San Giorgio a Cremano – "I don't want to get away with this": the door of the Carabinieri station opens and closes with a sharp bang, the kind that makes you look up for a moment. A man stands still in the doorway, as if trying to convince himself to take the final step.
He's 27 years old, from San Giorgio a Cremano, and he already knows that place: he's not entering as a stranger, he's entering as someone who's seen him make mistakes in the village.
He advances slowly, his gaze lowered and then straight, as if aiming for a single sentence. “Marshal…” he says, his voice rough, thick with night and shame. “I want to change my life.”
“My parents don't deserve all this”
The policeman in front of him looks him over with the instinct of someone who's learned to read entrances: when someone enters angry, when they enter to defend themselves, when they enter to lie. This time, it's none of these things.
The boy inhales, runs a hand through his jacket pockets as if searching for something to hold on to. "I want to pay for what I did," he adds, and the sentence falls heavily, without rhetoric. Then comes the other one, the one that trembles slightly on his lips: "My parents don't deserve all this."
He doesn't ask for mercy. He asks for restraint.
The package on the table. He approaches the desk. He doesn't sit down. First, he puts his hands in his pockets, slowly, as if not to frighten anyone. He takes out a package and places it on the table with a precise, almost ceremonial gesture. Then he takes out a precision scale and leaves it beside it, as one leaves evidence, as one leaves a piece of life.
The policeman lowers his gaze: the package contains 11 grams of cocaine. The room changes temperature. There's a moment of stark silence, a silence reminiscent of a barracks when something unusual happens: not a search, not a chase, not a complaint. A delivery.
“This is it,” says the 27-year-old, almost relieved that things finally have a name. “This is my life. And I… I don't want it anymore.”
“I don't want to get away with it”
The policeman doesn't raise his voice. It's unnecessary. The questions are few; the answers are already there, on the table. "Why did you come here?" he asks, more to understand the crack than for the report.
The boy swallows. He forces himself to stay upright, but his eyes betray the fatigue. "Because I can't take it anymore," he says. "Because it's war at home every day. Because... I know I'm ruining everything."
He pauses, as if searching for courage in the tips of his shoes. “I don't want to get away with this,” he emphasizes. “If I have to stop, I have to really stop. I have to pay.”
Addiction, fear of going back
He doesn't speak like a hero. He speaks like someone afraid of himself. In the way he clenches his fingers, in the way he glances at the floor for a second, there's an awareness of how easy it is to relapse. Addiction, he says, clings to him like a hunger that won't go away: the body begging, the mind making excuses, the road calling.
And in the middle are the parents, who don't accept that choice and who, perhaps, no longer recognize their son when he comes home. "They don't deserve this," he repeats, as if it were the only sentence capable of keeping him upright.
The arrest and the gesture that remains
For the Carabinieri, at that point, it's not just a story to be listened to. What he brought was narcotics, and the scales spoke the language of drug dealing. The law leaves no room for intentions, even when they come with a sense of remorse. The paperwork is drawn up, the procedures are initiated, and the 27-year-old is arrested.
But the image that remains is hard to erase: a boy who enters the barracks not to ask for help "in words," but to deliver proof of his own failure. As if, for the first time, he had chosen to be stopped before destroying everything.
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Comments (1)
This young man's story is very sad, but it shows that there are people who want to change. Addiction is a serious problem and should not be underestimated. We hope he finds help and support on his journey.