Louis, sixteen, had a brother who would marry the next day. At home there was the champagne. It took three bottles and two friends went away on the beach of Castellammare. With their three girls of fifteen. Their girlfriends? Say. Are those girls that we have all the eyes in our country: high wedges, squeezed dry clothes, and barges with heavy makeup. Olds imitating flashy, evil, tissue bear the marks of the sauce. They love the young fashion, we can do. Those who look like their fathers, after all. (I have to blame?)
The party is late in the sand. They drink, shouting. Then the girls are brought home, but the night is still immature. Louis and his two friends back on the beach. The three have a loaded gun. They are sixteen and robberies. The gun is needed. Louis is the son of a boss of the Camorra Stabia, one of the lieutenants of Gionta. With arms raised there. His two friends have grown up with him. The first robbery, the first pull of cocaine.
Louis and his two friends decide to use a gun to do a robbery and euphoria. They come close to an Audi e puntano la pistola. Hanno sbagliato coppia. Dalla macchina esce uno e dice “jatevenne sinnò v’accir e mazzat”. Luigi e i due amici lo conoscono. Alzano i tacchi. Hanno sedici anni, sono ubriachi, hanno una pistola ma sanno campare.
Vedono una tenda sulla spiaggia, si avvicinano, guardano dentro. Ci sono un ragazzo e una ragazza. Luigi sfonda la zip e si infila dentro. Punta la pistola e grida “e sord, e sord”. I ragazzi sono stranieri, tedeschi, non capiscono. Luigi traduce a modo suo. “Cash, cash”. I ragazzi, spaventati, tirano fuori il denaro. Ma a Luigi non basta. Lascia la pistola, prende la ragazza e dice “mi devo fare a questa”.
La trascina su una macchina. La fa stendere. She cries, his eyes red, he despairs. But he does not stop. The violent. Then call your friends. "It's up to you." A dog barks from behind the curtain. And 'the Germans. The smashing his skull with the butt of his gun and kicked in the head end. The friend goes to the girl, tries to rape her. He fails, but says he did not to be laughed at. It's up to the next. The girl is terrified, annihilated. The second friend can not rape her. "I've tried to make them violent - will say later, to be justified - but that was crying and looked at me with his hands in his face. His eyes were bloodshot: it was too much, too much pain. "
The three go, leaving the weakened German couple disbelief and pain. She staggers out of the car to the beach. He is on his knees and weeps in her hands. Nearby is the city. Call the police, go to the hospital. Tell all the details. The description is so detailed that the police takes ten minutes to realize that this is Louis, an area known. Go get it. He's already done. Ride. It says "no, and guesses that I have not done anything." They take him to the barracks. In stunning ago the names of two friends. He spent the evening with them. The police went to seize them too. It puts them in a square room and a microphone.
"There she sang? It was he who made our names? "Says one another.
"He did everything so iss bit and we cannot we? He made to robbery, took the girl, he ordered us to rape her. The lagg there not even done. "
"Tranquil, up to two days and we go out ...."
"Shit, there vulevm fuck a stranger, and stranger c it fuck us." After
, even confesses Louis.
They were drunk, they would not do anything wrong. They were on the beach, drank, those two were there and they jumped on him. "Vabbuò but the mic amm 'duty ...», said Luigi, to minimize. Is transferred to juvenile detention for Airola. "They have just witnessed, they have carried out the violence," said lawyers for the other two guys, and ask for release. They were taken to Nisida.
The two Germans have returned home with a lump of anger and a feeling of being compressed down to hell.
We, however, we live every day. Those three
olds with a gun around us. I see them at night on the scooter, standing on the sidewalk or to make zig zag down the street, constantly playing his horn and laughing uproariously. I see them every day and I wonder when it's up to me to get face to face.
And how to react.
And where I'll put the anger or if sbotterò there, at that precise moment, take a shot in the head.
And then I wonder why and how you can become so brutal and something stirs in the disease of these guys. I wonder what they think their mothers (because they have a mother). I wonder what these characters are by and large, they become large and will return to circulate among us, around us, to me.
I wonder why I did not become like them and what can I do to not become another.
I wonder, finally, if there is no need to pack your bags and go and try to live, not a bad place, where violence is the occasional detour to an outsider, not the everyday language of a teenager who may live in my building and in the evening when he returns, I crossed the stairs and I said well good evening.
