Waiting To Be Heard - A Memoir Part 57

Guede said that since he didn't have the same opportunity to defend himself as Raffaele, he was the victim.

Listening to Alessi testify, I felt frozen in my chair, my limbs numb. Alessi was a calm, direct, convincing speaker. Is this possibly what happened the night of November 1? Is this the horror that Meredith experienced? For three and a half years, I'd tried to imagine Meredith's murder and had to push it out of my mind. When the prosecutor had put Raffaele and me into the scene, it hadn't bothered me nearly this much. We weren't there, so Meredith's murder couldn't possibly have unfolded the way Mignini described. His story was so far-fetched, and it was so painful to hear myself described in bloodthirsty terms, that I couldn't help but focus on the verbal attack on me rather than the physical attack on Meredith.

Alessi's story, however, sickened me when I heard it and haunted me long after. I knew it was only hearsay and that even though two of Guede's other prisonmates corroborated it, it couldn't be used as direct evidence. Real or not, it forced me to focus on the torture that Meredith was put through. And it opened up a question I'd never seriously considered and could barely handle: Had there been someone with Guede?

My lawyers once told me that investigators had found unidentified DNA at the crime scene, but I'd never dwelled on it. The prosecution had never presented it. Wouldn't there have been signs of another person in the room and on Meredith's body? I didn't know. This is what I was sure of: Guede was there, Guede lied about us, Guede tried to escape his responsibility for the crime.

Guede would have to confess.

I desperately hoped he'd be honest when he took the witness stand. With the Supreme Court's seal on his conviction, his sentence couldn't be extended no matter how he incriminated himself. Since he truly had nothing to lose, I thought he might admit his crimes-and the fact that Raffaele and I weren't there that night.

I planned to make a spontaneous declaration directly to him, either challenging him to tell the truth or thanking him for doing so. For a week I thought about what I should say, pacing in my cell as I tried out different words. I'd written Guede a letter I'd never sent. I wove that into my declaration just as I'd done with my statement to Patrick and the Kerchers.

In the meantime, I was agitated. I had no reason to expect that Guede would admit what had happened-anyone who can kill is already lacking a conscience. Even if Guede acknowledged Raffaele's and my innocence, it still wouldn't be enough on its own to free us-his statements were compromised since he'd lied before and wasn't impartial. But it would be a huge step in the right direction-and an even bigger comfort to me.

Taking the witness stand, Guede said he wouldn't speak about the murder, that he was there only to respond to his former prisonmate's accusations. Mignini read a letter to the court that Guede had supposedly written to his lawyers after Alessi's claims surfaced. I found it so unsettling that I could hardly listen. The letter didn't remotely correspond with Guede's education-he wasn't a model student and, in fact, had dropped out of school. The language was sophisticated. Calling Alessi "a vulgar being with a foul conscience," the letter condemned his "blasphemous insinuations." It ended with a comment on "the horrible murder of a splendid and wonderful girl by Raffaele Sollecito and Amanda Knox."

When Carlo tried to pin him down, Guede told an attentive court, "It's not up to me to say who killed Meredith. I've always said who was in the house that d.a.m.ned night."

I couldn't contain my anger another second. I had to denounce his lies. Just as Guede was about to be dismissed, I asked to make a spontaneous declaration. Judge h.e.l.lmann said I'd have to wait until Guede had left the courtroom.

I felt cheated as I watched him walk out of the courtroom in handcuffs. I was disgusted. I'd truly hoped and believed that Guede would do the right thing, because, d.a.m.n it, he was human. How could he not, ultimately? As the double doors closed, I quickly reorganized the statement I'd prepared. "I just want to say that the only time Rudy, Raffaele, and I have been together in the same place is in court," I said. "I'm shocked and anguished by his testimony. He knows we weren't there."

Then I sat down, crying.

Chapter 33

June 29, 2011

What if?

Twenty-four hours before the court-appointed experts were to present their findings on the DNA, only two words were going through my mind. What if? What if their review somehow-impossibly-confirmed Meredith's DNA on the knife blade? What if they found that the bra clasp couldn't have been contaminated?

Or what if the experts risked telling the truth and sided with the defense?

I knew the prosecution's DNA testing was flawed. But so little had gone right in this case, why would this go right?

Science was on our side. The knife blade had tested negative for blood, and there was a high likelihood that the bra clasp had been contaminated while it sat on the floor for six weeks. But I had no faith in facts anymore. They hadn't saved me before.

It was terrifying to hope-and impossible not to.

Over the summer, there were moments when I could escape the pressure and just be me-a twenty-three-year-old girl. Most afternoons Don Saulo called me down to his office, and we spent an hour together. It was precious time for me.

I'd gotten used to telling him everything on my mind. I appreciated his intelligence, compa.s.sion, and intuition. Don Saulo had lived a sheltered life, but his empathy was strong and unreserved.

I talked to him about my family and friends, my ideas and doubts.

We also talked about music. Don Saulo had invited me to play guitar at Sat.u.r.day afternoon Ma.s.s. Now he was teaching me basic music theory and how to play an old electronic keyboard he had in his office. We'd listen to a song on his portable CD player, and then we'd learn it together on the guitar or piano. I drew a paper keyboard so I could practice in my cell at night-ear buds in, playing the silent chord progressions.

But I was too nervous to play the day before the experts' announcement. Don Saulo sat across from me holding my cold hands in his warm ones as I plodded through my "what if" possibilities.

"No matter what happens," he said, "live your life to its fullest."

I looked down. "Yeah, no matter what happens, I can only make the best of it."

When the hour ended, I went back to my cell as dejected as ever. My current cellmate, Irina, was sitting on her bed smiling.

"What's up with you?" I asked.

"Oh, just a little news," she purred.

She must know something about the review. I imagined the news must be good. She has that maddening smile. But what if she's mocking me?

"Everyone's saying it," she burst out. "You're going home!"

"The report is out?!" I screamed. "It's okay?! I'm going home?! Says who?"

"The TV! The news. The forensic report came back! You're cleared! They said you'll be freed!"

I had to hear the words myself. I went to the TV, madly changing channels until I found the news. "Svolta Giudiziaria"-"Judicial Turning Point," the headline read, behind an announcer who was talking about my case. The crawl at the bottom read: "DNA d.a.m.ning Knox and Sollecito deemed unreliable by court-appointed experts. New hope arises for the defendants."

Suddenly my heart was filling my whole chest. I couldn't breathe. From the moment I'd been arrested, I'd never heard good news about my case on TV. It's finally happening! I jumped up and down and spun around in a little dance, whooping and yelling, "I can't believe it! I can't believe it!

Stefanoni, the prosecution's forensic DNA expert, was finally recognized as being wrong.

I was crying, my face flushed and hot.

Irina opened her arms, and I squeezed her as tightly as I could.

"Ah, Amanda!" she said, laughing. "You're going to pop my implants!"

It was the first time in three and a half years at Capanne that I could truly jump for joy.

I remembered Don Saulo. I'd just burdened him with my angst. I have to tell him! I ran to the bars of my door. "a.s.sistente!" I bobbed on my toes while I waited for the agente who'd opened my cell five minutes before. I knew asking her to unlock the door again was a no-no. I don't care! I have to tell Don Saulo!

The agente approached the door looking bored. "What is it, Kuh-nox?" she asked sourly.

"I know I was just down to see Don Saulo," I said breathlessly, "but I have to go back down-just for a second. I have to tell him the news. The forensic report came back, and everything is okay. I have to tell him, because I didn't know before. Okay?"

My hands were on the bars and I was leaning into the cancello as though willing it open.

The agente eyed me with confusion. "You want to see Don Saulo again?"

"Please. Just for a second!"