“What are you doing, are you crazy?”. Davide Gorla’s last sentence remained suspended in the air of his elegant stationery in the heart of Busto Arsizio. Then, only silence. A silence broken by the sirens, the ribbons of the scientific and the incredulous looks of a city that does not give peace. Davide, 65, a kind and reserved merchant, was killed on Wednesday in his “Continua Linea” shop in via Milano. A stationery shop that was almost a small provincial living room: fountain pens, bags, scarves, lamps and valuable costume jewelery. A world of details, affected by unsettling violence.
The turning point came a few hours later. A 50 -year -old man ended up in handcuffs, originally from Castellanza, his neighbor and tenant: He lived in an apartment owned by the victim, in the same building. To nail him, according to what he transpires from investigative sources, were the surveillance cameras that filmed him while he was hastily moved away from the crime scene, with the stained shirt of blood. Witnesses report that they have seen it change their clothes one hundred meters from the shop.
But it is in the details that the mystery thickens. The interior of the stationery was ordered, nothing outside “What are you doing, are you crazy?”. Davide Gorla’s last sentence remained suspended in the air of his elegant stationery in the heart of Busto Arsizio. Then, only silence. A silence broken by the sirens, the ribbons of the scientific and the incredulous looks of a city that does not give peace. Davide, 65, a kind and reserved merchant, was killed on Wednesday in his “Continua Linea” shop in via Milano. A stationery shop that was almost a small provincial living room: fountain pens, bags, scarves, lamps and valuable costume jewelery. A world of details, affected by unsettling violence.
The turning point came a few hours later. A 50 -year -old man ended up in handcuffs, originally from Castellanza, his neighbor and tenant: he lived in an apartment owned by the victim, in the same building. To nail him, according to what he transpires from investigative sources, were the surveillance cameras who recovered him as he hastily moved away from the crime scene, with the stained shirt of blood. Witnesses report that they have seen it change their clothes one hundred meters from the shop.
But it is in the details that the mystery thickens. The interior of the stationery was ordered, nothing out of place. No evident sign of scuffle or robbery, only the victim’s body, lying behind the counter. It is there that the police found him, after the report that started by some neighbors engaged in an exhibition on the upper floor of the adjacent building. They are the ones who heard that sentence: “But what are you doing, are you crazy?” A phrase that sounds like a request for explanations, a last attempt to understand a crazy gesture.
The weapon has not yet been identified with certainty. It is assumed to be an object found in the shop: perhaps a cutting cutterperhaps something brought with him by the attacker. The killer, according to what was reconstructed by the investigators coordinated by the deputy chief Cristian Piron, was alone with the victim at the time of the attack. No direct eye witness. The motive remains open, but the investigations seem to exclude the theft as a trigger. It is more likely that it is a personal question: tensions, grudges or friction never completely clarified.
The suspect, at the moment, denies every debit. But the clues are heavy. The man corresponds to the widespread description and images of the cameras. His link with Gorla – not only of neighborhood, but also economic – could be the thread to be followed to reconstruct the origin of the gesture.
Meanwhile, the city is in shock. The mayor Emanuele Antonelli remained on the spot until late in the evening, without making statements. As a sign of mourning, all the cultural initiatives planned in these days have been suspended, including San Giovanni’s dinner, one of the most heartfelt events in the community.
Davide Gorla was not just a shopkeeper, he was a family figure for those who walked in the center. Behind the counter, between the fountain pens and the author lamps, there was always room for a greeting, advice, a chat. His name, now, will remain linked to a deep and inexplicable wound. And to a question that – at least for now – has no answer: why?
