He paused for about twenty seconds, pretended to think it over. “It may be that we talked about it. I don’t recall, but it’s possible. They may have told me that someone who knew me gave them my name.”
“Had you previously had any other clients in Bari?”
“Probably, I don’t remember now.”
“Does that mean you have a lot of clients?”
“A fair number, yes.”
“You have a prosperous practice.”
“I can’t complain.”
“How many people work in your office?”
“I have a secretary. Apart from that I’ve always preferred to work alone.”
I bet your secretary is the minder you’ve got with you, right?
“What’s the address of your office?”
Mirenghi intervened. Quite rightly.
“Avvocato Guerrieri, what does the address of the witness’s office have to do with the case we are hearing?”
I thought I caught a very slight movement on Macri’s face, like the beginnings of a wicked smile.
“Your Honour, I realize this question may seem rather strange. But it’s a detail that will help me to clarify other things that are more immediately pertinent to the case.”
Mirenghi rolled his eyes imperceptibly. Girardi seemed to be following proceedings closely. Russo – and this was the odd thing – hadn’t fallen asleep yet.
“Go on, Avvocato. But please remember we have other cases scheduled for today’s session, and we would like to see our families eventually.”
“Thank you, Your Honour.”
I turned back to Macri. The vague smile had vanished. Perhaps I’d only imagined it anyway. “Will you tell us the address of your office
… and while we’re about it, the telephone number and fax number.”
This time he turned to me before answering. There was genuine hatred in his eyes. Just try, I said inside my head. Just try, you son of a bitch.
He told me the address of his office, hesitated a moment – I was probably the only person to notice – then said that he didn’t have a landline, because he preferred to use his mobile for everything.
“Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You don’t have a landline, so obviously you don’t have a fax either?”
“As I’ve said” – he was articulating his words clearly now, and the effort he was making to control his irritation was more noticeable – “I prefer to use my mobile for everything. We have computers, we’re connected to the internet, so instead of faxes, we use the computer and a printer.”
He turned to Mirenghi.
“Your Honour, I don’t know where Avvocato Guerrieri is planning to go with all this, and I’m not even particularly interested. I must say, though, that I am struck by his unduly aggressive and intimidating tone. I don’t think that’s the way to speak to a colleague…”
“All right, Avvocato Macri. I think we could spend many hours trying to interpret Avvocato Guerrieri’s tone without reaching any agreement. The questions he’s asked so far have all been admissible and, in the opinion of the court, have not been prejudicial to the dignity of the witness, that is, you. If you think otherwise, you can complain to the bar council. Avvocato Guerrieri may proceed, as long as he takes into account the warning I gave him before and the fact that we would like to get to the point as soon as possible.”
Mirenghi was getting irritated by Macri. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing. When he was irritated, he tended to take it out on anyone within striking distance, no matter who had originally caused the irritation. I knew I’d better get a move on.
“If I understood correctly, you told us that you haven’t always practised in Rome, right?” I realized I was saying “right?” at the end of every question, as he had done a while earlier, when we were talking in the corridors.
“I know perfectly well where you’re going with this.”
“I’m pleased to hear it. If that’s the case, perhaps I can spare myself the bother of actually asking you any questions. Would you tell us where you practised before you moved to Rome, and why, and under what circumstances, you moved?”
“I practised in Reggio Calabria, and moved for very personal reasons, sentimental reasons, if you know what I mean.”
“I see. But did anything happen to-”
He interrupted me, speaking quickly. “There were charges against me and I was acquitted, for the simple reason that I was innocent. But that has nothing to do with my move to Rome.”
At this point I glimpsed Porcelli out of the corner of my eye. He seemed to have come to life a little and was showing a naive interest in what was happening.
“Was your personal freedom restricted in any way?”
“Yes.”
“Were you under house arrest, did you spend time in prison, or what?”
“I was arrested and then, as I said – but I’m sure you already know this-I was cleared of all the charges. Because, I repeat, I was innocent.”
“Can you tell us what you were charged with?”
“I was charged with criminal conspiracy in connection with Mafia drug trafficking. The charge was completely without foundation, and I received compensation from the State for unlawful detention. Just to bring your information up to date.”
I was about to ask him on what basis he had been arrested and then cleared. But I knew Mirenghi wouldn’t let me go that far and even if I did I might jeopardize everything. It was time to get to the point.
“Did you ever tell Signor Paolicelli that you knew he was innocent?”
“I may have done. We say a lot of things to our clients, especially the ones who complain the most, who can’t stand prison. Signor Paolicelli was like that. Always complaining, I remember.”
“Could you tell us what you and Signor Paolicelli talked about? First of all, how many times did you meet?”
“I don’t remember how many times we met, five, six, seven. But I will tell you now, out of respect for the dignity of our profession, that I have no intention of talking about the conversations I had with my client, however significant they may be. With regard to these questions, I reserve the right to remain silent, on the grounds of lawyer-client confidentiality.”
Mirenghi turned to me, and gave me a questioning look.
“Your Honour, I believe that the rule of lawyer-client confidentiality is there to guarantee that the lawyer can exercise his profession freely, but more specifically to protect the client. It is not a personal privilege for individual lawyers. I’ll try to explain. The law allows defenders the right to remain silent as to what they have learned in a professional context, yes, but there is a specific reason for that. It is to guarantee the client as much freedom as possible to confide in his own defence counsel, without fear that the latter might subsequently be obliged to disclose the substance of these conversations. That, in a nutshell, is the reason for this right. It’s a way of protecting the client and the confidentiality of his relationship with his counsel, and not an indiscriminate privilege for lawyers.”
All three judges were listening to me. Russo was looking at me, and his face seemed – how shall I put this? – different.
“If this outline is correct, as I believe it is, then the right to remain silent on the grounds of lawyer-client confidentiality becomes invalid if the client, whose protection this rule is intended for, declares that he releases his counsel – or his former counsel-from the obligation to observe confidentiality. In this instance, Signor Paolicelli – as you will be able to confirm immediately – releases Avvocato Macri from this obligation. Once you have established that such is the case, I ask you to declare the right to remain silent unfounded and I ask you to order the witness to answer my questions.”
“Your Honour,” Macri said, “I’d like to make some observations on what Avvocato Guerrieri has said.”
“Avvocato Macri, you are here as a witness and are not entitled to make observations on anything the parties have said. Signor Paolicelli, do you confirm that you release your former counsel from the right to remain silent regarding the conversations which took place between you and which had as their subject the facts of this case?”