The sacrifice of the policeman Francesco Imprezzabile and the trials of the Carabinieri and the Police. A bitter reflection on the fate of those who defend our security.
But who makes you do it? I tell you, men in uniform, policemen, carabinieri, traffic policemen how Francesco Imprezzabilewho died the other day at the age of 39 while chasing an Albanian, with a criminal record and drugs in his pocket, who had forced a checkpoint: who makes you do it? Who makes you chase criminals, risk your life to stop a criminal? Who makes you stand there, hours and hours, in the heat of summer or the cold of winter, to monitor those who travel through our streets equipped with drugs and weapons? Who makes you insist? To try to block those who attack our safety? Who makes you do it? Why don’t you turn your head away? Why don’t you pretend nothing happened? Why don’t you forget the uniform you’re wearing for a moment? Who makes you do it, for that mysterious salary, to serve a country that then repays you by writing “fuck police” and “killer police” on the walls?
If Francesco had turned his head the other way he would still be alive today. His mother would still have a son. His dad could hug him, and not in a coffin. If Francesco had turned his head the other way he could still organize a holiday in his beloved Sicily, or a football match, he could dedicate himself to music, swimming, the animals he loved. Instead, now there is only a funeral for Francesco. I know he would rebel at these words. He was proud of his uniform, he wore it proudly, even when he was saddened by the little respect that surrounded it. He even spoke of a “vocation”. But the result of the vocation was that chase, that crash, death. And so, looking at him with respect and admiration, we cannot help but ask the other Francises who at this moment, in the streets of Italy, are organizing checkpoints: sorry, but who makes you do this?
Divided at the crossroads between mud and cemetery
It’s a bitter question, but an inevitable one. Chasing criminals risks your life. Or, alternatively, for those who are lucky, there is a risk of prosecution. As happened to the carabinieri who, again in Milan, chased him Ramy Elgalm on November 24, 2024. Remember? There too a checkpoint was forced, and there too the men in uniform began a chase in the middle of the city. They were lucky: they survived. Ramy died. And then, even before the court, the police were put on trial in the square (la Corvetto revolt), on talk shows and obviously in political buildings, with the mayor Room in the front row drawing conclusions by saying tout court: “The carabinieri made a mistake.” Well: the sentence on appeal has arrived in these hours Fares BouzidiRamy’s buddy, the one who was driving the motorbike that forced the checkpoint. They reduced his sentence because “he changed his lifestyle”. But the sentence clearly states that “there appears to be no attempt at voluntary ramming by the military towards the two fugitives”, that the “collision occurred between the motorbike running towards the car and the car itself but not as a result of a deliberate ramming maneuver by the military driver” and that, indeed, “at the time of the collision the military car was almost stationary”. Therefore the carabinieri who chased Ramy, according to this sentence, were not at fault. Apart, of course, from having survived.
But to survive, those carabinieri endured months of insults, street trials and preventive convictions. For having survived they are still on trial, even though they did nothing different from what they were supposed to do: that is, chase those who were fleeing from a checkpoint. And then the question is inevitable: next time, will they do it again? And their colleagues? And above all: is it still worth doing? I say: is it worth the chase? If it goes well you end up in prison, if it goes badly you end up in the cemetery, like Francesco Imprezzabile. I think of those who are wearing their uniform this morning, like every day, I think of those policemen, carabinieri, traffic wardens who will be asked to make a checkpoint. I have too much respect for them to believe anyone will actually do it. I have too much respect for them to believe that anyone would shirk duty. But I say it. I can’t help but say it. With a heart full of bitterness, I ask you: but who the hell makes you do it?
Transforming checkpoints into tea rooms
Whoever forces a checkpoint in Italy always finds someone who defends him. Whoever sets up a checkpoint, however, always finds someone who condemns him. At this point one wonders whether it is better to transform checkpoints into tea rooms for thieves and pickpockets. Come in, come by, would you like a drop of milk and a pastry? Can we offer you a bouquet of flowers? Or, directly, I wonder whether it is better to abolish checkpoints. Totally. Go. Enough. Finish. Think about it: this way no one gets hurt anymore: neither those who run away nor those who chase. And everyone lived criminally and happily, apart from the citizens, it goes without saying that they would be even more exposed to violent people than today. But what do you want to do? By enforcing the laws you only have to lose your health (if you end up on trial) or even your life (if you end up off the road with your motorbike). And therefore it is inevitable to ask why there is still someone who does it. Even if the answer is known. Ultimately it’s always the same. «Here it gets harder and harder when we have to deal/with the courage of fear/but then if there’s an urgent call we pick up/And we go anyway». More than thirty years have passed since the song by Giorgio Falettiand unfortunately we are still there. Actually, maybe worse. And sorry if it’s nothing/Shit, Mr. Lieutenant.
