Bluetit wrote:From the Daily Telegraph, Nov. 8th
Police said that Knox, when confronted by police with her boyfriend's evidence, admitted she had lied in previous interviews.
She maintains she played a "minimal role" in what happened, Corriere della Sera reported.
The newspaper said Knox appeared "confused" in interviews, repeatedly putting her head in her hands and shaking it, and that detectives believe she is still not telling the whole truth.
She reportedly told them during interviews on Tuesday: "I want to talk about what happened because the incident has left me really upset and I am really scared of Patrick (Lumumba), the African man who owns the pub Le Chic where I work sometimes.
"I met him on the evening of November 1 after having replied to a message he sent me, with the words 'Let's meet up'.
"We met at around 9.00pm at a basketball court in Piazza Grimana and we went to my house. I don't remember if my friend Meredith was already at home or if she came in later. All I can say is that they went off together.
"Patrick and Meredith went off into Meredith's room while I stayed in the kitchen. I can't remember how long they were in there together - I can only say that at one point I heard Meredith screaming and I was so frightened I blocked my ears.
"I don't remember anything after that - my head's all confused. I don't remember if Meredith screamed and I heard thuds too because I was upset, but I guessed what might have happened.
"I found Patrick this morning (Nov 5) in front of the language school and he asked me some questions. He wanted to know what the police had been asking me. I think he also asked me if I wanted to meet some journalists, maybe to find out if I know anything about Meredith's death.”
Of Sollecito, she said: "I don’t know for sure if Raffaele was there that night, but I do remember very well waking up at my boyfriend's house, in his bed, and I went back to my house in the morning where I found the door open."
PS. This too is a stopgap. I shall delete it when a more complete and more reliable version becomes available.
Amanda knox wrote:This is very strange, I know, but really what happened is as confusing to me as it is to everyone else. I have been told there is hard evidence saying that I was at the place of the murder of my friend when it happened. This, I want to confirm, is something that to me, if asked a few days ago, would be impossible.
I know that Raffaele has placed evidence against me, saying that I was not with him on the night of Meredith's murder, but let me tell you this. In my mind there are things I remember and things that are confused. My account of this story goes as follows, despite the evidence stacked against me:
On Thursday November 1 I saw Meredith the last time at my house when she left around 3 or 4 in the afternoon. Raffaele was with me at the time. We, Raffaele and I, stayed at my house for a little while longer and around 5 in the evening we left to watch the movie Amelie at his house. After the movie I received a message from Patrik [sic], for whom I work at the pub "Le Chic". He told me in this message that it wasn't necessary for me to come into work for the evening because there was no one at my work.
Now I remember to have also replied with the message: "See you later. Have a good evening!" and this for me does not mean that I wanted to meet him immediately. In particular because I said: "Good evening!" What happened after I know does not match up with what Raffaele was saying, but this is what I remember. I told Raffaele that I didn't have to work and that I could remain at home for the evening. After that I believe we relaxed in his room together, perhaps I checked my email. Perhaps I read or studied or perhaps I made love to Raffaele. In fact, I think I did make love with him.
However, I admit that this period of time is rather strange because I am not quite sure. I smoked marijuana with him and I might even have fallen asleep. These things I am not sure about and I know they are important to the case and to help myself, but in reality, I don't think I did much. One thing I do remember is that I took a shower with Raffaele and this might explain how we passed the time. In truth, I do not remember exactly what day it was, but I do remember that we had a shower and we washed ourselves for a long time. He cleaned my ears, he dried and combed my hair.
One of the things I am sure that definitely happened the night on which Meredith was murdered was that Raffaele and I ate fairly late, I think around 11 in the evening, although I can't be sure because I didn't look at the clock. After dinner I noticed there was blood on Raffaele's hand, but I was under the impression that it was blood from the fish. After we ate Raffaele washed the dishes but the pipes under his sink broke and water flooded the floor. But because he didn't have a mop I said we could clean it up tomorrow because we (Meredith, Laura, Filomena and I) have a mop at home. I remember it was quite late because we were both very tired (though I can't say the time).
The next thing I remember was waking up the morning of Friday November 2nd around 10am and I took a plastic bag to take back my dirty cloths to go back to my house. It was then that I arrived home alone that I found the door to my house was wide open and this all began. In regards to this "confession" that I made last night, I want to make clear that I'm very doubtful of the verity of my statements because they were made under the pressures of stress, shock and extreme exhaustion. Not only was I told I would be arrested and put in jail for 30 years, but I was also hit in the head when I didn't remember a fact correctly. I understand that the police are under a lot of stress, so I understand the treatment I received.
However, it was under this pressure and after many hours of confusion that my mind came up with these answers. In my mind I saw Patrik in flashes of blurred images. I saw him near the basketball court. I saw him at my front door. I saw myself cowering in the kitchen with my hands over my ears because in my head I could hear Meredith screaming. But I've said this many times so as to make myself clear: these things seem unreal to me, like a dream, and I am unsure if they are real things that happened or are just dreams my head has made to try to answer the questions in my head and the questions I am being asked.
But the truth is, I am unsure about the truth and here's why:
1. The police have told me that they have hard evidence that places me at the house, my house, at the time of Meredith's murder. I don't know what proof they are talking about, but if this is true, it means I am very confused and my dreams must be real.
2. My boyfriend has claimed that I have said things that I know are not true. I KNOW I told him I didn't have to work that night. I remember that moment very clearly. I also NEVER asked him to lie for me. This is absolutely a lie. What I don't understand is why Raffaele, who has always been so caring and gentle with me, would lie about this. What does he have to hide? I don't think he killed Meredith, but I do think he is scared, like me. He walked into a situation that he has never had to be in, and perhaps he is trying to find a way out by disassociating himself with me.
Honestly, I understand because this is a very scary situation. I also know that the police don't believe things of me that I know I can explain, such as:
1. I know the police are confused as to why it took me so long to call someone after I found the door to my house open and blood in the bathroom. The truth is, I wasn't sure what to think, but I definitely didn't think the worst, that someone was murdered. I thought a lot of things, mainly that perhaps someone got hurt and left quickly to take care of it. I also thought that maybe one of my roommates was having menstral [sic] problems and hadn't cleaned up. Perhaps I was in shock, but at the time I didn't know what to think and that's the truth. That is why I talked to Raffaele about it in the morning, because I was worried and wanted advice.
2. I also know that the fact that I can't fully recall the events that I claim took place at Raffaele's home during the time that Meredith was murdered is incriminating. And I stand by my statements that I made last night about events that could have taken place in my home with Patrik, but I want to make very clear that these events seem more unreal to me that what I said before, that I stayed at Raffaele's house.
3. I'm very confused at this time. My head is full of contrasting ideas and I know I can be frustrating to work with for this reason. But I also want to tell the truth as best I can. Everything I have said in regards to my involvement in Meredith's death, even though it is contrasting, are the best truth that I have been able to think.
I'm trying, I really am, because I'm scared for myself. I know I didn't kill Meredith. That's all I know for sure. In these flashbacks that I'm having, I see Patrik as the murderer, but the way the truth feels in my mind, there is no way for me to have known because I don't remember FOR SURE if I was at my house that night. The questions that need answering, at least for how I'm thinking are:
1. Why did Raffaele lie? (or for you) Did Raffaele lie?
2. Why did I think of Patrik?
3. Is the evidence proving my pressance [sic] at the time and place of the crime reliable? If so, what does this say about my memory? Is it reliable?
4. Is there any other evidence condemning Patrik or any other person?
3. Who is the REAL murder [sic]? This is particularly important because I don't feel I can be used as condemning testimone [sic] in this instance.
I have a clearer mind that I've had before, but I'm still missing parts, which I know is bad for me. But this is the truth and this is what I'm thinking at this time. Please don't yell at me because it only makes me more confused, which doesn't help anyone. I understand how serious this situation is, and as such, I want to give you this information as soon and as clearly as possible.
If there are still parts that don't make sense, please ask me. I'm doing the best I can, just like you are. Please believe me at least in that, although I understand if you don't. All I know is that I didn't kill Meredith, and so I have nothing but lies to be afraid of.
TLC wrote:Answering questions from La Repubblica through her lawyer, From The Times, Richard Owen, December 13, 2007, Amanda Knox
“She was a nice girl, she loved life. It makes me feel terrible to think what happened to her. If I had been at home that evening perhaps I would be dead now too.”
“Both of us were stunned by the tragedy of Meredith’s absurd death, a tragedy we were unable to explain to ourselves. Now I and Raffaele are both suspects – both of us are in prison.
“I have tried to write to him from here but I don’t think he got my letter. I only wanted to tell him that I never believed he had accused me, and that I had never accused him.”
Asked why she had confessed that she stopped up her ears so as not to hear Ms Kercher’s screams, Ms Knox replied:
“In reality I have never confessed anything. I had nothing to confess. I said those things that are now used against me while I was in a state of great confusion.”
The Times wrote:An American student suspected of being involved in the murder of Meredith Kercher admitted yesterday that she was “a bit wild” but insisted that she had played no part in the crime.
In her first interview since being arrested, Amanda Knox, 20, spoke of how moving to the Italian city of Perugia had left her “intoxicated by freedom”, and said that she had done things “that now I think were wrong”.
Answering questions from La Repubblica through her lawyer, she said that she was shocked by the death of Ms Kercher. The body of the British exchange student was found semi-naked with her throat cut in their shared house, on November 2. Her funeral will be held tomorrow.
Ms Knox told the newspaper: “For a girl of 20 like me, born on the other side of the ocean, it isn’t easy to be locked up for over a month in an Italian prison.
“It’s made me feel terrible that people think I killed Meredith, just as the things they said in the newspapers and on TV about me and my family hurt me too.
“My mother was taken to pieces by the Anglo-Saxon papers, and they described me as if I were a monster.”
Ms Knox, from Seattle, has been held at Capanne jail, outside Perugia, since November 6, along with Raffaele Sollecito, 23, her Italian boyfriend, also a suspect. A third man, Rudy Hermann Guede, was arrested in Germany and was extradited last week.
Ms Knox said that she was looking forward to “explaining the contradictions” in her testimony when she is questioned by an investigating magistrate on Monday. “I hope they finally believe me,” she said.
She added: “I am not worried. The love of my parents and confidence in my lawyers are not only helping me to bear this situation, they also lead me to hope there will be a positive solution to the inquiry.”
Ms Knox was educated at a Jesuit school, and called herself Foxy Knoxy on internet profiles. She has been described by those who knew her as a man-eating, drug-taking “wild child”. She claimed that the media had “talked about me without even knowing me”. Asked who she really was, she replied: “A girl of 20 who came to Perugia to learn Italian after she had studied Japanese. I have had boyfriends, just like other girls of my age, I remember them all. Some were important, others weren’t.
“In Italy I felt intoxicated by freedom: sometimes I went a bit wild. Sometimes I did things that now I think were wrong. all that comes from my youth and my enthusiasm for life. It certainly doesn’t come from some obscure and evil side of my personality.”
Ms Knox said it was also untrue that she “quarrelled every day” with Ms Kercher. She said: “Meredith was sweet and sensitive. I liked living with her. We were friends even if each of us had their own lives. I had lunch with her at our house on November 1. We told each other what we had done the night before, at Hallowe’en. I remember her telling me she had had a lot of fun.
“She was a nice girl, she loved life. It makes me feel terrible to think what happened to her. If I had been at home that evening perhaps I would be dead now too.”
She said that she had “one of the most intense relationships of my life” with Mr Sollecito and insisted that they had spent the evening of the murder at his flat and slept there until morning.
“Both of us were stunned by the tragedy of Meredith’s absurd death, a tragedy we were unable to explain to ourselves. Now I and Raffaele are both suspects – both of us are in prison.
“I have tried to write to him from here but I don’t think he got my letter. I only wanted to tell him that I never believed he had accused me, and that I had never accused him.”
Asked why she had confessed that she stopped up her ears so as not to hear Ms Kercher’s screams, Ms Knox replied: “In reality I have never confessed anything. I had nothing to confess. I said those things that are now used against me while I was in a state of great confusion.”
TLC wrote:Knox allegedly wrote her new story in a 50-page diary which she has kept since being jailed.
The journal, which she called La Mia Prigione (my prison) was seized by police from her cell.
Reports said Knox wrote: "That night I smoked a lot of marijuana and I fell asleep at my boyfriend's house. I don't remember anything.
"But I think it's possible that Raffaele went to Meredith's house, raped her and then killed.
"And then when he got home, while I was sleeping, he put my fingerprints on the knife. But I don't understand why Raffaele would do that."
Knox also writes, if she had been at the home she shared with Meredith on the night of the murder, that "Meredith would still be alive. She was a wise, smart girl who had plenty of advice".
The diary, which police are examining, also describes her life in jail.
She adds: "I sing, write and, when I have an hour of outside time, I sit with my face in the sun, so I can get a tan.
"I have received letters from fellow inmates and ADMIRERS TELLING ME THAT I AM HOT AND THEY WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH ME. I have also had insulting letters."
(odd that in light of the crimes she doesn't find letters from strangers saying they want to have sex with her as insulting or inappropriate as well as being in very bad taste at such a moment)
Bluetit wrote:Quotes from AK's prison diary (published June 24 sq.)
"I'm writing this because I want to remember. I want to remember because this is an experience not many people will ever have. I am not saying I am glad everything that has happened has happened. If it were up to me, my friend would never have been killed."
'I wonder if I would have had these letters if I was ugly. I don't think so'.
"I am innocent so I will be free. Free. Free. Free. Freedom. I will have freedom."
"Do you know me? Open your eyes and see that when it is said I am an angel, or I am a devil, or I am a lost girl, recognise that what is really lost is: the truth!"
(to her American boyfriend) "Dear DJ, I really feel the need to hold you in my arms right now. I have this knot inside and I feel as if someone really cold and strong is pressing my head. I beg you, I cannot stay alone right now. I hate being weak, but I am ill and tired. I want to go home. How can I continue like this for the next 14 days? How can they treat me like this, looking at me as if I was an assassin? They really believe that I am and that's not ok. This cannot be my life. I beg you, this cannot be my life. Please hold me in your arms, now"
[«Caro Dj, proprio in questo momento sento il bisogno di tenerti tra le braccia. Ho ancora quel groppo dentro e sento come se qualcuno, veramente forte e freddo, mi sta comprimendo la testa. Ti prego, non posso star sola proprio adesso. Mi spiace essere debole, ma sto male e sono stanca. Voglio andare a casa. Come riuscirò a continuare così per i prossimi 14 giorni? Come possono trattarmi così, guardarmi come se fossi un'assassina? Loro pensano realmente che lo sia e questo non va bene. Questa non può essere la mia vita. Ti prego, questa non può essere la mia vita. Ti prego, tienimi tra le braccia, ora»]
"I've got fat. When I arrived in Italy I weighed 60 kilos, now I weigh 66, six kilos more. Mamma mia! I must stop eating biscuits. I won't eat any more until I'm down to 55 kilos."
"I do exercises, sing, write, read, sleep, eat, drink and think. I can go to the library. I have eight television channels I can watch in the cell, I have a bath and a lamp for reading."
[«Faccio i piegamenti, canto, leggo, scrivo, dormo, mangio, bevo. E penso... Ho accesso alla biblioteca, ho 8 canali televisivi che posso vedere in cella, ho un bagno e una lampada per leggere».]
"It's not right keeping people caged up like this. The evil bottled up inside them comes out when they get the chance, like wild animals."
[«Non va bene tenere le persone in gabbia in questo modo. Esse covano il male dentro e non possono fare a meno di tirarlo fuori quando ne hanno la possibilità. Sono come animali furiosi»]
(list) «dei ragazzi con i quali ho fatto sesso da quando sono in Italia»
"I will never smoke marijuana again. When they free me I will go back to the United States, but I will come back to Italy to study. I’m not afraid of this country, it's part of me now. This is place I call home. And before all this happened I was so happy."
"My friend was killed. My roommate, my friend. She was beautiful, intelligent, fun and cared for everyone. Everyone I know is destroyed by sadness for her, but we all have contrasting feelings. We are angry. We want justice."
[«La mia amica è stata uccisa. La mia compagna di stanza, la mia amica. Era bella, intelligente, divertente e si preoccupava per tutti. Ed è stata uccisa. Tutti quelli che conosco sono distrutti dal dolore per lei, ma abbiamo anche tutti sentimenti contraddittori. Siamo arrabbiati. Vogliamo giustizia ».]
«sembra che Raffaele abbia detto ai giornali (ma chi può fidarsi di loro?) che tutto ciò che ho fatto ha reso la sua vita una follia e non vuole più avere niente a che fare con me. Ahia!»
(re the knife) "E’ così semplice. Non ho mai portato un coltello avanti e indietro da casa mia a quella di Raffaele. Non l’ho mai fatto. Non ho mai aiutato nessuno. Non so chi ha ucciso la mia amica, io non ero lì. E’ questa la verità".
"I only made one mistake, when I said that it was Patrick, but I didn't say his name with any bad intention. I said it only to say something."
["Una sola cosa ho sbagliato, quando ho detto che è stato Patrick, ma non ho detto il suo nome con una intenzione cattiva. L’ho detto solo per dire qualcosa".]
'a boy whom I know vaguely called Rudy.'
[(parlare dell’altro indagato ivoriano,) "un ragazzo che conosco vagamente che si chiama Rudy".]
Bluetit wrote:"I'm writing this because I want to remember. I want to remember because this is an experience not many people will ever have. I am not saying I am glad everything that has happened has happened. If it were up to me, my friend would never have been killed and we would still live together in our house...We got on well together. We all had our own parts of the house. Meredith was the most studious and also used to go out with her friends to the disco and to dinner. She was very intelligent and always a good friend to me. She gave me advice and protected me when I found myself in difficult situations. She was the most solitary among us, but only because at home she loved to stay in peace and read her crime/mystery novels, but at the same time she used to join us to watch silly programmes on TV. And then there was me, the smallest, the youngest, but also very particular. ('particulare' my least favourite word in Italian since it means a whole host of things. Here maybe it means different from the others but I'm only guessing. d) I do things like sing and play the guitar... I want to remember also how I remembered everything that happened that night.
I was in my cell, thinking and thinking, in the hope of remembering, in the hope of having done the right thing, worried that maybe the police were right, maybe I had seen Meredith's death, maybe I was confused and not able to remember such a tragic thing. But it's not like this. In my cell I was waiting for an answer from/through my mind when a nun appeared at my door. She told me to have patience because God knows everything and would help me to remember. Everything came flooding back to me, one detail after another, until the moment in which my head fell against the pillow and I fell asleep when Meredith was killed.
I know I'm not suspected of murder because Meredith was raped and killed, but the police want to think that I'm involved. They'll probably shout at me again and call me a liar and say I'm protecting someone... I remember what I did that night and there's no way they can prove I was there and especially in Meredith's room because it's impossible. They lied to me when they said I was at home. I WAS NOT AT HOME and so they can't prove it. I'm irritated/annoyed that they lied to me about this. They think I'm involved and it's sad because it means they have no idea what happened. They don't know who killed my friend.
" What I want to do is to walk out of here with no proof against me, held in the arms of my mother in a big hug. She will also cry when she sees me. When I can get out of here with her, hand in hand, I'll know that I'm finally free. To meet Raffaele and to ask him why. What's he afraid of if he's telling these lies about me. It's something which I really can't explain. He's important to me and when I look inside myself I see that he is still important to me. I really want to know why he wants to tell the police that I have something to do with this when I know he knows I've got nothing to do with this. Why should he say I told him to lie? It makes no sense...
All I have is this pen and this last page... How will I be after all this? I don't think I'll go around by night alone. I also hope I won't be afraid to be by myself. I don't want to be traumatized by all this. I want to be happy like I used to be and a little bit more cautious. I imagine I've grown up a bit... Maybe now I know that the world can be a dangerous place and the rest. But the world must believe me because this is the truth."
This is translated from 'Meredith, cronaca di un delitto' (murena editrice) I don't claim that these are the words of AK. I've translated from the Italian of this book. They claim that these words were the Italian translation of a part of 'My Prison' written by AK. I've translated them back.
Last edited by damian on Tue Aug 05, 2008 2:01 pm; edited 1 time in total
La Nazione Umbria wrote:Amanda studies languages, reads Gandhi and practices playing the guitar in her cell. Amanda ‘la bambina’, as her cell mate calls her, writes to her boyfriend DJ in America, to her friends, has her haircut at the hairdresser’s and does aerobics. She wants to see the sweatshirts they are making with ‘Free Amanda’ written on them. Amanda and her nightmares; “I don’t dream in here…the only thing I dream is that I’m in court and they tell me ‘You must stay in prison.’” Amanda was contacted by a publisher who would like to publish her book. She is courted by journalists who want to interview her.
This is the life of the twenty-one year old student from Seattle, accused of the most atrocious of crimes; killing her friend at the end of a sex game. She lives to the rhythm of the strict rules of the Perugian prison and gradually details emerge from her diaries and from the bugged conversations with her parents.
On Mondays, Amanda does gymnastics. On Tuesdays she is allowed to watch a film. Thursdays are free and she has guitar lessons on Fridays (”two hours of lessons a week really isn’t much”). She goes to mass on Saturdays. She says the police are ‘quite cold’ with her since they have understood that she won’t confide in them. She tells her parents that she is tired of her cellmate (that is believed to have made advances) because she is “obsessed with cleaning” in so much as that she even follows her around with a sponge. “I’m tired of having ruined hands because of all the cleaning I’m forced to do”, she complains, hoping that she’ll be able to change cell. “Rosa annoys her”, summarise the officers in charge, “she is stubborn. With regard to her obsession with cleanliness, Amanda says that it has got worse recently, to the point that Rosa prefers to do the cleaning by herself.”
Amanda reads in prison. “Gandhi, which is about the life and thoughts of the great Indian man…just yesterday I got one (a book d) written in the seventies about the condition of women and another about human beings’ emotions and different reactions.” She’s so into reading that she once read a whole Harry Potter book in just ten hours. The enigmatic student, who is accused of stabbing her friend/flatmate along with Raffaele Sollecito and Rudy Guede, dedicates herself to studying languages.
“Her father asks his daughter about her study of languages”, write the police. “Amanda says that they are going well. She says that French doesn’t create many problems because the grammar is very similar to Italian. She says that Chinese is easier to speak than it is too understand. Russian isn’t very difficult but Amanda says she hasn’t yet understood the written form. In fact, the problem with Russian and Chinese is connected to the fact that the letters are different in the respective alphabets.”
During a visit from her parents, she tells of when the Bishop washed her feet at Easter. “I was very excited. He did this for me and I’m a nobody.”
She doesn’t speak much of her murdered friend (a crime for which she has always declared her innocence). One day however, the day in which footage of the dead woman’s body was transmitted on TV she said, “It’s simply horrible.” And the mother says, “We will pass on a letter of disaproval because we want it to be clear that we are not responsible for this and that we don’t approve of the fact that this stuff has been released.”
One day, at the end she says. “I’m certainly not happy but I won’t die of this.”
Damian wrote:Obviously, many of these words were said in English. They’ve been translated into Italian and I’ve translated them back. For this reason, they will not be identical to the original. d.
Nick Pisa wrote:After receiving the fax ordering her to stay in jail until the trial begins, she told a guard: 'I want to be alone with my suffering.'
Knox shares her cell at Capanne jail with another inmate called Rosa who is serving life for murder but is allowed to nurse her small child with the American helping out.
She told Mr Gasbarra: 'If I was in America I would vote Obama because he is on the side of the weak, we are all for him, even my mother.
'I am innocent but no-one believes me. How can they have turned down my application? I wanted to go to the Caritas (hostel). I know it would have been a second prison.
"I heard one Nigerian woman asked to come back to jail because it was so hard but I wanted to go all the same, to work in the fields with people and smell the earth.'
Knox added hopefully: 'If the judge didn't believe me now then when the trial starts I know the judges there will. I am not giving up - I'm convinced that one day the truth will come out and I will leave here.'
In an interview given through her lawyers, Carlo Dalla Vedova and Luciano Ghirga, Knox also revealed further details of her life behind bars and of her relationship with Sollecito.
She said of him: 'He is a sweet person, I like him. We smiled together during the trial. Love ? I know have another man who I think about all the time, he's the one I was with all the time in America.
'He is called David (Johnsrud) and when he writes to me I want to hear him talking only of love. He's been in China taking photographs and doing volunteer work. I always wear his clothes, especially a sweatshirt he sent me. He also told me to write and tell him what books I am reading so he can read the same.'
Knox added: 'I talk to my mum Edda about lots of things all the time, I talk with her for hours. We cry together and we give each other courage.
'Together we had hoped that I would get house arrest but it didn't happen. Since all this has happened I have become a lot closer to my parents, my sister and my half sisters, they're sweet and I love them a lot. I miss them all.'
Of her father Curt she said: 'I laugh a lot with my dad, he tells me a lot of anecdotes, especially about what her gets up to when he is in Umbria.'
Then she explained why she had initially named Patrick Lumumba as the killer and said: 'I'm really sorry about all that. The first thing I want to say is sorry, I am deeply hurt for what I did. I told them that at the hearing, at that moment I was under a lot of pressure from the police, that's why I spoke about him. I am truly sorry.'
Speaking of prison life Knox said: 'I really miss my freedom. I miss exercise and I miss playing the guitar and listening to music. Music is my life. It makes me happy and overcomes my agony.'
Then speaking of herself she said: 'I am a normal girl, who has just found herself in the wrong story and who has nothing to do with it. I'm innocent. I didn't do what they said. I am a normal person that says and does normal things. Even in love.'
Then turning on Guede she said: 'I am really angry with him. He's not telling the truth, he's told lies about me. What he says is not the truth, I wasn't there. He is a liar and he knows I wasn't there. I had only juts met him three or four times and hardly knew him.'
Amanda Knox wrote:Foxy Knoxy
20 years old
Last Login: 9/23/2007
Foxy Knoxy's Interests
tea, yoga, rock climbing, soccer, writing, reading, people watching, day dreaming, studying, playing, making coffee, dressing like a dork, eating, cooking for other people, music, inspiration, photography, art
THE BEATLES, led zepplin, nina simone, cream, eric clapton, outkast, queen, roxette, cake, red hot chili peppers
Help!, The Princess Bride, The Lion King, American Beauty, Fight Club, Hero, Shrek/Shrek 2, Garden State, Moulin Rouge, Finding Nemo, The Fifth Element, Spaceballs, Robin Hood Men In Tights, James Bond, The Full Monty
don't watch it much, but when i do: Looney Tunes, South Park
Books Currently reading:
assorted language textbooks
Foxy Knoxy's Details
Here for: Networking, Friends
Hometown: West Seattle
Body type: 5' 3" / Athletic
Ethnicity: White / Caucasian
Zodiac Sign: Cancer
Smoke / Drink: No / No
Education: In college
Occupation: World Cup Barista (52nd and Roosevelt)
Income: Less than $30,000
Foxy Knoxy's Schools
University Of Washington-Seattle Campus
Major: Italian, German
Minor: Creative Writing
Foxy Knoxy's Networking
Fashion - Modeling - Artist's model
Publishing - Writer - Novelist
Foxy Knoxy's Companies
Seattle, Washington US
Event Staff June 2006 -- August 2007
University of Washington
Seattle, Washington US
Barista August 2005-June 2006
World Cup Cafe'
Seattle, Washington US
Barista August 2006 -- August 2007
Seattle, Washington US
Office Assistant April 2005 -August 2005
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Bundestag disaster (view more)
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Italy (view more)
Im Gone! (view more)
Leaving soon (view more)
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Foxy Knoxy's Blurbs
I love things like good wine, rock climbing, backpacking long distances with people I love, yoga on a rainy day, making coffee, drinking tea, and lots of languages. I'm twenty years old and I like new things. Ooh, and soccer, and roller coasters, and harry potter, and...
Who I'd like to meet:
I like people with passions and ideas
Amanda Knox wrote:Foxy Knoxy
Sep 15, 2007
Signup Date: 12/16/04
September 15, 2007 - Saturday
Current mood: rel )) relieved
oops. so, you remember how i said tha i had no idea what i was in for at the bundestag. aparently i really had no idea, because i left. straight up left the building because i was sick and they had nothing for me to do there. of course i told them that i wouldn't be returning and all of that,but what i didnt knwo is 1) how fun berlin is when you dont have to work, and 2) how much i would piss my family off for mot sticking to it at the bundestag. so here goes:
i left because there was nothing for me to do. absolutely nothing. i followed my boss around when he left his office,a nd when we were back in his office i read harry potter (german style!) in a corner of his office. okay...so i got sick the second day because i actually had a pretty bad flu that kept me in bed for three straight days the weeks before, so i went home early and decided i wasnt going back. i was in the way and they didnt need me there anyway. i called in the next morning and that was that. then i walked, and walked and walked and walked. all over berlin, for two whole days. it was great. i was supposed to pick up a bus on friday, so i spent wednesday and thursday wandering around berlin, seeing things, meeting people, drinking a glass of wine in a park near my apartment every night. fantastic.
then i got back home to hamburg and found out i was in trouble with my uncle who ahd landed me the job at the bundestag in the first place. aparently he had to go to a lot of trouble to get me my spot there and everyone was confused as to what had happened to me. so i talked to him today and explain ed the mess, but not before freaking out and crying a little becaue i was afraid i made my uncle look bad in front of these very importan people. oops. to say the least.
thanks god my uncle uve is one of the nicest guys out there. he heard me out and said he'd take care of everything, i didn't need to worry about it. i feel like an idiot, but at least everything is alright.
and now im just going to chill here in hamburg for another week and then im heading to italy for good. so BWAHAHHAHAAHAH. i have no idea why that's halerious, but it seemed appropriate. so there.
ciao suckers. loves from across the ocean.
September 10, 2007 - Monday
Current mood: aw))- awake
alright, for those of you who are comletely ignorant about the german government (don't be ashamed), the Bundestag is a fantasically important and pretty building. It's where everything gets debated by the representatives of the German senate-like counsil, and nothing can be passed without going through the Bundestag. And I'm working there. Cool huh? But let me relate a little further about my sitauation here...
It's a rather interesting development. I had no idea what I was in for in Berlin. In fact, I still have very little clue. I'm sitting in my office with my coworkers and I'm doing absolutely nothing. But enough of that for now. I have, however, met my first installment of my little adventure. I'm borrowing an appartment from a nice couple who are friends with my uncle Uve. I swear that man knows EVERYONE. The couple doesn't actually own the place, they are holding it for a friend of theirs, a guy who is away somewhere and hasn't been there for 3 months. The couple picked me up from the bus station (I took a 3 hour bus ride from Hamburg to Berlin) and stopped by their house to pick up sheets and a blanket. And a lamp and a sponge ("Schwamm" I learned in the car) and some bathroom cleaning soup. Appariently the bathroom is a little dirty. Hell, I've slept a few nights in a bush, no problem. We get to a nice building in a nice neighborhood near the center of Berlin. Ernst, my driver/blanket/keys man tells me about how Berlin is this great party city, a theme I hear a lot about because of my age. Appariently people are partying here from the time they can pass as 16, though nobody cares, until they get married. I indeed, fit into this catagory. I tell Ernst I'd prefer to see the Tiergarten, a big park in the middle of the city.
My apartment is at the very top and Ernst insists on carrying my one heavy bag the entire way. (There are no elevators in any apartment buildings in Europe it would seem. This is of course coming from someone who has only been in 3 apartment buildings so far - but they were of various income levels so...)
Anyway, my apartment is small, as I expected, a little shabbier than I expected, but I'm not picky, so I'm happy. Ernst turns on my fridge and shows me how to work the stove. Oh, the fridge is as tall as the oven. The bedroom is nice, with a good sized window, a bed, a desk, and a set of shelves. The bathroom is indeed the "scary part". The tub/shower isn't the sexiest thing I've ever seen, definately could use some elbow grease, but it's not vomit worthy either. The inside of the toilet is a little scary, but it doesn't smell and it's the inside, so what do I care, I don't actually live here.
So I make myself a quick bite to eat and as the lights outside grow dimmer I discover that there are no working lights in the kitchen and bathroom, just in the bedroom. At least in the bedroom. First thing to make house? Set up the Beatles on my laptop and groove while I pull everything out of my suticase and make my bed. I decided to wait until tomorrow to clean the bathroom.
Then I started laying on the floor of the bedroom, wrote a bit, and looked at my directions for getting to where I'm suppoded to work. I actually have no idea where thsi office is, nnor what it is called. All I thought I knew was that it has something to do with the Bundestag, so head there.
So I did. Next morning I get dressed and clean and presentable as I can in the dark. I eat my breakfast (choco Müseli) and with the directions double and triple checked to be in my bag, I head out the door. I have to wear my sister's jacket, and inside a pocket I founf 20 euro. thanks deanna! (she left her jacket in germany by accident).
Outside it's raining of course, and I walk to the subway station near my apartment building and buy myself a ticket that will last 7 days and allows me to ride buses and trains within the center districts of Berlin as much as I please. It cost 25 euro, which is around 30 dollars, but it will help me out a lot, so i take it. then i get on train and listen for my stop. By the way, it's 7 in the morning and my appointment with my boss is at 10am. I want to make sure i get there on time, and with my sense of direction...
Off the train and onto a bus, which Im not at this time sure takes the same ticket as the train, but it does and I'm good. Get off that bus and wait about 15 minutes for my last bus to come (getting around berlin gets a little complicated) and this takes me near the bundestag. so i take a lttle walk. i took about an hour to get there, so im 2 hours early and i have no idea where the office is. good. I decide to head into the bundestag to see if i can use a phone.
the bundestag doesnt open for a couple minutes and so i wait with a tourist group from england who are surprized when i ask them about their trip in english. aparently i pass well as a german. they head in and we go through security, but no one can seem to point me in the direction of a telephone, so i head upstairs where the famous dome is, with thte rest of the tourists, and see if i can find one there. there isnt, but there is a great view of the city, so i walk around the dom a bit and then head back down. the guy in the elevator tells me there is a information booth across the street, and maybe they have a telephone i can use.
i cross the street, avoiding the tourist buses, and the lady inside tells me i can find a telephone at the end of the street. okay, so, to the end of the street. i finally get to the phone, dial the number, and no one is in the office. of course. it's only 8:30 in the morning. so i go back to the information both and sit down at the neighboring cafe to drink a espresso macchiato. mmm...
back at the telephone both i call again and jürgen schatz, who i've spoke with on the phone before, answers and gives me directions (in german of course! all of this is in german!) and tentatively i find my way to the building. I go through some more clearance, and jürgen comes downt o find me. yeah!
now i'm in the office, and I filled out a pice of paperwork that will get a special entrance pass, so that i dont have to be escourted by him around the place. i have to find the building that gives me that special pass though, so im waiting until the other "trainies" arrive. I think one is being brought up now. anyway, another coworker who showed a little after I did is Mira, she's very nice and showed me where to pick up the post. and johannes kahr, my official boss came in soon after her, and he was sweating from some sort of hurry and didn't pay me much attention. shook my hand, asked me how long I'd be hanging out with them, and then went into his rather nice office. and now I'm writing emails. I wonder if i'm getting paid for this?
September 2, 2007 - Sunday
Current mood: ch )) cheerful
alright, so i just got back from my little visit to italy with my sister. for all of those of you who are really confused about what im actually doing over here right now, here's the layout:
1-plane to hamburg (stop in amsterdam, and no, i didnt get to smoke up)
2-chill in hamburg for a little to hang with the the fam at my aunt dolly's house with her husband manoj, and son anil, plus my sister and my oma
3-tour germany and austria with the fam. my oma really wanted to show me wien and graz (where she grew up) and then munich
4-from munich deanna and i flew off to italy together. landed in milan took a train to florence (on the way we met frederico, an italian guy who doesnt speak english)
5-train from florence to perugia, where deanna and i spent 3 days checking out my new home and trying to find a place for me to live
6-full day of traveling: from perugia-bus-train-train-train-bus-plane to hamburg
7-few more days in hamburg until my sister and oma return to the us, leaving me here, yes, to myself, at my aunt's
8-i go alone to berlin, to work around two weeks in the german government, and yes live with some random government fellow who i have yet to meet
9-return to hamburg, where i will gather al of my things and my uncle uve will drive me, yes, for some reason they want to drive me, to perugia with all of my shizznat
10-move in and start school finally
right now im at number 7. i returned last night from the full day of traveling, and listening to my sister whisper-sing whatever music she listens to from her ipod. not too bad. we didnt have to wait anywhere terrible. it was pretty chill.
but let me update the things that have happened before then...
1) plane was f*@ing long (<- why is it highlighted, i dont understand technology). anyway, deanna took a halerious series of pictures, from the begining of our journey to the end. as expected, we gradually become more and more scary looking. we might have exaggerated how we REALLY looked in the pictures though. and yes, ill try to snag those pics from my sister to put them up as well. one more thing, the plane food was surprisingly satisfying.
2) deanna wanted to go shopping. so yeah, i spent a LOT of time in hamburg shopping with my sister. we bonded, fo sho. we also met manoj's coworker, who was actually the one who hooked me up with a job, and he looks, i wouldnt say disturbingly similar, but yes, similar o john lennon. deanna thinks im in love with him. alright, he has a cute butt. get over it. other than that, uve, my uncle, and tore, my unlce who's 25 (and inadvertantly hit on us when he first saw us, much to his embarassment-ewwwww) took deanna and i to the reeperbahn, the red light district in hamburg, where ther is only place for drinking, dancing, and hookering. there was a street that deanna and i were warned for staying away from, because the hookers will apparently throw their own urine on you if you entire and you are a woman. nice. (i snuck a peek though, to a disgruntled hooker's displeasure). seriously, it's a street where naked women are posing in front of red tinted windows that they can open to make the deal. ewwww. it was fun though. my uncle got me a drunk that was on fire and it was actually quite tasty. sweet, and warm. went down really easy. so that's hamburg.
3)ugh. i was stuck in a car or on a really tiny train or in a rom with my sister, my 3 year cousin, my aunt, and my oma. i got a little claustrophobic after a while. still, i got to see where my oma grew up, very weird experience and meet my oma's cousin hansi and her husband peter in trofaiah, a really small town near graz. they were rally nice, and everything hansi made was unique and artistic, especially the sandwiches and food she made for us. very sweet woman. we spent a few days chilling in trofaiah and from there taking trips to graz and the surounding areas. got to go up and mountain and go on this funky tour inside a really really cold mountain.
4)plane was chill, and the train wasnt hard. in fact, met a guy named frederico on the train to florence from milan, and we ended up hanging out together in florence, where he bought both deanna and i dinner and then, when deanna went to bed, we smoked up together, my first time in italy.... took pictures early the next day of neptune's fountain and naked david, conveniently located right next to each other.
5)then the train the next day to perugia, wasnt bad. had a little adventure trying to find our hotel though. carrying everything on our back, deanna and i buy a map and discover that the hotel booked for us is actually as far on the edge of the map as it can get on some random little road that doesnt list it's whole name. 2 hours of hiking up and down perugia's hills, we were lost. deanna was drowning in her own sweat, and i was pissed to say the least. or at least hot. i just wanted to find this place, but it was ridiculous. then some 40-something italian guy pulls over and looks at our map. he offeres us a rie when he explains that it's another 20minutes away by CAR and there is no bus to it. alright, ill risk my life to get to my hotel. so deanna and i pile in and we do indeed get to our hotel alive, the only awkward part is when i have to try to explain to our driver in broken italian that we aren't interested to going out with his 40-something year old self this evening. we check in and our brains check out.
the next three days are great. we figure out how to find a bus somewhat close to our hotel that will take us downtown. once there we make friends with the two workers at this cafe that we visit everyday. deanna wants to shop some more, but i need to find a place to live, so i search desperately through italian classifieds. i also buy a phone. then, when we walk down a steep road to my university, we run into a very skinny girl who looks a little older than me putting up a page with her number on the outer wall of the unviersity. i chat it up with her, she speaks english really well, and we go immediately to her place, literally 2minntes walk from my university. it's a cute house that is right in the middle of this random garden int he middle of perugia. around us are apartment buildings, but we enter through a gate and there it is. im in love. i meet her roommate molly. the house has a kitchen, 2 bathrooms, and four bathrooms. not to mention a washing maschine, and internet access. not to mention, she owns two guitars and wants to play with me. not to mention the view is amazing. not to mention i have a terrace that looks over the perugian city/countryside. not to mention she wants me to teach erh yoga. not to mention they both smoke like chimneys. and, she offers me one of the open rooms after we hang out for a bit. we exchange numbers. i put down a down payment. im feeling sky high. these girls are awesome. really sweet, really down to earth, funny as hell. neither are students, they actually both work int he same law office, and they are desperate for roommates because the two they had decided they wanted to disappear all of a sudden. they are relieved to meet me believe it or not, because aparently everyone else they have met have been really not cool. an rude, uptight german guy, and girl who cant speak english or italian. only japanese, and an italian guy who wont answer his phone. that, and a bunch of others who had to "think about it". the rent for this HOUSE is only 300 euro a month, whereas, ive looked at holes in the wall "apartments" with nothing going for them for 500 euro a month. fuck that. im hooked. we hung out for a good long time the day before yesturday, just laughing about crazy people and in general getting to know each other. then, deanna and i went to grab a sandwich at the same cafe and i bumped into the most beautiful black man i have ever seen. he said he'd see me when i come back from germany. eheheheh and our waiter, nerti, from albania, hung out with us a bit and talked politics.
6) then the full day of traveling (<-what the hell???i dont ever care anymore) and now
7) im back in dolly's house in hamburg writing emails and studying italian.
one more awesome thing. i read the first harry potter in german, and it wasnt hard at all. i only looked up stuff for the first chapter, but it was distracting, and as i went long i figured out the vocabulary i didnt know before from the contexts of the situations, and by the end of it, i was reading it like english. today's sunday, so no stores are open, but im going to go tomorrow to a book store to get the second. i bought the thrid harry pooter in italian in perugia, but i cant read it yet. i dont know enough vocabulary yet to even get the contexts. but let it be known, that im becoming fluent because of harry potter. there you go.
ciao peeps. i love you. im also updating my pics, so check those out.
August 14, 2007 - Tuesday
Current mood: aw))- awake
ciao! tschuss! im gone! today im heading out, and for starters i want to thank seliber, chris, brett, alex, dj, andrew cheung, stefani and ben for showing me an awesome time last night and suffering through rush hour 3. you all are troopers! just to let you guys know, i got teary-eyed the minute i walked out the door because im really going to mis you guys a lot, my crew.
alright, enough of that sincere sorority girl high school yearbook bullshit. peace out suckers. loves, amanda
December 11, 2006 - Monday
Baby Brother (short story, Dec. 2006)
Current mood: ar )) artistic
Category: Writing and Poetry
Edgar told himself to breathe. It was hard. His chest kept pulling tight on the breaths he was trying to make bigger. He couldn't fill his chest up the way he wanted to. Instead his head felt too heavy, and his neck felt smooched. It sent nauseating waves all the way from the top of his head, through his eyes, and into the tips of his fingers. The energy of it shook his fingertips as he pushed his silver key into the slot above the doorknob.
Edgar stepped stiffly into the studio apartment over the hiking boots and sneakers in the entryway. Kyle was sitting on one side of the room on his bed and the setting sun shone threw in horizontal lines across Edgar's own mattress that rested across from him. Edgar went to it and sat down with a heavy sigh into a sunken spot, and it too sighed under his gangly weight.
"What's up?" said Kyle, looking up from his textbook. He was both protective and authoritative towards Edgar, even though he was eight years younger. In all other things besides financial, he provided for Edgar persistent counsel. In return, there was a constant quiet respect that Edgar paid his younger brother in his allowance of Kyle's worldly lifestyle. It was because of Edgar that Kyle needn't suffer from rent dues, work responsibilities, and grocery shopping. But Edgar also always questioned Kyle about his daily offenses and when he was silent it made Kyle immediately perk up and set aside his calculus homework. "What's your problem?"
Edgar's face turned upwards and his eyes lit up, dark pupils against bright whites. His mouth was drawn tight and creased at the edges, and for a second Edgar thought he was going to say something, but he felt the tightness of his brow ease and he swallowed a large, slippery gulp of the aching, burning rage that pulsated in his forehead, chest, and throat. His fists peeled open and revealed the crescent moon dimples in his palms where his fingernails had dug too deep. His throat was choking on the bile and the question, where was his soul, but instead he asked, "Did you know her name?"
Kyle raised his eyebrows and leaned back. His brow furrowed and he frowned. He stared at his brother for a moment and leaned forward. "Do I know whose name, exactly?" Kyle's eye twitched in the corner.
Edgar's brow was webbed with deep, troubled lines and his hands stretched like starfish over his knees. He blinked slowly, deliberately, and he watched Kyle's face shift awkwardly through familiar expressions. Then Edgar used the same voice he had used when he and Kyle had played hide-and-go-seek, the coaxing voice to lure Kyle out of his hiding spot. "The girl you raped, Kyle. Did you know her name?"
There were scrapings of the metal chair legs against the wooden floor and the soft whooshing sound of the gathering of pencils and papers. Edgar curled up as if his chair was his shell and his arms wrapped around his knees that were drawn up to his chest. Over his arms he watched Maya scoot back her chair and reach for her backpack. Her thin arms reached down and he stared as if obliging her, silently appreciating the aesthetic gracefulness. She reminded Edgar of a dancer who, although doing regular things, still looked as though onstage. She stood up and her purple backpack swung in an arch and her other thin arm went through the strap. She tapped Sandra's desk with a pointed index finder in passing and Ms. Sandra nodded at her leaving.
Ms. Sandra, a pale and robust, wheezing, older woman and his third grade teacher flopped a heavy forearm onto her cheap metal desk so that the sound of her palm slapping the cold surface was almost a 'splat'. Her blue eyes matched the blue discoloration of the thin, hanging skin beneath them, and they smiled at him, bringing him to release his knees. Edgar felt the skin prickle up the back of his neck. He rubbed the hairs down with his palm, but kept in his seat. He put his head down, knowing he should be leaving, but the heavy feeling pressed harder and harder onto his shoulders, and Edgar wasn't sure if was going to be able to get up again.
"Why don't you move your chair up here, Edgar?" Sandra indicated the space next to her desk with a nod of her head. She coughed deeply in her throat, bringing her thick hand up to cover her mouth.
Edgar swung his legs out and he picked up his chair, and wobbled under the weight of it to the front of the room. He put his chair down and again sat, but looked down at his fingers. Sandra knew Edgar was smart and she observed him, sensing his quiet, fragile sense of dignity. She waited to see if he would speak first by clucking her tongue softly, a habit she had picked up over the years from her starch peers, and she thumbed through the pages of her lesson plan. When he didn't speak or move, she said, "So, Edgar, what seems to be the problem?"
Edgar crossed his feet underneath the chair and slouched over, slightly hunchbacked. He was thin and bony and had large front teeth and purple bruises on his arms. He felt a deep red warm up his high cheek bones and he pulled his forearms in through the sleeves of his shirt into the body cavity. Inside he wrapped his arms around his bony torso and breathed slow, tired breaths.
Sandra put a hand underneath her double chin and smoothed the lines between her eyes with a thumb. She decided on, "How's your brother coming along, Edgar? I hear he's about a yard long now."
Edgar shook his head and looked up seriously. "No, he can't be." His husky voice sounded like it was crawling out of a bucket of sand. He pulled his arms out of his sleeves and held them two feet apart. "He can't be more than this," he explained, "Or else my mom would be huge!" He stretched his arms as far as they would go.
They revealed cuts in his upper inner arms, lacerations that were surrounded by dark stains in his copper skin.
Kyle smiled without showing his teeth. He leaned back into the bean bag and muttered, "Hum."
"Huh? What's huh?" Edgar stared with open, unblinking eyes that betrayed his earnestness. They pleaded with gentle, watery intent, eyebrows pulled way back.
"Hum is where the hell are you getting the crazy idea that I'd rape some chick?" Kyle ventured. His smile had vanished and he leaned forward, glaring back into Edgar's eyes.
Edgar hesitated. He had expected a full explanation, perhaps naively expected the same sort of bored explanation that he always received from his younger brother. He waited, feeling the hot pressure of Kyle's stare press into his own eye sockets. He managed, "A girl named Victoria found me today. She went out asking especially for me." His voice grew quiet. "She said you drugged and raped her."
Kyle laughed deep in his throat. "Icky Vicky, huh? Jeez, Edgar. You had me going there." He picked up his calculus book and flicked with his thumb to find his page, shook his head side to side with his smile still confident on his face. "A thing you have to know about chicks is that they don't know what they want." Kyle winked his eye. "You have to show it to them. Trust me. In any case," He cocked his eyebrows up and one side of his mouth rose into a grin. "I think we both know hard A is hardly a drug."
Edgar brought his arms down and looked away. He pinched his wrists with his fingernails. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Sandra's expression didn't change. Instead she opened one of the doors of her desk and rustled through a collection of books stacked inside. She brought out a small paperback. "Here," she said. "Try your hand at this."
Edgar released his arms and took the book, turned it over, and read the cover. "Hamlet, very interesting…" Edgar said, copying a deep impressive voice.
"Yes," Sandra choked. She sputtered and wheezed in breath like it was thick and painful, like she was breathing boiled water. She clutched her chest. "Whew!" She howled at last when it was over.
Edgar touched his own chest with small fingers. "Got a cold, Ms. Sandra?"
Sandra smiled. "A little more than that." She waved a hand at him. "Forget it. What do you say? You like hanging out here so much with a wispy old hag?"
Edgar frowned, closed the small book, and placed it lightly on Sandra's metal desk. "First of all, you're not a wispy old hag, you're just old." He said very seriously, the frown still in his face. He fumbled with his fingers and inadvertently felt the scratches in his arms. "Second of all…" He picked at a scab to distract from the hard feeling in his chest. His skin reminded him of sand, and how sand was all stretched and washed out on a cold beach.
Sandra waited, watching him pick at the thin scabs on his wrists that were nothing compared to the wounds under his arms. She wanted to ask who had hurt him, which kid, so she could actually do something to help. She at least had authority over her third graders. But she was silent, waiting like she did when she asked a student to read for her, waiting for them to figure it out. Children were impressionable, often out of laziness, and would take any answer given to them when they could. She didn't want to put any names into Edgar's mouth for him.
Edgar started crying, started with shaking little sighs that broke the barrier and small, steady tears rolled down to the corners of his mouth. He whispered, "You love me, huh?"
Many answers came to the tip of Sandra's tongue at once. The consequences of saying yes, his devotion, his dependency, his emotional health were immediately delivered to her as something she could proceed with or deny. The consequences of saying no, however, because of his obviously low sense of self-esteem, haunted her even more. It took perhaps two seconds to say, "How'd you know?" She petted his head. He was sweating.
"I don't want to go home. My mom's all full up with my brother and they don't talk to me anymore. They just go to bed. Dad and her used to fight to read me stories…" Edgar squeezed the upper insides of his arms and winced. But he felt relieved, felt his shoulders fall a little, give a little slack. It was like he wasn't wound up as tight, wasn't busting at the seams. He felt Sandra wrap her floppy arms around his shoulders and he rested on the fleshy part above her collarbone.
Kyle turned away from Edgar, meaning that the conversation was over, meaning Edgar wouldn't say anything about it anymore. If Edgar had felt the same as he had his entire life, he would have done just that. He would have shut up. He would have put it down in his mind as the disorientation of spirits in other lives. Kyle couldn't be exactly what Edgar wanted him to be.
But Edgar was tired, more tired than he had ever felt. He watched Kyle turn away and felt his fists close up again. He stood up and went over to Kyle, took up the calculus textbook from his lap, and threw it across them room. It slammed into the wall next to the bathroom door and left a small indent.
"What, Edgar?" Kyle's face contorted, revealing conflicting narrowed eyes and a wide awkward mouth. He stood and pushed Edgar on his shoulders, shoving him backwards a few feet. There was no doubt who was the stronger of the two. Kyle was lean but with broad shoulders and a stocky stature, more like their father. Edgar was tall and gangly, never having really appreciated sports or his own body.
"You're not supposed to be this way," Edgar said, and he started to cry. He started to shake and the barrier let loose in him until streams cascaded down his face. Edgar mourned the loss, and felt cold waves trickle through his insides into the hard, empty spot near his heart, where he felt the burn cold in his soul. Edgar put his hands there, and remembered her face in his mind, remembered how she had touched the wounds on his arms, dressed them, and never reprimanded. She had told him that she would never let anything like it ever happen again, but now she was really gone.
His eyes were red where the whites had always been, and Kyle's eyes opened wide defensively, like Edgar resembled a demon, with glowing red eyes and stringy limbs that ended in curled fists. Shaking, he pulled back his right shoulder and punched Edgar's weeping face.
Edgar finally walked through his front door as his mother was calling up the stairs for him for dinner. It was just the same, whether he was there or not, but Edgar at least didn't feel the same. He didn't take his knife with him after dinner. Instead he carefully pealed off the bandages Sandra had put on his arms and cleaned himself in the shower, like normal people did. He didn't cry out, but hummed along to the Jeopardy tune he heard coming from the living room TV. He tucked himself in and slept.
Edgar was on the playground of his school before the sun had risen the next morning. He trudged faithfully through the parking lot to the entrance and frowned when the metal doors wouldn't open, no matter how hard he pulled. He heard the sounds of a car pulling up and spun around, narrowing his eyes when the car's lights flashed over him. They went out.
Edgar didn't know the teacher and didn't say anything when the broad, Native American man opened the doors for him. The doors closed swallowing a whoosh of air back out as they thudded heavily on the metal frames. The main hallway of the school seemed more enclosed in the dark. Edgar put a hand on the wall and followed it to the opening of his classroom. Only half the lights, the ones near the front of the classroom were on. Sandra was at her desk, flipping through her lesson plan. He stood in the doorway and waited, watched her throw a curtain of sandy blond hair behind her round shoulder. She coughed and drew her head down, drew in a shuddering breath. Edgar cleared his throat and Sandra's eyes found his.
She blinked at him and sighed deeply. Edgar blinked back and itched a scab on his elbow. Sandra closed her eyes. She opened them again slowly and said, "Come here, Edgar."
Edgar felt cold. He went to her desk and sat down. His chair was still beside it.
"You can't be here, Edgar," Sandra's face was calm, her voice soft. She held Edgar's bony hand in her own fleshy one.
"Why?" Edgar said. His brows furrowed together, cleaving old lines in his young face.
"Because, it can't always be me, Edgar…" Sandra touched his temple and ran her thumb across his forehead, smoothing out the lines.
Edgar stared into Sandra's face and watched her eyes drift towards the doorway. She leaned back, away from him, and he turned around.
"Thank God!" It was his father, heavy-shouldered, charging through the doorway of the classroom. Edgar felt his heavy hand squeeze his shoulder. He felt himself lifted up and turned around. "Excuse me," his father nodded at Sandra. His breath blew hot down Edgar's neck. "I've been looking all over for you. The baby's coming, so we're going to the hospital."
Edgar turned around and Sandra nodded towards the door. Edgar felt like he was deep inside his body, or as if this body was bigger than he had ever felt it to be, so that he felt it surround him and his soul was small and shrunk inside so that he could see his body around him. Sandra said she couldn't be with him.
This single thought occupied his mind in the waiting room. He was alone, and he felt waves of hot and cold pulsate in a spiral around him. Hot when he was angry and he dug his fingernails into his palms. Cold when he realized the hurt under his arms and the ache that pushed in the sides of his head. Then a nurse in a flowery scrub distracted him, held his hand, and led him into his mother's room.
His father picked him up onto his hip, like Edgar never thought he would again, so he could see over the bed to his mother and the baby. He could only see the face, which was light brown and pudgy. It reminded him of Sandra.
"This is Kyle," his father whispered into his neck. "Aren't you glad you're a big brother?"
Edgar felt relieved. He reached his arm slowly out and brushed the tip of Kyle's soft nose with his pointer finger. Kyle twitched his head to the side. The baby attracted him, and of what Edgar could see, it was pudgy like Sandra, and Edgar decided this was what she had meant. Edgar smiled, and he felt the inclination to coo at the baby, to make soft, encouraging noises at it, so Kyle would know who he was, and so Sandra would recognize him.
Edgar dropped to the floor and tasted the blood in his mouth and swallowed it. He couldn't move his jaw and it felt like someone was jabbing a razor into the left side of his face. His eyes blurred and became focused intermittently and he gently shook this off, watching his hands until they came into focus. He looked up at Kyle and waited a moment to focus there too. Kyle's hands covered his face.
"Get out." Edgar whispered. It was surprising, that the thought of the statement was easier than the actual physical statement of the words.
Kyle's hands fell from his face. His eyes were wide and his mouth was partially open. "What?" he said, unmoving.
"Get out." Edgar said again. His mouth was bleeding and pulsated fire.
"What? Where am I supposed to go?" Kyle paced a few feet and back, avoiding eye contact with his brother. His hands went to cover his face, but he threw them down, and then covered his face again.
"Who do you think you are?" Edgar said, knowing the full gravity of the statement wouldn't register. "Get out."
Kyle stopped pacing and stared down at Edgar with his wide eyes. He hesitated, and then grabbed a jacket from his bed, went to the door, and slammed it behind him.
Edgar let himself fully rest on the carpet and felt the blood ooze between his teeth and out of his lips onto the floor. He spit into the blossoming smudge beside his head. He closed his eyes and his head felt cold, and he laid there until the tears slowly crept up on him again. Of course, Kyle would return, probably smelling like the inside of an alcoholic's mouth, and like any responsible brother, Edgar would open the door. Edgar would let Kyle back into his own meaningless space, with a spot stained purple-red on the carpet of their one shared room. It was the last remnant of the floppy, pale spirit between them.
November 6, 2006 - Monday
The Model (short story, Nov.2006)
Current mood: cur )) curious
Category: Writing and Poetry
I slouched unsmiling in my plush green rocking chair swaying back and forth with a manuscript of 123 pages lying open on my lap. My eyes weaved back and forth across the page and my mind absorbed the words, translating the language into images in my mind. I tasted their cohesion, their flow, with my tongue slightly out, and made a little red, what I liked to call "tick" mark on the corner of those pages that lacked sufficient eloquence, or rather, made some part of me pull taut and even twanged some horrible note that meant it didn't fit. It was my second full manuscript of the day, a task unmatched by most of my peers. I was a machine. I had thirty more pages to go and then a thorough reflection to write, though I could somewhat tell it was getting towards closing time. The interns were darting around like startled ants finishing and transporting grammatical proofreads and unfinished manuscripts. I felt their adrenaline radiating from their alert and tired bodies, and there was a subtle, hot, sticky smell from their sweat that swamped the office common room. I turned them away from my mind, coming back into complete focus.
My fingers manipulated the keyboard like crafty spider legs. It was all so routine. I was disappointed with my routine manuscript, a lack-luster romantic-comedy plotline dedicated to the twenty-something dateless readers our company tended to cater to. I slouched, rejected, as I wrote out the clone review I did for these sorts of stories. It had become so mechanic it felt like filling out a job application, back when I had been doing that. My mind drifted elsewhere, towards feelings that left me hollow in my chest, like my insides had been poured out through my mouth, and my eyes throbbed painfully before I realized I was crying. I sat there thinking about how I had changed since David, and then, how I perhaps had changed since the interlude with Malcolm. How I had opened up to something so completely different because I was tired, and felt old. I shuddered, feeling the tenseness in my neck. I had sometime stopped writing the report and sat swaying slightly back and forth staring at my blinking computer screen.
"Mrs. Parker, it's eleven o'clock."
I blinked. My eyes felt stale, like a wet rag left out over night. It was Jesse, one of the smaller, diminutive interns. He appeared slightly hunched in over himself, tall and gangly and his arms hung weakly out of his half-length sleeves like misshapen spaghetti noodles. In one of his hands he held a nine by twelve tan envelope.
I said nothing for a long time, feeling the redness in my eyes and I hardened in my chest at this betrayal. Jesse's eyes avoided my face and I silently accepted his courtesy. "Mrs. Parker, this is for you." He held out the envelope.
I took it and tore open the top. Before diving in, I held back, feeling the twang without even reading yet. Then I realized it, the envelope was completely blank. I flipped the package over and found the back similarly unmarked, an amateur manuscript in my hands. Strange. In the editing business it was extremely unlikely for an experienced client to send anything without distinguishing characteristics, a name, a number, a coversheet glued to the front detailing the contents, because it was more unlikely that an editor would subconsciously commit it to memory and thus it was more unlikely to be published. I wrinkled my nose. What was I doing with this?
"Who assigned me this manuscript?" I said, turning to Jesse. His pale cheeks flushed a soft pink and he quickly shrugged his shoulders.
I turned back to the envelope and turned it upside down, carefully sliding its contents onto my desktop. But instead of a manuscript, there were pictures. The second after it took my mind to register this bizarre exchange, I realized the picture on top was of me. I half-swallowed, the spit caught painfully midway down my throat. I shot up out from my chair, knocking it backwards so that it swayed violently and beat against the backs of my legs. My heart beat rapidly against my sternum and my eyes felt like they were swelling.
From the dimensions, the picture looked like it had been taken by a regular disposable camera, though the picture was in black and white. Could disposable cameras do that? In it I was lying in my bed in some awkward sleeping position that, from the angle of the camera, made it look like my neck and limbs were twisted grotesquely. My lips were calm, but there was a slight crease in my forehead, that now knitted tightly in my real brow.
I turned to where Jesse had been standing, but he had gone. I picked up the first image and threw it aside like it was red hot. I avoided looking at it. The second was of me walking across an empty street, my head bowed down from the rain and my body consumed by my long raincoat. There was a framing to the shot, like it had been taken through a window. I looked small.
There was a third, of my townhouse. This one looked up the front of my house from where my front stoop would be. From this angle a glimpse of my naked upper body could be seen through a gap in my sheer curtains.
My chest heaved up and down and my breath felt sharp and cold, like I was swallowing shards of ice. The pulsating pumped around my hairline, expanding outwards into the space around me and contracting until it felt like a tight knot in the very center of my head. My eyes blurred slightly, a foggy curtain drifted over my iris.
I gathered the images and put them back into the envelope and stepped away from them. My mind raced but nothing cohesive came. Things inside spun in my internal typhoon that also began to make me feel dizzy, lightheaded. My throat felt enclosed like something was wrapping tight around it, and I finally gasped in breath. Aislin.
I picked up my leather bag from the ground and threw it on my desk. I pitched my wallet, my keys, and my phone inside. I didn't bother to turn off my computer or my screen, though I did hesitate at the envelope. I held my breath and then let go, shoving it hastily inside as well.
Aislin. The shining black street in front of my townhouse attempted to reflect the streetlamp light with warped dimensions. The other buildings squeezed in around me and even my own home towered over me menacingly, like overhanging branches in a half-dead forest. I shivered violently and fumbled with my kids.
My house was unearthly quiet, like it hadn't been for a long time, and a pulsing flash of cold crept up from my lower abdomen at the thought of Aislin not being there, leaving the house vacant like a new tomb. I locked the door behind me and grasped the wooden railing of the narrow staircase and waited at the bottom, listening like a burglar for signs of life in my own home. The silence descended down the stairs with the darkness, pressing down on me and trickling down my insides like freezing rain.
Small, cold fingers curled around my open hand and I gasped, ripping my hand away. Aislin, narrowed hazel eyes and immobile pink lips, flipped on the light of the stairway and stared at me. She was quiet, and the hand that had reached for mine hung limp in the space between us like the wrist was broken.
I grabbed her hand back and held it to my lips, kissing the little fingers. It drew her closer to me and she pulled weakly for her hand back. "What are you doing?"
I didn't let her go, but grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the front window. "Did you lock the back door when you came home from school?" I searched the dark space in front of our lot.
"You're late, again." Her voice was earthy and slightly bitter, like red wine.
I tuned back to her and stared hard into her face so that her eyes blinked and avoided the full affront. She turned her focus away from my face and to my hand that grasped her hard around the wrist. I let go. "Did you lock the back door?"
"I came through the front. What the heck is wrong with you?" She rubbed at her wrist and sat down at the foot of the stairway. I exhaled deeply as I took a seat next to her. She scooted an inch away.
"It's Malcolm. He's been watching me."
Aislin flinched. "What?" She stared back up at my face, her eyebrows came close together and she frowned, a look that said she was angry that I was crazy without having to say it.
I hid my face in my hands and shivered, began to convulse slightly. I rubbed the parts of my body that felt cold and exposed, the back of my neck, the backs of my arms, my inner thighs. "He sent me pictures, Aislin. He's been watching me at work, in my sleep…"
Aislin's frown deepened. "What did they look like?"
"Ugly," I responded immediately, and then reflected on the statement. They weren't anything, they were just pictures, but they were ugly, like the photos themselves had betrayed me, catching me unawares and vulnerable.
Malcolm. It wasn't the first time he had done that. Malcolm, with his large hands and five o'clock shadow who for some reason captivated my disoriented attention for a short while. I remembered the feeling of his rough hands against my skin, callused and strange, and I shivered again, and a soft upwards thrust clenched my throat. I swallowed. My face grew hot and I shook hard then, my shoulders shuddering up and down. My fingers hook and my stomach clenched. My legs curled up to my chest and my toes curled up in my boots as my body shook without command and I silently wept. Tears so hot I thought they would rise, steaming, leaked down my numb cheeks.
Except for my sobs, there was silence. I couldn't open my eyes to see her, so I couldn't read Aislin's face. I was scared to, hesitant, afraid I would catch some glare of blame. I told you so. At thirteen she wouldn't understand that no one told me so, that no, I didn't know better. Or maybe I wouldn't be able to read her at all. She would look at me and her face would be strange to me, unrecognizable, because I had slowly been emptying out everything I had ever known all this time. Maybe I had rung myself out of her. Malcolm had filled me up with nothing but air, and now I drifted, hollow like a drum. Where was my girl in that? I had forgotten her.
"We're leaving." I said, forcibly pulling myself back inside my body. "Go get some clothes for tomorrow."
"Mom, you've got to be kidding. Where the hell are we going to go?" I could see Aislin's face now. She wasn't glaring but her eyes were wide in her face, her mouth slightly open, like she was trying to suck up all the stuff that didn't make sense. "Mom, where are we going to go?"
"We're going to Dad's new place, said unflinchingly, though a hard part in my chest recoiled in on itself, tying all the tissue and tendons of my chest into a knot.
"Who the hell do you think you are, Mom?" Aislin stood up her skin blotched red at her temples. She clenched her fists and tears began in her eyes. "You think everything's about you, don't you? You are such an idiot!"
"idiot or not, I'm your mother, in case you forgot, and I'm telling you to get some clothes and get your butt back down here so we can leave." I stood up and my legs felt like gelatin. I pointed up the stairs, "Go. Now."
She glared at me for one more moment before turning away and charging up the stairs. When she was out of sight I grasped quickly for the railing and braced myself while my legs wobbled. My head was swirling, but I no longer had any confusion. David's place was the safest place to go. Aislin thumped back downstairs wearing jeans and a new shirt. She carried her backpack and I marveled at how she could remember school at a time like this.
"I can't believe we're doing this," she said as she reached the bottom step. She bowed her head and lowered her voice. Murmured, "You're such a bitch."
I straightened myself and swung my own bag back over my arm. "Let's go."
David had relocated to a two bedroom apartment closer to the market district. I had turned his life backwards. There was a fish vendor next door to the front of his building and the stench consumed my nostrils as I rang the bell. I held onto Aislin's arm that was folded across her chest. She bowed her head and wouldn't look at me. She was quiet and I wondered if she was afraid.
"Yeah? Who is it?" David's friendly tenor voice came in crackly through the intercom.
"David. It's me. I'm sorry, can you let us up?" my voice shook harder than I thought it would, worse than when David and I had our first date. It sounded like I was going through puberty again.
"Nadya?" David's voice dropped in tone. "Yeah. Of course." A harsh buzzing was released by the door and I pushed it open, pulling Aislin beside me. David met us at the top of the stairs. He took Aislin's backpack and kissed her forehead. She didn't smile, but she took his hand. How could he make her do that? He had left his door open and we walked inside, me for the first time.
It was a spacious two-bedroom apartment, too big for just David on his own. Aislin took her backpack and left us, shutting the door to her room behind her, still with no word.
David's eyes followed her until she disappeared and then he turned them on me. His eyes were wide but his brows were furrowed which put splits in his forehead. I felt like I grew smaller the more I looked in his face, literally shrinking away from him.
David jumped to catch me. "Jesus, Nadya! Sit down. Here, sit." He took my bag from me and eased me onto his couch where I folded inward. He put his arm behind my lower back and rubbed slow circles. "What's wrong?'
I looked into his face as I leaned forward and grabbed the envelope tucked in my bag, setting it on his lap before I fell back onto his couch. He took his hand from behind me, narrowing his eyes, and turned over the envelope on his lap. He picked it up and fit his finger in the top and pulled out my sleeping image. His eyes scanned the print and his body hunched over it. He drew his finger over the odd angles in my neck and legs.
"I'm sorry," I said.
He didn't take his face away from the image and his fingers traced the lines in the sheets that loosely wrapped around my body. He frowned.
"And I'm not just sorry because of these." I put my hand on his forearm and pressed lightly there. He turned back to me, dropping the image in his hand on the floor. He didn't say anything, and I felt myself beginning again, filling the void. "I really fucked things up." He flinched. "See? I can't even say that anymore…"
David shook his head, his curly dark hair falling into his face. But he was still quiet. I wanted him to say something. My heart felt like it was reaching out to him, pulling painfully outwards from my chest at him. Then I felt the reaching go past him, behind him, down the hallway to the closed door that radiated outward for me. My mind stuck there and buzzed like a broken television set. My heart drew back, folded in on itself. I looked up at him.
Hot tears blurred my vision and my hands began to tremble. I felt her cold fingers touch mine again, felt myself rip my hand away. Broken. I hadn't known. "I might have lost her." I muttered. I was trembling all over now, muffling my words. I felt like a helpless child, blinded and sniffling snot. "I want to ask her things, I want to talk to her, but I don't know how to begin. How are you supposed to start something like that if it was supposed to be there forever? What am I supposed to say?"
David blinked at me and his mouth pinched closed. His brows furrowed and he closed his eyes, leaving me for a moment. When he wasn't looking at me I felt far away, and I felt myself strengthen a little deep in my stomach, like some breath finally permeated through my system. I felt lighter and sat up towards him, felt the strength to grasp his hands.
He opened his eyes at me, opened his lips and leaned close. "She's here, in her room," he whispered softly into my lips, warming me with his breath. "Listen to what she has to say."
I breathed in deeply and released. I lifted my chest up and used my hands holding his to push myself up. "What are you going to do?" I asked, more to test my voice than really to ask.
He stood up beside me and walked towards the kitchen. "I'm going to call the cops about your problem."
Aislin's door wasn't closed. It stood slightly ajar and I watched my hand push it open like it belonged to another body. She sat immobile on the floor, hunched in over herself. I couldn't see her face and she didn't turned towards me when I sat down on the floor beside her. She looked smaller, and for the first time all night I noticed her hair. The wispy brown strands were tangled , and a sense of curiosity mingled with nurturing instinct brought my hands to touch the back of her head and stroke her there with me fingers, winding the fingers through the strands.
She shuddered hard at my touch, but it was an inward shudder, like she was letting something go. I knew the feeling. It was like something hard and strange, almost like a wounded animal, which had been clawing at your insides, had finally found it's way out, and the empty feeling of the space it had left bubbled up inside, and then disintegrated. My voice pressed against the inside of my mouth. "I'm sorry."
Aislin shook her head and pulled her hair away from her face, looked hard into mine. She wasn't glaring at me, but small tears rolled down her cheeks and her eyes were moving, searching my face like she couldn't recognize it. I felt self-conscious, but forced myself not to turn inwards, keeping my attention on her.
Aislin pulled her backpack towards her. Sniffling she unzipped the top and her fingers brushed through the insides. I watched with my mouth slightly open, and she pulled out a small rectangle of shiny paper. She pushed it facedown towards me across the carpet and watched me as I picked it up, as I turned it slowly over in my hands. I was afraid of what I'd see and what it meant. If Malcolm had taken pictures of her, how far had he gone? What had he done to me and to her?
The picture was of her, but it was different from what I thought I'd see. It was her face, her glassy eyes penetrating me with a hard, desperate, tear-stained stare. Her arms extended outward from her body, towards me from the picture, framing it, her hands not visible because they were behind the camera, pulling the trigger. My heart slowed and I put the picture aside, facedown and away from us. I took my fingers again and put them through her hair, touching her head and drawing patterns there. She closed her eyes and leaned back into my fingers, drawing her face up, letting it relax. "I'm sorry too," she said.
John Follain wrote:Amanda Knox, ‘Foxy Knoxy’, reveals her lesbian trauma
A judge has been given new evidence about the death of British student Meredith Kercher
September 21, 2008
ON A cool autumn night in the Italian city of Perugia, Amanda Knox and her boyfriend Raffaele Sollecito lay on his bed smoking cannabis and talking heart-to-heart. As she put it later, they were discussing “the kinds of people we were”.
Sollecito, a 24-year-old engineering student, confided to the American beauty known as “Foxy Knoxy” for her wily ways on the football field that he had been mocked at school because he liked watching Sailor Moon, a Japanese cartoon for girls.
Knox, 21, comforted him with a confession of her own about her teenage years in Seattle. “I told him how at high school I was just as unpopular because people thought I was lesbian,” she said.
This, at least, is how Knox claims to have spent the night of November 1. However, her handwritten account, which has just emerged, is sharply at odds with a police forensics report given to a judge last week. The report says seven “biological traces” place her not at Sollecito’s home but at the cottage she shared with Meredith Kercher, 21, a Leeds University exchange student.
Knox, Sollecito and Rudy Guede, a 21-year-old immigrant from Ivory Coast, stand accused of sexually assaulting and murdering Kercher, who was found in her bedroom the following day, half-naked with her throat cut.
The forensics report says the police used Luminol, a chemical that turns blue in the presence of blood, in their search for evidence. They found the prints of bare feet smeared with blood in Knox’s room and a nearby bath-room, it says. Not only that, but the prints matched Knox’s feet.
A further six biological traces belonged to her boyfriend Sollecito, including footprints outside Kercher’s bedroom, and 10 more came from Guede.
Investigators apparently discovered DNA from Knox and Kercher on an 8in kitchen knife belonging to Sollecito, which is believed to be the murder weapon. They found DNA traces from Guede on Kercher’s bloody pillow and from Sollecito on her bra strap. All three claim they are innocent.
The two documents - Knox’s account and the forensics report - form part of the case in hearings in Perugia’s Renaissance-era law courts that will determine whether Knox and Sollecito go to trial. Guede has already asked for a fast-track trial.
At last week’s hearing, Knox sat in front of Kercher’s father John, her mother Arline and her sister Stephanie but never turned to meet their gaze.
According to the prosecution, Knox and her codefendants pushed Kercher to her knees in order to force her to take part in a sex game. When she refused she was stabbed three times in the throat.
The 30-page forensics report reveals some of the horror of Kercher’s last moments. According to its reconstruction of the crime, Kercher struggled to free herself as she was threatened with the knife before being made to kneel. She injured the palm and thumb of her right hand as she resisted, and the knife struck her on the neck.
One of the killers placed the bloodied knife on the bedsheet for a few moments. “This, together with bruises on her right elbow and forearm, indicates that several attackers sought violently to constrain her with the aim of preventing her from fending off the blade,” the police scientists say.
Traces of Kercher’s blood show she was killed in front of a cupboard and then she either crawled or her body was dragged for 20in towards a chest of drawers. Investigators believe the killers may have tried to dispose of the body, or moved it to hide evidence.
The crime scene was wiped clean and rearranged to make it look as if a robbery had taken place. The body was covered with a quilt and a sheet, apparently so that the killers would not have to look at her.
Claudia Matteini, a judge in charge of earlier hearings, wrote that Kercher was “subjected to several acts of violence, characterised by extreme cruelty in a hideous frenzy, surely a sign of personalities who were perverse and lacking in any inhibitions.”
The judge expressed her “dismay and apprehension” at Knox’s cold manner after the murder. She was struck by a woman so young “finding it so easy to control her state of mind”.
Knox was imprisoned after she confessed she had been in the cottage at the time of the murder and that she had been in the kitchen and had covered her ears to stifle the sound of Kercher’s screams. She then withdrew her testimony, which has been ruled inadmissible by Italy’s supreme court, on the grounds that no lawyer was present.
Soon after she was jailed on November 6, Knox wrote the two-page account in which she described the supposed conversation on Sollecito’s bed.
“This is what happened - I swear it,” she wrote. She spent the evening at the home of Sollecito. “I checked my e-mails on his computer for a time and then I read him a bit of Harry Potter in German. We watched [the film] Amélie and we kissed each other a bit,” Knox continued.
After dinner, Sollecito said he wanted to smoke cannabis and the two talked on his bed “about the kinds of people we were”. Knox added: “Raffaele told me about his past. About how he had a horrible experience with drugs and alcohol.”
Claiming in her account to have consoled Sollecito when he blamed himself for not having been at his depressed mother’s side before she committed suicide, Knox outlined her own philosophy of life.
“I told him that life is full of choices and that these choices are not necessarily between good and evil, but between what’s better and what’s worse, and that what we all must do is that which we believe is best.”
Knox concluded: “It was a very long conversation but it happened and it must have happened while Meredith was being killed.”
Both Knox and Sollecito have the support of strong defence teams. Knox’s team includes her family in Seattle, backed by a public relations adviser, and two lawyers and two forensic experts. Sollecito has his father, a urologist, and three lawyers including Giulia Bongiorno, who has defended the former prime minister Giulio Andreotti against mafia charges. In contrast, Guede has two local lawyers to speak for him.
Kercher’s family have briefed the Florentine lawyer Francesco Maresca, and have given only a couple of short news conferences at which they have confined themselves to reading prepared statements.
On the eve of last week’s hearing, Kercher’s sister Stephanie read out a statement in a steady voice at a Perugia hotel to say the family was “pleased that we have reached a new phase in the process, hoping that justice will soon be done for Meredith”.
But justice for Meredith Kercher and her family will take some time yet. If, as expected, Knox and Sollecito are sent to trial, the case will not begin until December or January, a legal source said. The trial could last up to eight months, and would probably be followed by an appeal to a higher court and then to the supreme court, with a final verdict in late 2009 at best.
Amanda Knox wrote:Fiorenza Sarzanini, a journalist who writes for the Corriere della Sera, has apparently written somekind of book about this case. It’s supposed to include things we haven’t seen before. Here’s an extract from Knox’s diary which was seized by the police. As ever, these obviously won’t be the same as the words Knox wrote. I’m translating from the Italian translation. d.
‘Obviously, Chris is getting on my nerves because he’s an asshole and so I had to go away. I said sorry to mom after I went away while they were putting the tent up but I don’t plan on staying to hear that I’m an obtuse retard. When I’m responsible for what’s around me (when mom says I can) I don’t vent my frustrations on the people I love the most. So yesterday I got a bit drunk and called Seliber and DJ. I can’t wait to see them both. They are my boys. I love them. What I really should be doing is study because there’s still a bit of light. I tried last night but soon stopped because I’d like to avoid the weight of the glasses. And I was tired. And I was drunk. I go back and forwards drunk. It’s fun but there are better ways of enjoying yourself which aren’t harmful to your physical and emotional health.’
‘And so I’m at the police station now, after a long day spent telling how I was the first person to arrive at the house and to find my flatmate dead. The strange thing is that all I want to do now is write a song about this. It would be the first song that I’ve written and it would be about someone who died in a horrible way for no reason. How morbid is that? I’m starving. And I’d really like to say that I could kill for a pizza but it just doesn’t seem right. Laura and Filomena are pretty shocked. Raffaele too. I’m angry. At the start I was scared, then sad, then confused then really fucked off and now…I don’t know. I can’t concentrate. I didn’t see her body and I didn’t see her blood and so it almost seems like it didn’t happen. But it happened, in the room right next to mine. The blood was in the bathroom I used to have a shower today. The front door was open because of the wind and now I haven’t got a house and am without a person that was part of my life and I don’t know what to do or think.’
F. Bene wrote:Giornale dell’Umbria. 27 November 2008. Journalist; F.Bene.
What usually catches presumed murderers are the traces they leave at the scene of the crime. Against those accused of the murder in via della Pergola is the almost total lack of prints. For the prosecution, it’s inexplicable that there was only one fingerprint of Amanda Knox in the house where Meredith Kercher was killed a year ago, since the young woman lived there. Therefore, somebody cleaned the house thouroughly just before the police arrived. Whoever did it could only be someone who could move freely around the house without raising suspicion.
To tell the truth, some traces of Amanda Knox were found; bare footprints in the corridor and in the bathroom next to the victim’s bedroom and that of the presumed murderer. Signs of ‘rubbing/dragging’ were also found in the same places, as if somebody had mopped the floor. Here are parts of the summary of the forensic police’s report.
”In the corridor, the part which leads from the victim’s room to the small bathroom, no traces of blood were found. This, when connected to the partial right bare footprint, made in blood on the blue bathmat found in the bathroom, indicates that somebody cleaned the floor.’
‘This was confirmed during the inspection of the house which was carried out on December 18. Luminol highlighted bare footprints, presumably made in blood, in the corridor between Meredith and Amanda’s room.’
The young American also has an explanation for these strange findings. She said this to the investigators during an interrogation in prison. you want to know about that morning? …When I woke up, I got up and Raffaele was still in bed. I got dressed and went to my house…I went into the house and closed the door… I went to my room, got undressed, went into the bathroom and had a shower….and I used the bathmat, on which there was blood, because I’d left the towels in the bedroom. I saw the blood on the bathmat and I dragged it into the bedroom to get the towels, then, I took it back to the bathroom and put my earrings in.. I saw the blood on the bathmat and in the washbasin but I didn’t think something terrible had happened.’ …
Damian wrote:According to Sarzanini’s book, Amanda Knox also said this to the police. It’s not clear when but I get the impression it was early on in the investigation. She’s referring to the morning of Nov2. d.
“…Then I closed the door and went to the bathroom, the one near my bedroom which me and Meredith use to have a shower. I noticed there were drops of blood on the floor, a bigger bloodstain on the bathmat and another one in the washbasin, as if someone had touched it with a bloody hand. It seemed strange to me because we are all clean and we clean the bathroom after using it. Right there, I thought the blood in the wash basin could have been mine because I had had my ears pierced about a week ago. In fact, I checked in the mirror, touching my ear. I then touched the blood in the basin but I saw that it wasn’t recent. I went into the other bathroom where I normally wash my hair and I noticed there were faeces in the toilet, that is, someone had used it without flushing.”
Mignini; What time did you wake up at Sollecito’s house?
Knox; Around 10ish.
Mignini; And then?
Knox; I went to my house.
Mignini; Why did you go back to your house?
Knox; To take a shower and change my clothes.
Mignini; Why didn’t you have a shower at Sollecito’s house?
Knox; The shower leaks all over the place!
Interpreter; It’s small. There’s not much space.
Mignini; But you showered there on other occasions.
Mignini; Also in the afternoon you showered there.
Knox; But I prefer to take a shower at my house. Plus, all my clothes are at my house.
Interpreter; When she went into the bedroom to have a shower she forgot the towel. And so there was also, what do you call it in Italian?
Mignini; The bathmat.
Interpreter; …the bathmat that she used to go back…walk to the bedroom to get a towel.
Mignini; Sorry I don’t understand. You took the bathmat to walk, to go to the bedroom?
Interpreter; So she didn’t slip with bare feet.
Mignini; When did you notice the blood?
Knox; I saw the blood when I went into the bathroom.
Interpreter; In the washbasin when she took her earrings out. After the shower she realised she didn’t have a towel and she used the bathmat.
Mignini; So you saw the blood before you had a shower?
Intepreter; Yes, in the wash basin yes.
Mignini; You found the door open, blood in the bathroom and despite all this you had a shower?
Knox; In my entire life…
Interpreter; She didn’t expect to find…She’s never gone through something terrible…
Mignini; But there was blood and the door was open.
'...I got undressed and went into the bathroom, I had a shower...and I used the bathmat, on which there was blood, because I'd left the towels in the bedroom. I saw the blood on the bathmat and I dragged it into the bedroom to get the towels, then, I took it back to the bathroom and put my earrings in.. I saw the blood on the bathmat and in the washbasin but I didn't think something terrible had happened.'
translated from Il Giornale dell'Umbria
Kermit wrote:“Those American personalities are not helping Amanda”
Lawyer Ghirga: “I have spoken with Prosecutor Mignini”
by Enzo Beretta - Perugia
“There are people around the figure of Amanda who have no formal role in the student’s defence team, which is formed by myself together with my colleague Carlo Dalla Vedova.
These people are not only not helping our client in the difficult judicial process in the Corte d’Assise in which we have to defend her, but on the contrary, they are harming her judicial position.”
Luciano Ghirga, lawyer for the American accused by the prosecutor of sexually assaulting and killing Meredith Kercher with her former boyfriend Raffaele Sollecito and Rudy Hermann Guede, once again distances himself from the Stars-and-Stripes “know-it-alls” who repeatedly have tried to throw mud on the work of investigators and have even personally attacked Giuliano Mignini, head of the murder investigation.
There is strong evidence which supports the prosecution, unlike the “macaroni” pleading endlessly and one after the other on American television broadcasts, who pay lawyers, show-men and private investigators not much inclined to read the documentation.
That documentation was studied a lot by the Review and Court of Appeal judges, who confirmed preventive prison for the suspects, and the GUP Paolo Micheli, who has sentenced Rudy to thirty years in prison (with the abbreviated trial) and sent the ex-boyfriend and girlfriend to trial. This is a validation of the good work done by the investigators.
Lawyer Ghirga has not acted on a video in which the correctness of the findings of the forensic investigators is called into question, thereby attacking the protagonists of the case. But he will play his cards at the appropriate time in the trial, which resumes Friday.
“On a personal level I expressed my impressions to Dr. Mignini,” Ghirga said.
The lobbying work by Amanda’s side fits into a framework of traditional adversity by Americans when their fellow citizens are left in the hands of another country’s justice.
Nicki wrote:"Azzeccagarbugli" : a disparaging term to indicate incompetent, worthless lawyers. Quite a heavy epithet, Not begninant at all!
"Le carte" : all that is related to the trial, all the files.
Amanda Knox wrote:This is an email for everyone, because id like to get it all out and
not have to repeat myself a hundred times like ive been having to do
at the police station. some of you already know some things, some of
you know nothing. what im about to say i cant say to journalists or
newspapers, and i require that of anone receiving this information as
well. this is m account of how i found my roommate murdered the
morning of friday, november 2nd.
The last time i saw meredith, 22, english, beautiful, funny, was when
i came home from spending the night at a friends house. It was the day
after halloween, thursday. I got home and she was still asleep, bu
after i had taken a shower and was fumbling around the kitchen she
emerged from her room with the blood of her costume (vampire) still
dripping down her chin. We talked for a while in the kitchen, how the
night went, what our plans were for the day. Nothing out of the
ordinary. then she went to take a shower and i began to start eating a
little while i waited for my friend (Raffaele-at whose house i stayed
over) to arrive at my house. He came right after i started eating and
he made himself some pasta. as we were eating together meredith came
out of the shower and grabbed some laundry or put some laundry in, one
or the other and returned into her room after saying hi to raffael.
after lunch i began to play guitar with raffael and meredith came out
of her room and went to the door. she said bye and left for the day.
it was the last time i saw her alive.
after a little while of playing guitar me and raffael went to his
house to watch movies and after to eat dinner and generally spend the
evening and night indoors. we didnt go out. the next morning i woke up
around 1030 and after grabbing my few things i left raffael's
appartment and walked the five minute walk back to my house to once
again take a shower and grab a chane of clothes. i also needed to grab
a mop because after dinner raffael had spilled a lot of water on the
floor of his kitchen by accident and didnt have a mop to clean it up.
so i arrived home and the first abnormal thing i noticed was the door
was wide open. here's the thingabout the door to our house: its
broken, in such a way that you have to use the keys to keep it closed.
if we dont have the door locked, it is really easy for the wond to
blow the door open, and so, my roommates and i always have the door
locked unless we are running really quickley to bring the garbage out
or to get something from the neighbors who live below us. (another
important piece of imformation: for those who dont know, i inhabit a
house of two stories, of which my three roommates and i share the
second story appartment. there are four italian guys of our age
between 22 and 26 who live below us. we are all wuite good friends and
we talk often. giacomo is especially welcome because he plays guitar
with me and laura, one of my roommates, and is, or was dating
meredith. the other three are marco, stefano, and ricardo.) anyway, so
the door was wide open. strange, yes, but not so strange that i really
thought anything about it. i assumed someone in the house was doing
exactly what i just said, taking out the trash or talking really
uickley to the neighbors downstairs. so i closed the door behind me
but i didnt lock it, assuming that the person who left the door open
would like to come back in. when i entered i called out if anyone was
there, but no one responded and i assumed that if anyone was there,
they were still asleep. lauras door was open which meant she wasnt
home, and filomenas door was also closed. my door was open like always
and meredith door was closed, which to me weant she was sleeping. i
undressed in my room and took a quick shower in one of the two
bathrooms in my house, the one that is right next to meredith and my
bedrooms (situated right next to one another). it was after i stepped
out of the shower and onto the mat that i noticed the blood in the
bathroom. it was on the mat i was using to dry my feet and there were
drops of blood in the sink. at first i thought the blood might have
come from my ears which i had pierced extrensively not too long ago,
but then immediately i know it wasnt mine becaus the stains on the mat
were too big for just droplets form my ear, and when i touched the
blood in the sink it was caked on already. there was also blood
smeered on the faucet. again, however, i thought it was strange,
because my roommates and i are very clean and we wouldnt leave blood
int he bathroom, but i assumed that perhaps meredith was having
menstral issues and hadnt cleaned up yet. ew, but nothing to worry
about. i left the bathroom and got dressed in my room. after i got
dressed i went to the other bathroom in my house, the one that
filomena dn laura use, and used their hairdryer to obviously dry my
hair and it was after i was putting back the dryer that i noticed the
shit that was left in the toilet, something that definately no one in
out house would do. i started feeling a little uncomfortable and so i
grabbed the mop from out closet and lef the house, closing and locking
the door that no one had come back through while i was in the shower,
and i returned to raffael's place. after we had used the mop to clean
up the kitchen i told raffael about what i had seen in the house over
breakfast. the strange blood in the bathroom, the door wide open, the
shit left in the toilet. he suggested i call one of my roommates, so i
called filomena. filomena had been at a party the night before with
her boyfriend marco (not the same marco who lives downstairs but we'll
call him marco-f as in filomena and the other can be marco-n as in
neighbor). she also told me that laura wasnt at home and hadnt been
because she was on business in rome. which meant the only one who had
spent the night at our house last night was meredith, and she was as
of yet unaccounted for. filomena seemed really worried, so i told her
id call meredith and then call her back. i called both of merediths
phones the english one first and last and the italian one between. the
first time i called the english phone is rang and then sounded as of
there was disturbance, but no one answered. i then calle the italian
phone and it just kept ringing, no answer. i called her english phone
again and this time an english voice told me her phone was out of
service. raffael and i gathered our things and went back to my house.
i unlocked the door and im going to tell this really slowly to get
everything right so just have patience with me. the living
room/kitchen was fine. looked perfectly normal. i was checking for
signs of our things missing, should there have been a burglar in our
house the night before. filomenas room was closed, but when i opned
the door her room and a mess and her window was open and completely
broken, but her computer was still sitting on her desk like it always
was and this confused me. convinced that we had been robbed i went to
lauras room and looked quickley in, but it was spottless, like it
hadnt even been touced. this too, i thought was odd. i then went into
the part of the house that meredith and i share and checked my room
for things missing, which there werent. then i knocked on merediths
at first i thought she was alseep so i knocked gently, but when she
didnt respond i knocked louder and louder until i was really banging
on her door and shouting her name. no response. panicing, i ran out
onto our terrace to see if maybe i could see over the ledge into her
room from the window, but i couldnt see in. bad angle. i then went
into the bathroom where i had dried my hair and looked really quickley
into the toilet. in my panic i thought i hadnt seen anything there,
which to me meant whoever was in my house had been there when i had
been there. as it turns out the police told me later that the toilet
was full and that the shit had just fallen to the bottom of the
toilet, so i didnt see it. i ran outside and down to our neighbors
door. the lights were out but i banged ont he door anyway. i wanted to
ask them if they had heard anything the night before, but no one was
home. i ran back into the house. in the living room raffael told me he
wanted to see if he could break down merediths door. he tried, and
cracked the door, but we couldnt open it. it was then that we decided
to call the cops. there are two types of cops in italy, carbanieri
(local, dealing with traffic and domestic calls) and the police
investigaters. he first called his sister for advice and then called
the carbanieri. i then called filomna who said she would be on her way
home immediately. while we were waiting, two ununiformed police
investigaters came to our house. i showed them what i could and told
them what i knew. gave them ohone numbers and explained a bit in
broken italian, and then filomena arrived with her boyfriend marco-f
and two other friends of hers. all together we checked the houe out,
talked to the polie,a nd in a big they all opened merediths door.
i was in the kitchen stadning aside, having really done my part for
the situation. but when they opened merediths door and i heard
filomena scream "a foot! a foot!" in italian i immedaitely tried to
get to merediths room but raffael grabbed me and took me out of the
house. the police told everyone to get out and not long afterward the
carabinieri arrived and then soon afterward, more police
investigators. they took all of our informaton and asked us the same
questions over and over. at the time i had only what i was wearing and
my badg, which thankfully had my passport in it and my wallet. no
jacket though, and i was freezing. after sticking around at the housr
for a bit, the police told us to go to the station to give testimony,
which i did. i was in a room for six hours straight after that without
seeing anyone else, answering questions in italian for the first hour
and then they brought in an interpreter and he helped my out with the
details that i didnt know the words for. they asked me of course about
the the morning, the last time i saw her, and because i was the
closest to her, questions about her habits and her relationships.
afterward, when they were taking my fingerprints, i met two of
merediths english friends, two girls she goes out with, including the
lat one who saw her alive that night she was murdered. they also had
their prints taken. after that, this was around 9 at night by this
time, i was taken into the waiting room where there was various other
people who i all knew from varous places who all knew meredith. her
friends from england, my roommates, even the owner of the pub she most
frequented. after a while my neighbors were taken in too, having just
arived home from a weeklong vacation in their home town, which
eplained why they werent home when i banged on their door. later than
that another guy showed up and was taken in for questioning, a guy i
dont like but who both meredith and i knew from different occasions, a
morracan guy that i only know by his nickname amongst the girls
"shaky". then i sat around in this waiting room wthout having the
chance to leave or eat anything besides vending maschine food (whcih
gave me a hell of a stomache ache) until 530 in the morning. during
this time i received calls from a lot of different people, family
mostly of course, and i also talked with the rest. especially to find
out what exactly was in merediths room whent hey opened it. apparently
her body was laying under a sheet, and with her foot sticking out and
there was a lot of blood. whoever had did this had slit her throat.
they told me to be back in at 11am. i went home to raffael's place and
ate something substantial, and passed out.
in the morning raffael drove me bck to the police station but had to
leave me when they said they wantrd to take me back to the house for
quesioning. before i go on, id like to ssay that i was strictly told
not to speak about this, but im speaking with you people who are not
involved and who cant do anything bad except talk to journalists,
which i hope you wont do. i have to get this off my chest because its
pressing down on me and it helps to know that someone besides me knows
something, and that im not the one who knows the most out of everyone.
at the house they asked me very personal questions about meredith's
life and also about the personalities of our neighbors. how well did i
know them? pretty well, we are friends. was meredith sexually active?
yeah, she borrowed a few of my condoms. does she like anal? wtf? i
dont know. does she use vaseline? for her lips? what kind of person is
stefano? nice guy, has a really pretty girlfriend. hmmm...very
interesting....weìd like to how you something, and tell us if this is
out of normal.
tehy took me into the nieghbors house. the had breaken the door open
to get in, but they told me to ingonore that. the rooms were all open.
giacomo and marco-n's room was spotless which made since becaus the
guys had thoroughly cleaned the whole house before they left on
vacation. stefano's room however, well, his bed was strpped of linens,
which was odd, and the comfoter he used was shoved up at the top of
his bed, with blood on it. i obviously told then that the blood was
definatley out of normal and also that he usually has his bed made.
they took note of it and ussred me out. when i left the house to go
back to the police station they told me to put my jacket over my head
and duck down below the window so the reporters wouldnt try to talk to
me. at the station i just had to repeat the answers that i had givne
at the house do they could type them up and after a good 5 and a half
hour day with the police again raffael picked me up and took me out
for some well-deserved pizza. i was starving. i then bought some
underwear because as it turns out i wont be able to leave italy for a
while as well as enter my house. i only had the clothes i was wearing
the day it bagan, so i bought some underwear and borrwed a pair of
pants from raffael.
Spoke with my remaining roommates that night (last night) and it was a
hurricane of emotions and stress but we needed it anyway. What we have
been discussing is bascially what to do next. We are trying to keep
our heads on straight. First things first though, my roommates both
work for lawyers, and they are going to try to send a request through
on monday to retrieve important documents of ours that are still in
the house. Secondly, we are going to talk to the agency that we used
to find our house and obviously request to move out. It kind of sucks
that we have to pay the next months rent, but the owner has protection
within the contract. After that, I guess I'll go back to class on
monday, although im not sure what im going to do about people asking
me questions, because i really dont want to talk again about what
happened. Ive been talking an awful lot lately and im pretty tired of
it. After that, Its like im trying to remember what i was doing before
all this happened. I still need to figure out who i need to talk to
and what i need to do to continue studying in perugia, because its
what i want to do.
Anyway, thats the update, feeling okay, hope you all are well,
I want to-- reiterate my position, for all of this case, and also to clarify-- the confusion that I-- have brought to this case.
Okay. I want to clarify what it is that happened to me in-- the-- in the Questore -- the day that-- the day that I made declarations that didn't make sense, that changed.
After-- the discovery of Meredith, I had spent days in-- cooperating with the police, to try to just give as much information as I could.
The day of the fifth, I wasn't called to the Questore. Raffaele was called, but I decided to go with him, to keep him company, but also because I was scared to be alone.
When I was there, I had just planned to wait, but the police came into their waiting room and wanted to talk to me more about what I knew, people that I knew who had come to my house. I gave them phone numbers and--
After that, they moved me into another room and started asking me the same questions, what I had done that night, asking me-- for times, exact time periods, exactly what I did. And was-- it was difficult for me because it was in the middle of the night that I-- we had been called. I was very tired. And I was also quite stressed out. And I-- so I--
They kept asking me the same questions, time periods-- exactly sequences of actions and I did my best, to give the same information over and over and over again.
At a certain point-- excuse me. At a certain point, the-- they began-- the police began to be more aggressive with me.
They called me a liar and--
They told me that I was-- of all the things that I had kept saying, over and over again, they said that I was lying. They said that--
They threatened that I was going to go in prison for 30 years because I was hiding something. But I-- but I felt-- I felt completely stressed out, blocked, because I wasn't lying. I didn't know what I-- I didn't know what to do.
Then they started pushing on me the idea that I must have seen something, and forgotten about it. They said that I was traumatized.
I didn't understand. I became really confused. I tried to-- re-express, re-explain what I had done-- the fact that I didn't have to go to work. At that point, they-- I gave them my phone so they could see that I didn't have to-- I received-- okay-- okay--
See - because I received an SMS, and for that reason, they kept repeating to me that I was lying about - SMS. I was confused.
So, what ended up happening was the fact that I had been pressured so much, and I was-- I was hit in the back of the head by one of the police officers and--
Who said she was trying to make me-- help me remember the truth.
I was terrified, because I didn't know-- I-- I didn't know what to do anymore.
And so what ended up happening was they said they-- they went-- take me to jail, and I'm - and because of all this SMS, because-- because of all this confusion, they kept saying, "You sent this thing to Patrick. We know that you left the house. We know." I just said his name. It wasn't because I was trying to say anything. I just said it because they were…
After that - at a certain point, I asked if I should have had a lawyer. And they said that it would have been worse for me.
So they asked me to make declarations about what I remembered, but I told that I didn't remember anything like this.
Because I was confused. What I remembered was different from what they were asking me to say.
They asked me for details, and I didn't have details to give them, so they just asked me questions that I just responded as -
From - I was stressed, so what I - what, in that moment that I was trying to think of something else - my memories of just random events, of seeing Patrick, for instance, one night, or…
I wrote these memorials that everyone's putting so much pressure on - only because I wanted to express the fact that I was confused. I felt like no one was listening to me anymore, and so I wrote these to express the fact that I didn't - I - I didn't - I wasn't for sure about anything anymore.
I want to stress the fact that I'm innocent. Meredith was my friend, and I could never have hurt her. I'm not the person that the prosecutor says I am.
And that's all I want to say. Thank you.
Beth Hale for the Daily Mail wrote:But it seems the pair have forged a renewed bond through the secret exchange of 'glances' in court and swapping letters.
They have even discussed the trial, with Knox, who had shared a house with Miss Kercher, accusing the British student's friends of 'trash talk'.
It was in February this year that seven of Miss Kercher's fellow students travelled to Perugia to describe the sometimes strained relationship between the housemates and Knox's 'strange' behaviour in the wake of the tragedy.
Just hours after leaving court Knox penned a letter, seen by the Mail, to computer studies graduate Sollecito in which she wished him 'HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY' and telling him 'it was good to see you again today'.
She continued: 'We got to exchange a few more glances than usual, though, I have to admit, I'm not good at reading the subtle messages that one passes through the features of the face, nor can I read lips...
'I must admit that I didn't pick up exactly "word for word" what you may have wanted to transmit my way. And on my end, essentially what I was trying to tell you through the various waggling of my eyebrows was essentially: "Wow! These girls made up their minds to hate me really quick."
'To tell the truth, for all the trash talk that made this day especially awkward for me, I don't feel bad about it. Honestly. I don't know why they think they can make judges about me or my relationship with Meredith by merely exaggerating a few instances that took place while we were still trying to settle in.'
The next day, February 14, Knox appeared in court wearing wore a T-shirt with the Beatles lyric 'All you need is love' in pink letters on the front.
That night she again wrote to Sollecito, cryptically thanking him for the 'Valentine's kiss'.
She went on to tell him she would like him to visit her in Seattle, Washington.
Her letter included a self-penned poem entitled 'I Have Only One Life' as well as a poem written by a friend about interrogation and being 'cuffed to the truth'.
But it appears any romance between the couple has ended. in another letter, dated February 18, she tells him that she cannot give him her 'heart completely' because she has returned to her ex-boyfriend, American photographer David Johnsrud.
She writes: 'I'm sorry for you and that in this time I've steered myself back to the love that I knew.
'But I can give you my hand, shoulder, my ear, my time, my pen, my thoughts, my smiles, my silly pink paper...'
Of their short-lived relationship she writes that they could have had 'something special' before the 'whole world suddenly threw us into an experience we didn't deserve and we were cut off from each other'.
She ends, hoping they can 'hug' 'when the judge absolves us'.
The Daily Mail wrote:Perhaps that is one reason why Knox felt the need to pour out her innermost thoughts and feelings in her diary, which I have read in its entirety this week.
I was also given exclusive access to a previously unseen, four-page e-mail which Knox circulated to her closest relatives and friends on November 4, less than 24 hours before she was arrested on suspicion of murdering Meredith.
Written with the expressed aim of explaining her movements before and after Meredith died, but at times astonishingly insensitive, it is, in its way, just as revealing as the diary.
David Wilson, professor of criminology at Birmingham City University, is an expert on serial killers and has analysed the prison diaries of Fred West and Dennis Nilsen, among others.
He examined Knox's writing for the Daily Mail, and believes these documents give an extraordinary insight into the girl's mind and, significantly, 'clearly show that she has got something to hide'.
Studying the 80, A4-sized pages Knox wrote before her diary was seized by prison officials and handed to the police, Knox clearly sees herself as a martyr, Prof Wilson adds.
In a breathtaking departure from reality, she also appears to regard the entire episode as some drama that has made her university gap-year abroad more eventful than anyone else's.
The diary contains frequent references to her appearance, and she constantly complains that stodgy prison food has caused her to gain weight (it soared to 10st when she was first remanded in custody but she has since shed 15lb).
She also seems to relish being the centre of attention from lusting male admirers.
'Apparently someone out there saw me on TV and thought I was "hot" so they set up a website where people comment on how pretty I am,' she writes.
'Weird. Flattered but that really isn't important right now.'
A few days later she returns to this theme: 'I received 23 fan letters today - that makes the count up to 35 letters. [They] are all from guys ranging from 20-35 on average, although I did receive a letter from a guy in his 50s.
'All of them reassure me that they believe me - the majority comment on how beautiful I am. I've received blatant love letters, a marriage proposal and others wanting to get to know "the girl with the angel face".
'Included in one was an article cut from a newspaper that talked about this new "Amanda" fad, about the letters I'm getting, as well as the websites that have popped up where people post comments like "she's hot" or "I'd do her".'
'If I were ugly, would they be writing me wishing me encouragement? I don't think so. Jeez, I'm not even that good looking. People are acting like I'm the prettiest thing since Helen of Troy.'
Perhaps intending to tease Raffaele Sollecito, who is said to have ditched her while in prison, she says all this sexual attention 'makes me think of DJ'.
This is a reference to the American boyfriend she left behind when she travelled to Italy, and whom she now claims to love the most.
Was it also with Sollecito in mind, one wonders, that she chronicled in such detail the cloying attentions of a senior prison official?
'The guy is getting kind of weird. He says he looks at me like a daughter but whenever I'm with him I always feel like he's looking for something - and he seems very interested in my sex life.
'1) He winks at me when I receive "fan letters" from male inmates who have seen me on TV. 2) He tells me not to cry because it makes me ugly. 3) He's commenting on my figure quite a bit and blatantly gives me a stare up and down when he sees me. 4) He asks me if I dream about sex. 5) He wants to know if I'm good at sex. 6) When I told him I thought it strange that he was interested in my sexuality (I was being polite, what I meant was RUDE) he acted like it was no big deal and it was my fault for not drawing the line.'
There is more of this. Much more. It only stops several days later, when the prison doctor informs her, incorrectly, she later concludes, that blood tests have revealed her to be HIV positive.
'I don't want to die, I want to get married and have children. I want to create something good. I want my life. Why why why?' she protests.
Knox then lists the seven men she has had sex with - 'in Italy', she writes first, but crosses out the word 'Italy' and writes 'in general' - concluding that she could theoretically have been infected by three of them.
From a Jesuit college-educated girl this is excruciating stuff, and hardly supports claims that her image as a vamp is the stuff of media invention.
But what do we learn of the night Meredith was murdered? Precious little is the answer, despite her claim to have recovered her drug-addled memory in a blinding flash following the visit of an inspirational Roman Catholic nun.
(This nun, she decides, must have 'come to her' for some deep purpose like Mother Mary in the Beatles song Let It Be, which she now sings continually, to the annoyance of fellow inmates).
All she 'remembers' is that she and Sollecito left her house at 5pm, some four hours before Meredith arrived home from a friend's. At his flat she says, they used his computer to find songs to play on her guitar, read Harry Potter in German, watched the film Amelie, and shared a fish supper before smoking marijuana and having sex.
They fell asleep, and by the time they awoke next morning Meredith had been murdered.
'It's that simple,' she says, pronouncing her innocence for the umpteenth time.
Perhaps so, though in her rambling e-mail to family and friends, sent at 3.24am on November 4, when she had no idea she was about to become a suspect, her recollections are strangely more detailed.
One might imagine she was crafting the opening chapter to a macabre thriller, with herself in the central role, naturally, rather than describing the tragic events surrounding the murder of her friend.
'The last time I saw Meredith, English, beautiful, funny, was when I came home after spending the night at a friend's house,' she begins.
'It was the day after Halloween, Thursday. I got home and she was still asleep, but after I had taken a shower and was fumbling around the kitchen she emerged from her room with the blood of her costume (vampire) dripping down her chin.'
In a story which the prosecution claim is riddled with holes, she goes on to explain how her suspicions were aroused the following day when she returned home after, she claims, spending the night with Sollecito to find Meredith's room locked, the toilet unflushed, and specks of blood in the bathroom.
She adds that she thought, at first, that the blood might have been Meredith's because she was having 'menstrual issues'.
But when banging on her door failed to arouse her, she called the police in a panic.
As Meredith's friends and family grieved, and the murder investigation swirled around her, Knox remained as self-absorbed as ever. That much is clear from her e-mail. She moans about suffering from a stomach ache after eating vending machine food while waiting all night to be interviewed by police.
And she complains at the injustice of having to pay rent for the following month, even though she won't be able to return to the house because it's been sealed off as a crime scene.
'It kind of sucks,' she remarks, as Meredith lay on a mortuary slab.
The sheer enormity of what has happened - and the grief of Meredith's parents who have lost a treasured daughter - doesn't seem to have occurred to her. The picture that Knox inadvertently paints of herself is one of a narcissistic young woman with a remarkably callous disregard for what has happened to Meredith.
But unattractive as that portrait is, it does not mean she's guilty of murder.
Indeed, she may well turn out to be innocent, as she insists. Nonetheless, Professor Wilson believes the diary and e-mail offer the first real insight into the mind of this enigmatic young woman.
The Italian prosecutors agree, and intend to use the documents as vital planks of evidence.
What struck Professor Wilson first was how little space she devotes to Meredith with just a few cursory lines describing her as a good friend who 'protected me when she knew I was in an uncomfortable situation'.
He says: 'There's no insight or empathy or understanding for how her family must feel. Meredith emerges in the diary as the reason why Knox is in this predicament.'
Nor is there any sign in the diary that she really does want 'to remember'.
Instead, it amounts to a long, self-absorbed open letter, possibly written in the hope that Sollecito (who refuses to substantiate her alibi: that she spent the night of the murder with him at his flat) might somehow read it and take pity on her.
'I think the key thing the diary demonstrates is that Knox and her boyfriend were embroiled in a classic folie-a-deux (madness shared by two people),' Professor Wilson says.
'Amanda Knox seems to want this arrangement to continue, and can't understand why he has brought it to an end by failing to stand by her.'
The documents emerged this week, just as the case enters a critical phase. For a few days ago, chief prosecutor Guiliano Mignini formally closed his investigation and submitted his 10,469 page dossier to defence lawyers. They now have until mid-July to make their final submissions.
Then, after the Italian judicial summer recess, a judge will examine the facts and decide whether to commit any (or all) of the trio for trial, or dismiss the case and release them.
In Perugia this week, a prosecution source assured me he was 'extremely confident' that sufficient evidence has been amassed. It includes a knife, found at Sollecito's house and 'compatible' with Meredith's neck wounds.
Traces of her DNA were allegedly found on the blade, with Knox's on the handle.
Then there is the prosecution's belated 'star witness' - an Albanian farm-worker who has just come forward to recall (somewhat hazily, it must be said) how he was confronted by the knife-wielding Knox and her boyfriend on the road, as he drove past the house on the night of the murder.
Armed with this testimony, plus that of 50 other witnesses, tell-tale footprints and phone records, Sr Mignini insists he has more than enough to keep Knox and her alleged cohorts in prison for 20 years, at minimum.
In court, he may spice up his case by suggesting that they were acting out some perverted, drug-fuelled ritual or fantasy, perhaps linked to Halloween, or even involving Knox's obsession with Harry Potter (whom she believes Sollecito strongly resembles).
Having remained resolutely silent for months as their daughter's reputation has been dragged through the gutter by way of leaked smears and racy accounts of her sexual adventures, however, Knox's family have now decided to fight fire with fire.
They have augmented their team of forensic experts and lawyers with a veteran Seattle-based PR, David Marriott, who is seeking to persuade us that the young woman said to have bought thongs for 'wild sex' with her boyfriend as the murder hunt got under way is really a sweet, unwordly tomboy who prefers camping and hiking to drug-charged bedroom romps.
So which one is the genuine Amanda Knox, and can she be telling the truth when she claims to have had nothing to do with Meredith's murder? Her diary and e-mail certainly show that Foxy Knoxy is guilty of crass insensitivity that belies her good breeding and Jesuit school education.
Whether she is guilty of something more sinister is a matter the Italian courts must determine.
Additional reporting: NICK PISA
Sue Carroll for The Mirror wrote:Amanda Knox crying crocodile tears
The obnoxious campaign to prove Amanda Knox innocent after she was found guilty of murdering flatmate Meredith Kercher continues.
Apparently she’s received thousands of supportive letters which give her “tremendous comfort” while other reports claim she feels “horrendous” and needed to be comforted all night after receiving the guilty verdict. Yada, yada,yawn.
This letter, printed in The Observer, offers a slightly different perspective: “My daughter was a student with Meredith in Perugia. They went out together on Halloween. When Amanda Knox was asked how she felt on November 2, she said: “S*** happens”, which contrasts rather sharply with the rather contrived way she addressed the Italian court about “my friend Meredith”.
Just thought I’d pass it on.
A lawyer for Knox, Luciano Ghirga, told reporters Friday that his client had given "three versions and ... it is difficult to evaluate which one is true."
He also said he had warned Knox against making unfounded accusations. "We told her that it would be worse than assassination to accuse an innocent person. We explained to her what slander means in Italy and we'll see," Ghirga said.
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