What Ilda Boccassini does not say: superfluous reticence and confidences


With this article begins the publication of a new blog, “Il conTesto”, coordinated by Tano Grasso and animated by people who in various ways, in their respective fields, have dealt with the mafia, anti-mafia and its surroundings. A service space to learn, analyze and criticize what is written and produced around this theme: books – such as Ilda Boccassini’s autobiography and Giuseppe Pignatone’s “Fareustizia” – but also films, TV series, documentaries. A virtual place to ignite the debate, in the belief that opposing the Mafia does not mean limiting the freedom of ideas. On the contrary.

Ilda Boccassini’s point of view, both on public and private events, cannot be trivial or negligible. For this reason, the reading of his autobiography requires a greater effort of concentration and a time of reflection usually not granted to the literary efforts that are served to us in seasons like the present. We have therefore read with due attention the long story of the magistrate (but perhaps Ilda would prefer magistrate) more “divisive” of our recent judicial and therefore political history. A reading in many ways instructive: even if the facts and background narrated do not always appear completely unpublished, that particular angle is offered that makes them still attractive.

Ilda Boccassini’s story is inextricably linked to her professional career which, by her own admission, led her to be opposed, if not even hated, by the whole world in which she was forced to move because of her profession. Even contested for her “physicality” (not even the red of her hair or the suits she wore in court have forgiven her), considered a prerequisite to the aggression she put into her investigations and in the defense of her autonomy even with respect to the invasiveness of powers and his own corporation. Aversion that took on plastic evidence in the “institutional countermeasures” that betrayed the desire to normalize a destabilizing element of the quiet swamped life of politics. Just think of when the minister Claudio Scajola, with suspicious solicitude, removed her escort.

All this tragic “theater” is an interesting story and rewinds the tape of a film that should not be forgotten: the season of the great corruption trials (Tangentopoli Milanese), the spasmodic search for the mysteries linked to mafia massacres, the battle with Berlusconi and with economic and financial undergrowth of Nordic capitalism. It matters little that the thread of the narrative runs along the tracks of an excessive protagonism of the main actress. A thread that is more than sometimes incomplete when not downright reticent.

Today, for example, he tells of the undue interference of the then Chief of Police, Gianni De Gennaro, in favor of the investigated Silvio Berlusconi. Belated confession that it would have been more appropriate when the fact happened. The story of his departure from the investigation into the Capaci massacre was evasive when the misdirection entrusted to the false repentant Scarantino, whom Ilda did not like, matured. Boccassini left, leaving two negative reports on the repentant which, however, remained firmly in the hands of those who had no interest in reporting that misdirection.

And Ilda la Rossa is reticent when she does not speak of her privileged relationship with the late journalist Beppe D’Avanzo, of whom she remembers only the “furious quarrels”. But she betrays all her frustration when she admits that she was underestimated by the authorities: “No parliament has ever asked for my advice.”

Yet it is not all this so far written that has marked the overdose of visibility of Ilda Boccassini’s “Room number 30”, just out and already on all the front pages. The book is now famous exclusively for the “revelation” on the “lost love” of the author: Giovanni Falcone. It is difficult to think that the chosen editorial line did not take into consideration the certainty that the entire story would be reduced to just the “Falcone chapter”, as evidenced by the reviews of newspapers and online sites, not to mention the “social courts”. And then one wonders: how much better would it have been better to keep the great secret inside jealously?

But evidently Ilda la Rossa, in her infinite ego anxiety, among the thousand clarifications and small revenge, also had to specify to the world the privilege, according to her, of a story, a tender love story with Falcone. An experience that still takes her, so much so that she slips the pen without any editing intervention being able to stop her. And then he lets himself go to even embarrassing details, even from the point of view of writing. The description of a moment of intimacy with Giovanni in the Addaura sea can hardly be forgiven: “Giovanni first took my hand, then released it and we began to swim towards the unknown …”. Not to mention the “relaxing luxury” of the Boeing first class that took them to Argentina to ask for the extradition of Tanino Fidanzati. Perhaps it would have been better to reveal all the business confidences he says he received from Falcone and keep everything else inside.

Falcone did not like to talk about himself in the public, let alone in the private sector. He married Francesca almost in hiding and sent back to the sender any attempt to find out more about her private life. And not just for safety reasons. He resisted the temptation of sensational statements, in short, he did not like advertising. I reproached Borsellino for the outcry caused by his interview in favor of his friend Giovanni “rejected” by the CSM for the role of instructor adviser. And he came to sign the conclusions of the investigation into political crimes, which he did not share, only out of institutional sense and aversion to sensational gestures “good only for the newspapers”. But he is no longer there and we cannot ask him what you think of Ilda Boccassini’s private story.

Ilda Boccassini, Room number 30 (Feltrinelli, pp. 352, euro 19)


Source: L'Espresso – News, inchieste e approfondimenti Espresso by espresso.repubblica.it.

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