to use that as a calming influence.”
Still, John was worried, so he tried to call Meredith. His stomach dropped when he reached an automated message that her phone was off.
“For the next half hour I try at least a dozen times before it suddenly starts ringing.” Still no answer. He starts to panic. “By now my instincts have kicked in. I have to get information fast.”
John called the foreign desk of the Daily Mirror and asked what they had heard. They told him to call back in an hour and they might have more. When he called back, his editor confirmed his worst fears.
“I shall never forget her words: ‘The name going around Italy is Meredith.’”
John then drove to Arline’s house, where he was joined by their other children: Stephanie, John, and Lyle. “We’re all distraught,” he wrote in the Daily Mirror article. “By now, Arline has spoken to the Foreign Office who confirms the worst. At 9 P.M., Meredith’s photo comes on the news. The room falls silent. We all hug.”
4
“Everyone Cried Except Amanda and Raffaele”
O N NOVEMBER 3, Meredith Kercher’s murder was the only thing on anyone’s mind in Perugia. The coffee bars were buzzing, radio and television news carried nonstop coverage, and a steady stream of cars crept past via della Pergola to get a glimpse of the casa degli orrori —“house of horrors.” The universities were still closed for the long holiday weekend, but the administration issued an official e-mail warning students to keep their eyes and ears open—an assassin was on the loose. The ERT scientific experts, up from Rome, had worked through the night collecting evidence and documenting the crime scene. It was still dark when an ambulance arrived to take Meredith’s body to the coroner. In London, her family members were finalizing
their travel plans to Italy. Meanwhile, Rudy Guede remained in Perugia, nervously milling around the city center, wracked with guilt and paranoia. Everywhere he turned, people were expressing shock and disbelief about the murder. Later, during his appeal testimony in November 2009, he told the court that he remembered it all—the blood, Meredith’s scream—and he knew he had to get out of town. But he waited a whole day to do it.
Amanda woke up in Raffaele’s bed on the corso Garibaldi, about a ten-minute walk from via della Pergola, around 11 A.M. They had breakfast, had sex, and then, around midday, went out to the newsstand by the basketball courts and scanned the headlines. At 5 P.M., Meredith’s friends began gathering in Piazza IV Novembre on the steps of the duomo for a memorial. A giant color poster of her smiling face had been erected, and red votive candles glowed on the church steps, lighting the late afternoon sky. Amanda and Raffaele did not go to the vigil. Instead, they waited until it was over before visiting a boutique near the duomo to buy underwear for Amanda. Her apartment had been secured as a crime scene, and except for the few things she was able to grab on the way out, she had only the clothes on her back. But instead of somberly
going in to buy the items she needed, she is shown on closed-circuit TV footage kissing Raffaele and laughing with him as they hold up various G-strings. In one still shot taken from the footage, Raffaele is standing behind Amanda with his hands on her hips and his groin pressed into her. A few days after their arrest, the store owner, Carlo Maria Scotto di Rinaldi, remembered their odd behavior and turned over the tape. “They came into the shop at about 7 pm and were there for about 20 minutes,” he later testified in court. “She bought a camisole and G-string. I heard her tell him that ‘Afterwards I’m going to take you home and put this on so we can have wild sex together.’”
On the night of November 3, Rudy went out with his friends. They drank, got high, and danced. They flirted with the students, as they always did. He could block Meredith out of his mind as long as he
Still, John was worried, so he tried to call Meredith. His stomach dropped when he reached an automated message that her phone was off.
“For the next half hour I try at least a dozen times before it suddenly starts ringing.” Still no answer. He starts to panic. “By now my instincts have kicked in. I have to get information fast.”
John called the foreign desk of the Daily Mirror and asked what they had heard. They told him to call back in an hour and they might have more. When he called back, his editor confirmed his worst fears.
“I shall never forget her words: ‘The name going around Italy is Meredith.’”
John then drove to Arline’s house, where he was joined by their other children: Stephanie, John, and Lyle. “We’re all distraught,” he wrote in the Daily Mirror article. “By now, Arline has spoken to the Foreign Office who confirms the worst. At 9 P.M., Meredith’s photo comes on the news. The room falls silent. We all hug.”
4
“Everyone Cried Except Amanda and Raffaele”
O N NOVEMBER 3, Meredith Kercher’s murder was the only thing on anyone’s mind in Perugia. The coffee bars were buzzing, radio and television news carried nonstop coverage, and a steady stream of cars crept past via della Pergola to get a glimpse of the casa degli orrori —“house of horrors.” The universities were still closed for the long holiday weekend, but the administration issued an official e-mail warning students to keep their eyes and ears open—an assassin was on the loose. The ERT scientific experts, up from Rome, had worked through the night collecting evidence and documenting the crime scene. It was still dark when an ambulance arrived to take Meredith’s body to the coroner. In London, her family members were finalizing
their travel plans to Italy. Meanwhile, Rudy Guede remained in Perugia, nervously milling around the city center, wracked with guilt and paranoia. Everywhere he turned, people were expressing shock and disbelief about the murder. Later, during his appeal testimony in November 2009, he told the court that he remembered it all—the blood, Meredith’s scream—and he knew he had to get out of town. But he waited a whole day to do it.
Amanda woke up in Raffaele’s bed on the corso Garibaldi, about a ten-minute walk from via della Pergola, around 11 A.M. They had breakfast, had sex, and then, around midday, went out to the newsstand by the basketball courts and scanned the headlines. At 5 P.M., Meredith’s friends began gathering in Piazza IV Novembre on the steps of the duomo for a memorial. A giant color poster of her smiling face had been erected, and red votive candles glowed on the church steps, lighting the late afternoon sky. Amanda and Raffaele did not go to the vigil. Instead, they waited until it was over before visiting a boutique near the duomo to buy underwear for Amanda. Her apartment had been secured as a crime scene, and except for the few things she was able to grab on the way out, she had only the clothes on her back. But instead of somberly
going in to buy the items she needed, she is shown on closed-circuit TV footage kissing Raffaele and laughing with him as they hold up various G-strings. In one still shot taken from the footage, Raffaele is standing behind Amanda with his hands on her hips and his groin pressed into her. A few days after their arrest, the store owner, Carlo Maria Scotto di Rinaldi, remembered their odd behavior and turned over the tape. “They came into the shop at about 7 pm and were there for about 20 minutes,” he later testified in court. “She bought a camisole and G-string. I heard her tell him that ‘Afterwards I’m going to take you home and put this on so we can have wild sex together.’”
On the night of November 3, Rudy went out with his friends. They drank, got high, and danced. They flirted with the students, as they always did. He could block Meredith out of his mind as long as he
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