Judge Surra Read Free

you?”
    *
    The meeting was fairly short, no more than an hour. More than anything else, it was an opportunity for each side to get to know the other. Just as they were winding up, two men camein to receive an enthusiastic greeting from those present. Paolantonio, presiding judge in the local divisional court, introduced them to Surra. The newcomers were two further judges, Moresco and Colla, who had decided to cooperate.
    â€œAfter all that’s been going on, we felt we really ought to be here,” Colla said, shaking his hand.
    What had been going on? Surra was bewildered, but he preferred to remain silent.
    The meeting broke up, but there was a general willingness to press on with unfinished work. They agreed to meet again at the same time the following day.
    Judge Surra had asked Nicolosi to draw up an inventory of all that was required to get the court in working order. He would make a withdrawal from the budget set aside in the prefecture.
    Nicolosi handed it to him and the judge then asked if he could visit the court building itself.
    The disorder was indescribable. Cabinets thrown open with registers and folders hanging out, case notes and files spilling out from them onto the floor … dossiers everywhere, in the corridors, on the windowsills, in the packed cupboards … complete chaos.
    Even on the most optimistic assessment, it would take the minimum of a week to make any headway.
    â€œGet the ushers and carabinieri as well as the clerks to give you a hand. If need be, call in some men to do the heavy lifting work. And hire some women to clean up.”
    He had scarcely left himself enough time to buy a new hat before returning home for lunch.
    *
    Which was simple but delicious. That Pippina knew her business – the apartment had been thoroughly tidied too. He took a little rest, then wrote minutes of the morning meeting. He freshened himself up before going over to the stables.
    â€œAttanasio, do you know where President Fallarino lives?”
    â€œYes, Excellency. He has a villa outside the town.”
    â€œLet’s go there.”
    *
    â€œTo what do I owe this honour?”
    Ex-President Fallarino was a tall, fair, thin, severe and imposing man. He received Surra in a book-lined study.
    â€œIn the first place, I regarded it as a duty to come and pay my respects.”
    â€œAnd in the second place?”
    If he imagined he would cause Surra to lose his composure by his abrupt manners, he was mistaken. “To ask if you would have the courtesy to assist me.”
    â€œMe, assist you? But you must know who I am …”
    â€œYour Honour,” the judge interrupted him firmly, “I am aware of your political convictions and, although my ideas are opposed to yours, I admire the consistency of your conduct. But we do have one thing in common.”
    â€œThat is?”
    â€œA sincere, respectful love of justice.”
    â€œI will not return to the court,” Fallarino replied after a brief pause.
    â€œI do not ask that of you. But justice is done by men, and I do not know the men who have chosen to resume service with me.”
    â€œIn the meeting this morning, did you tell them you’d be coming to see me?”
    So he knew about the meeting!
    â€œI did not consider it advisable.”
    â€œThat was wise.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œNot all of them would have approved. You know better than me that a court of law works best when there is mutual respect and esteem among the men at every level. Here, especially recently, that esteem has been in short supply, and incomers have been put in charge.”
    â€œIt’s the same everywhere.”
    â€œYes, but more so here than elsewhere. At any rate, you will appreciate that I cannot assist you. Some of those who were there this morning were my most ferocious accusers. Any judgement on them coming from me would be liable to be viewed as partisan. I am grateful for your trust, but my reply is – I