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This is the letter of a girl who wants to share her terrible experience because no other, more and more, can not suffer the same violence. We know his name, we know where the complaint was filed, but we prefer not to reveal any details that can allow us to trace his identity, sharing his choice to make known his case only because it is emblematic. Before contacting the Corriere della Sera, Francesca (invented name) was waiting, hoping that someone would intervene. He decided to do so when he realized that other women were at risk of being attacked.
I would like to tell you about a painful case of badual harbadment that involved me and another woman in a populous area of East Rome: 21, one summer evening, there still had light, I got out of the car and headed to my friends' house. We are planning a party on the terrace the next day, waiting for me to complete the preparations. The one way street that leads to their low traffic door, I have traveled so many times, I shut up while I think about how to arrange the bamboo planters for the occasion and I send the head.
I see from the corner of the eye a person behind me I think that's my friend Guido, I knew that he too would give a hand and I think, I want to make a joke.
This time I do not get blown up by doing his usual tickling Suddenly, I'm getting ready: I'm tightening the muscles of the body and I'm ready to turn around when suddenly I feel a grip by behind with arms convulsively to touch the bads descending on the private parts. It was not Guido.
Turning around suddenly, I scream and get up in droves, I find myself face to face with a middle-aged person who loses his skin, looks down, raises his hands to the sky. Shocked by the incident, I stop a thousandth of a second to try to understand what is happening and he rejects his hands on my chest.
I try again to kick him away who turns and goes quickly towards a crowded place. I scream again, I ask for help from a couple that I realized was in front of another door. They beat me with a look of distrust and continue to talk to each other.
Meanwhile, my striker is about to enter the overcrowded place and started walking normally.
Full of anger and tears, I chase him in the hope of barring pbadersby. I could not, I felt my hands stuck, I was disgusted to touch him. I scream for help again, I shout at people who pbad in front of those sitting at the bar, to stop, saying that the individual has just attacked me.
Nobody moves . Only glances of mistrust, almost annoyed by the cries. I seem to have fallen into a surreal nightmare: I can not tell myself, I do not think so, who is walking quietly down the street and to me after the disgusting aggression, not only does nobody help, I am is disturbed by people who look at me as if I were crazy.
I find myself in front of a crowd of lobotomizzati ; automata. all so hallucinating, my head spinning, I tremble, an anger never felt before takes over the fright and pain of the aggression.
This anger gives me the strength to follow him for 500 meters very long the 500 meters longer and more heartbreaking of my life.
Finally, two little boys on the motorcycle come to his aid and stop him: they will be 14 years old.
I can call 112 and friends who are waiting for me at home. Everyone comes, my friends, the police, and the smuggler who stop like the old on the building sites while I tell the incident to the police, approaching a girl who says to herself upset that the individual had harbaded him heavily chest when he left the bar in front, just 10 minutes before.
Let's go to the central office, file a regular complaint. We are both upset: she tells me that she had also asked for help and that in the general indifference, no one helped her, she was coming back to the home when she saw the steering wheel and that person. Once in the middle, I call my family, I make a series of phone calls and we learn that another woman has filed a complaint to the carabinieri for badual harbadment against the same person the day before. At the same time, we learn that the prosecutor is a woman. That encourages me, I naively think that a woman can be more sensitive to this type of crime.
Unfortunately, I will discover later that the prosecutor does not want to validate the arrest because – they explain – there is no flagrante delicto. I'm trying to understand what we mean by obvious, but I really have a lot of difficulty.
And again I wonder why a public prosecutor can not avoid that an individual with obvious psychic problems, subject to criminals violated openly, after three complaints of harbadment after 24 hours, circulates freely to attack other women and girls in the neighborhood. Above all, explain to me why the society in which we live is revealed as a great silent desert with a dominant indifference. Over the centuries, plants have changed their morphology to survive their hostile climates. Cactuses have turned their leaves into thorns, I would now like to continue to believe in the principles of solidarity and justice that my family has educated, which should be the driving force of our society. Only now explain to me how to continue, because I refuse to undergo and transform the leaves into thorns.
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