The Sacco Gang

by Andrea Camilleri

  The Saccos’ aunt barely manages to exit the house in which her two nephews are holed up before the place is encircled by some thirty special forces troopers in threatening combat gear, having rushed there from the provincial capital.

  The political secretary is also there and laughing in satisfaction. The Saccos have no way out.

  “Vanni and Alfonso Sacco, give yourselves up!” the marshal of the special forces orders them.

  No reply.

  “I’m giving you three minutes to come out with your hands up!”

  No reply.

  In the meantime, the hundreds of townsfolk who’d come running back to the site stand there in silence, clearly fearing for the fate of the Saccos.

  The three minutes pass.

  “What should we do?” the marshal asks the political secretary, whose brain is churning, thinking that by this point his career is assured.

  “Start shooting,” he replies.

  A barrage of gunfire breaks out as if in wartime, smashing up shutters, doors, and windows, and shooting the plaster off the façade.

  “Stop! Cease fire! And you, Saccos, come out!”

  No reply.

  “What should we do?”

  “Go inside!” the political secretary orders.

  With three other men, the marshal approaches the house cautiously, kicking in the already damaged door. The four men burst in.

  Moments later, the marshal appears in an upstairs window.

  “There’s nobody here! They’ve escaped!”

  As the townsfolk break into loud applause and mocking laughter, the marshal discovers an underground tunnel.

  He bends down, goes inside, and follows the tunnel to where it comes out in the open countryside.

  By now the Saccos are far away, safe and sound.

  5The Case del Fascio were local Fascist Party headquarters established in small urban centers all over Italy. The headquarters in the big cities were called Palazzi del Littorio. (t.n.)

  XII

  DECEPTION AND REPRESSION

  Oftentimes, during the long, wakeful nights standing guard over the other brothers asleep on a cave floor, every one of the Saccos has asked himself how they, as the good, honest people they were, could have ended up living like hunted animals.

  On top of this, they are tired—tired of shooting, tired of fleeing, tired of life on the lam. They were not cut out for such a life; they were born simply to do honest work.

  Writes Alfonso:

  “We were weary of the sad, terrible life of fugitives, so full of dangers, and we understandably longed, indeed yearned, to find a way out as soon as possible, to liberate our family from the dogged, unjust persecution of Fascist law.”

  And so, one summer night in 1925, they talk it over amongst themselves, and decide to try and figure how they might get out of their predicament.

  The richest, most important man in town is a certain Commendatore V, whose firstborn son was actually baptized by none other than His Majesty Vittorio Emanuele III in person. He is thus a crony of the king.

  And not only is he a monarchist, he’s a Fascist as well and has given so much money to the party that the Honorable Angelo Abisso (the same one who didn’t show up at the trial) has dubbed him “the Prince of the Fascist Loan.”

  It is well known to all that a word from him to the judges is often enough to change the outcome of a trial.

  Why not go and talk to him openly?

  He must surely be aware of the facts and know that the Saccos have never done any harm to honest people.

  The brothers send a friend to talk to him, and the commendatore agrees to receive them at night at his country house.

  Alfonso and Vanni go to the meeting, unarmed, out of respect for the man and his house.

  “What can I do for you?”

  In few words Vanni tells him their story, which the commendatore says he already knows in part.

  “And what do you intend to do now?” the commendatore asks when he’s finished.

  “We want to turn ourselves in to the authorities.”

  “So then why did you come to me instead of going to the Carabinieri?”

  “Because we would like you to put in a good word for us.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “To make sure we get a fair trial.”

  The commendatore looks at him but says nothing.

  The two brothers don’t know what to do. The man’s silence troubles them greatly.

  But when at last the commendatore decides to speak, he says something that catches them totally by surprise.

  “I don’t think it’s such a good idea.”

  “What isn’t?” asks Vanni.

  “To turn yourselves in.”

  The two brothers feel lost at sea.

  “Then what should we do?”

  “I didn’t mean you should never turn yourselves in; just not right now, because one can’t reason with Mori.”

  “When, then?”

  “I’ll let you know when. And actually, only Vanni should turn himself in, because you, Alfonso, haven’t done anything. When the time is right, my dear Vanni, I’ll accompany you myself to the courthouse, and when it’s over I’ll bring you back home, acquitted of all charges.”

  He then stands up, sticks his hand in his pocket, pulls out two hundred and fifty lire, and hands them to Vanni, who at first doesn’t want to accept the money, but in the end has no choice, so insistent is the commendatore.

  Alfonso comments:

  “I can still hear those words ringing in my ears. They were a great relief to us that night, a tremendous hope for our future! But neither I nor my brother was clever enough to realize just how hypocritical this character was.”

  Indeed the following morning the commendatore leaves for Palermo. He wants to speak personally with Mori. He intends to tell him that the people of Raffadali have had enough of the Saccos, and that the fact that they are still at large is a disgrace they cannot tolerate much longer.

  His complaints fall on fertile ground.

  In fact Cesare Mori is blowing smoke out his nostrils, so enraged is he when he learns that not only were the Saccos able to slip away, but the townsfolk of Raffadali had a great time of it, thumbing their noses at the special forces.

  And so, arriving at the easy (and correct) conclusion that the Sacco brothers could not remain for very long at large without the help of the local population, Mori decides, in his typical fashion, to set an example that will discourage, once and for all, anyone wishing to lend aid or support to the fugitives.

  There’s one problem, however, the same as there’s been all along: Before fighting the Saccos, one must define what they are. Until proven otherwise, the Saccos have never been mafiosi; indeed they ended up becoming fugitives precisely because they had opposed the Mafia.

  Therefore, Cesare Mori, at least in theory, should consider them his allies, not his enemies.

  Then why go up against them?

  Because, according to what people say, they’ve allegedly killed at least two Mafia bosses. They are therefore murderers, even if they have cleansed the town of people who had dozens of murders on their consciences.

  But, even admitting that it was indeed the Saccos who killed the two Mafia bosses—though some reasonable doubt is legitimate, since not a shred of evidence has ever been found—what need was there to send the special forces and all their rigmarole to arrest them?

  The matter of the arrest could very well have been left to regular law enforcement, which certainly, sooner or later, would have nabbed the Sacco brothers.

  Finally: How much did this dogged Sacco hunt really have to do with the task Mussolini had assigned the prefect?

  Mori, at this point, recalls that his mandate also includes the fight against banditry. Even though at th
e time, in all of Sicily, there must have been at best only two or three bandits left, and in bad shape at that.

  Still, that was the solution.

  To turn the Sacco brothers into bandits.

  And bandits, ever since the beginning of time, are part of a band—a gang, in other words.

  And, just like that, the “notorious Sacco gang” is born.

  But can one really tell the press that the gang is charged with killing mafiosi guilty of multiple murders?

  No, one can’t. Because the people are then liable to sympathize with them.

  Thus Mori, every time he talks to journalists, never forgets to remind them of how dangerous the Sacco gang is, given as they are to looting, holdups, burglary, and stealing livestock.

  And, as an example, he cites a collection made in town to help them—except that in his version, the voluntary collection becomes an ongoing extortion racket.

  Only the people of Raffadali themselves can attest that Mori is making it all up, but the majority of them are unable to read or write; and so, little by little, Sicilians end up believing the calumny, also because with each passing day the newspapers keep featuring bold headlines about the misdeeds of the “notorious Sacco gang.”

  When Mori becomes convinced he’s properly softened up public opinion, he moves into action.

  An action convenient to him and to Commendatore V.

  *

  On May 3, 1926, the town of Raffadali awakes to find itself entirely surrounded by special forces.

  No one can leave town. All the peasants on their way to work in their fields in the countryside are sent back home.

  At a certain point other special forces units burst into town and begin arresting people.

  Tommaso Cuffaro, former Socialist mayor; Francesco Gueli, former Socialist Vice Mayor; Salvatore Motta, former Socialist councilor; Baldassare Gueli, notary, along with his five brothers-in-law; Salvatore Gueli, postmaster; and Alfonso Motta, local medical officer, are all placed under arrest for the charge of having given aid and shelter to the “notorious Sacco gang.”

  Another hundred or so people—including municipal clerks, shop owners, landowners, and peasants—are handcuffed and brought in under the same charge.

  But the arrest that sparks the most clamor is that of the ex-mayor, Commendator Alfonso Di Benedetto, who is accused outright of complicity with the Saccos in the murder of Cuffaro the overseer.

  Later, but still the same morning, the special forces also put the cuffs on the Sacco brothers’ mother, who is well over seventy years old; Vanni’s wife; Vincenzo’s wife; the Saccos’ mother’s sister, Zà Grazia, eighty years old, over the power-of-attorney business; and the two Mangione brothers, first cousins of the Saccos.

  Mori’s men, moreover, do not leave a single house in Raffadali unsearched.

  They tear open pillows and mattresses, kick down closed doors, throw some furniture out into the streets.

  More than a police operation, it looks like a raid by brigands.

  It was Mori who wanted his men to act this way, brutally, angrily, to frighten everyone.

  But since they make no distinction between criminals and law-abiding citizens and treat everyone the same way, the end result is that even the honest folks who at first warmly welcomed the news that someone was coming to fight the Mafia, now change their minds, after being subjected to such behavior.

  Meanwhile the Saccos’ elderly mother is interrogated without interruption for an entire day and night without being given anything to eat or drink. They want her to tell them where her sons are, and overwhelm her with questions.

  The woman doesn’t know where they are. She really doesn’t, and is therefore unable to answer.

  So at this point all of the Saccos’ women—their mother, the mother’s sister, and the brothers’ wives—are taken to Girgenti Prison.

  Mori spreads the word that they will not be released until the Saccos turn themselves in of their own accord.

  The repressive measure, however, achieves no concrete results.

  And so, the cousins Mangione, after fifteen days in custody, are presented with an ultimatum: either they write a declaration saying that Vanni and Alfonso Sacco have revealed to them all the details concerning the murder of the mafioso overseer Giovanni Terrazzino, or they will be charged with criminal collusion and locked up.

  The two refuse to sign the declaration.

  As a result, they are sent from the prison back to the Carabinieri compound, where they are subjected to harsh tortures that leave marks on their bodies so severe that the consequences thereof are later confirmed by expert medical examiners.

  After a week of such treatment, their resistance erodes, and they sign the statement.

  With the swiftest of trials, Mori succeeds in obtaining a few convictions for accessory after the fact: 86 of the more than 100 people arrested are sentenced to anywhere from four to nine years in prison; Mamma Sacco gets eight years, her sister likewise.

  For the trick they pulled by escaping from the special forces, Alfonso and Vanni are sentenced in absentia to twelve years.

  At the trial of appeal, the aunt will be acquitted, the mother’s sentence halved.

  The cousins Mangione’s false declaration will be used to reopen the trial for the murder of the mafioso Giovanni Terrazzino, a crime for which Vanni and Alfonso have already been acquitted once.

  *

  One day when the Saccos, in despair, no longer know which way to turn, one person manages to approach them, a peasant who works on the lands belonging to Commendatore V.

  “The commendatore told me to tell you that now is the right time to turn yourselves in.”

  But the Saccos know it’s a ruse.

  They realized it when they learned who the persons were that Mori had arrested—not common criminals or mafiosi, but socialists and personal enemies of the commendatore.

  Apparently the commendatore used the Saccos’ flight from justice to give Mori a reason for the arrests.

  And, in fact, with the field now cleared of his political opponents, Commendatore V is almost immediately elected mayor of Raffadali.

  The Saccos no longer feel like turning themselves in.

  XIII

  CAPTURE

  Now that Cesare Mori has shown himself to be a man capable of anything, to be the first to pay no mind whatsoever to the rule of law, people start thinking twice before lending a hand to the Saccos.

  The mafiosi themselves, just to avoid jail time, wouldn’t hesitate for a minute to turn them in to the special forces if they happened to learn where the fugitives were hiding.

  And so the Saccos are forced to keep continually on the move, from the woods to the mountains, from one town to the next, one cave to another, feeling more and more weary, with the special forces always breathing hard down their necks.

  On the evening of Friday, October 15, 1926, dead tired from running and lack of sleep, they find temporary shelter in a cottage, a white cube some four meters square on the Mizzaro domain, near the town of Sant’Angelo Muxaro.

  They are almost out of provisions.

  “I’m going into town to see if any grocers are still open and buy some stuff to eat,” says Alfonso.

  But Vanni stops him.

  “No. Better not. We’re outsiders here. A new face might arouse suspicion.”

  In a haversack, they have a loaf of hard bread, half a round of cheese, and a flask still full of wine.

  They share what little is left, then draw lots to determine who must stand guard until dawn. It falls to Alfonso.

  As Alfonso heads outside, Vanni and Salvatore go and lie down with Marzullo and La Porta to get some sleep.

  The night passes peacefully, so much so that at a certain point Alfonso falls into a light sleep.

  But then he’s suddenly awakened by the fur
ious barking of dogs that until that moment had been perfectly quiet.

  He opens his eyes, sees the dawn’s first light.

  But why are the dogs still barking?

  Could someone be approaching?

  Alfonso starts to worry. By now he has the instincts of a hunted animal, and so he climbs up a tree to look farther into the distance.

  Since he also has binoculars, he clearly sees, far up on the main road, some stationary, empty military trucks.

  If those trucks are empty—Alfonso reasons correctly—it means the soldiers they were transporting are already in the area.

  They haven’t got a minute to lose.

  Surely someone saw them enter the cottage the previous evening, recognized them, and went and snitched on them.

  He jumps hastily down from the tree, goes into the cottage, and starts waking up the four men, who are sleeping deeply.

  But they all freeze when they hear a voice outside, but very near, shout:

  “You’re surrounded! Give yourselves up!”

  Everyone’s on their feet now, fully awake, loaded guns in hand.

  But they realize that there’s little or nothing they can do this time. They have to admit to themselves that they’ve let themselves get caught by surprise, like a bunch of beginners.

  They don’t even have time to exchange half a word before the besiegers open fire without warning on the cottage, in a hellish fusillade.

  But how many of them are firing out there? A hundred? Nobody returns the special forces’ fire.

  Vanni and Alfonso, lying belly-down on the floor, feverishly consult each other, speaking more with their eyes than with their mouths.

  They’ve come to the end.

  Before them lies the invisible borderline which, in their minds, marks the passage into illegality.

  The only possible escape, surrounded as they are, is to come out all five at once, shooting blindly in all directions, come what may, and attempt to open a breach.

  But shooting at the forces of order means declaring oneself outside the law, and they’re not outlaws. They especially don’t feel like outlaws.