I was almost 19 when, on a warm early autumn day, my father killed himself, shooting himself in the temple. How had he come into possession of a gun, I would never know. The fact is that his life has been marked by a tragedy, which occurred about twelve years earlier, a tragedy in which my little brother of about three years died.
On Sundays, my father liked to cook, preparing embers in the fireplace, where he cooked everything, meat skewers, sausages, grilled vegetables, skewered chickens, and other delicacies. On the day of the accident, as usual, he had lit the fire and prepared everything he needed on the table. Alfonso, as a joke, had taken a grill and started running around the room. Trying to prevent an accident, my father chased him, but my brother stumbled and fell to the ground. The grate flew in the air and fell on the back of his nape. The metal point had found the space between two cervical vertebrae, slipping into the spinal cord and causing the immediate death of the child. Dad had never made peace with himself for this episode. Together with my mother, they had decided to have another child to compensate for their loss. So, after some time, the twins were born. Naming one of the two children Alfonso, again, has not been a brilliant idea at all. Every time my parents spoke his name, they remembered that tragedy all over again. Over time, my parents quarreled more and more often. Every time, my mother pinned the fault for the death of the child on her husband, who had gone into depression, to fight which he had started attending psychotherapy sessions. At one point, his therapist had stuffed him with psychiatric drugs, which, instead of making him feel better, led him to the psychic meltdown and, eventually, to suicide.
I had heard a loud noise coming from the study, and I rushed into my fathers room with a bad feeling. I found him slumped on the desk, with a laconic note beside him, where he had written just the following: «Forgive me.»
I hadnt been able to shed a tear. My mother didnt seem too sorry for the loss: indeed, perhaps it has been a liberation for her. I felt the need to speak with someone other than my mother, with someone who understood me, and the only one who could do that was Stefano. I joined him in his Veterinary Clinic, on the outskirts of Jesi, and only in his arms, I did manage to unleash all my tears.
«Ive suffered too much in the last years. Ive seen too much evil around me. I would like to remedy this by engaging myself in a job that is useful to someone and, at the same time, that could be a personal satisfaction. Give me some advice, please!»
He smiled at me, trying to wipe away my tears.
«You have recently graduated with honors, you have a good knowledge of psychology and sociology, plus you love animals and dogs in particular. If you may be interested, a client of mine, a superintendent of the State Police, illustrated me a few days ago a project for the construction of a dogs unit. It will depend on the Ancona Police Headquarters. Waiting for the funds and equipment to arrive, he was assigned a German Shepherd, to use as a drug-sniffing dog at the port. Why dont you try the police force career? I can see you doing that! Then, once you enter, you will have the opportunity to assert your qualities as a skilled dog expert. I am here and will always help you when you will need it!»
At the time, I judged the idea a bit bizarre. But then, considering that I didnt think of myself as a marriage kind of woman, given my parents bad experience, a few days later, I presented myself to the Police Headquarters in Ancona. I filled in the application for admission to the course for student agents.
After the course, the career hadnt been as easy as I had thought. Some time passed before I was called into force. In the meantime, I had enrolled in the Faculty of Law in Macerata, dedicating myself mainly to criminology.
I hadnt even been able to sit an exam when finally, the employment letter arrived. I was to be a chosen agent stationed at the Police Headquarters of Ancona. At first, it seemed that nobody cared about my qualities as a criminologist, and about my knowledge on how to work with dogs. I spent long days behind the wheel and around the city, stopping cars at checkpoints or arresting drunks, drug addicts, and prostitutes. It was certainly not the job I had expected and, after the shift was over, I was so exhausted that it was unthinkable to go back to the books to study.
But I didnt let my guard down, and I always looked for an opportunity to demonstrate my true abilities to my superiors. After a couple of years of service, the advancement to the rank of superintendent was automatic. Thus the possibility for me to follow my fellow inspectors in some investigation had opened up.
The idea of a dogs unit dependent on the Ancona Police Headquarters had been monopolized by a colleague, by superintendent Carli, posted at the port. He did nothing but make some tourists pass by his German Shepherd, to occasionally pull out from, of the moment, unfortunate person, a few grams of drug from his underwear. But the real drug, the one, we knew very well, was passing through the port of Ancona in kilos he never intercepted it.
Finally, one day my great opportunity knocked on my door. Together with Inspector Ennio Santinelli, a smart guy, but who lacked that edge necessary to stand out from the others, I was investigating the trafficking of stolen dogs. We believed they were being exported abroad after being cleaned up of their tattoo, that is if they had one. According to my colleague, they were mostly hunting dogs, marketed in Greece, Albania, and Turkey. In my opinion, there was more to it because they were often half-breed dogs, and of all ages, there were even old dogs. I asked Stefano, and he too, as a veterinarian, said that it didnt add up much.
«If one wants to speculate with international dog trafficking, the dogs are to be hunting dogs of high genealogy and young or trained to fight. Theres something wrong here,» he told me on the phone.
One morning in March fax from Greece arrived at the station. An animal welfare association reported that in Patras, a lorry, that officially transported horses, had been embarked on a ferry with Ancona as its destination. But, among the horses, there were at least a hundred dogs transported in inhuman conditions. Superintendent Carli was not on duty that day. Inspector Santinelli, partly because of the bitter cold of the morning, and partly because he did not want to invade his colleagues camp, was reluctant to head towards the port.
«I dont think this interests us much,» said Santinelli. «You go, Caterina, have a look and, if you find it necessary, get the Public Veterinary Service to intervene.»
When I arrived at the pier where the ferry from Greece was docked, I immediately noticed a hustle and bustle of animalists, who demanded the immediate appropriation of the animals. On the other hand, the captain of the ferry claimed that on board, as per international conventions, the Italian authorities could not intervene, and he had received a message from the Greek shipowner not to land the lorry, which would return to Patras. All this convinced me more and more that there was some shady traffic in there. I asked for the lorry documents, the travel plan, and the animals accompanying documents. Trucks, engine, and trailers came from Turkey and were headed to Hanover. From the transport documents, it appeared that the vehicle had to transport only horses intended for slaughter. Trying to express me in English with the Greek driver, I managed to get information that some dogs were being transported among the horses. He showed me some health certificates, attesting to rabies vaccination and other treatments, but which, being written in Greek, were very difficult to understand. The driver claimed to have about forty dogs on board, while animal rights activists claimed there were at least a hundred. I would have liked to unload the truck to check it calmly, but the ships captain continued to object. I needed a ploy. I grabbed my cell phone and, even if the mobile phone rates were still very high in those days, I called Stefano, who gave me the tip.
«If the animals have been traveling for more than 24 hours, for their well-being, and according to the international laws, they must be watered, fed, and allowed to rest. So, you need to insist and make the captain disembark the lorry. You will see that he cannot refuse. If he doesnt follow the rules, hell risk losing his well-paid job.»
The captain threatened to later officially protest but had landed the truck. Inside, in fact, there were just a few horses and many dogs. I immediately called Inspector Santinelli and the magistrate on duty, because I intended to seize the entire load. I managed to do that, overcoming the reluctance of my colleague and the magistrate, who were truly distraught, because then an adequate place should have been found to house all those animals.
When I managed to check the dogs, there were one hundred and two at the final count. I was struck by the fact that they were all medium-sized dogs, all half-breed, and all with prominent muscled backs.
Why not? I thought to myself. They may have found a way to smuggle something into the subcutis of these poor animals! But how can I explain it to my superiors?
And here, Stefano intervened, once again, with his precious help. I arranged for the horses to be placed in the stable of a friend of his, and for the dogs to be sent to a modern and recently built shelter. Stefano looked after it from the sanitary point of view. The shelter was provided with a fully equipped infirmary, where Stefano performed first aid interventions on injured dogs. The equipment included an ultrasound, used to diagnose the pregnancies of the hosted mares.
We had to act quickly because internationally renowned lawyers were already on the move to obtain the release of the animals. This increased my suspicions and hypothesis of illegal trafficking. Colleague Carli was making rain down holy hell because we had invaded the land under his jurisdiction. He invoked important connections in the upper echelons, even up to the Ministry of the Interior, and demanded that the case be traced back to him.
As soon as we sheared the dogs fur, we realized that the animal had a linear scar on both sides, alongside the lumbar spine.
«Lets try to run some ultrasound scans on the backs of these dogs,» Stefano suggested to me, fondly caressing one of those nice little animals.
«These are perfect scars. They do not appear to be surgical cuts, because the cross marks of the stitches are not evident. But a surgeon who can work well, performing a particular subcutaneous suture, can get aesthetic scars like these. I, myself, could not do better.»
He then placed the ultrasound probe on the involved part.
«There is an abnormal density of the subcutaneous tissue. Id say to take some of these dogs to the surgery room. Let's see what is hidden under the scars.»
He anesthetized a dog, surgically prepared the identified anatomical area, and cut right above the scar. He extracted a blood-stained, well-sealed transparent envelope, with a white powder within. It was certainly neither flour nor sugar.
«Drug,» I said. «Most probable cocaine or heroin, coming from Afghanistan and headed to Germany through Turkey, Greece, Italy, and Austria. They invented a nice trick but, I think that someone I know suggested it. Drug-sniffing dogs only smell other fellow dogs, and the drug was not discovered in customs. The surgery is performed at the origin; then they wait for the wounds to heal and the fur of the animals to grow back. And then, upon arrival, these animals are perhaps slaughtered, even killed, just to pull out their precious contents.»
I informed the magistrate of the discovery, who ordered the animals to be operated in safe conditions, to remove the drug, and then to treat them properly. Later they could be put out for adoption by good-hearted people. Stefano, in his clinic, worked day and night to operate all the dogs. He allowed himself only a few hours of rest and knowing that he would not see a penny at the end of the work. But to ensure my success, he would do this and more. In the end, we had two hundred and four bags, each containing half a kilo of drugs, which the scientific laboratory confirmed to be pure heroin. They were worth one hundred and thirty billion of the then old Lire (about sixty million Euros). We also discovered that Superintendent Carli was entangled in this story up to his neck. So, he was arrested for aiding and abetting. At that point, the investigation passed to Interpol, which would try to identify the network of drug traffickers, starting from all the elements we have made available.
A few days later, the commissioner summoned me to his office for the usual congratulations.
«Congratulations, Ruggeri! Thanks to your intuition, we did a great job, and they complimented us at the Ministry. I have already signed the proposal for your advancement to Chief Inspector. Besides, we also found out that Carli was doing everything to cover up the proposals and funds that came from the Ministry for the dogs unit project. Now with Carli is gone, I will suggest for the responsibility for the project to go directly under your supervision. You will be able to use the funds as you see fit, decide how to build the structure, and above all, choose the dogs and the men. I would suggest leaving the port to the Finance Police, which already controls the customs. We will have our own space at the Raffaello Sanzio Airport, which will be enhanced starting from 2000. What do you think about that?»
«Thank you, Doctor, but I dont think I deserve this,» I replied, looking down. «I just did my duty.»
The words of that distant conversation still rang in my mind, when the croaking voice of the speaker startled me.
«Thank you for choosing the company Nuova Alitalia. We would like to warn the passengers that in ten minutes, we will land at Cristoforo Colombo Airport in Genoa. It is 9.30 on the first of July 2009, the temperature on the ground is around 28 degrees, stable and clear weather is expected with rising temperatures and winds from the South-East. We wish you a nice stay. Thank you, and we hope to see you again on these airlines.»
Of course, it had taken another two years to set up the Dog Detachment at the Raffaello Sanzio airport. On the land that had belonged to the Air Force, the settlement has been built exactly as I had it in mind: twelve boxes closed on three sides a large training field. The fourth side was occupied by the service structure, obtained from an old Air Force building. On the ground floor, there was an equipped infirmary for dogs, supplied with a radiological device, an ultrasound machine, a medicine cabinet, as well as a surgical room for emergency operations. A couple of rooms were reserved for administrative procedures, while, on the upper floor, I had my accommodation, a bedroom, a bathroom, and a small kitchen. For several years the place would become my home and my roof, as well as my working place, also because I was getting surer day by day that I would never tie myself to a man to a man.
I personally chose the dogs at the canine center of the Finance Police, in Castiglione del Lago, and at that of the State Police in Nettuno, near Rome, where I had followed the training course. I wanted perfectly trained dogs to cover all possible specialties. I had brought two German Shepherds to Falconara Marittima, to use as drug-sniffing dogs, and two other dogs of the same breed, flanked by a Rottweiler, as anti-riot dogs, and for public order interventions. As molecular and rubble dogs, that is dogs destined for civil protection interventions, I opted for a pair of Labrador Retrievers and a Samoyed. I then selected two Weimaraners to work with explosives, while another German Shepherd, a large male, had been chosen for attack and self-defense. A box left empty for other specialties would later be occupied by my Springer Spaniel, Furia. A dog completely denied for hunting, but with an exceptional sense of smell, and capable of following a trail and finding missing people starting from a simple object that belonged to those who had to be found. But Furia would arrive several years after the beginning of the detachment activity.