Federico Aldrovandi, you know I don’t like this world at all. Maybe also because they killed you fifteen years ago

Dear Federico,

How many years have passed. If I were your dad I would say “how many days”. You know, in fact you can’t know, he has been counting the days when he can no longer hug you since September 25, 2005. And today he will have woken up thinking about this 5479th day Without you. Her brother Stefano has grown. He is tall tall. Today I would no longer be with my legs on that little bicycle with which I desperately searched for you on the morning of 15 years ago.

Andrea has two children. Do you know what he called the first one? Frederick. Burro left this country immediately. He didn’t want to go to college. What was the point of studying if not even graduates understand that you can’t kill an 18-year-old without a reason? He left with Matilde, but they will always be tied to you. Do you know what day they got married? On July 17, your birthday. They met thanks to you. In a demonstration to ask truth and justice for your death.

Yes, you may not know, but it was not so obvious that a judge found it strange that four policemen beat you to kill you. It took strength, courage, patience. Matilde then, years ago, had a fantastic idea. I have to make a premise, because where you are now you will find what I’m going to tell you a bit funny.

You know, after the final sentence, the four officers continued on duty. Even if one offended his mother and sued her. Strange things, right? Well, Matilde invented a hashtag (one of those technological things of the young people of today, yesterday now). It is like this: #travel. On Facebook (a tool to see what others are doing on the Internet) people from all over the world, of all ages, have seen that written. They asked the Italian state to elimination The police.

But the Italian state said that what they did was not dishonorable. Already. Warp your appearance, inflict 54 wounds, abuse the violence in your body in a kind of delirium like crazy splinters (these are words that come out of the procedural documents) does not correspond to dishonor. Resign yourself, but that’s it.

Then there is the mother. If you only knew how amazing your mother Patrizia was. Nobody heard her. They wanted her to believe that I had died of an illness and then an overdose. So he started a blog. And from there it all fell apart.

Mom is now retired. At least she will no longer be forced to see police unions defending her colleagues in the town hall where she worked. He had time, however, to see that that trade unionist who applauded those who killed you was elected to the council.

He is not the only one who since the union of Sap made the leap into politics. In this country, life is worth despising. Ah, sorry, you can’t know what Sap is. The acronym stands for Autonomous Police Union. Shortly after his death, he collected 170 police signatures from the Ferrara police headquarters to say that his companions were innocent. I guess innocent anyway. Your national secretary, Gianni tonelli, the one who said if it weren’t for his boys you’d still be in via Ippodromo banging your head against a pole, ended up in parliament.

But even in other places, uniformed officers kill people on the street. Now, however, mobile phones make videos and can be quickly distributed over the web. Of course, perhaps among the residents of via hippodrome no one would have had the courage to show that video later. Perhaps, once again, only Anne Marie, the only witness to whom it seemed normal to tell what she had seen.

I’m sorry Federico, there would be many other stories to tell, but very few would seem happy to you. You know Federico, you are not here to see how this world has become that I do not like at all. And maybe many of us don’t like this world too because 15 years ago they killed you. And while I wonder what kind of man you might have become, “I’m sorry if I’m here thinking of you, your words and your smiles.” I never knew that.