Wednesday, July 02, 2014

Amanda Knox Left Sollecito’s House By Herself? Both Claimed It But Neither Of Their Books Back It Up

Posted by The TJMK Main Posters




1. Current Contexts Of Sollecito’s And Knox’s Books

Neither book is exactly riddled with truths.

The claims throughout Sollecito’s book are soon to be the subject of a trial in Florence and the claims throughout Knox’s book are soon to be the subject of a trial in Bergamo. So both will need to endorse or reject what they wrote.

Plus Knox will need to endorse or reject this, from the first unforced statement she insisted on making without a lawyer on 6 November 2007. This is what Sollecito is gleefully using against her now.

Last Thursday, November 1, a day on which I normally work, while I was at the house of my boyfriend Raffaele, at around 8:30 pm, I received a message on my cellular phone from Patrik, who told me that the premises would remain closed that evening, because there were no customers, and thus I would not need to go to work.

I responded to the message by telling him that we would see each other at once; I then left the house, telling my boyfriend that I had to go to work. In view of the fact that during the afternoon I had smoked a joint, I felt confused, since I do not frequently make use of mind-altering substances, nor of heavier substances.

I met Patrik immediately afterward, at the basketball court on Piazza Grimana, and together we went [to my] home.


2. From Sollecito’s Honor Bound (Simon & Schuster 2012)

Amanda and I smoked a joint before leaving the house on Via della Pergola, wandered into town for some shopping before remembering we had enough for dinner already, and headed back to my place. Shortly before six, a Serbian friend of mine named Jovana Popovic rang the doorbell and asked if I’d mind driving her to the bus station at midnight to pick up a suitcase her mother was sending. I said that would be fine. When she left, Amanda and I sat down at the computer to watch a favorite movie, Amélie.

We had to stop the film a few times as the evening wore on. First, Amanda got a text from Patrick telling her it was a slow night because of the holiday and he didn’t need her to come in after all. It was like getting an unexpected snow day—we were thrilled. Amanda texted back: Certo ci vediamo più tardi buona serata! Sure. See you later. Have a good evening.

Then my father called. He and Mara had just seen the Will Smith movie The Pursuit of Happyness, and he told me how beautifully it portrayed the relationship between a father and his son. My father was always making phone calls like this. It was sweet that he wanted to share his experiences, but he also made everything he said sound vaguely like an order, as if laying out the parameters of how I should react to things before I’d had a chance to form my own opinion. But he never stayed on the line for long—he is too nervy and impatient—so I listened calmly and the call was over in less than four minutes.

In the meantime, Jovana dropped by again and told Amanda that I didn’t need to drive her to the bus station after all. Now we didn’t have to leave the apartment. The evening was ours, and we couldn’t have been happier. We switched off our cell phones, finished watching Amélie, and discussed what to make for dinner…

When Amélie ended, I went into the kitchen to take care of some dishes left over from breakfast before we started making dinner. I soon realized that water was leaking out of the pipe under the sink, and I cursed under my breath. I’d had a plumber come and fix the sink just a week earlier, and he had made me buy all sorts of replacement parts that clearly were not put together properly. I suspected he had left them loose on purpose to force me to pay for another visit. As Amanda and I threw kitchen towels onto the puddle on the tile floor, I decided I was going to let my landlady deal with it from now on.

“Don’t you have a mop?” Amanda asked. I did not. She offered to pick one up from Via della Pergola the next morning and bring it round.

We cooked a fish dinner, did our best to wash the dishes again, and tumbled gratefully into bed in each other’s arms. Only later, when I lay in the dark, unable to sleep, did it dawn on me that Papà had broken his usual habit of calling to wish me good night.

It turned out he did so out of consideration. He had been about to pick up the phone when my stepmother talked him out of it. “Stop bothering him,” Mara said, as they got ready for bed around eleven o’clock. “He’s with Amanda, and they want to be alone. Why don’t you send a text instead?”

My father took her advice, but because my cell phone was turned off, I didn’t receive the message until six the next morning.

It was a desperately unlucky combination of circumstances. If my father had tried my cell and then called me on the home line—which he would have done, because he’s persistent that way—I would have had incontrovertible proof from the phone records that I was home that night. And the nightmare that was about to engulf me might never have begun.

My father called my landline a little before nine thirty the next morning to make sure we would be ready for our day trip to Gubbio. I was too groggy to talk. I’d been up several times in the night—listening to music, answering e-mail, making love—and wanted only to go back to sleep. Amanda got out of bed and said she was going home to shower and change her clothes, so I walked her to the front door, gave her a kiss, and crawled back under the covers.


3. From Knox’s Waiting To Be Heard (HarperCollins 2013)

Raffaele and I were good at being low-key together. We chilled out in the common room and smoked a joint while I played Beatles songs on the guitar for an hour or so. Sometime between 4 P.M. and 5 P.M., we left to go to his place. We wanted a quiet, cozy night in. As we walked along, I was telling Raffaele that Amélie was my all-time favorite movie.

“Really?” he asked. “I’ve never seen it.”

“Oh my God,” I said, unbelieving. “You have to see it right this second! You’ll love it!”

Not long after we got back to Raffaele’s, his doorbell rang. It was a friend of his whom I’d never met—a pretty, put-together medical student named Jovanna Popovic, who spoke Italian so quickly I couldn’t understand her. She’d come to ask Raffaele for a favor. Her mother was putting a suitcase on a bus for her and she wondered if he could drive her to the station at midnight to pick it up.

“Sure,” Raffaele said.

As soon as she left, we downloaded the movie on his computer and sat on his bed to watch it. Around 8:30 P.M. I suddenly remembered that it was Thursday, one of my regular workdays. Quickly checking my phone, I saw that Patrick had sent me a text telling me I didn’t have to come in. Since it was a holiday, he thought it would be a slow night.

“Okay,” I texted back. “Ci vediamo più tardi buona serata!”—“See you later. Have a good evening!” Then I turned off my phone, just in case he changed his mind and wanted me to come in after all. I was so excited to have the night off that I jumped on top of Raffaele, cheering, “Woo-hoo! Woo-hoo!”

Our good mood was only elevated when the doorbell rang again at 8:45 P.M: Jovanna had come back, this time to say that the suitcase hadn’t made the bus and that she didn’t need a ride after all. With no more obligations, we had the whole rest of the night just to be with each other and chill out.

After the movie ended, around 9:15 P.M., we sautéed a piece of fish and made a simple salad. We were washing the dishes when we realized that the kitchen sink was leaking. Raffaele, who’d already had a plumber come once, was frustrated and frantically tried to mop up a lot of water with a little rag. He ended up leaving a puddle.

“I’ll bring the mop over from our house tomorrow. No big deal,” I said.

Raffaele sat down at his desk and rolled a joint, and I climbed into his lap to read aloud to him from another Harry Potter book, this one in German. I translated the parts he didn’t understand, as best I could, into Italian or English while we smoked and giggled.

Later, when we were in bed, our conversation wound its way to his mother. His dad had divorced her years before, but she’d never gotten over the break. In 2005 she had died suddenly. “Some ¬people suspect she killed herself, but I’m positive she didn’t,” Raffaele said. “She would never do that. She had a bad heart, and it just gave out. It was horrible for me—¬we were really close—¬and I miss her all the time.”

I felt terrible for him, but it was hard for me to relate. The only person I knew who had died was my grandfather, when I was sixteen. I felt sad when my mom told me, but my grandfather had been old and sick, and we had expected his death for a few weeks.

I’m sure Mom and Oma must have cried, but my strongest memory is sitting around the dining room table telling funny stories about Opa. My grandmother’s message—that grieving was something you did in private; that you didn’t make public displays and you kept on moving forward—had remained with me.

Hearing the pain in Raffaele’s voice, I hurt for him. Nestling my head on his chest, I tried to be comforting.

As we started kissing, Raffaele gave me a hickey on my neck. We undressed the rest of the way, had sex, and fell asleep.

We’d known each other for exactly one week and had settled so quickly into an easy routine that one night seemed to melt happily and indistinguishably into the one that came after.

We planned to break our routine the next day, All Souls’ Day, by taking a long drive into the countryside, to the neighboring town of Gubbio. The November 2 holiday wasn’t usually observed with as much fanfare as All Saints’ Day, but since it fell on a Friday in 2007, a lot of people, including us, were turning it into a four-day weekend. I thought, Italians having a good time again. And I couldn’t wait.

 




Comments

Right there in black and white Sollecito says in his book that Knox was in his apartment when she made the text to Patrick. Knox confirms the same in her book.

Thank you to TJMK Main Posters for these excerpts that visibly contradict Bongiorno’s new erroneous claim that Knox left the apartment to text her boss and that her absence proves she and Sollecito were not together near the time of the murder.

It’s hard to believe Raffaele did not object to his own lawyer contradicting written portions of his published book for the world to laugh and shake their heads over.

This is not a minor error because Bongiorno is basing the entire separation of her client’s innocence from Knox’s potential guilt on the location of this silly text. Her ignorance of where her own client was located when his girlfriend placed the text erodes confidence in her judgment.

Does Bongiorno somehow know for a fact that his book is a lie, and so she speaks against it hoping that an escape route for her client might still be found if Amanda texted from outside his apartment and thus possibly en route alone to the crime scene leaving Raf behind?

Is she willing to shred the book to get him separated from Amanda, hoping Supreme Court annuls his conviction and gives him a new appeal, which she would then fight completely differently from the one forced on her by the lovers’ joint defense?

All is confusion and in the smoke they hope to scurry away to start over.

I think this press conference to float more lies on Denial River may infuriate an honest court. 

The book trials may bring out many more such provable falsehoods which will no doubt then be handwaved away as “errors” by the ridiculous defendants. But this will be much harder for them after these errors have been used as the cement foundation of a U-turn defense caught on camera.


I would love to hear Maresca’s response to this kookoo bird show.

Posted by Hopeful on 07/02/14 at 10:23 AM | #

Thank you Hopeful.

A detail of body language from Sollecito at his ‘press conference’ may be of interest

When we don’t tell the truth this takes effort and energy. Our instinct (the vast majority of people!) is to just say what is, or what happened, simply. We then speak immediately and spontaneously. It doesn’t need rehearsal - either with our voice, or in our heads.

So not telling the truth costs us, in many ways. It often causes anxiety, and this expresses throughout the autonomic system, and one of the effects of this is to have a dry mouth.

So someone lying or concocting a story - especially extensively- may have a ‘dry’ voice, cracking etc. or clear their throat uncomfortably, swallow, lick their lips and so on.

Notice how Sollecito has certain mannerisms with his mouth - including at one point, extending his tongue and licking it. There’s a discrepancy between what his mouth is saying and his eyes, too.

Posted by SeekingUnderstanding on 07/02/14 at 10:54 AM | #

Yikes. Sorry Hopeful. The big big big lie yesterday on the text location now has a post of its own as media are so into that thing.

Bongiorno and Maori were interviewed by Gumbel but may never have seen or okayed the final draft of the book.  Bongiorno is not the lawyer defending Sollecito on the book and we believe she had no wish to do that.

The sharp tilt toward “honor bound” flew in the face of all Bongiorno had been trying to do for four years - somewhat separate out the two without a causing a meltdown by Knox.

If Bongiorno fully believed Sollecito was not guilty, she would have insisted he get on the stand and say so. Even now he has never testified under oath.

Still, Bongiorno did what she could at trial and the appeals to channel disdain toward Knox. Except for the Jessica Rabbit praise - if that was praise. Wasnt Knox’s sex toy a rabbit?

Posted by Peter Quennell on 07/02/14 at 12:01 PM | #

The ‘we really were innocent, carefree, helpful to friends, responsible (cleaning the dishes!! Knox??) - remembering fondly our deceased relatives’ tone is nauseating.

Not to mention the reading Harry Potter.  And Knox’s ‘and fell asleep’ Is so suspicious.

Posted by DavidB on 07/02/14 at 03:24 PM | #

Knox and Sollecito know they are toast already and this is my last comment on this site.

I would like to thank Peter and TM for having faith in me, and I am proud I have been involved with them right from the beginning.

R.I.P Meredith, the justice for your family is coming soon.

Posted by DF2K on 07/02/14 at 05:48 PM | #

DF2K above did a very key main post in November 2008 back when we were still seeking our tone in response to the Knox PR.

http://truejustice.org/ee/index.php?/tjmk/comments/does_the_defense_campaign_really_have_any_plan_b/

Since then he has popped up all around the world but remained very loyal to Meredith and a fine cause.

Many posters have traveled extensively and find it hard to see any country or its people slimed.

Posted by Peter Quennell on 07/02/14 at 06:08 PM | #

@DF2K, I’d been especially enjoying your recent comments. Please return to comment here if you change your mind or find the time, and thank you for your pro-Meredith posts.

Posted by Hopeful on 07/02/14 at 07:20 PM | #

In the two book-quotes above, both of them talk about being delighted at Patrick’s text, ah bliss, a whole evening off together in dreamland.

Untrue again.

Read the entire books and both make clear that Knox was already antsy, heading out at times without RS, maybe having sex with someone else (it is suggested that is maybe how she paid her drug dealer), talking about heading off to China to meet her Seattle boyfriend.

RS the foolish mouse clearly saw the cheese being whipped away from him.

Read the three Knox statements of 6 November at the police station from the point of view that all three were unforced and all her idea, and its easy to believe that she really was headed out to see Patrick to pick a bone with him. That she thought she had lost her job to Meredith.

Heres a comment I just posted on PMF dot Org which picks up the thread from there.

Maybe think of it this way. This was not a murder between three rational equals. It was an escalating Lord of the Flies pack attack led by an angry coked-up queen bee who thought Meredith had just been awarded her job at the bar just when her savings (and RS’s bank balance) were running low due to high coke costs.

Maybe begun when all three were coking-up at the kitchen table and Meredith came out and protested.

One queen bee - and two weak dupes who did not know they had signed up for murder and were stunned when the queen bee furiously plunged the big knife home in Meredith’s neck and want that somehow to come across.

So the weak dupes have been openly sulking and standoffish for seven years with the only exceptions being by RS in 2012-13 when he thought he was home free.

Both dupes have been escalating as $$$ and people for Knox escalated and support to face down extradition seemed to be getting to critical mass. Yesterdays show looks to have been toned down, maybe after desperate calls from Seattle, maybe after financial help to pay Bongiorno was promised.

Sollecito has several times lately spoken out more strongly, without the hedging about Knox still being innocent.

Posted by Peter Quennell on 07/03/14 at 11:20 AM | #


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