Poems have wolves inside...
except one: the most wonderful of all...
she dances in a circle of fire
and she gets rid of the challenge with a shrug.
Jim Morrison
Author: Eva Mikula
https://www.facebook.com/ev a.mikula.75
evaedit23@gmail.com
Editor: Marco Gregoretti
marcogregoretti.gregoretti@gmail.com
Editing: 8 Media srl
8media.srl@gmail.com
Cover graphics: Augusto ‘‘Ace’’ Silva
acesosilva@gmail.com
Publication: 2021 Italy
Copyright: © 2020 Eva Mikula
DRS filed on 22-01-2021
© Edition Il Ciuffo
Translated by Nevia Ferrara
Published by Tektime
Eva Mikula
LOOSE END
Hidden truths about the White One Gang
by Marco Gregoretti
INTRODUCTION
The life of each is the sum of what each of us is into the depth of one's heart and not of what others think of us. It is the essence of one's self that intersects with those close to us and with those who cross our lives.
I don't believe in destiny. Destiny is a convention, a construction for those who use to feel sorry for themselves. However, everyone is the arbiter, aware or not, of their own life, always and regardless of whether or not they are inclined to spend a senseless and flattened existence on the interests of others.
This is Eva Mikula's story, a young girl who was wrong of growing up very quickly, perhaps too quickly, in a difficult if not impossible context, and of trying to change her existence for the better, and this did not can be considered a fault.
She did so with the very few tools she had at her disposal given her age, looking for shelter, stability and new affections in a world alien to her that soon became hostile, finding herself alone among the wolves.
What she thought to be the golden world of a beautiful fairy tale soon turned into a nightmare from which it seemed impossible to wake up. It might seem like a story similar to many girls like her, but this is a different story, very particular.
Eva will become, in spite of her, the protagonist of the recent history of the Italian Republic, the story of the criminal gang of the White One that will indelibly mark her existence from a very young age. Six criminals, including five policemen on duty in different locations in Emilia Romagna, will cross their lives with Eva's. Criminals who with their actions will produce a long trail of blood, robberies and mourning from 1987 to the end of 1994.
Despite her being dragged into black news stories and international judicial intricacies that have sunk her even more and exposed her to public mockery, she never gave up, never stopped to feel sorry for herself.
Eva struggled to survive, not to be killed by criminals first and distorted justice later. She fought against everyone, even against those who would have had the task and the legal duty to protect her. She did it for her sense of justice, for her future, for a life under the banner of normality. She fought and won the first half of her most important game, a game that is still open, and she must continue to do so in order not to be once again banned by society, by those who have divergent interests regarding the truth.
Eva got back in the game and decided to do it for her children, so that they never have to suffer abuse or be ashamed of anything in comparison with others, just like their mother did many years ago.
Enjoy the reading.
Làszlò Posztobànyi
Poet, composer, journalist.
1. THIS IS MY STORY
This story, my story, begins on August 18, 1975 under the sign of Leo and ends on July 28, 2020, the day of the turning point in the year of catharsis.
That day, between random web searches and what I read about my past, something clicked in me. As if a crazed embolus had circulated in search of all those emotions that each of us holds and keeps inside the soul.
I was surprised to see that my feelings: sadness, disgust, anger, joy and fear were all in total conflict with each other. Along its path, the embolus also encountered awareness, which in turn led to the search for consciousness. In this great confusion shrouded in the darkness of memories, my ego exclaimed: "Who are you? Who is Eva?". After a moment of silence and hesitation, the conscience spoke: "We must mend the threads between us, with all our feelings to find peace. To do this we have to take a trip back in Eva's life, do a bit of order without neglecting anything".
The embolus dissolved, vanished, Eva looked in the mirror, spoke again and decided: the truth will be our guide, as always.
The truth is not what you find on the web, written in the newspapers, said on TV or manipulated in certain courtrooms.
So, on August 4, 2020, after thinking about it for a long time and after reorganizing the first documents, I wrote to Marco Gregoretti, a journalist.
A dry and decisive email with which I asked him to get in touch with me.
Why him? I don't know, I felt I could trust. I managed to get his phone number too. I called him, I wrote him long messages that touched my memories, since I was a child. I have sent him complicated e-mails relating to some of my letters and others, which related facts that you will find in this book. I asked him to help me put them in good shape, in a more correct Italian than mine. In short, I tested him. I wanted to understand if my instincts were still alive in me; I needed confirmation and to know that I could truly trust him.
It was thus that throughout the summer we talked, wrote and exchanged opinions, thoughts and memories, even hard, very hard, like those of the events related to the infamous White One Gang, a brand of horror.
I used a thousand tricks to scrutinize his personality. But he too was cautious at first, incredulous that I had looked for him, without mediation. Then it didn't take us long to abandon our respective distrust to their fate. We talked a lot. I jammed his email with documents. I remembered some articles he had written about me; that of Panorama in the days following the arrests of the Savi brothers and the other members of the gang, and the one in the magazine of the television program Quarto Grado, where he only talked about me.
So I didn't have too much trouble starting to talk to him about my children too, about my personal, professional and sentimental events that have crossed my life.
When we finally met in person in October it was as if I have known him, not since ever, but very, very well.
He phoned me from the train to tell me that the B & B where he used to stay during his trips to Rome was closed. So he was a guest in my accommodation facility.
There have been many other meetings, real and virtual, also due to the limitations decided by the Government due to the coronavirus pandemic.
I told him everything I wanted to tell in front of a mirror. Even the most intimate things that happened to a woman, whose suffering began very early, as a child.
There is no present until the past is clear to you; where you no longer need to escape from the injustices suffered to get out of the woods; I just have to find the courage to accept my story, tell it to everyone, just like the story of Little Red Riding Hood is told to our children. Now I write my story for myself, surrounded by a beam of light.
2. SO STRONG SO ALONE
In 1999, at the age of 24, I decided to move on. The seven criminal trials against me had ended. In my head I had only my life, my future. I had to leave behind a piece of the past, stay away from TV, from the spotlight of the public scene, because everything that talked about the history of the White One Gang, the trials, my private life, was annoying, it made me uncomfortable. It did not represent the real Eva, I was not the one told by the media to public opinion.
That parenthesis no longer belonged to me. I wanted oblivion to erase the stereotypical figure of the woman of the leader of the gang of murderous criminals, for all of them I was always and only Fabio Savi's ex-girlfriend.
It was time to try to fulfill the dreams I had cultivated since childhood. I had to find my "logic", my path, at least so my head and heart asked me, only in this way I would have had more hopes and more possibilities, because, up to that moment, the male figures in my life had transmitted me only traumas, illusions , betrayals and sufferings.
It was in 1999, during an evening with some friends, that I met the Neapolitan footwear entrepreneur, in his sixties, Franco. His company had gained a good chunk of the Italian market in the production and distribution of shoes. His strong points were the casual line, made in Alicante, Spain, and the "fashion" line conceived in a factory near Naples, which is also the headquarters of the company management. He gave me the opportunity to show him the designs in which I had tried my hand at imagining models of women's footwear to be proposed in the following season. He examined them carefully. He liked them and chose some, following his indisputable professionalism acquired through years of experience in the field.
His nephews, sons of the sisters, also worked with him. It was a constructive commitment that offered me the opportunity to travel. I felt fulfilled and satisfied. Franco treated me like a daughter, and played an important role in my maturation process, as a woman and as an entrepreneur. He took me to heart, introduced me to his family, his wife, his two daughters, all his collaborators and his friends.
He was aware of my story, learned from newspapers and televisions, but he was always very respectful of the decision to leave everything behind, he never asked me for anything with the intention of knowing or learning more. He was only interested that I could grow professionally, that I fit into society and that I was protected from the risks that a beautiful young and lonely girl can run, easy prey to the mechanisms that detach you from reality and from a sober lifestyle.
Franco was like a father, able to pass on the value of independence to me, to teach me the techniques of commerce, the management of work and private life. However, I did not imagine that disenchantment was, once again, around the corner.
I realized that his grandchildren, a few years older than me, did not have a correct commercial behavior. For example, they took an order for a thousand pairs of shoes from a wholesaler, but only invoiced eight hundred. They cashed the rest in black and the money ended up directly in their pockets. They did this for their own interests, to the detriment of the company. I told Franco about it, bringing him the evidence. He was upset.
He summoned his grandchildren, his was a family business, so there was a very high risk of creating irreparable fractures even between relatives. The two grandchildren were clear and uncompromising: "Either we go, or Eva goes! ".
I anticipated any answer from Franco, I thought about resolving the question that could have become very painful for him: "You don't have to decide anything, I've already decided. I'm leaving". I came out with regret, I didn't even give him time to reply. I went away forever, but already as I was leaving I was thinking within myself: "Eva you have to realize something of yours, exclusively yours".
For more than four years, from 1999 to 2003, I was a happy single, independent, without a man to break "boxes and plans". I didn't want to share anything with anyone in my private life anymore. The event, in some ways painful, which caused my exit from Franco's company and my consequent renunciation of the protective umbrella that he represented for me, convinced me that the time had come to become the absolute protagonist of every aspect of my life, while maintaining a good friendship with him.
Meanwhile, I felt more and more an active part of Italian society. In a country where everything had happened: society in crisis, terrorism, speculative finance, I saw a new world advancing. And it didn't seem so far away that I couldn't reach out and grab it.
I did not have to and did not want to depend on anyone anymore, neither on men, nor on a subordinate job, none of this, only on my working skills. I was not engaged, I did not want to get engaged and I would not do it until I felt the firm earth under my feet. I aspired to certainties that could materialize only through the creation of my own company, the possession of a home, a car of my own.
Not that I hadn't had any proposals or opportunities to bond emotionally to someone, but I rejected them with casual ease. I just felt a strong need to open up to myself, towards something that made me feel good. I was looking for a key to shoot, to run.
Once a friend told me: "In the practice of the ancient martial arts we learn how to return to the starting point, through the maturation that is reached with years and years of training.
This means that the first technique that we learned when we were young amateurs, after a journey made up of infinite challenges and fights, we are able to internalize it and execute it with the strength of a mountain and with the wisdom of an old Master ".
What was my first "technique" when, precisely as a "beardless", I ran away from home? That of working as a waitress in a bar-restaurant in Budapest. I felt great, important, satisfied and free behind that counter or serving between tables. Even washing dishes.
Here, that's how the light bulb went on! I was given the idea of going back to my starting point: quickly looking for and finding a place to set up a restaurant business. Do you want to compare Italian coffees and cappuccinos? And the food? I already imagined my creativity and my desire to design new things at the service of the people, perhaps with some hints of Hungarian and Romanian cuisine.
What to do? I dreamed of a restaurant bar, I wanted to serve people. I started researching and studying the procedures for acquiring a license. I quickly discovered that it was not easy in those years, to acquire a license for a diner bar already started, cost a lot, they all started with minimum requests of one hundred and fifty thousand euros. And who had so much money?!? Not to mention the other costs required to open a business of that type.
In front of my house, in Rome, there was a fruit and vegetable shop. The space was not very large, about 120 square meters. From the balcony I observed that very few people entered that shop. I often wondered how the owners managed to move forward. I therefore thought that it would not be difficult to convince the owners to rent or sell the business. I took the subject away, went in and asked: "Do you have any idea, if in the surroundings there is a commercial space for rent?". They replied that they knew nothing, that they hadn't heard anything or even seen any signs nearby. I insisted: "Not to be intrusive, excuse me if I'm direct, when does your contract expire? This space and also the position would be perfect for me". To sweeten the pot I added: "If you intend to sell, maybe you can agree on a small severance pay". But I was disappointed. Apparently there was no sale of the shop in their plans.
"No" they answered almost in unison. "We live on this. We have no intention of leaving." I think, above all I feel, that some events in our life, in particular those concerning the sphere of what we would like to happen, in affections as in work, in short, in existence, do not happen by chance.