Mondragone recognized in the capital of the mozzarella. My father forced me Elle mozzarella binge Mondragn, but it was impossible to determine what was the land that held the supremacy of the best mozzarella. The flavors were very different: the sweet and light mozzarella Battipaglia, the salty and consistent Aversano mozzarella, then that taste so pure mozzarella Mondragone. The Mondragn cheese masters, however, did have a test to determine the goodness of the mozzarella. To be good, it must leave a taste in the mouth, what farmers call "buffalo breath." If, after having already swallowed the piece does not stay that buffalo flavor in the mouth is The mozzarella is not good. When I went to Mondragone I liked walking in the dock. To cross from one side to another, before it was demolished, was one of my favorite summer occupations. A tongue of reinforced concrete built on the sea for the boats to dock, a structure useless and never used. Mondragone suddenly became the target of all the boys in the province of Caserta and troponin countryside who wanted to emigrate to England. Vital opportunity to emigrate,

to be able to leave eventually, but not as a waiter, and click on a McDonald's or paid cantarero pints of dark beer. It would Mondragone to try to establish contacts with appropriate people to obtain favorable treatment, the possibility of being received with kindness and concern for the owners of the premises. In Mondragone could find the right people to make contract by an insurer or an estate, and even if they submit laborers desperate, chronically unemployed, the right contacts to find employment to enable them to decent contracts and decent work. Mondragone was the door to Britain. Suddenly, from late 1990, have a friend in Mondragone meant to be evaluated at that value, without introduction or recommendation; something rare, rare, impossible in Italy, and even more in southern . To be considered and valued only for what they are, these payments will always need someone to protect you, and whose protection may, when it befriend at least make you take into consideration. Introduce without guard is horn go without arms and legs, in short: you are missing something. In Mondragone, however, caught your curversus peer and looked at who could send in England. Somehow worth the talent, and even more the way you've decided to put it. But only in London or Aberdeen, not in the Campania, not the province of the province of Europe. Matteo On one occasion, a friend of mine had decided to try it: go once and for all. He had saved some money, had been ruin laude graduate, and had enough of work between scaffolding and construction sites in order to survive. He had been given the name of a boy that would help Mondragone leaving for England, and once there he would find the way to stand for few job interviews. I accompanied him. We waited for hours at a beach where he had cited his contact. It was summer. Mondragone beaches are crowded with vacationers from all Campania, those who can not afford to go to the Amalfi coast, those who can not rent a house on the sea for the summer and, therefore, constantly coming and going from the coast inside, and vice versa. Until mid 1980, the mozzarella sold in wooden boxes filled with boiled buffalo milk. Vacationers they ate with their hands, mainly nent and to milk, and children, before biting the white pulp, spent the language by hand, which had a salty taste. Then no one followed by selling mozzarella, and reached the donuts and coconut pieces. That day, our contact was delayed two hours. When he finally came to our meeting, appeared tanned and covered only by a tight swimsuit, he explained that he had breakfasted late, and that, consequently, had bathed and dried up late afternoon. This was his excuse, in short, blame the sun. Our contact took us to a travel agency. That was it. We thought we would get an intermediary who knows what, and instead was that just needed to be in an agency, not particularly elegant, it was not even one of those hundreds of brochures, but one hole either. However, if you had a contact mondragon could access their services, whereas if a person entering any practices were developed habituated them of any travel agency. A very young girl asked for his resume to Matt and told us what was the first available flight. The city was going to send Aberdeen. He was given a brochure that lists a number of companies that could be directed to keep a job interview. Rather, the agency itself, in exchange for some money, made an appointment to the secretaries of those responsible for recruitment in each company. intermediary agency had never been so efficient. Two days later set sail for Scotland, a quick and inexpensive trip for those who came from Mondragone.

In Aberdeen familiar.Y atmosphere was, however, there was nothing further from that city Mondragone Scotland: the third largest city in Scotland, a dark city, gray, although it did not rain as much as in London. Before the arrival of the Italian clans, the city could not assess its own resources in terms of leisure and tourism, and everything related to restaurants, hotels and social life is organized to English so sad. Identical habits, local people crowded around the bar one day a week ... According to research by the Anti-Mafia Prosecutor of Naples, was Antonio La Torre, Augusto boss's brother, who developed in Scotland a number of commercial activities can, in a few years, to assert itself as the cream of Scottish business. Most of the activities in La Torre clan England are perfectly legal: the acquisition and management of real estate and commercial establishments, and food trade with Italy. A huge turnover, difficult to estimate in figures. In Aberdeen, Matteo looking all that he had not been recognized in Italy, we walked through the streets with satisfaction, as if for the first time in our lives the fact that the Campania was sufficient condition to avail ourselves an area of contention. In 27 and 29 Union Terrace found myself in front of a restaurant clan, Pavarotti's, recorded precisely in the name of Antonio La Torre and even mentioned in tourist guides found on the Scottish city. For Aberdeen was the elegant lounge, the local fashion, the site where one could dine in the best possible way and the place to discuss important business. Companies in the clan have been announced even in Paris, as the highest expression of "Made in Italy Italissima the food fair held in the French capital. Antonio La Torre, in fact, presented here for restoration activities and has exhibited his own brand. A success that makes La Torre one of the first Scottish entrepreneurs in Europe. Antonio La Torre was arrested in Aberdeen in March 2005 he weighed about a search warrant of the Italian police for conspiracy to commit crimes such rowdy and extortion. For years he had avoided both the arrest and extradition, hiding in his Scottish citizenship and the lack of recognition by the British authorities of criminal association against him. Scotland do not want to lose one of its brightest entrepreneurs. In 2002, the Naples Tribunal issued an order of preventive detention Thirty people affected clan linked to the Tower. Order is followed that the criminal organization earned huge sums of money through extortion and control of economic activities and contracts in its area of competence, then reinvested abroad, especially in Britain, where had created a veritable colony of the clan. A colony that had not invaded, had not led to reduced competition in the labor force, but had infused economic lifeblood, revitalizing the tourism sector, developing an import and export activity hitherto unknown in the city, and giving new impetus to the property sector. But the international power that stemmed from Mondragone was also personified Rockefeller, named in his homeland for his obvious talent for business and the huge liquidity possessed. Rockefeller is Raffaele Barbato, sixty-two, born in Mondragone. It is possible that even he has forgotten his real name. With Dutch wife, until the late 1980's managed businesses in Holland, where he owned two casinos frequented by customers of international caliber, from the brother of Bob Cellino, founder of the gambling halls of Las Vegas, to major Slavic mobsters based in Miami. His partners were a certain Liborio,

with contacts in the Sicilian Cosa Nostra, and one such Emi, a Dutchman who then moved to Spain, where it has opened hotels, apartments and nightclubs. Rockefeller also was one of the minds, according to statements by the repentant Mario Sperlongaro, Stefano Piccirillo and Rozzera Girolamo, who conceived the idea, with Augusto La Torre, to travel to Caracas to try to find groups of Venezuelans who sell cocaine traffickers at prices competitive with the Colombians, providers and Casalesi Neapolitans. Most likely, on drugs, La Torre had managed to have some autonomy, rarely granted by the Casalesi. Similarly, Rockefeller was in a place-against Augusto could sleep and be comfortable during their stay in Holland to escape justice, he had settled into the clay pigeon shooting club. Thus, although the countryside was far from Mondragn, the boss could shoot flying saucers to keep in shape. Rockefeller had a huge network relations, was one of the best-known businessmen not only in Europe but also in the U.S., as the virtue of running gambling halls had been in contact with Italian-American gangsters who increasingly see Europe as a degree market in which to invest, cornered in a slow, progressive and increasingly hegemonic Albanian clans in New York, and increasingly families linked to the Camorra of Campania, people capable of dealing in drugs and to invest their money in restaurants and hotels through the open door by Mondragn. Rockefeller is the owner of the beach called Adam and Eve, renamed La Playa, 14, a beautiful coastal resort where, according Mondragn allegations of the judiciary, they liked to hide from many members prosecuted. The more comfortable than the shelter, unless the temptations of repentance will surface to escape a life of continuous flight. And precisely to the repentant, the Tower had been merciless. Francesco Tiberio, cousin of Augustus, had telephoned Domenico Pensa, who had testified against the clan Stolder, clearly inviting the population to leave. "I've known for Stolder you've worked against them, and thus, since here we do not want those who collaborate with justice, you have to go to Mondragone, otherwise, someone will come and cut your head. Augusto's cousin had the talent to terrorize the phone who dared to work or allowed to leak information. With another, Vittorio Di Tella, was more explicit, inviting shroud is purchased. - You can get by buying black shirts, eh, cuckold?, I'll kill you! 14 In the original Castilian (N. of T.) Before the arrival of the clan sorry, no one could imagine the unlimited scope of business of Mondragn. Among the friends of Rockefeller also had a certain Raffaele Acconcia, Mondragon of birth and moved to Holland, who owns a restaurant chain, which the repentant Stefano Piccirillo would be a major drug trafficker at international level. Precisely in the Netherlands remained hidden, perhaps in a bank, the guild La Torre, million billed through intermediaries and businesses that researchers have ever found. In Mondragone, this supposed safe Dutch banking has become a kind of symbol of absolute wealth, superseding any reference of international wealth. There is no longer said "Could it be that you take me by the Bank of Italy?" But "Do I have taken by the Bank of Holland?". The clan La Torre, with support bases in South America and in Holland, he intended to

dominate the cocaine trade in the Roman streets. Rome, for all business-rowdy families Casertano, is the first reference in the drug trade as investments in real estate. Rome thus becomes an extension of the province of Caserta. The La Torre could have supply routes that were based on the coast do-starts. The villas of the coast were essential for trafficking contraband snuff first, and then of any goods. There was near the village of Nino Manfredi, who went to see several representatives of the clan to ask him to sell it. Manfredi tried to resist by all means, but his house was in a strategic point for the boats to dock, and the pressure of the clan were on the rise. And asked him not to sell, now imposed upon him is the yield to a set price for them. Manfredi even went to a boss of the Cosa Nostra, reporting the news in January 1994 on the radio, but the mondragonenes were powerful, and no Sicilian tried to mediate with them. Just going on TV and attracting national media attention, the actor managed to make public pressure that had been submitted because of strategic interests of the Camorra. Drug trafficking came in addition to all other commercial channels. Boccolato Enzo, a cousin of the La Torre restaurant owner in Germany, had decided to invest in garment exports. Along with Antonio La Torre, a Lebanese businessman, bought clothes in Apulia, as textile production was monopolized by Campania and Secondigliano clans, "which then resold in Venezuela through an intermediary, such Alfredo, noted in research as one of the most prominent diamond dealers Germany. Thanks to the Camorra clans of Campania, diamonds became little I ', time, both for its high price variability as the nominal value that maintain perennial, it being preferred to him, black money laundering. Enzo Boccolato was known at the airports of Venezuela and Frankfurt, had contacts among managers check goods, most likely not only worried about shipment and arrival of clothing, but also available to weave a vast network of cocaine trafficking. It may seem that the clans, once completed the accumulation of large capital, disrupt its business, somehow getting rid of his own genetic code and converting the legal field. As with the Kennedy family in the United States during the period of the ban had gained enormous amounts of capital through the sale of alcohol, and then had ended any relationship with crime. But in reality, the strength of Italian criminal business has resided precisely to circulate on a double track, never give up no criminal origin. In Aberdeen called scratch ('scratch') to this system. As the rappers or DJs, finger blocking the normal rotation of the disc on the turntable, so the entrepreneurs of the Camorra block for a moment the drive up the market, "rayndolo ', then it forward to again faster than before. From the various investigations of the Anti-Mafia Prosecutor of Naples on the tower, it became clear that when the legal tender suffered a crisis, he immediately activated the criminal path. If lacked liquidity, coins were minted, if capital is needed at short notice, cheating by selling government bonds are forged. The competition was wiped out by extortion, and imported goods were released. "Scratch" disk of the legal economy allows customers to have a constant price level and nothing schizophrenic, that bank loans are always successful, that money continues to circulate, and that the products continue to languish. "Scratch" thins the barrier that stands between the law and the economic imperative, between the forbidding and imposing standard benefit. The business of Tower abroad were essential

participation at various levels in the structure of the clan, British representatives, who even came to acquire the status of members. One of them is Brandon Queen, arrested in England, which promptly gets his allowance, including bonuses, of Mondragone. In the interim custody order of June 2002 also reads "Brandon Queen appears systematically recorded in the payroll of the clan at the express wish of Augusto La Torre." A normal members are guaranteed, in addition to physical protection, compensation, legal assistance and coverage of the organization if necessary. However, to receive such guarantees directly from the boss, Queen must play a vital role in the machinery of the business of the clan, became the first British nationality rowdy in the Italian and British criminal history. For many years heard of Brandon Queen. But he had never seen, even in photography. And once I had arrived at Aberdeen could not help but to ask him the confidant of Augusto La Torre, the rowdy Scots, the man who, without being in difficulty and only knowing well the syntax of companies and grammar of power, had dissolved his few residual links with the ancient clans of the Highlands to enter those Mondragone. In the vicinity of the premises of La Torre was always small groups of local boys. Raterillos were not idle, huddled around pints of beer waiting to mount any anger or give a good tug, they were big boys clever, built at different levels to the activities of legitimate businesses. Transport, advertising, marketing ... When asked about Brandon did not get hostile looks or vague answers, as if asked by a member in a village of Naples. It seemed that Brandon knew Queen has always or very probably only had become a kind of myth that speaks all languages. Queen was the man who had arrived. Not only a dependent such as restaurants, companies, businesses, real estate agencies, an employee with a steady income. Brandon Queen was more, he had realized the dream of many Scottish children: not just to engage in legal economic activities, but become part of the system in operational part of the clan. Become rowdy for all purposes, despite the disadvantage of being born in Scotland and, therefore, believe that the economy had only one way, the trivial, of all the rules and dealing with failures, mere competence and prices. I was impressed that my English seasoned with Italian accent them to see not the immigrant, not a strain inconsistent Jake La Mona, not the criminal invaders countryman who had come to pour money into their land, but the trail of a grammar know the absolute power of the economy, able to decide anything and everything, can not be limits even at the cost of life imprisonment or death. It seemed impossible, and yet, as we talked showed signs of very familiar Mondragone, Secondigliano, Marano, Casal di Principe, territories he had spoken, as the saga of a distant country, all employers boss who had undergone that area and the restaurants where they work down. Born in the land of II. Camorra, for my Scottish contemporaries, meant to have an advantage, carry an etched mark to guide you to consider the existence as an arena where business, weapons, and even life itself are solely a means to make money and power: what it is worth exist and breathe, what we can live in the center's own time without having to worry about anything else. Brandon Queen had arrived despite not being born in Italy, despite never having seen the Campania, despite not having traveled by car for miles along construction sites, landfills and farms buffalo. He had come to become a true man of power in a brawler.

And yet, this great organization, international trade and financial flexibility had no clan in control of the mainland. In Mondragone, Augusto La Torre had managed the power with great severity. To get to the cartel as powerful as it was, had been merciless. The weapons, hundreds, they are made to bring in Switzerland. Politically, had alternating phases: first a strong presence in the management of contracts, and then just alliances, sporadic contact, allowing it to consolidate its business and was, therefore, the policy that was appropriate for their businesses. Mondragone was the first Italian municipality dissolved Camorra infiltration in the early 1990. But over the years, political and clan have not really ever come to be detached. In 2005, a fugitive Neapolitan hospitality at home had found a candidate on the electoral lists of the outgoing mayor. In the city council was present for a long time, the majority group, the daughter of a policeman accused of charging fees on behalf of Torre. Augustus had been severe even politicians. Opponents of family businesses should in any case, be all of them exemplary punishment and ruthless. The system for the physical elimination of enemies of La Torre was always the same, to the extent that criminal jargon Augusto military method is called it 'a laMondragn . The technique is to drive the wells in the countryside the mangled bodies of dozens and dozens of shots, and then, throw a hand pump and in this way the body is shattered, the earth collapses on the remains, which sink in water. That's what Augusto La Torre had done with Antonio Nugnes, Democrat deputy mayor disappeared without trace in 1990. Nugnes represented an obstacle to the clan will directly manage local public contracts and participate in all political and administrative. Augusto La Torre did not want allies wanted to be himself, in person, which will manage all business possible. It was a phase that military options are not weighed too much. First shot and then reasoned. Augustus was very young when he became boss of Mondragone. The aim of the Tower was to be a shareholder in a private clinic under construction, Incaldana, which Nugnes had a large block of shares. It would be one of the most prestigious clinics between Lazio and Campania, a step of Rome, which would attract a handful of entrepreneurs in Lazio, solving the problem of lack of efficient hospital facilities on the coast and countryside Domitia pontine . Augustus had imposed a name to the board of directors of the clinic, the name of a dolphin you, the employer also clan, which had been enriched with the management of a landfill. La Torre wanted him to be he who represent the family. Nugnes opposed, had figured out the strategy of Augustus would not be limited only to step into big business, but would have something else. Then La Torre sent an emissary to the deputy mayor to try to soften, to persuade him to accept its conditions in the economic management of businesses. For a Democratic politician was not anything scandalous contact with a boss, deal with their corporate and military power. The clans were the first economic power of the territory, refusal to deal with them would have been like if a deputy mayor of Turin had refused to meet with the manager of the FIAT. Augusto La Torre did not think of purchasing actions from the clinic at an advantageous price, horn boss would have made a diplomat, but he wanted them for free. In return, ensure that all companies awarded the contracts for service, cleaning, catering, transport, surveillance, etc., would work with professionalism and a very advantageous

price. He claimed that even their buffalos produce milk more good if the clinic going to be yours. A Nugnes him out of his farm under the guise of an interview with the boss, and took him to a farmhouse in the village of Falciano del Massico. According to statements by the boss, there waiting for him Augustus himself, Jimmy, ie RozzeraGirolamo, Massimo Gitto, Angelo Gagliardi, Giuseppe Valente, Mario Francesco La Torre.Todos Sperlongano and waited for the ambush is being performed. The deputy mayor, just got out, ran to the boss. While Augusto stretched his arms to greet him, turning a phrase muttered Jimmy, as horn boss himself later confessed to the judges: - Come! Now is the uncle Antonio. A clear and definitive. Nugnes Jimmy approached from behind and fired two shots that had stuck to his head, and then the boss himself gave the coup de grace. They threw the body into a well forty feet deep in the countryside, and then threw two hand grenades inside. For years nothing was heard of Antonio Nugnes. Calls came from people who had seen half of Italy, when in fact he was in a pit covered by sacks of earth. Thirteen years later, Augustus and his closest aides pointed to police where they could find the remains of the deputy mayor who had dared to oppose the growth of the company of Tower. However, when the police began to pick up the pieces they realized they did not belong to one man. Four tibias, two skulls, three hands ... For over ten years Nugnes body had been with the Devincenzo Boccolato, a rowdy links-do to Cutolo, who later, after the defeat of this, had approached the Tower. Boccolato had been sentenced to death because, in a letter sent from prison to his friend, was deeply offended Augustus. The boss had found by chance while looking for the living room of a participant: browsing papers, he recognized his name, and, spurred by curiosity, had begun to read the bunch of insults and criticisms that he devoted Boccolato. Before you finish reading the letter and had sentenced him to death. Sent to kill him to Angelo Gagliardi, former cutoliano like him, a person in whose car would go without suspicion. Friends are the best killers, those who succeed in making a cleaner work on without having to chase the very objective when it runs away screaming. In silence, when you least expect it, he supports the muzzle of the gun in the neck and opens fire. The boss wanted the executions were held in a friendly intimacy. Augusto La Torre could not bear to be ridiculed him, did not want someone to give his name, would immediately associate with a laugh. No one had to dare. Luigi Pellegrino, known to all as "Gigiotto" was, however, one of those people who like to gossip about everything related to the powerful of his city. Many boys in the land of the Camorra whisper of sexual orientation of the boss, about the orgies of the heads of area, over daughters pouches of the businessmen of the clans. But overall, the boss is tolerated, since they have other things to think about and, moreover, is inevitable to form a real gossip about the lives of those who rule. Gigiotto gossip about the boss's wife, went around explaining that he had been found with one of the most trusted men of Augustus. He had seen her at meetings with his mistress, together with the driver's own boss. A1 number one of the La Torre, who managed and controlled everything, his wife put their horns

under their noses, and he found out. Gigiotto variants described his talk with increasingly detailed and always different. Outside invention or not, everyone in the area told the story of the woman's boss was meant with the right arm of her husband, and all were careful to cite the source: Gigiotto. One day, this was walking through the center of Mondragone when he heard the sound of a motorcycle approached the sidewalk a bit more than usual. Just sensed the deceleration of the engine began to run. The bike went two shots, but Gigiotto, zigzagging between the lamps and pedestrians, managed to drain the charger to the killer, who was a passenger on the bike. The driver, therefore, was forced to chase on foot Gigiotto, who had taken refuge in a bar trying to hide behind the bar. He drew his pistol and shot him in the head in front of a lot of people, a moment after the murder faded silent and fast. According to research, which sought to eliminate was the ruler of the clan, Giuseppe Fragnoli, without even asking permission of the way decided to remove the bad language which was much defamed the image of the boss. In the mind of Augustus, Mondragone, fields, coast, sea, had to be just a trade workshop, laboratory available to them and their business partners, a territory from which to extract material to squeeze the benefit of their businesses. Had imposed an absolute prohibition of selling drugs in both Mondragone Domitia and on the coast: the maximum order that casertano boss gave both his subordinates and those who were not. The ban stemmed from a moral reason, to preserve one's own fellow citizens of heroin and cocaine, but above all, was to prevent the pawns in their territory clan-based drug trafficking, could enrich the within one's own power and find immediate economic lifeblood to oppose the leaders of the family. The drug cartel in the Netherlands had mondragon the streets of Lazio and Rome was firmly prohibited. Thus, the Mondragn had to take the car and travel to Rome to buy pot, coke and heroin that reached the capital from the Neapolitans, the Casalesi and Mondragn themselves, like cats chased its own tail attached to an ass that had been removed. The clan created a group that kept the exchanges are reminiscent of the police were an acronym: GAD, Narcotics Group. If you are caught with a joint in your mouth, you break the nasal septum, if any wife discovered a bag of coca, it was enough to make someone get the voice of GAD for the husband took away his desire to get a kick base and punched in the face, in addition to prohibiting employees of gas stations that put fuel if going to Rome.

A young Egyptian Fajry Hassa, paid hard being a heroin addict. She worked keeping pigs were black pigs Casertano, a rare breed, very dark specimens, rather than the buffaloes, small and furry, like accordions fat from lean sausages that were removed, a tasty salami and some tasty chops. An infamous trade, that of a swineherd. Always shoveling manure, slaughtering pigs head down and collecting the blood in bowls. In Egypt was a driver, but came from a peasant family and therefore knew how to treat animals. But not to pigs: a Muslim, and suckling pig twice caused him disgust. Nevertheless, it was better to feed the pigs that have to spend the entire day shoveling the crap out of the buffalo, as do the Indians. Pigs shit half-half, plus living quarters with an area much smaller than cattle barns. All the Arabs know this, and therefore accepted pigs care so as not to end up passed out tired from working with the buffalo. Hassan began to get heroin whenever he went by train to Rome, take your dose and go back to the sty. By becoming a real addict

money never came, so he advised his camel try to sell in Mondragone, a city drug market. He accepted, and began selling before the bar Domizia, finding a customer can earn you ten times what he earned working in six months as swineherd. Just one phone call from the owner of the bar, as is always done around here, to cease the activity. You call a friend, who calls his cousin, who explains it to his friend, which gives the news to those who have to give it. A passage from which only know the start and end point. A few days later, the men of the Tower, the self-GAD were directly to your home. To prevent escape from the pigs and buffaloes, and force, thereby, to chase him through the mud and shit, rang the bell of his den by posing as policemen. I got into a car and set off. But the car did not take the direction of the station. As Fajry Hassa realized they were going to kill had a strange allergic reaction. As if fear had triggered anaphylactic shock, his body began to swell, it seemed that someone was blowing air violently. The same Augusto La Torre, to tell what happened to the judges, he would be appalled by this metamorphosis: Egyptian eyes were tiny, as if the skull were aiming for their sweat pores exuded a thick, like honey, and from his mouth came a slime that appeared curd. They killed eight, but were only seven shooters. A contrite Mario Sperlongano, later declared: "I thought something completely useless and stupid to shoot a dead body. However, always the case. Augustus was as drunk with your name, the symbol of his name. Behind him, behind each of his actions, had to be all legionaries legionaries of the Camorra. Homicide that could have been solved with very few performers --- one, or at most two, were made, however, for all his henchmen. It is often required that all present at least one shot fired while the body was already dead. One for all and all for one. For Augustus, all men should be involved, even when it was superfluous. The constant fear that someone might roll back led him to always act in groups. It could happen that the business of Amsterdam, Aberdeen, London and Caracas make losing the right to any affiliate, convincing him that he could act for himself. This is where the cruelty is the real value of trade: give it up means losing everything. After having killed Hassan's body was pierced by hundreds Fajry of insulin syringes, the same used by heroin addicts. A recorded message on the skin that all of Formia Mondragn had to understand immediately. And the boss looked at no one in the face. When a member, Paolo Montan called "Zumpariello"-one of the most reliable of its battery fire, "began to get high showing unable to disengage from the coca, made a trusted friend will call you to meet him at a farmhouse. Upon arrival, Ernesto Cornacchia had to discharge him around the charger, but he would not fire for fear of giving the boss, who was too close to the victim. A1 doubt him, Augustus drew his pistol and killed Montano, but the rebound shot hit the side to Cornacchia, who thus chose a bullet in the body rather than run the risk of injury to the boss. Also Zumpariello body was thrown into a pit which is then detonated, the Mondragn. The Legionnaires would do anything for Augusto: even when the boss was sorry, they followed him. In January 2003, following the arrest of his wife, the boss decided to take the big step and repent. It accused himself and his trusted than forty killings, helped in the countryside Mondragn find the remains of those who had broken in the bottom of the wells, and reported himself for tens of extortion . A confession, however, that impinged more on the military than economic. A1 short time, he followed his most loyal men: Mario Sperlongano, Giuseppe Valente, Rozzera Girolamo, Pietro

Scuttini, Salvatore Orabona, Ernesto Cornacchia and Angelo Gagliardi. The boss, once they have ended up in jail, are in the silence the safest weapon to preserve his authority for the further holding of formal power but the harsh regime of the prison to them away from direct management. But the case of Augusto La Torre is special to speak, and to keep all his family, he had no fear and, with his defection, someone killed his family, nor, indeed, his collaboration with the law seems to have been determinant to undermine the cartel's economic empire Mondragon. Solo has been fundamental to understand the logic of the killings and the history of power at the expense of Caserta and Lazio. Augusto La Torre has spoken of the past, as many boss of the Camorra. Without repentance, the history of power could not have been written. Without repentance, the true facts, details, mechanisms are discovered ten, twenty years later, a bit like a man understands only after his death how they worked their vital organs. The risk of repentance from Augusto La Torre and his staff is that can lead to major reductions of sentences for the story of what happened and, in exchange for the opportunity to get off the prison after a few years and retain legal economic power, having transferred military power to others, especially the Albanian families. As if to avoid life sentences and infighting by the alternation of power have decided to use their knowledge of the facts, reported accurately and truthfully, as mediation to continue living only legal power of its activities. Augusto could not stand the cell, there was not able to withstand decades of prison as the big boss with whom he had grown up. Had claimed that the prison canteen respect their vegetarian diet, and because he liked the film, but you could have a video in the cell, sometimes called the director of a local radio station in Umbria, where he was imprisoned, to issue the three parts of The Godfather when he wanted, usually at night before bed. According to the judges, the repentance of La Torre has always oozed ambiguity, but this has gone before to give up his role as boss.Y the fact that the revelations of the repentant are an extension of his power is shown by a letter that Augustus made deliver to his uncle, where he claimed that he had "saved" from any involvement in the activities of the clan, though, as business editor, not sparing a clear threat to him and two other relatives of his, conjuring the hypothesis that in Mondragone may arise an alliance against the boss: "Your son and his father feel protected by people who walk around his body. The boss, but sorry, from the jail dell'Aquila even ask for money, evading the checks he wrote letters of orders and demands that always gave his driver Scuttini Pietro and his mother. These demands, according to the judiciary, were extortion. A polite note addressed to the owner of a major dairies Domitia coast, is proof that you-nindolo Augusto still available: Dear Peppe: I ask a favor because I'm ruined, if you want help me, but I ask only in the name of our old friendship and not for other reasons, and although I say I did not stay quiet, always protect ite! Urgent enough for me ten thousand euros, and then you tell me if you can give me a thousand euros a month, enough for me

to live with my children .... The standard of living to which the family was accustomed Tower was well above the economic aid that the State guaranteed to collaborators of justice. Just got to understand the volume of the family business after reading the letters of 'megaembargo "by order of the magistracy of Santa Maria Capua Vetere in 1992. Property was seized by the current value of around 230 million euros, nineteen companies worth 323 million euros, to which were added other 133 million for production facilities and machinery. It was many factories located between Naples and Gaeta along the coast Domitia, including a dairy and sugar, four supermarkets, nine seaside villas and buildings with adjoining land, plus big-engined cars and motorcycles. Each factory had about sixty employees. The judges disposed further seizure of the company awarded the collection of waste in the municipality of Mondragone. It was a gigantic operation that came to cancel an exorbitant economic power, but microscopic compared to the true volume of business of the clan. Also felt a huge villa, a village whose fame reached even to Aberdeen. Four plants raised steeply to the sea with a swimming pool decorated with a maze-Cuatic rise, built in the area of Ariana di Gaeta, and projected as the villa of Tiberius, not the patriarch of the clan of Mondragone, but the Roman Emperor retired to Capri rule. I have not ever come to get in that town, and the legend and the court papers were the lens through which I learned of the existence of the imperial mausoleum, an emblem of Italian properties clan. This coastal area could have been a kind of infinite space above the sea, able to grant all kinds of fantasies to architecture. But instead, over time Casertana coast has become a jumble of houses and villas built at full speed to stimulate a huge influx of tourism in Tuscany and Naples. In Domitia coast no urban planning or licensing. So villas ranging from Mondragone Castelvolturno to have become the new accommodation which put dozens of Africans, and planned parks, lands that were to accommodate new sets of houses and villas for vacationers and tourism have become uncontrolled landfills. None of the coastal villages with sewage. A brownish sea bathing beaches now full of trash. Within a few years it has eliminated up to the slightest trace of beauty. In summer, some local coastal real Domitia became brothels, some of my friends were preparing for night hunting showing their empty wallets, no money, but these little characters with soul latex condoms are circular. Showed so going to fuck without condoms Mondragone not involve any risk, "Tonight is not!". Mondragon condoms was Augusto La Torre. The boss had decided to also ensure their own health and that of his subjects, and Mondragone became a kind of temple for total security against the most feared infectious diseases. As the world became infected with HIV, the northern province of Caserta was strictly under control. The clan was very thorough, and kept under observation during the analysis of the entire world. As far as possible, wearing a full list of the sick, the territory should not become infected. Thus knew immediately that a man next to Augusto, Fernando Brodell, was infected with HIV. Could be risky, because the girls who frequented the place. I did not entrust it to a good doctor or pay the proper cure, as the clan did Bidognetti, paying operations in the best clinics in Europe to its members, putting them in the hands of more skilled doctors. A Brodell approached him and shot him in cold blood. Remove the sick to curb the

epidemic: that was the order of the clan. An infectious disease, and transmitted over less controllable by the act, sex, could be stopped only by addressing the infected forever. Lanica way to ensure that patients are not contagious to others was depriving them of the chance to live. Also own capital investment in the Campania had to be safe. In fact, had bought a villa in the territory of Anacapri, a structure that housed the local headquarters of the police. Collect rent from the police gave them the assurance not to engage in regrettable shortcomings. But Torre, when they realized that the town would yield more to tourism, the police evicted and, after dividing the structure into six apartments with garden and garage, turned it into a resort, before the arrival of the AntiMafia and yet everything. Investments were clean, safe, with no suspect speculative risk. Augustus after repentance, the new boss, Luigi Fragnoli, always faithful to the tower, began having problems with some members as Giuseppe Mancone called "Rambos . With a vague resemblance to Stallone and a swollen body based gym, was riding a market that soon he would be an important landmark, and then he could kick the old boss, whose charisma had been shattered after repentance . According to the Anti-Mafia Prosecutor, Mondragn clans had asked the family of Ercolano Birra lend them some killers. Thus, to eliminate Rambo Mondragone reached in August 2003, two ercolaneses. They came with two large motorcycles, those that are unwieldy, but looking as menacing as it is difficult to resist using them in an ambush. None of them had never set foot in Mondragone, but easily discovered that the person you had to kill was at the Roxy Bar, as usual. The bike stopped. Dropped a sure-footed boy who went to Rambo, he emptied a whole magazine, and then returned to the saddle of the bike. - Is everything OK? Have you done? "Yes, I've done. Come, come! Near the bar there was a group of girls who were planning the festival Aug. 15. Just saw the boy get hurried pace, they understood what was happening, and they knew differentiate an automatic noise of firecrackers. All were thrown to the ground hiding her face, fearing that the murderer could see them and therefore, they could become witnesses. But there was not hung his head. One of them kept looking down the killer without sight, without crushing his chest against the asphalt or covered his face with his hands. She was a preschool teacher thirty-five years. Later the woman said, participated in the survey and reported the ambush. Among the many reasons why the po-day be silent, to act as if nothing, go home and live as usual, was the fear, terror, intimidation and even more the feeling of worthlessness to arrest a killer, one of many. But instead, the teacher was able to find Mondragn, compared jumble of reasons to be silent, a single ground: that of truth. A truth that has the taste of nature, as a gesture habitual, normal, obvious, necessary as breathing. Reported without asking anything in return. Did not require money or escort; not put a price on his word. Revealed what he had seen, described the killer's face, angular cheekbones, his thick eyebrows. After the shooting, the motorcycle fled the village street repeatedly making mistakes, getting into dead ends and having to go back. More than killers, tourists seemed schizophrenic. In court testimony derived from the

teacher was sentenced to life imprisonment Cefariello Salvatore, twenty-four years, considered a killer hired by the families of Ercolano. The judge who has collected the testimonies of the teacher has defined it as "a rose in the desert emerged in a land where truth is always the version of the powerful, which is billed as a rare commodity that can be bartered for any benefit. Yet, this confession has made life difficult, it is as if it had been a thread entangled on a hook and its existence is fraying out parallel to the advancement of his courageous witness. He was about to marry and her boyfriend has left, has lost his job, has been moved to another location, protected with a minimum wage that pays the state to survive, a part of your family has moved away from her, and he has hit an abysmal loneliness. A loneliness that explodes violently in daily life when you have a desire to dance without having anybody to do so, mobile phones ring vacuum, and friends gradually moving away to be left to hear of it. It is the confession itself that is scary, not having pointed to a killer causing scandal. The logic of omerta is not so banal. What makes the act of shocking the young teacher has been the decision to look natural, instinctive and being able vital testify. Having this attitude towards life is like really believe that truth can exist, and this, in a land where truth is what makes you win and the lie that makes you lose, becomes an inexplicable decision. So it happens that people around you feel in trouble, they feel exposed by the look of one who has renounced the rules of their own lives, they, however, accepted at all. Have accepted without shame, because in sum is as it should be, because that is how it has always been, because you can not change everything with their own forces, and therefore better book them, follow the path and live horn one would let them live. In Aberdeen, my eyesight had crashed into the art of Italian business success. It is strange to observe these distant ramifications when you know your center. I do not know how to describe it, but having front restaurants, offices, insurance companies, the buildings, it's like to feel that you are caught by the ankles, they put you upside down and then shake you to bring down the pockets of loose change, keys home and everything you can out of his pants and mouth, even if the soul that can be marketed. Capital flows were leaving for all parts, including radios that feed by sucking her own power center. Knowing is not the same as seeing. Matteo had accompanied me to a job interview, and obviously had been caught. He also wanted me to stay in Aberdeen. "Here, just be who you are, Roberto ... Matteo had only needed to be originating in the Campuja, it had sufficed only to be valued for their experience, for their degree, by his desire to do. The same origin as in Scotland led him to be a citizen with all the normal rights in Italy he had merely to be considered little more than a waste of man, without protection, without interest, a defeated and because there was input made his life go on the right track. Suddenly it was upon him a happiness he had never felt. But the more euphoric you put it, the more I invaded me a bitter melancholy. I've never been able to feel distant, distant enough where I was born, far from the com-

behaviors of people who hated it, really different from the fierce dynamic crushing lives and desires. Born in certain places means to be like the hound puppy that is born with the smell of the hare in its mouth. Against all will, one way or another run well behind the hare, although after-Berla has reached escape opening can be left teeth. And I was able to understand the paths, roads, trails, an obsession with the unconscious, with a capacity cursed understand completely conquered territories. Just wanted to leave Scotland, leave never to set foot there. I left as soon as possible. The plane was difficult to sleep, the turmoil, the darkness on the other side of the window, I squeezed his throat as if directly tie the knot tightly in precisely the Adam's apple. Perhaps the claustrophobia was not due to tight seats and the small size of the aircraft, or to the outer darkness, but the feeling of being overwhelmed by a reality that resembled a house of famous animals and packed, ready to eat for be eaten. As if it were a single territory with a single dimension and a single syntax understandable everywhere. A feeling that there is no exit, the constriction to be or not to join the battle. Returned to Italy in mind the two fastest streets of any possible speed, which convey a sense of capital that will lead to the large European economy, and in the other, leading to the south all that other have contaminated sites, making entering and leaving the networks forced open and flexible economy, helping to bring in other parties, in a continuous cycle of transformation, wealth would never have been able to generate any form of development in places where this metamorphosis originated. The residues were swollen belly of southern Italy, had spread like a gravid belly, which fetus will not ever be developed and money to abort after getting pregnant again right away, to abort again, and again re-filled to destroy the body, suppress the arteries, clog the bronchi and destroy synapses. Continually, continually, continuously ... Ground fires Imagine not complicated. Formed in the mind of a person, a gesture, or something that does not exist, it is not difficult. Not imagine even the very complex death. But more difficult is to imagine the economy in all its parts. Financial flows, profit margins, hiring, liabilities, investments ... There are no faces to see, things necessary to get into the mind. You can imagine the various determinations of the economy, but not flows, bank accounts, individual operations. If you try to imagine the economy runs the risk of having your eyes closed to concentrate and squeezed until you see those psychedelic colors deformations that form on the screen of the eyelid. Increasingly tried to reconstruct in the mind the picture of the economy, something that would give the sense of production, sales, operations and discount shopping. It was impossible to find a flow, an iconic match precisely. Perhaps the only way to represent the economy as a path to intuit what was left behind, to follow his trail, the parties, as dead skin flakes, was dropping while burning its way. The landfill was the most concrete emblem the economic cycle. They pile all that has been, is the real wake of consumption, more than the mark that any product left in the crust. Southern Italy is the terminus of all toxic wastes, remains useless slag production. If the wastes beyond the control officer estimated the environmental association

Legambiente-unite in a single lot, together form a chain of fourteen million tonnes, almost like a mountain of 14,600 feet with a base of three hectares . Consider that the Mont Blanc is 4,810 meters and Everest, 8844, so that mountain of waste which have escaped the official records would be the largest in all the earth. Thus I imagined the DNA of the economy, its business operations, subtractions and additions of tax advisers, dividends of profits, in the form of this huge mountain. An enormous mountain range, as if it had been blown, it has dispersed most of southern Italy, in the four regions with the highest number of environmental crime: the Campania, Sicily, Calabria and Puglia. The same list that appears when speaking of the territories with the largest criminal organizations, with the highest unemployment rate and the highest participation in the calls for volunteers for the army and police forces. A list always the same, permanent, immutable. Casera province, the land of clan Mazzoni, between the Garigliano River and Lake Country, for thirty years has absorbed tons of waste, both toxic and ordinary. The area hardest hit by traffic poisons cancer is among the municipalities of Grazzanise, Cancello Harpoons, Santa Maria La Fossa, Castelvolturno, Casal di Principe, almost three hundred square kilometers, and on the perimeter Neapolitan Giugliano, Qualiano, Villaricca, Nola, Marigliano and About. No other country in the Western world has had a greater burden of waste, toxic and nontoxic dumped illegally. Thanks to this business, turnover has fallen into the pockets of the clan and their intermediaries in four years has reached the figure of 44,000 million euros. A market that has recently experienced an overall increase of 29.8 percent, comparable only to the expanding market for cocaine. Since late 1990, the Camorra clans have become continental leaders of landfilling. Since the report made in 2002 by the Minister of Interior for the Italian Parliament clearly spoke of the passing of the collection of waste to a business deal with some of those responsible for the works, only to exert total control over the entire cycle. The Casalesi clan, on two fronts, one led by Sandokan Schiavone and the other by Francesco Bidognetti, alias "Cicciotto di Mezzanotte", shares this great business, a market so large that, despite ongoing tensions, not having them ever brought to a frontal collision. But Casalesi are not alone in this. There is also the clan Mallard Giugliano, a cartel when skilful to relocate quickly gains traffic itself, and capable of conveying in its territory a huge amount of waste. Giugliano in the area have discovered an old abandoned quarry full of waste. It is estimated that the amount they conveyed equals about 28,000 TIR trucks, a volume that one can be represented by imagining a line of trucks, each attached to the bumper of the other, would come from Caserta to Milan. The boss had no qualms about covered with poison their own people, leaving rotting the land surrounding their own villages and their own domains. The life of a boss is short, the power of a clan, between internal war, arrests, murder and life sentences, can not last long. Drown in a toxic waste area, surrounding mountain peoples themselves of poison can be a problem only for those who have a dimension of long-term power and endowed with a social responsibility. In the immediacy of the business, however, there is only a high profit margin and the absence of any contraindications. The most consistent traffic of toxic waste has a single vector: the north-south vector. Since late 1990, have poured

between Naples and Caserta 18,000 tons of toxic waste from Brescia, while the term of four years a million tons ended up in Santa Maria CapuaVetere. From the north, the treated waste at the facility in Milan, Pavia and Pisa were sent after the Campania. The Prosecutor of Naples and Santa Maria Capua Vetere discovered in January 2003, and thanks to the research coordinated by the prosecutor Donato Ceglie, that in forty days had reached 6,500 tonnes of waste Ducenta Trentola Lombardy, near Caserta. The fields in the provinces of Naples and Caserta are real world maps of garbage, litmus paper of the Italian industrial production. Visiting landfills and quarries can see the fate of entire decades of Italian industrial products. I've always liked going around with the Vespa on the roads bordering the landfill. It's like riding on waste civilizations on strata of trade, as flanking pyramids of production, traces of miles consumed. Forest tracks often poorly paved for easy access for trucks. Areas where the geography of the objects is a mosaic composed of varied and multiple. All other production and activity has its citizens in this land. On one occasion, a farmer was plowing a field that had just bought, right on the border between the provinces of Naples and Caserta. The tractor engine calaba it was as if the land were particularly compact. Suddenly began to poke pieces of paper on both sides of the fence. Was money. Thousands of bank notes, and hundreds of thousands. The farmer hopped off the tractor and frantically began to gather all the pieces of money, like a hidden booty bandit who knows what, who knows what the result of massive theft. Money was just crumbled and faded, shredded banknotes from the Bank of Italy, tons of bundles of money and discarded and were legal tender. The temple of the lira had just under ground, the remains of the old paper money released its lead in a field of cauliflowers. About Villaricca, the police discovered a field where they had accumulated the paper used to clean the udders of cows from farms centenera regions of Veneto, Emilia and Lombardy. The udders of cows kept clean, two, three, four times a day, every time we have to put them suckers on the milking machines, the grooms have to clean them. Often sick cows to mastitis and other similar diseases, and begin to secrete pus and blood, but at no time is prescribed rest: just clean every mediates hour, because, otherwise, the pus and blood ending in milk, whole barrels spoiling. When I passed the mountains of paper Udder felt a strong stench of sour milk. Was it pure suggestion, and maybe that yellowing of the papers piled even distorted way. But the truth is that this waste, accumulated over decades, have restructured the horizons, create new smells, given rise to silhouettes of hills absent; eaten by mountain quarries have suddenly regained lost ground. Walking around inside the hood is how to absorb the odors of everything they produce industries. Seeing the earth mixed arterial and venous blood of plants throughout the country, comes to mind something like balls of clay shaped by children of all colors available. About Grazzanise had collected all the waste land in the city of Milan. For decades, all the garbage collected in buckets of Milanese street sweepers, the product of their brooms morning, had gathered and dispatched to the area. Each day, 800 tonnes of waste in the province of Milan end up in Germany, but the city's total production is 1,300 tonnes per day: missing, then another 500, who knows where they end. It is very likely that these residues phantom scatter

throughout southern Italy. There are even printer toner contaminating the soil, as revealed the operation of 2006 "Mother Earth", coordinated by the Office of Santa Maria Capua Vetere. Among Villa Literno, Castelvolturno and San Tammaro, toner for all printers office of Tuscany and Lombardy was poured at night from trucks transporting compost officially, a type of fertilizer. His smell was sour and strong, and surfaced every time it rained. The land was full of hexavalent chromium. If inhaled, this is set in red blood cells and hair, causing ulcers, respiratory problems, kidney problems and lung cancer. Every inch of land has its peculiar burden of waste. On one occasion, a dentist friend of mine told me that some boys had been skulls. Real skulls of human beings, so they clean their teeth. Hamlets and small, in one hand carried the skull and the other a wad of cash to pay for teeth cleaning. The dentist threw them in the query and then phoned me nervous "But where the hell take those skulls? Where will they look? He imagined apocalyptic scenes, satanic rituals, kids started in the word of Beelzebub. I smiled. It was hard to know where they came from. On one occasion, passing near Santa Maria Capua Vetere on my Vespa, I had a puncture. The tire had been slashed to pass over a kind of sharp stick that I thought a buffalo femur. But it was too small to be of buffalo: he was a human femur. In the cemetery exhumations are conducted periodically: they take those younger gravediggers called "the archimuertos" those who carry more than forty years underground. In theory, these remains would be next to the coffins and other material from the cemetery, through the management of specialized companies. The cost of this treatment is very high, so that managers of cemeteries give money to the gravediggers to dig and then throw everything into a truck, earth, rotten coffins and bones. Thus, grandparents, great grandparents, grandparents who knows what town were piled in the fields of Caserta. It came to pour so many, as the NAS Caserta discovered in February 2006 - that people, when passing by, he crossed himself, as if they are treated in a graveyard. Manga young ones mitts their mothers, and digging with their hands and spoons, looking skulls and rib cages that were intact. Traces vendors came to buy a skull with teeth whitened up to one hundred euros, and a rib cage intact, with all the ribs, could be paid up to three hundred. The tibias, femurs and arms have no outlet. Own hands, but his pieces are easily lost from the earth. A black skull with teeth euros worth fifty, but they do not have a big market: it seems that the customers did not repugnant to both the idea of death as the fact that the enamel of the teeth begin to rot slowly. From north to south, the clans get drained of everything. The bishop of Nola in southern Italy defined as the illegal dumping of the Italian rich and industrialized. Slag arising from aluminum thermal metallurgy, hazardous dust removal from furnaces, particularly those produced in the steel industry, termoe-lectric plants and incinerators, wastes of paints, fluids contaminated with heavy metals reflowing, asbestos, contaminated soils from remediation activities, which will contaminate land unconnected, and waste produced by companies or hazardous petrochemical facilities as the old historical Enichem Priolo, tanning sludge zone Santa Croce sull'Arno or sludge treatment plants Venice and Forli, owned mostly publicly owned companies. The mechanism of the illicit dumping of entrepreneurs from large companies or small,

who want to eliminate their waste at bargain prices, the material waste which is not possible to draw anything without cost. In the second phase are the owners of storage facilities that employ a technique of collecting toxic waste and often mixed with ordinary waste, so that dilute the toxic concentration and thus evade their classification, according to the EWC (European Waste Catalogue), as toxic waste. The chemicals are essential to reclassify a cargo of toxic waste as harmless waste. Many of them are given a form of false identification codes misleading analysis. Then there are carriers who travel the country to reach the site requirements for discharges, and finallymakers of such discharges. These managers may be authorized disposal or composting facilities where waste is grown to make compost, but may also be owners of abandoned quarries or agricultural land used for illegal dumping. Wherever there is a space with an owner may have a dumping ground. Also are necessary for the functioning of the whole mechanism of officials and public employees who do not control or verify the various operations, or grant management of quarries and dumps people clearly integrated into criminal organizations. The clans do not have to make blood pacts with political parties or alliances with integers. Just one officer, a technician, an employee with anyone wanting to increase your salary, and therefore with extreme flexibility and discretion silent, he manages to make the business succeed for the benefit of all parties involved. The real architects of the mediation are, however, which are called 'stakeholders', they are the criminals of business geniuses of illegal dumping of hazardous waste. In this area, from Naples, Salerno and Caserta, is forging the best stakeholders from all over Italy. By stakeholders (which in English means <<interested or "warehouse keeper") is understood in business jargon, that figure of the company that participates in the economic and, also, is in a position to influence its activity directly or indirectly, in their results. In Italy, the stakeholders of toxic waste had become a genuine ruling class. And for the desperate unemployment periods of my life was not uncommon for someone to tell me: "You are licensed and have qualities, why do not you get a stakeholder? For graduates of the South did not have a lawyer or notary father, that was a sure route to the enrichment and job satisfaction. Graduates with good looks became intermediaries after spending some years in the U.S. or England, specializing in environmental policies. I have met one of them. One of the first, and one of the best. Before listening, before observing their work, I had no idea Reef representing waste. His name was Franco, and I met him on the train returning from Milan. Obviously, he had graduated from the Bocconi University Milan, and Germany had specialized in environmental recovery policies. One of the greatest skills of stakeholders is the memory of knowing and understanding the REC how to deal with it. This enabled them to know how to deal with toxic waste, how to circumvent the rules, how the business community to offer illegal shortcuts. Franco, a native of Villa Literno, wanted to lure me to their profession. Had begun to talk about his work on the basis of appearance. Rules and obstacles to the success of a stakeholder. If you had tickets or crown clear tea, you had to avoid exhaustively trellises and hairpieces. To maintain the image of triumph, it was forbidden to wear long hair on both sides of the head to cover the empty spaces is "caused by baldness. The skull had to be shaved, or at most with a thin fuzz of short hairs. According

to Franco, if the stakeholder was invited to a party, should always go with a woman and avoid making the sad role of going after all these skirts. If you do not have a girlfriend or had one that was to rise to the occasion, had to be paid to an luxury escort of the most elegant. The stakeholders of the waste are presented to the owners of chemical, tanneries, factories, plastics, and offer their price lists. Waste treatment is a cost that no Italian businessman necessary. Stakeholders always repeated the same metaphor: "For them it is more useful shit that shit that waste, for which treatment have to pay lots of money. However, never have to give the impression of providing a criminal activity. The stakeholders are contacted with the industries responsible for the landfill of the clans, and, although from a distance, controlling every step of the elimination of waste. There are two kinds of waste producers. On the one hand, those who have no other purpose than to save the fare without care about the reliability of the companies that outsource their waste disposal. Are those who believe that their responsibility ends at the time the barrels of poison out of the scope of their businesses. And then there are those directly involved in illegal operations, which are responsible themselves to dispose of their waste illegally. In both cases, the mediation of stakeholder is necessary to ensure transport services and an indication of where the spill, as well as assistance when directed to the appropriate for the clearance of cargo. Stakeholder's office is his car. With a phone and a laptop moving hundreds of thousands of tons of waste. Their profits go to committee on contracts with companies and in relation to kilos of waste for disposal contract. The stakeholders have a price list variable. The thinner, which, for example, a stakeholder linked to the clans can be removed without difficulty, ranging from 10 to 30 cents a kilo; pentasulphide phosphorus, a euro per kilo, the land removed from the roads, 55 cents per kilo, with packaging waste remains dangerous, to 1.40 euros, contaminated land, to 2.30 euros, the waste materials of cemeteries, 15 cents; the non metallic parts of cars, 1 , 85 euros a kilo, including transportation. The prices offered, obviously, take into account the demands of customers and transportation difficulties. The quantities handled by the stakeholders are enormous and exorbitant profit margins. The so-called "Operation Houdini 2004 has shown that a single industrial facility operated illegally Veneto nearly two hundred thousand tons of waste per year. The market cost to properly manage toxic waste imposes prices ranging from 21 to 62 cents a kilo, the clans provide the same service at 9 or 10 cents a kilo. In 2004, Bell came stakeholders to ensure that eight hundred tons of oil polluted land, owned by a chemical company, was treated at a price of 25 cents a kilo, including transportation, a savings of 80 percent over regular prices. The real strength of the intermediaries, stakeholders working with the Camorra, is its ability to provide a service in each and every one of its phases, while the legitimate business brokers offer higher prices and do not include transportation . However, stakeholders themselves are almost never members of the clans. No need. Non-

membership is an advantage for both parties. Stakeholders can work for different families, as free agents, without assuming specific military duties or charges, and without having to become pawns of war. All operations of the Italian judiciary always catch a few, but the sentences are never too hard, since it is difficult to prove his direct responsibility, since no official involved in any step of the chain of criminal disposal resources. Over time I learned to see through the eyes of the stakeholder, a different view from the manufacturer. A builder sees the empty space as something to be filled, is converted to fill the vacuum, the stakeholder thinks, however, how to find the gap in full. Franco, when he walked, did not observe the landscape, but I thought about how you can put something inside. It was like seeing everything that exists by way of a large carpet and seek in the mountains, on the sides of the field, the edge to be lifted to sweep under everything. Once, while walking, Franco watched the abandoned site of a fuel pump, and immediately thought that the underground tanks could hold dozens of small barrels of chemical waste. A perfect grave. That was his life, a continuous search of the vacuum. Later, Franco stopped making stakeholder of visit miles and miles with your car, offered to entrepreneurs in the northeast of the country and being hired by half of Italy. Set up a vocational training course. His main students were Chinese, coming from Hong Kong. Eastern stakeholders had learned from the Italians to deal with companies across Europe, to offer prices and quick fixes. When in England increased costs of waste disposal, stakeholders were presented Chinese disciples of the Campania. In Rotterdam, the Dutch port police discovered in March 2005, just when he left for China, a thousand tons of urban waste as issued officially English paper for the recycling maceration. A million tonnes of waste from high-tech companies start every year in Europe to be dumped in China. Stakeholders take them to Guiyu, northeast of Hong Kong, buried, crushed underground, submerged in artificial lakes. As in Caserta. As a result, polluted Guiyu with such speed that estratosacuferos are now fully committed, to the point of being forced to import water from neighboring provinces. The dream of the stakeholders in Hong Kong is the port of Naples to link European waste a floating collection center where you can stow in gold containers of waste that end up buried in the land of China. The stakeholders of the Campania were the best, they had beaten competition from Calabria, the Apulians and Romans because, thanks to the clans, had become the Campania dumps a huge discount store, seamlessly . In thirty years of traffic have come to take over everything, to manage the disposal of anything with a single goal: reduce costs and increase the quantities to be removed. The investigation called "King Midas' of 2003, which makes its name from an intercepted telephone call from a dealer -" And we, as we played away, we make it turn to gold "- showed that each and every one of phases of the cycle of waste received his share of profits. When I was in the car with Franco had the opportunity to hear your phone calls. Give immediate advice on how and where he had to pour toxic waste. He spoke of copper, arsenic, mercury, cadmium, lead, chromium, nickel,

cobalt, molybdenum, spent tannery waste to the hospital, urban waste tires, explaining how to treat them, knew by heart entire lists of people and landfill sites to be addressed. I thought about the poison mixed with compost, I thought of the tombs excavated highly toxic barrels in the bowels of the fields. And I grew pale. Franco was aware of it. -Je disgusting this business? But Robert, you know that the stakeholders have come in Europe this fucking country? Do you know or not? And you know how many workers have been able to save your ass because I have done that their companies do not spend a damn? Franco was born in a place he had trained well, as a child. I knew that in business or earned or lost-there was no room for anything else, "and he would not lose, lose to those for whom he worked. What he told me himself and told me, explaining the excuses were, however, data fierce reverse reading about how I'd ever seen the elimination of toxic waste. Linking all of the data derived from research conducted by the Office of the Prosecutor of Naples and Santa Maria Capua Vetere from late 1990 until today, it is possible to calculate the economic advantage for companies that target waste managers the Camorra can be quantified in five hundred million euros. I was aware that criminal investigations had uncovered only a fraction of the violations, and because of this, I entered a kind of vertigo. Many companies in the north had been able to grow, contract, making the whole competitive industrial country to the point of being able to drive to Europe, have been released by ballast represented by the cost of waste, Neapolitan clans and they had lightened casertano . Schiavone, Mallard, Moccia, Bidognetti, La Torre and all the other families you had offered a criminal service can boost the economy and make it competitive. Operation "Cassiopeia" in 2003, showed that each week journeyed north to the south of Italy forty TIR trucks loaded with waste, and according to reconstruction of the researchers, was discharged, buried, tossed and buried cadmium, zinc, paint residue, sewage sludge, plastics number, arsenic, steel mills and scrap lead. The north-south guideline was the preferred by traffickers. Many companies Veneto and Lombardy, by stakeholders, had adopted their own territory in Naples or Caserta, transforming it into a huge landfill. It is estimated that over the past five years, in Campania have been illegally dumped about three million tonnes of waste of all kinds, of which one million have gone to the province of Caserta, a province in the " development plan "of the clans has been allocated to the landfill. An important role in the geography of illicit play it the region of Tuscany, Italy greener. Here we concentrate different kinds of illegal trafficking, production of mediation all brought to light in at least three investigations: Operation "King Midas" Operation "Fly" and the so called "Organic Agriculture", 2004. Of Tuscany not only get huge amounts of waste managed illegally. The region has become a real key operational base for a range of subjects involved in these criminal activities, from the stakeholders to chemicals conniving, passing by the owners of composting facilities that allow mixtures. But the territory of toxic waste recycling is increasing its perimeter. Other investigations have revealed the involvement of areas that seemed immune, and Umbria and Molise. Here, thanks to Operation "Fly", coordinated

by the Office of Larino in 2004, has discovered the illicit dumping of 120 tonnes of special waste from metallurgical and steel industries. The clans had been crushed 320 tons of asphalt waste to a high density of tar, and had identified a composting facility available to mix with earth, and therefore hide in the countryside of Umbria. Recycling reaches metamorphosis able exorbitant profits in each of its phases. Not enough to hide toxic waste, also could transformed into fertilizer, thereby receiving money for selling poisons. Four acres of sheltered coastline of Molise were grown with fertilizer extracted from the waste from the tanneries. We found nine tons of cereal containing a high concentration of chromium. The traffickers had chosen the coast of Molise, specifically the section between Termoli and abused Campomarino-to pour special and hazardous waste from various firms in northern Italy. However, according to research in recent years, coordinated by the Office of Santa Maria Capua Vetere, the Veneto is the true center of storage, which for years has fed the illegal traffic across the Italian territory. Northern Smelters rids its slag without taking precautions, mixing in compost used to fertilize hundreds of fields. The stakeholders of the Campania often use drug routes that clans are at your disposal to find new sites to excavate, new tombs to complete. Research and "King Midas", many traffickers were building relationships to organize waste trafficking in Albania and Costa Rica. But today, any channel, you can: traffic to the east, to Romania, where Casalesi have hundreds and hundreds of acres of land, or in African countries: Mozambique, Somalia and Nigeria. All countries where the clans have aid and contacts forever. One of the things that upset me was seeing the faces of colleagues Franco, their faces tense and concerned stakeholders of the Campania, the day of the tsunami. As observed images of the disaster on television, they'd pale. It was as if they had all of them women, lovers and children in danger. But in reality, the danger affected more precious: their businesses. Indeed, because of the wave caused by the tsunami were found on the beaches of Somalia, and Warsheik Obbie, hundreds of barrels filled to the brim of hazardous and radioactive waste buried in the 1980's and the attention 1990.Ahora media could block their new traffic, new exhaust valves. But that risk was soon averted. The charity campaigns for refugees diverted the attention of those canisters of poison emerged from the ground to float next to bodies. The sea itself was becoming a constant territory discharges. Traffickers increasingly filled the holds of ships waste then, simulating an accident, threw to the bottom. The gain was twofold: the insurer paid for the accident, and waste at sea sank to the bottom. While clans were everywhere space for waste management in the region of Campania, after ten years of intervention by infiltration brawler, was unable to find a way to eliminate its own waste. In the Campania waste illegally ended all over Italy, while the region's own waste in emergencies, was sent to Germany, at a price of fifty times the eliminate the Camorra offered to customers. The research noted that only in the Naples region, eighteen waste collection companies, fifteen are directly linked to the Camorra clans.

The country is drowning in garbage, and it seems impossible to find a solution. For years, the waste of Campania have been piling in the form of so-called "ecobalas" huge waste bullets cubic crushed and packed with white stripes. Just to eliminate accumulated so far would take fifty-six years. The only solution seems to be proposed is that of the incinerators. As in Acerra, which have resulted in riots and protests have been criticized even fiercer than the mere idea of building an incinerator in the area possible. With regard to incineration, the clans have an ambivalent attitude. On one side are against, because they would like to live in dumps and fires, and also the current emergency situation can speculate with the land disposal of ecobalas, some land that they lease. However, if the incinerator was built are ready to qualify for construction subcontractors, and then its management. But where ju-diciales investigations have not yet arrived, it has already reached the population. Terrified, nervous, anxious. People fear the incinerator could become permanent furnace waste half of Italy at the disposal of the clans, and that in that case, all the assurance of ecological safety of the incinerator ended up fade against the poison which would impose burning clans. In addition, thousands of people into a state of alert every time which provides for the reopening of a landfill exhausted. suddenly, so that a series of structured concrete reinforcements in the form of resistant "X" reinforcement were safe-houses. The villas were sold at low prices, but everyone knew that rose on tons of waste. Employees, pensioners and workers, with the possibility of having a house, not going to get hit by the land on which they settled the foundations of their homes. The landscape of the land of the fire looked like an apocalypse continued and repeated, routine, as if in his disgust made tire and brewing and had not anything that surprised. An investigation identified a method to protect the dumping of toxic material from the interference of police and forest, an ancient method used by the guerrillas, for the partisans, all over the world. Shepherds and watchmen employed. Grazed sheep, goats and some cows. It hired the best pastors in active to monitor intruders rather than heaps of lambs. Just saw a suspicious car, she warns. The light and mobile phone were invincible weapons. Often seen hanging around with their herds dry and obedient to the sheepdog. Once I approached them I wanted to see the roads where small operators learned to drive dump trucks, and truckers now not wanted to carry their cargoes to the dumping site. The investigation "El-dorado, 2003, had revealed that increasingly used minors to these operations. The truckers were reluctant to come into contact with hazardous wastes. Moreover, he was just a truck driver who had triggered the first significant research on waste traffic in 1991. Tamburrino Mario had gone to hospital with swollen eyes, the orbits seemed egg yolks and eyelids were unable to contain. I was completely blinded, his hands had lost the first layer of epidermis, and it burned like gasoline had burned palms. He had opened a toxic barrel near the face, and that alone was enough to blind him and nearly burn alive, to burn dry, without flames. After that episode the truckers called for the barrels are transported on trailers, keeping them away in the trailer and without even touching them. The most dangerous were the trucks carried the adulterated compost, fertilizer mixed with poison. Only with inhaled could have hurt them forever the respiratory system. The last step, when the TIA. had to unload

the barrels in a van that would transport the discharge directly into the pit, was the most risky. Nobody wanted to take. In the vans, the barrels were loaded on top of each other, and often beaten, causing emissions of its content. So, when they reached the trailers, truck drivers or even fell. Waited to be unloaded. Then, a few guys carrying the load to its destination. A pastor told me he was doing down the road, where they practice driving until reaching the cargo. In the slope being taught to stop, with two cushions under his backside to reach the pedals. Were fourteen, fifteen or sixteen. Two hundred fifty euro trip. The recruited in a bar, the landlord knew and did not even dare to rebel, although he gave his opinion on the facts to anyone who was in front of the Capuchins and cafes serving. "Those clothes that make them go, the more he throw the body and breath, before they will burst. To these are sent to die, not to drive. The small drivers, the more they heard that theirs was a dangerous, deadly, most felt at the height of an important mission. They took chest and adopted a disdainful glance behind her sunglasses. It felt good, better, getting better, none of them could imagine, even for a moment that after ten years was having chemotherapy, vomiting bile, stomach, liver and intestines waste. It was still raining. In no time the water soaked into the ground now and could not absorb any more. Pastors, impassive, went to sit as three emaciated holy men under a sort of marquee built with metal plates. Still watching the road while the sheep were placed under cover, towering over a hill of garbage. One of the pastors had a staff that pushed against the canopy, tilting to prevent fill with water and crumble over their heads. I was completely soaked, but all the water that fell on me was not enough to quell a kind of itch that left me stomach and spread to the neck. Trying to understand human feelings if they could get to face a huge machinery of power as if it was possible to act in a way, any possible way that would protect businesses, that would live on the margins of the dynamics of power. I was tormented by trying to understand if it was possible to try to understand, discover, know, without being eaten, crushed. Or if the choice was between knowing and commit, or ignore, and thus able to live peacefully. Perhaps one was forgotten, no see. Play the official version of things, intuit just so distracted and react with a lament. I wondered if there could be something that was capable of enabling a happy life, or perhaps had to limit myself to give up the dream of emancipation and anarchic freedoms, and jump into the arena, get me a semiautomatic in his shorts and start doing business the real business. Convince me that I am part of the connective tissue of my time and make that gamble everything, commanding and being commanded to become a beast of profit, a predator of finance, a samurai of the clan, and make my life a battlefield where can not survive, but only after sending break and struggled. I was born in the land of the Camorra, in the deadliest place for murder in Europe, in the territory where cruelty is linked to business, where nothing has value unless it generates power, where everything has the taste of a final battle . It seemed impossible to have a moment of peace, not always live in the midst of a war where every gesture can be a concession, where every weakness becomes need, where you must conquer all flesh off

the bone. In the land of the Camorra clans fighting is not class struggle, asserting the right, reappropriation of citizenship. There is awareness of one's honor, the defense of one's pride. It is more essential, ferociously carnal. In the land of the Camorra, understanding the mechanisms of affirmation of the clans, the kinetics of extraction, investments, means understanding how time itself in all its extent, and not only in the geographical bounds of the earth itself. Turn against clan becomes a war for survival, as if his own existence, the food we eat, the lips that kiss, the music you play, the pages you read, failed to give the meaning of life, but only for survival. And so, knowing and not a sign of moral commitment. Namely, under-stand, it becomes a necessity. The only possible for men even considered worthy of breathing. His feet were immersed in the swamp. The water reached my thighs. Sink felt heel. Before my eyes floated a huge fridge. I jumped on her, hugged her, pressing her arms strong, and I got carried away. It came to my mind the last scene of Papillon, the film starring Steve McQueen and inspired on the novel by Henri Charriere. I also like Papillon, seemed to float on a sack full of coconuts, with the tide to escape from Cayenne. It was a ridiculous idea, but at times you have nothing else to do but surrender to your delusions as anything you choose, as something to suffer and that's enough. I wanted to scream, wanted to scream, wanted to tear the lungs, such as Papillon, with all the force of the stomach, breaking the trachea, with all the throat voice that could still be pumped: "Bloody bastards, I'm still alive!