Rocco Girlanda - Talks with Amanda Knox in prison

Translated by Linda Suzanne Fox

Literary agent, translation rights: Vicki Satlow

Cover photo by Madison Paxton

Graphic Cover: Stefano Ferranti

2010 Italy-USA Foundation

First published by Edizioni Piemme, Italy, 2010

2013 VandA ePublishing S.r.L., Milano

www. vandaepublishing.com

ISBN: 978-88-9847-509-4

eBook Production: eBookFarm

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher.

The authors proceeds will be entirely donated to the Italy-USA Foundation, as an initiative for promoting friendship between Italy and the United States of America.

My life has a rainbow running through it

A road winding home through the wind and rain

Im singing through the blues and the violet

Until the day when Ill be home again

One of these days like an eternity

I took a chance to make myself at home

In you, in love and you, in me?

I know Im not alone when I am alone

This book arrived by chance after the many meetings with Amanda which I wrote about as precisely and detailed as possible in a private and personal diary. A series of notes, at times a bit disorganized, written only for me, and thats how youll read them. I hope my readers will forgive me for this. I never met Amandas family, her parents, her friends, her lawyers, all the people involved with her on the outside. I had no contacts with them, whether by phone or any other means. As I also say at the end of the book, my thoughts and my decisions answer only to my own conscience. Everything that came about was because I wanted to know more about this American girl who is the same age as one of my daughters. A girl going through the most dramatic experience of her life. I wasnt interested in knowing Amanda Knox; I was interested in knowing Amanda. I believe that over so many months and so many meetings, I managed to do this. And in the same way I believe that over time a lovely friendship was born. And I hope it will continue after, clean, disinterested and spontaneous, just as it has been up to now.

Take me with you.

Without turning, I answer her as I continue to look out the window of the taxi. How can I take you with me? You know we cant do that.

We cross the bridge that takes us to the road going to JFK. The New York taxi passes a couple of cars and goes forward, fast as my thoughts, while Amanda asks me again for us to leave together.

You know my plane goes in another direction, I answer, hoping shell understand.

She puts in my hand her pink iPod that incessantly plays Beatles music. I hesitate and stare at it.

Then I look at her.

Its a present, she says looking straight into my eyes. I can give you a present today, cant I?

Her face crumple as it always does when shes going to cry.

Will we take bike rides in Umbria and eat dinners with truffles? Will we do it even if I dont come with you now? she asks me.

Of course, Amanda, why wouldnt we?

I dont know. Im scared, Im so scared

My mouth fills with saliva and I try to swallow it. It breaks my heart that I have to go back to

Europe, but I know that well see each other again soon.

This conversation with Amanda continues for a few minutes as we go through some residential areas outside the city; she huddles into her dark red sweatshirt as if for protection.

I wake up in my bed, in my house in Gubbio. And I realize that the trip in the American taxi with

Amanda was only a dream. Its almost five in the morning, Id like to try and sleep some more. But

I have to admit Im worked up and maybe even troubled. And not just from the dream - who knows why in New York, who knows why in a taxi. But also by the meetings and talks Im having with

Amanda.

Its not the first time Amanda appears in my dreams. And it wont be the last.

When pointers and suggestions are given to young writers, theyre always told that for a novel to be successful they have to talk about feelings and emotions. No matter whether theyre happy or sad, conflicting or superficial.

Amanda is twenty-two the first time I meet her, the same age as one of my daughters. During this experience and my meetings in prison with her, Ive certainly seen emotions, I noticed them when I was talking with her, in the looks, the silences, and I also felt them deeply in first person.

Id never entered a prison in my life. The obvious expectations are influenced by films, often

American films. Im tense and nervous.

The first visit takes place only a few days after the verdict of guilty, on a cloudy Sunday in mid-December, and begins with the metallic noise of the bolts tormenting the imposing locks forward and backward, noisily opening and closing the doors behind us each time we go past a new section.

Before I meet her I want to know about the facility where she is, absorb the setting. The Perugia penitentiary is new; it was inaugurated in July 2005 in the Capanne area, a few kilometers from the Umbrian capital city. Its a very neat and efficient facility, very different from the images of deterioration of some of the penitentiaries were used to seeing. In the womens area there are little more than sixty or so prisoners during my visits, about 40 per cent of them foreigners, almost always from outside the EU.

The section also has cells specifically equipped for women prisoners who need to keep their children with them until they are three years old. I chat for a few minutes with two foreign prisoners and their children. There are various areas for the children including a small nursery school full of toys. A little boy runs down the corridor brandishing in one hand a Japanese super-hero toy and in the other a green dinosaur.

They explain that the children can stay with their mothers until their third birthday. And the morning of their birthday they are inexorably separated. I immediately think about my little boy who wants his mommy.

Then I visit the laundry room and the kitchens where the meals are prepared and have a few words with the cooks. Even the courtyard for the so-called outdoor air hour is separated from the one for the other women prisoners in order to safeguard the children.

On the first floor are the cells for the other women prisoners; theyre around 129 square feet. The largest ones may have four or five beds and can go up to 280 square feet. Every cell has a bathroom with a toilet, a shower and bidet. The prisoners also have a buzzer that activates a visual and sound alarm for the personnel of the prison police force.

Theres an infirmary, a games room with a pinball machine, ping-pong, and a library. Theres also a small church for mass and prayers. Through the bars of the door I see the altar and the crucifix: I look at Jesus through the bars and my mind floods with questions. Then I realize the group has gone ahead of me.

In all, the prison occupies a surface of about 104 acres, about twenty of which are used for buildings, while the rest are green areas. There are also cells for the handicapped, specially constructed with no architectural barriers..