Varcaturo, two waste dumps dismantled: 64-year-old arrested, daughter reported

Varcaturo, poison under the sun: the Carabinieri dismantle two landfills "pools" of waste, father and daughter in the sights of the poisonous Camorra Giugliano in Campania (Naples), 17 October 2025 – The October sun beats down like a sentence on

In Varcaturo, on Via Licola Mare, the Carabinieri of the Giugliano Station—collaborating with the Pozzuoli Forestry Corps—have brought down the curtain on an ecological hell: two private areas transformed into illegal landfills, totaling over 4.500 cubic meters of poisonous waste.

A mountain that, if toppled, would fill two Olympic-sized swimming pools to the brim, or require a convoy of 600 trucks—an infernal column more than two kilometers long—to haul away.

The operation, which began on October 3, is more than just a raid: it's another chapter in the ongoing war against the Land of Fires, that poisonous triangle between North Naples and Caserta, where Giugliano is the hidden capital of environmental crime.

Imagine stepping out of the armored vehicle, your boots sinking into a carpet of mud mixed with debris: the first area, 1.500 square meters of bare soil, without a single filter to stem the seepage into the aquifers—that underground "blood" that feeds the aquifers and vegetable gardens of half the South.

Piled up haphazardly, like trophies of a derailed economy: decommissioned boats never decontaminated, engine carcasses leaking carcinogenic oils, piles of crushed plastic, twisted sheet metal, and building bricks soaked in asbestos and unknown substances.

Waste of all kinds, much of it dangerous. And then, just a stone's throw away, the final blow: a neighboring nautical depot, 4.000 square meters of dilapidated warehouses linked to the same family—a family that has turned the shipwreck business into a dirty gold mine.

Here, more piles: special waste, perhaps eternal pollutants, shamelessly piled up, ready to filter into the unforgiving karst soil.

The king of this kingdom? A 64-year-old man, a true Giugliano native, caught red-handed while overseeing his garbage empire. He was handcuffed for illegal waste management—a charge that, according to the Environmental Code, can result in years of prison and millions in damages.

The judges of the North Naples Court, after the validation hearing, opt for house arrest: a "forced rest" that feels like an opportunity to dig deeper. But the family net tightens: the daughter, an accomplice in the chaos, ends up charged at large for dumping hazardous waste, a crime that hangs over her like the sword of Damocles—hefty fines, endless proceedings, and the stigma of a life marked by poison.

The entire site—over 5.500 square meters between the two zones—has been seized, cordoned off with yellow tape and guarded by armed guards. The Campania Regional Environmental Protection Agency (ARPA) is already at work: soil core sampling, dioxin and heavy metal analysis, a census that will reveal just how much this Olympic-sized "pool" of waste has already poisoned the ecosystem.

The investigation, coordinated by the North Naples Prosecutor's Office, is proceeding like a barbed wire fence: "We're tracing the source," confirms a source close to the investigation. Where do these monsters come from? Theories point to illegal construction sites on the coast, clandestine workshops that dispose of the waste at night, perhaps a branch of the Casalesi or Licci clans, heirs to the "waste business" that has buried tons of poisons in the Campania plain since the 80s.

Giugliano is not an island: it is the beating heart of the Land of Fires, a region ravaged by 40 years of eco-mafia, where illegal dumping has caused a surge in cancer rates—a 47% increase among children compared to the national average—and birth defects that shatter generations. Here, where Vesuvius smokes like an ignored warning, investigations like "Pianura Fuoco" in 2023 have exposed €50 million in trafficking, with Camorra-run trucks dancing under the blindfolded eyes of the authorities.

By 2025, over 200 illegal waste sites will be discovered in Naples and its province.

And the numbers speak volumes: in 2025, in the Naples area alone, over 200 illegal sites will be discovered, but the poison remains, as entrenched as the roots of dying olive trees. For father and daughter, tomorrow is a gloomy day: appeals to the Regional Administrative Court (TAR), hearings that will drag on, but the stigma of the "poisonous Camorra" will not wash away. The state will write checks for disposal—tens of thousands of euros from taxpayers—while the residents of Varcaturo, fishermen with blackened lungs and mothers who monitor every bite of their children, await justice.

But in the Land of Fires, every victory tastes like ashes. And tonight, who knows, another truck will hurtle through the darkness, carrying its load of death.