Bloodstained Butterfly, The (1971)

[bunniefuu]

THE BLOODSTAINED BUTTERFLY

THE PAST DOES NOT EXIST,
IN THAT IT HAS ALREADY GONE.

THE FUTURE DOES NOT EXIST
EITHER, AS IT HAS YET TO COME.

THEREFORE, ONLY THE PRESENT EXISTS,

BUT IT CAN BE MADE UP OF
BOTH THE PAST AND THE FUTURE

BECAUSE IT IS THE POINT WHERE THEY MEET.

SARAH'S MOTHER

HER HUSBAND

LAWYER

GIORGIO'S FATHER

GIORGIO'S MOTHER

Look, the storm is over!

Come on.

It's going to pour any
moment now. Come on.

One, two, three, four,

five, six, seven, eight,
nine, ten, eleven, twelve...

- It's late, Federica. Let's go.
- Only a few minutes, please.

Fifteen...

- Watch out for the gearshift.
- Sure, I'm watching.

- You turned the headlights on.
- I'm sorry.

- You're so silly. That's the windshield wiper.
- This car is too small.

You're right. It's too small.

I need air.

Duck!

Final call for Air France flight 312

for Paris, Los Angeles, Papeete, Numea.

Now boarding at gate seven.

Ladies and gentlemen, Alitalia...

- Watch your step, please.
- He's drunk.

Then he shouldn't drink.

After Rivera, Riva and Boninsegna,
we would love to know from Chinaglia

what he thinks about the
attitude of a few players

about the football strikes.
How about that, Chinaglia?

- I think it's right...
- You should tell the public, too...

It's a big issue for all fans.

A lot of players don't earn very much.

Stars are the only
players who get paid a lot.

So many players can end up with nothing.

The most famous ones

are trying to protect the weak
ones. This is what you mean, right?

It seems to me that this behavior...

Dad and football... It sucks.

You shouldn't talk with
your mouth full, Sarah.

The crime was discovered
today at 6:30 P. M.

A 17-year-old young girl was
r*ped and k*lled by a sex offender.

A French girl. Her name
was Fran?oise Pigaut.

- Oh, my God.
- She was a friend of yours.

Federica, an eight-year-old child,
was the first to find the body.

The park was surrounded by the police.

The officers began a thorough search,

but the k*ller eluded the police,
also taking advantage of the downpour.

Forensic investigators,
summoned by Inspector Berardi,

have begun their investigation which
should lead to the k*ller's identity.

The major obstacle is the rain. All
clues could have been washed away.

It seems right now that the crime
was committed halfway up a hill

and that the stabbed body of the
poor girl rolled down the hill.

The bruises on the body
seem to validate this theory.

This is a rubber sole footprint.

Everybody wears rubber
sole shoes when it rains.

Inspector, I've found
this record with the books.

With her name on it and today's date.

What is it? Pop music?

Tchaikovsky. Piano Concerto
No. 1. A good version.

So far, Inspector Berardi and his
men have little concrete evidence.

A Switchblade knife as
the alleged m*rder weapon

and a statement from a witness
who saw a man running in the park

and climbing the boundary
wall as the police were coming.

It was raining and I
was closing my window.

I saw it all. More or less.

It was getting dark and
from the third floor,

you couldn't recognize your
own son, so I didn't see much.

He was running like someone
was chasing after him.

Go on.

He was young. The wall was quite high

to be climbed over like that.

It's bitter.

- So what?
- He had a beige coat. I mean... A raincoat.

I mean... A coat. Beige.

You know?

The fingerprints on the
Switchblade are very clear.

Maybe too clear.

They're comparing the fingerprints
against the ones on file.

- It will be useless.
- Why?

Why? Because, the way I see it,
the k*ller can be one of two kinds.

If this is a psychotic episode, the
k*ller won't have a police record,

and if he's a sex maniac...

If he's a maniac, he'd have had gloves
or he would have wiped his fingerprints.

We found these tickets in the girl's
pocket and in the books she was carrying.

She saved them all. Every bus and
subway she took in the last three weeks.

But none of them carries the date
of that fatal Friday afternoon.

Five stab wounds, two
of which were fatal.

The first three stabs were
struck from bottom to top.

The last two, from top to bottom,
while the victim was already falling.

- Any sign of sperm?
- No. She wasn't abused sexually.

The victim struggled with
the k*ller and scratched him.

We found traces of epithelial
tissue under her fingernails

but it won't help us. We only know
for sure that the k*ller is Caucasian.

The back of the girl's jacket was covered
in mud because she was laying on the ground.

Now we're trying to find out what
might have caused the other stains.

We're ready for the
spectrographic analysis.

After a few comparative tests
and by process of elimination,

we know these are pleather spots.

These are recent. The cleaner confirmed
it was handed back in the morning.

Following the evidence and our imagination,
we can reconstruct the day of the crime.

We know for sure that
the girl knew her k*ller.

A girl like that doesn't go on a
date with a stranger at 6:00 P.M.

- What do you think?
- I agree.

It's too sweet.

That Friday she probably had a date.

She had a record with her.

Maybe a gift for the
person she had a date with.

Let's say she was
about to take the subway

when someone she knew in
a car offered her a lift.

How can you know that?

We know she went to take the
subway with a school friend

who left her in San Babila.

We know she didn't take the subway because
the ticket is not with the other ones.

At that point she gets in the car.

It's been raining all
day and her jacket is wet.

So when she leans back against the
car seat, the pleather stains it.

I like the way you illustrate things.

Let's say the driver gives
her a lift to the park.

They stop near the park
and they get out of the car.

Maybe she wants to take a walk or
the k*ller wants to stop awhile.

The girl had her books
and the record with her.

Her place was 50 kilometers from there,

which of course means that the record she
bought was not for whoever took her there,

that she was about to leave

and that she had a date in
the park with someone else.

Right.

She would have left the record in
the car if she wasn't meeting someone.

- How is it?
- Good.

And since she gets there
early due to that ride,

maybe the man offers
to wait there with her.

To be safely delivered to the
person she had a date with.

No, this is too strong.
We're back at square one.

Who k*lled her? The person who gave her a
lift or the one waiting for her in the park?

One of them tried to take
advantage of her and she resisted.

In the struggle, she dropped
her books and the record.

She must have threatened the
man, maybe to tell the police.

The man panicked

and took out the switchblade that
for some reason he had in his pocket

and k*lled her.

Wait a minute. Let's say the man in
the car and the one she had a date with

are two different people, why
hasn't the innocent one come forward?

It could also have been a third
man. A maniac, an impotent.

In that case, we have
to pray for a miracle.

We would be chasing shadows, as the
newspapers are saying these days.

Do you want a coffee?

- Hello.
- Hello.

Hello.

- Hello.
- Hello.

- A little bit more.
- Hello.

Go up with the dolly. Until that mark.

Lower that boom. I'm going
to give you the scope.

- Is your hand better?
- Thanks to you.

I took good care of you.

- Are you ready, Sandro?
- Whenever you want.

- Are we ready to roll?
- Ready to roll.

Raoul, wipe the sweat, please.

- The C camera and the B camera are ready.
- Thanks.

One.

Ready to roll in 15 seconds.

Athletics, discus throw.

Broken record for American athlete
Ted Bryan. The Kennedy Stadium...

I know who the m*rder is. I
recognized him. I'm Gabriella Giusti.

All right, Madam... Miss...
The Inspector is in a meeting.

- You'll have to wait.
- Why? What for? Listen to me

and the case will be
solved. Why should I wait?

- Here.
- Thanks.

- How is it?
- Good.

So you're saying that you were in
the park that day with a young fellow

and you saw the k*ller.

I was trying to remember
who that guy was.

Last night I went over to my
girlfriend's place to watch television

and by accident, I discovered
who the m*rder*r was.

You see, Inspector. I don't
have a TV. It bores me too much.

Are you sure?

May I call my lawyer?

Yes? Speaking.

Yes, sure.

That's bad. Don't worry.
I'll be right over.

- Coffee?
- Yes, please.

Look at this.

Maybe it's because I'm an agent, but
I only like light-colored raincoats.

Sandro feels that way, too, Inspector.
But now he has to wear the dark one.

I had to take the beige one to
the cleaner's. It was all muddy.

Alessandro Marchi. Look at him!

Look at him, ladies and
gentlemen of the jury!

He's accused of murdering
a 17-year-old girl,

Fran?oise Pigaut. After
attempting to r*pe her,

he k*lled her in the most brutal
manner, stabbing her five times.

What feeling can we have
for this man? Maybe pity.

But we're not here for that. Our
purpose is to see that justice is done.

That justice is done before
mankind and before God.

After this long interrogation
and all the depositions,

we know we have hard
evidence against him.

I will summarize this
briefly for you now.

Looking at the fingerprint of
the defendant's index finger,

you can easily detect a white
mark which is indicative of a scar.

The scar is even more evident in
this enlargement of his fingerprint.

Comparing Alessandro Marchi's fingerprints
with those found on the m*rder weapon,

we can see they match.

As it has been confirmed by
the forensic investigators.

Therefore, the fingerprints on the knife

could only have been
made by Alessandro Marchi.

Furthermore, his car has pleather seats,

and the stains found on the girl's
jacket were caused by the same material.

You heard three eyewitnesses testify that
the k*ller wore a light beige raincoat.

And the accused has the
same kind of raincoat.

Which he was in a hurry to have
cleaned because it was "all muddy".

Unfortunately, this
precaution proved useless.

The fabric absorbed traces of soil

which were sufficient for
a spectrographic analysis.

The analysis confirmed that that soil

is that of the park where the
young French girl was k*lled.

Due to its proximity to an
industrial zone, this soil contains

distinctive quantities of
potassium, zinc, calcium and cadmium

that permit unquestionable
identification.

And Alessandro Marchi
knew the victim very well.

Fran?oise Pigaut had often
been in Marchi's home in Bergamo

to study with Sarah
Marchi, his daughter.

They were classmates in Milan.

Fran?oise even spent some nights there.

That explains why Alessandro Marchi,

once rejected by the girl
and threatened by a scandal,

had to k*ll her to silence her.

As if that were not enough, we have
the deposition of Gabriella Giusti,

who was in that park that afternoon
and recognized the man running away.

That man was Alessandro Marchi.

Mr Marchi conveniently has
no alibi for that Friday.

"I was just taking a walk."
And we should believe him!

It's quite rare

to have so much convincing
and massive evidence

accumulated against a
person accused of a crime.

Now, ladies and gentlemen,
you have the duty

to convict and condemn this
man to life imprisonment

for a brutal and illogical crime.

All the irrefutable evidence

points to him,

to the accused, to Alessandro Marchi.

The hearing is set for
tomorrow at 10:30 A.M.

Those two years you spent
in Paris seemed endless.

You know what? I've always loved
you, but you never even noticed me.

I noticed you.

I remember you.

You had short hair and you
were going to the Suardi School.

It's the opposite. I had long hair
and I was going to the Petteni.

Yes, you're right. Long
and on your shoulders.

Like Lady Godiva.

I wore my hair in
braids. My mother made me.

- Now we know each other.
- It's never too late.

- Do you wanna hear the echo? Sarah.
- Giorgio.

Thanks for what you did.

Why? I only told the truth.

Are you sure of it?

But I swore to it in court.

We don't always swear the truth.

Look at this.

Thanks for the ride. You made Mom happy.

Our family motto reads, "Born
a b*stard to become a king."

I won't have the chance to be a king,

but I wasn't lucky enough
to be a b*stard either.

No offence, Dad.

- Giorgio, can we have a drink?
- Sure.

It's a nice place.

You're studying difficult things.

- I already know you're eclectic.
- Sorry.

It's not your fault. You've
always been the top of the class.

The world is changing...

When I was your age, places like
this were the servants' quarters.

Today they house young
protesters with big bank accounts.

Sharp and funny as always...

But I don't ask for anything
of yours. It's very simple.

As far as I'm concerned, it doesn't
even exist. And this bothers you.

Sure. But you didn't say no
to your uncle Giorgio's money.

And that is my reality.

It's true. And that weighs on me.

What difference does it make?

It would weigh on me
anyway, one way or the other.

The concept is the same, though.

Everything that surrounds me and
everything that you and people like you

have taught me and
shown me makes me sick.

Using a euphemism... It's only sh*t!

I excuse your colorful
language, but it makes sense.

For a person who passes by in the
street you're one of the lucky ones.

But you're desperate.

And you can't even lift a finger
to raise above your despair.

Another glass of whisky?

Yes.

Don't worry. I'm going
to talk about you.

We already agreed on that.

Everything is going to be alright.

Bye.

Let's look at the different
prosecution points.

According to the prosecutor, the
fingerprints on the switchblade knife

match with the ones of
Alessandro Marchi and it's true.

No one can deny that.

But don't forget, ladies and
gentlemen, what the defendant said.

That Switchblade knife is mine, it's true.
But my car was robbed two weeks before.

They took that knife, the
radio and a black leather bag.

And as you know I brought
to your attention a detail

of great interest,

which the prosecutor chose to ignore.

Another fingerprint

is clearly superimposed over
the one of the defendant.

The forensic investigators established
it was made by pigskin gloves.

So if the m*rder*r took the simple precaution
of putting on a pair of pigskin gloves,

the only fingerprints on the knife
handle would be the ones of the defendant.

As for the dark stains
found on the girl's jacket,

I would like to quote a report
from the Ministry of Transport

which states that 28% of all Italian
cars have black pleather seats.

This means that, only in this region,
we have... Wait, I want to get it right.

326,507 cars with pleather seats.

That explains the inconveniences
with traffic we all know.

Now let's proceed with the key points

which the prosecutor has
declared as hard evidence.

First, the fact that a
man from the third floor

saw another man with a beige
raincoat climbing the park wall

cannot even be taken into consideration.

We all know that in public
parks we have Voyeurs,

thieves, h*m* and perverts.

They all run away when
they hear police sirens.

On the other hand, the
defense brought here witnesses

who also swear to having seen someone.

A man who didn't look
like Alessandro Marchi.

I was walking along the park
on my way to meet some friends.

Suddenly I heard police
sirens through the main gate.

I was at the south gate.

I went into the park

just out of curiosity.
It was raining a lot.

A young man, with blonde
hair and a blue raincoat,

ran into me.

He seemed upset. He was clearly
running away from something.

He got into a dark green car.

- Thanks for what you did.
- Why? I only told the truth.

And now let's talk about
the infamous muddy raincoat.

It's been established beyond
a doubt by special examination

that the soil surrounding
chemical industries

often contains big amounts of
potassium, zinc, calcium and cadmium.

Therefore, when you heard
Mr Marchi state under oath

that his raincoat was
muddied by a passing car

in another area near
an industrial complex,

it's quite feasible. As
you can easily verify.

As for the deposition of the
prosecution key witness, Mrs...

Excuse me, Miss Giusti.

I think I've already
questioned her credibility.

- With your permission, Your Honor.
- Proceed.

Could you please remove
the makeup near your eyes?

You wear glasses, don't you?

Well, sometimes.

I'm a little short-sighted
and contacts bother me.

One more question. Did you
ever meet the defendant before?

- No, never...
- No?

And maybe you didn't know that Mr Marchi
wore a toupee for his TV appearances.

Well, I didn't know... And in
the park he was wearing a hat.

You can't see a toupee through a hat.

And so that Friday evening, at dusk,

without her glasses,
for obvious reasons,

Miss Giusti says she was able
to see the running m*rder*r

with his hat pulled down low

and that she recognized
him as the defendant.

Yes, that's him.

I've already told the court
that during the investigation,

I personally ran a test with Inspector
Berardi and the investigating judge

to prove the credibility
of Miss Giusti's testimony,

who claimed that Alessandro Marchi

was the man who, in that park,
that Friday afternoon of April 26,

was running away after
k*lling Fran?oise Pigaut.

Bottom line, the results
of the 10 tests we ran are

that the witness recognized
the defendant three times,

was uncertain three times and four
times mistook someone else for him.

At this point, it must
be evident to all of you

that the hard evidence of
the prosecutor just collapsed.

Or, at the very least,
raised a reasonable doubt.

Yes, I know, we still
have an obscure point.

One might well ask, "Where was Alessandro
Marchi on that infamous Friday?"

I can prove my client
has an airtight alibi.

And for that reason I request from the
court permission to interrogate Anna Bellini.

Objection, Your Honor. This
procedure is highly irregular.

And I also find quite strange that
Mr Marchi has waited all this time

to give us an explanation of
his whereabouts that Friday.

An innocent person always
hopes not to reveal facts

that could compromise him.

And Alessandro Marchi is innocent.

Your Honor, the defendant
only tried to protect

the honor of his family.

And this is no crime.

The court will recess to
discuss this new motion.

Poor Dad. He's the only
one who really loves me.

- Give me a cigarette, please.
- Where are they?

On that table.

Who knows what will
happen? I'm afraid for him.

You came hereto avoid thinking about it.

You're right.

But now I need something. Or someone.

Are you sure you're not just
looking for a justification?

No, I don't think so.

I'll play a record for you.

Fran?oise had everything.

And that gave her
self-confidence that I don't have.

She was in love, too.

He lives here, but she
never introduced him to me.

She never talked about him.

As she was afraid to
talk about their love.

They met last year in France.

When was the last
time you saw Mr Marchi?

That Friday. The day the
French girl was k*lled.

I've checked the receipts.

Can you cover your legs, please?

- Sure.
- Thanks.

What did the defendant buy in your
store of intimate garments for women?

A black silk robe.

I suggested a white chiffon nightgown,
but he preferred the black one.

Do you recall the size, by any chance?

12.

Mr Marchi, do you
recall your wife's size?

So can you tell us who it was for?

Since the defendant
seems reluctant to answer,

I see no point in continuing this
trial as the defense requested.

Sandro, now you have to say where
you spent that Friday afternoon.

Nothing could be worse
than allowing everyone,

including your wife, to
think that you're a m*rder*r.

Now you have to talk, Sandro.

You're right.

That Friday afternoon,

I went to see my mistress, Marta,
Marta Clerici. As I did every Friday.

I got there at 3:00,
3:30 P.M. at the latest.

I had a present for
her. That black robe.

I like giving her presents but she'd
had one drink too many, as usual.

- Won't you open it?
- Yes, but not now.

So that I can pretend you're here when
you're not. I drank too much last night.

The glass she always carried broke
and a sliver got stuck in her palm.

It bled a lot.

- I remember it well.
- So that's how your shirt got blood on it.

Marta Clerici. Unemployed.

Single, rich and free.

She could be with one
of her rich friends.

She's long gone.

She owes me money but I'm not worried.

Do you remember the last time you
brought her milk and newspapers?

Sure, I keep a record and
I can tell you for sure.

Let's see. Wednesday,
Thursday and Friday.

Friday April 26.

- Thanks. That's what I wanted to know.
- Wait a second, Inspector.

That's the day I found the milk and
the newspapers from the day before,

so I suppose she left the
day before. On Thursday.

How did you find the shirt?

The wife hadn't thrown it away.

It was in a chest of drawers.
She probably forgot about it.

- Look, Inspector, now it reacts.
- So what?

Group B, Rh negative. The same
blood type as Fran?oise Pigaut.

Aware of the responsibility you
assume under oath before God and man,

do you swear to tell the truth, the
whole truth and nothing but the truth?

- Do you swear?
- I swear.

With your permission, Your Honor.

Mrs Marchi, is it true that on
the evening of Friday April 26,

your husband came home with
a shirt spotted with blood

and told you it came from his having helped
an injured employee at the television studio?

I don't recall.

But that bloody shirt belongs
to your husband, right?

I don't know...

Didn't you carefully hide that shirt so
that the police couldn't find it at first?

Or do you want us to believe that the shirt
doesn't belong to anyone in your family?

- I don't know...
- Mrs Marchi!

That shirt has the initials of
your husband. AM. Alessandro Marchi.

And that blood belongs to the
same group of Fran?oise Pigaut.

Will you tell us what you know or not?

Your silence is more
eloquent than any reply.

ALESSANDRO MARCHI SENTENCED
TO LIFE IMPRISONMENT

- La Notte, please.
- Here.

We're finally free and together.

I don't like how it ended.

For us, it's the perfect ending.

We should send a thank-you
letter to the prosecutor.

I lost the trial, but it's not my fault.

Now I'm a great lawyer

and you're here with me.

- If I hadn't kept that shirt...
- I'm glad you did.

We would have kept sneaking around and
a k*ller would have walked around free.

Don't say that. I can't
believe that Sandro...

Sandro... Sandro, Sandro, Sandro.

- There's too much light.
- I like to see you when we make love.

You scared me.

You shouldn't be scared.
There's no reason for it.

It's late. I have to go.

We shouldn't see each other for a while.

There's another woman, isn't there?

I'm going to call you, okay?

Sarah?

I'd like to know where she was.

She's so cute.

Now you like young girls?

I'm wondering how she'll react when
she'll find out about you and me.

I don't wanna think about
that right now. I'm too happy.

I love your lips.

Now I have to go. I have
to get up early tomorrow.

At 8:00, I have to be in court.

- Good evening, sir.
- Fill her up, please.

Sure.

Here's another one.

Loredana Minucci, prost*tute,
26 years old. Five stab wounds.

Two were the fatal ones. No
fingerprints on the Switchblade knife.

Big deal.

It figures. There's a resemblance
to the case of Fran?oise Pigaut.

And here's the question: "ls
the accused in jail innocent?"

That man k*lled a wh*re,
you k*lled a school girl.

God bless the f*ggots.
They don't k*ll anyone.

Stop it.

You punched me. Are you crazy?

- I was only joking...
- Hey, what's going on in there?

Are you fighting?

At least this time nobody can say
it was Dad who k*lled that b*tch.

Sarah!

Why Sarah? Because I said "b*tch"

- or because Dad could get out of jail?
- Don't be ridiculous.

You seem glad he's in prison.

It's not easy to discover you've
been betrayed for all that time.

- By a man you trusted so much.
- Well said.

Hello.

Giorgio?

This is not true!

This new k*ller is only
a man without imagination.

But the m*rder weapon is the same.

- And also the place...
- It could be plausible.

You're right.

But there's a big difference
between the two crimes.

- It's getting cold.
- I beg your pardon.

- It's cold.
- That's what I said.

The first victim was a decent girl.
The second one is a prost*tute.

In the first case, the
motive was clearly sexual.

But this reason does not
apply to the second crime.

A little money would have left him
satisfied with a girl like that.

How far did you come
with the investigation?

Well...

It seems that the last people to see
her alive were two of her co-workers.

The girl left her usual place

with the excuse that she had a date.

The two girls have also declared

that another car followed
the Minucci girl's car.

But they can't say if it
was a coincidence or not.

Giulio, please, get me out of here.

I'm doing my best to speed up
the plea, but it's not easy.

I don't know if I can face all this.

Be brave. Everything is going
to be okay. Now sign this.

Good morning, Master Giorgio.

It took no less than your
birthday to bring you back to us.

How are you doing in school?

Mother, I quit school two years ago.

Really?

Maybe you should leave for a while.

This suburban life is so sad...

Especially for young people.

You should go back to France, to Paris.

You lived in Paris a long time.
You've plenty of friends there.

Look! Your birthday cake.

Happy birthday.

BRERA SQUARE

TODAY CULTURE BELONGS TO A GIVEN STATUS.

THERE'S NO ART FOR ART'S SAKE,

ART BEYOND STATUS.

Sorry to bother you, Inspector. There's a
guy on the phone who wants to talk to you.

His voice seems disguised and he
claims he m*rder*d the two girls.

- Try to locate the call.
- That is what I was going to do.

Inspector Berardi.

I'm a smart guy, Inspector.

I'm smarter than all of you.

I've already k*lled twice
and I got away with it.

I won't stop. I'll k*ll again. I'm
going to k*ll again soon, Inspector.

Hello? Hello?

The phone call was too
short. We could not trace it.

It's incredible.

But maybe...

We can't patrol the park day and night.

But we have a clue. The two
identical Switchblade knives.

- Any news about that?
- We sent a message to all the shops.

Let's hope someone turns up.

Giulio!

Giulio!

Giulio...

Let me go...

Stop it! Leave me alone.

Leave me alone!

Stop it!

No! Leave me alone!

Hi, Maria. I was helping
Sarah with her homework.

Maria, don't be so dramatic!

You think you can
have whatever you want!

Whatever you like, you grab it and
you don't give a damn who you hurt.

- You know you're pretty when you're angry.
- Yes, but Sarah is prettier and younger.

Now that you're old, you like teenagers.

All men like young girls.
They're so adorable.

For us they're like a shot at happiness.

You're trying to convince
me that you're right?

You're such a master at
convincing against evidence.

I'm a great lawyer.

Why, Giulio?

Let's go on that bridge!

I'll beat you!

Let's just sit here.

- Do you know where babies come from?
- No.

No!

No!

- Hello.
- Hello.

No!

I said no. You have to marry me first.

THE PARK m*rder*r STRIKES AGAIN

Alitalia Airlines flight AZ412

from Singapore, Bangkok, Teheran, Rome.

Please claim luggage at the
baggage counter number four.

I petition the court to reopen the trial

under Article 520

to hear the testimony of Marta Clerici

who was unable to appear in the previous
session due to her absence from Italy.

Do you recall seeing Alessandro Marchi,

I guess you know him,
that Friday April 26?

Sure, he was with me.
Just like any other Friday.

He helped me bandage my
hand and we made love.

- Does it hurt?
- You're the one hurting me.

There's blood on your shirt.

I have a nice surprise for you.

Hi.

And he stayed all day.

Yes. All day.

- Are you sure?
- Even if I drink, I have a good memory.

One more question.
What's your blood type?

The small amount of
blood I have in my whisky

is Group B, Rh negative.

Could you pass me some wine?

- Why don't you eat, Sarah?
- I'm not hungry.

Eat something...

Okay, Dad.

Now I have to go. I have
a date and it's quite late.

Good bye.

- Here it comes, Inspector. Sweet and strong.
- Fingers crossed.

What's the matter? Are you still
not sure that Marchi is innocent?

Yes, I am.

Sweet, strong and hot.

- Yes?
- The lady from the shop is here.

Okay, I'm coming. Come on.

Yes, I sold two of those switchblade
knives to the same person.

- You know who he is?
- Sure, he lives near me.

This way, Inspector!

You, there. You come with me.

Ring the bell.

Excuse me, madam. Did
someone enter the courtyard?

- If the gate is closed, no one came in.
- Can we just have a look?

- I'll call my husband.
- Madam, we're with the police.

I don't care. I'm going
to call my husband anyway.

Giulio won't be here for dinner tonight?

No, he's busy.

He's always so busy...

Never mind. I'll go.

Hello. Speaking.

That's crazy.

But...

Yes. Okay.

I got it.

Okay. I'll be there in half an hour.

I knew you would come.

- Now say you're a m*rder*r.
- I'm a m*rder*r.

- Louder.
- I'm a m*rder*r.

I k*lled twice to get you free.

And now you're here with me.

I saw you running away that
day, but I didn't know from what.

Fran?oise was mine and you k*lled her!

Why did you do that? How could you?

Leave me alone! Let me go! I'll tell
everyone! I'll tell your wife and Sarah!

I'll tell everyone!
Let me go! Let me go!

I couldn't hear her any
more. I couldn't stand it.

She had to stop screaming.