Yara is dead. In a cold afternoon Carnervale his body, frail and thin, was found by accident. Hidden in the weeds and mud of a field at the edge of the stream Dordi. Hardly recognizable.
Yara slept his sleep more painful than a few miles from home, alone.
They have ripped the life to 13 years off his sincere smile, wiping his dreams.
everything stopped one evening in November, the fog lapped the houses and scattered noises.
walked quiet, Yara, toward the warmth of his family. Trampled its own steps, those made un'infintà of times before, leaving behind the gym. He walked towards a terrible and undeserved fate.
Someone saw her that night, maybe. There is no certainty dented car, the two guys who were fighting, the presence of Yara beside them. Testimonials innattendibili, investigators said.
A face without a name 's has taken that night in November, a month from Christmas. He pulled into the abyss of violence, outrage, denial. He thrust into the darkness of fear without thinking that she, after all, was only a child. He has violated such a prohibition is violated, without humanity.
was not to blame, Yara.
artificial lights of the investigators have searched everywhere, the dogs sniffed its presence in and around a construction site, a man was arrested - and immediately set free because unconnected with the facts.
The parents had chosen the path of faith. Faith in God and in justice. No interviews, only one appeal full of hope and pain.
The newspapers had circulated pictures of the little Yara, until his death he had stopped doing news, and then space to another.
The television had filled their schedules with the planting of Brembo Mapello the yard, with the entrance of the gym. Sent to every corner of the country, around like pawns on a chessboard. They asked, digging into the past a clear and spotless, trying to understand the incomprehensible. Without scruples, of course. Everything was stock. In the wake of Avetrana tried to broadcast the show Brembate. Failed. No public statements, a few photos of Yara, always the same, always happy, her.
But no, it was the happiest little Yara. He slept restlessly, her.
Now that his fate was revealed, cold and unforgiving, Yara will return to Brembate, where his family can mourn without respite.
Yara, Sarah, Thomas, Ciccio e Tore. Young lives snatched recklessly, or for very little money for a game that went wrong. Envy, lust and ignorance.
must reflect on these losses, sull'efferatezza hand them have been made, leaving the void in this world.
There is something unhealthy today. Something rotten and irrational and perverse weapon labile psyche of many people.
You can not kill for sex, jealousy or money.
We can no longer continue to pretend that the evil of our country are the escort, corrupt politics and the players do not sing the anthem. The mud of
pervesione be cleaned.
must cure the minds, washing away the foul, to stop in time those who risk getting lost in the darkness of the crime.
must prevent. We
potreggere our children, providing them with this safe, be handed over to a better future.
Somewhere there is a right way, it's up to us all and go find it and stop and stop looking over your navel. Together.
Barbara Greggio.
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