This story is a work of fiction. I am attempting to show the truth in Rudy’s words as translated from the German Diary, and in one comment to his lawyers, as reported in La Repubblica. Although I am not sure Rudy has been 100% truthful, for this story, I have assumed he has been. The one exception: his saying there was no one in the boys’ flat initially. Some aspects of this scenario may seem quite improbable, even though much of it makes sense to me. And maybe some of what I have used has been tossed out already. In the meantime, I’ve used my artistic license, as I await the evidence and unfolding of the case. In no way should the humor and viewpoint expressed suggest I feel the murder of Meredith Kercher is anything less than a terrible tragedy.


NYC May2008

The Long and Winding Road
The long and winding road That leads to your door Will never disappear I've seen that road before It always leads me here Lead me to your door.

The wild and windy night That the rain washed away Has left a pool of tears Crying for the day. Why leave me standing here? Let me know the way. Many times I've been alone And many times I've cried, Anyway you'll never know The many ways I've tried. And still they lead me back To the long, winding road You left me standing here A long, long time ago Don't leave me waiting here Lead me to your door. But still they lead me back To the long winding road You left me standing here A long, long time ago Don't keep me waiting here Lead me to your door. The Beatles (Lennon/McCartney)

Let me introduce myself. I’m a car - a white car. I’m nothing fancy, not new and not one of those racing cars. I am just average, and a little dented.

I want to tell you a story, but first, there are a few things you should know about cars. Mainly, we don’t see very well - or rather - our vision is limited. We focus on what’s right in front of us, and that’s just about it. We go where we are driven, and we only complain on occasion, if the oil is low or the weather is bad. But we do have a memory, and we do hear things.

Sometimes we hear things that might be important for someone else to know. One night I did hear some stuff, and that’s why I’ve decided to tell my story.

Okay, it was the last day of October. I’d been driving around all day through the streets of Perugia - up hills, down narrow streets, and all around the winding roads in the mountains nearby. I was used to it, but it had been a long day. I heard my driver say to his buddy, ‘Listen, we gotta make one more pick-up. You go in and I’ll wait here for now. Take your time, but don’t come back without it.’

We pulled off the road outside the walls of the city. It was just a little car park, but big enough so I could turn around and face the road. My driver left my lights on, and sat waiting for his friend to come back.

He was fussing with his Blackberry when I heard him mutter to himself, ‘What’s that black dude doing here?’

I could hear the footsteps, and for a moment my lights shined on a tall figure walking quickly to my left.

Something about this guy annoyed my driver, and he started to get agitated. A few minutes later he said out loud, ‘What’s that girl doing here? I thought we were safe.’ He sat and fidgeted with his Blackberry for another minute, made a phone call, and finally got out and left me – but he did remember to turn off my lights.

I’m not so sure how long my driver had been gone. I’d dozed off.

But suddenly he ran back! He almost broke the key getting me started.

Before I knew it we wheeled around toward a little house where the door was open. The streetlight shown on his buddy as he came running across in front of me - jumping in and slamming the door. Then our adventure began.

I was being driven very quickly, out of the car park to the right, and down a winding road. It was pitch black, and difficult to see, until my driver remembered my lights. My driver was yelling.‘What the hell did you do in there? That’s all there was? What’re you planning to do now? Okay, let’s dump the phones! Now. Now. Right here.’

I screeched a bit, wobbled to the right, and slowed for a moment, as I heard something being tossed from the window. ‘There, now hit it,’ his friend yelled. And then we were off.

We drove all night. We took the small roads, and stayed away from the Autostrada.

Lucky for me there was enough gas, and we only stopped once, when we found a little gas station opening for the day. I was hot and tired.

The morning light was appearing, and my driver and his friend had calmed down.

They had made a plan. We continued South.

As we drove on - village after village - I pieced together what had gone on back there.

I was finally starting to understand why we had left Perugia so quickly.

I guess no one had expected the black dude to appear, but there he’d been at the door of the garden flat. He’d come round just as my driver’s friend was making the deal with the people he’d planned to meet. The dude said he’d come to meet the girl upstairs, but she wasn’t home. The group still didn’t like that he’d just dropped by; business is business, and he was not part of it. They gave him a joint to humor him, but made it clear it was a private meeting. So, he took the hint and left.

Apparently the group was busy cutting up some stuff when my driver burst in to hurry them along. At this point, they all heard a noise from upstairs, coming from the balcony above the garden flat. Just then a girl leaned over the railing to have look. She thought she’d heard some talking, and no one was supposed to be there that night. ‘Who’s down there? Who is it? Giacomo? Who is it?’ They were silent. Then she got scared. She’d just noticed her money was missing, and thought maybe they were the robbers.

Now things got tense. The group needed to make sure no one called the cops. They’d taken her money alright, and now the girl was getting suspicious. She might ruin things. So the group decided to shut her up. They packed up the stuff, grabbed some coverings to disguise themselves, and ran up to the yard above. After ringing the bell, they let themselves in with the key belonging to one of them. It seemed the girl was alone; the dude was nowhere in sight. They all thought he’d gone. The girl was terrified as the group came in, and frantically ran to her room to grab her cell phone.

That’s about when my driver came back to get me. But his friend stayed with the others to insure the girl didn’t call anyone for help. The group did their deed; it was quick. To me, this sounded quite terrible, and I tried not to listen. Out of nowhere the black dude had appeared again in the flat and a fight broke out. But the group realized it was better to get away than risk being caught or injured. And since the dude was there, he’d take the rap. No one would believe a black dude. Besides, they’d threatened him.

So some ran off, while we drove out of town to hide.

We continued driving, and it was getting dark once again; the roads were lousy.

Finally, we arrived in this city…

and I ended up in a small garage, tucked away, out of sight.

They took off my license plates and have not been back since. It’s been cold and miserable.

This probably sounds a bit fantastical, but I thought I should tell someone. I drove off in a cloud of smoke that night, and there’s a lot I can’t remember accurately. I can be easily confused. I am, after all, just a car - a white car with a conscience.


Sources and context:
From “The German Diary,” written by Rudy Hermann Guede, while in prison in Koblenz, German, before
extradition to Italy, December 6, 2007. Thanks to Sparrow, Traduco, and Nicki, it was translated from a copy of his original handwritten Italian document, to the English version, excerpted here. p. 17 As I arrived in front of the house, I noticed a white car with headlights on, and a Drug Dealer I often saw on Garibaldi Avenue, but I didn’t make much of this, and I went into the yard. I knocked on the door, but no one answered. I went downstairs to the guys’ place, but no one was there either. So then, I waited in the yard. p. 18 She said she couldn't find her money and she showed me the drawer next to the bed where she also kept her lingerie. "Maybe it was a thief," I said. But we saw there was no sign of a break-in, neither inside nor outside the house. So it had to be someone from the house and she was complaining only about Amanda, and not about the other two girls who lived there. From there she went to Amanda's room to see if there were signs of forced entry in her room but there weren't any. p.19 During the time I was in the bathroom I listened to my favorite three songs. While I was listening to the last one I heard screaming, even though the volume was loud, very loud screams. I wasn't even finished yet, I tried to go and see what had happened as soon as I could. I opened the bathroom door… p.20 …I went out, but in the living room and kitchen there wasn't anyone, so I went toward Meredith's room. There was the back of this person inside the room and I said "Hey what’s happening?" Then I immediately saw Meredith's body on the floor and I also saw blood, and I said "What the f**k have you done?" I yelled, and the person turned around. He was a male, he was Italian because he insulted me and had no foreign accent. He had the knife in his hand and he tried to get me. I tried to shield myself with my hand but it was a sharp knife. Only brushing against me, it made small but deep cuts. Like a scalpel, it only needs to brush against you and it cuts. I hadn't zipped up my pants and while backing off I fell. He tried to attack me but I took a chair to protect myself, being stronger than him. Although I had a chair and he had a weapon, he exited through the front door telling me "black man found, guilty man found," he yelled. p.22 If you're hiding something Amanda, please say it. …Meredith and I, that night, only talked and that's all. What the f**k happened? Speak the truth. What are you hiding? If it wasn't Raffaele, who was there on that night? One of your many druggie lovers you were bringing home? Was he someone from the "Merlin," "Domus," was it all of you downstairs?

From La Repubblica, 7 Dicembre 2007, Meo Ponte.
‘Agli avvocati che gli hanno fatto visita nel carcere tedesco ha aggiunto di aver sentito un' auto fuggire dopo il delitto.’ To the lawyers who had visited him in the German jail, he (Rudy) added, he had heard a car leaving right after the crime.

To Steve Huff and the participants of all the Haloscan discussions of the murder of Meredith Kercher. In particular, the ponderings of Sparrow, Michael, Brian S. and bpcl, have encouraged me to develop this scenario. And to Kermit, thanks for the variety of phone theories.



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