Io ricordo. Piazza Fontana

I wonder, if it was no-one, why is my father no longer with me?

We're democrats, we can't demand revenge,

but we can demand justice.

All we ask is for the truth.

Only that can give us peace of mind.

That day, someone killed our loved ones by setting off that bomb.

I'm Francesca Dendena.

This is my father, Pietro.

On 12 December 1969, I was 17.

Look.

Are those what they call "electronic brains"?

Yes.

It was the last day I saw my father alive.

Like the Olivettis?

I saw them in action, and they're amazing.

They don't make them now. These are better.

Have you seen our Francesca? She's choosing a good job.

She's a good one, my child.

- You should look up to your sister. - He's not very convinced.

He's a good one, too.

Stop everything. I'm going.

My father was a livestock merchant.

Pietro, it's for you.

He was highly respected.

He'd worked in the Lodi countryside since he was a child.

Luigi! Well?

A dignified life of sacrifices.

You've decided.

Like the ones of those who were around us.

See you at Banca dell'Agricoltura this afternoon, and we'll finish up.

People who sweated blood and tears...

Yes.

...to give their children a better future.

Bye.

That was the last laugh our family had for a long time.

Paolo! Next year, you're going to a boarding school!

After lunch, my dad took me to my maternal grandparents'.

To Crespiatica, near Lodi.

And he went to Milan,

where there was the provincial agriculture market every Friday

at the Banca Nazionale dell'Agricoltura.

My father arrived at Milano, entered the bank,

went to the octagonal table,

and sat right where I'm sitting now.

At the centre of the table, there was a device.

After two or three minutes, my father exclaimed,

"It smells like burning." And there was an explosion.

I heard a big boom, and then immediate silence.

The first thing I saw was my colleagues' faces

in front of me, all bleeding.

A phone call came in: "There's smoke, there's been a bang."

We thought maybe it was a heater.

Who did they send but the youngest, who still had to prove himself?

All the telephones were ringing, and I answered.

At the other end, the Police Station agent said to me,

"The alarm's gone off. What happened?"

Then I heard myself say, "I see an arm."

I saw a human arm, almost by my feet.

I went in and immediately exited again, shouting on the radio,

"Send 100 ambulances!"

They thought I was just inexperienced, overreacting.

But I was right.

That image is burned into my mind.

The bomb hole, a miraculously intact seat,

and a priest blessing bundles on the ground.

Then I saw the branch manager rush in.

He said, "You know them all. You must list the victims."

I didn't even have time to think.

I had to start listing them.

LIST OF DECEASED VICTIMS

DENDENA PIETRO-LODI

That 12 December was a Friday, Santa Lucia Eve,

which is a bit like Christmas in the North.

I had gone out with Mom to go and see the stands.

- Good evening. How much is the cologne? - 3,000.

- Shall we get it for Dad again? - Last year, he liked it a lot.

- Thanks. - A game for Paolo.

Mrs. Dendena, excuse us.

We heard a heater exploded in Milan

at Banca dell'Agricoltura, in Piazza Fontana.

The situation isn't clear, but some are wounded.

- Wounded? - They're at Fatebenefratelli.

Let's go right now. We'll go get Paolo from Uncle Giovanni.

His brother has been informed. He's going to Milan with the boy.

Thanks. Let's go, dear.

Italian history, from the end of the Second World War

to the bomb in Piazza Fontana, is a history with a direct path.

The country is rebuilt,

there is an economic boom

and a notable rise in quality of life, income and consumption.

With the bomb, all of this ends

and the era of anxiety starts.

First aid was offered by the citizens,

present in great numbers in the central Piazza di Milano,

a few steps from Piazza del Duomo.

The alarm was raised for the police, firemen and hospitals.

Aldo! Have you seen Aldo? I'm looking for Aldo!

Doctor, do something! It's awful! He's bleeding!

Where's my son Aldo?

My leg!

- A bomb! - A bomb?

Doctor, excuse me.

We're looking for Pietro Dendena, from Lodi.

I can't say.

Try up ahead. There are others wounded.

Here I am, nurse. I'll see to this.

Stay calm.

Dad's clothes!

It's better to remember him as he was.

No!

They wanted to wrap the body in the tricolour flag.

Excuse me, I have to tell you.

We'll put the bodies in coffins and wrap them in the tricolore.

- Why? - For some, it's impossible to dress them.

Do you want this to be done for your loved one?

I remember my mother opposed it.

She said, and Francesca said, too, that it wasn't possible

to go into a bank to work and come out dead.

Pietro Dendena, 45.

He lives in Lodi at via Italia number 11

with his wife Luigia Corbellini,

their daughter Franca, 17,

who's taking a secretarial course,

and his 11 year old son, Paolo, who goes to elementary school.

Mediator by profession...

he regularly goes to the Piazza Fontana market.

Attilio Valè, 52.

Separated from his wife for 8 years.

He was tall, good looking, trading in livestock.

Paolo Gerli, 77.

The owner of various farm lands.

He had three daughters, all married, from his marriage.

Carlo Silva, 71.

He lived with his wife and son.

His second son was married.

He was a mediator all his life.

It was an awful loss.

You don't expect people

to die with their flesh torn apart

at the hands of someone who knew what he was doing,

and wanted them to die like that.

MILAN 15 DECEMBER 1969

On the day of the funeral, there were many people.

Here in Piazza Duomo, there was an immense crowd.

Your saw their sad, incredulous faces,

suffering as you were,

and you felt the closeness of people.

The sky was leaden.

MILAN KNEELS BEFORE THE INNOCENT VICTIMS AND PRAYS FOR PEACE

There must've been 300,000 people

from all walks of life.

There were workers in uniform, students,

housewives, professionals, craftsmen.

There was the bourgeoisie. All of Milan was there.

There was this immense, silent crowd.

The silence was deafening.

Walking the cleared path, you could hear our steps

as we entered the Duomo, and my sister was weeping.

I was young. I looked at my mother and sister crying.

I heard a person say, "Why all this?"

"Who enjoys all this blood? What did they do?"

Then I realized, talking of all this blood,

that my father really was dead.

It was a very painful day for us.

For Italy, the day created a different atmosphere

to the one the bombers wanted.

Those who hoped to create disorder had to think again.

Who wanted that chaos?

The ones who, on the 12th of December,

set bombs in Milan and Rome?

On December 12th,

along with the bomb that devastated the Banca dell'Agricoltura,

there were others.

Another in another bank at Milan that did not go off,

as well as other bombs in Rome.

There is no doubt that the bombs in Rome and Milan

were part of one criminal plan and project.

More precisely, the question the public was asking

for the first few weeks and months

was whether this criminal plan was launched

by left-wing rogues or right-wing rogues.

While investigations into the criminal attacks continue,

the police are following all leads to find those responsible.

Around 100 people have been interrogated,

and magistrates have authorized around 15 house searches.

The police force and carabinieri mobilized,

and they decided to search for the anarchists.

Pinelli fell into this category.

Giuseppe Pinelli was interrogated tonight

in a room on the fourth floor of the station.

Pinelli is known for anarchist activity,

and his arrest was confirmed by the magistrates' order.

Journalists came at 1 a.m.

to tell me my husband fell from the fourth floor of the station.

During an interrogation break,

he threw himself into the void from a half-closed window,

though police personnel tried to hold him.

An episode that still now remains unclear in many aspects.

How many people, apart from those in the room,

know the truth in your opinion?