Now come. Let us talk with him. Let us walk with him, in the woods, together with his good friend Pinocchio and the Cat and the Fox and the Poodle Medoro. Let us bear witness as…
“One Beautiful Life explodes into a trail of death and destruction in the Roman Catholic Church.”
Howard Jason Smith, Boston Globe
1 Messaggero Mestre 7 Mar 73 - Nostro Veneto 8 Mar 73
2 Composite of Vatican wire release, La Osservatore Romano and Vatican Radio 29 Sep 78
3 La Repubblica 1 Oct 18. Luciani’s doctor Da Ros agreed → Messaggero Mestre 9 Oct 78
4 John Paul did wear a simple ring which had been given all attendees of the Vatican II Council
5 Mario di Francesco of the ANSA News Agency, Italy’s most reputable wire service 29 Sep 78
6 ANSA News, 29 Sep 78 La Repubblica 1 Oct 78 and other newspapers reported variations, yet, all witnesses agree she discovered the body shortly after 4:30 in the morning. Some books claimed the alarm clock rang while she was at the door at 4:40 AM, not true—never reported in the press
7 Utrecht Socialist 29 Sep 78
8 ANSA News Agency. Motor pool records showed a van dispatched at 5:23AM to pick up embalmers
9 On April 5, 2005, Massimo Signoracci confirmed with Marta Falconi of Associated Press his family had embalmed John XXIII, Paul VI and John Paul I before their first viewings.
10 L’Osservatore Romano 28 Sep 78
11 La Repubblica 1 Oct 78
12 L’Osservatore Romano 10 Oct 78 and most major world newspapers
13 Messaggero Mestre 14 Oct 78
14 Il Messaggero Romano 5 Nov 78. Da Ros confirmed this in his interview with Andrea Tornelli of Il Giornale 27 Sep 03. He had never prescribed Effortil or other low blood pressure medication
15 John Cornwell’s A Thief in the Night. Lina’s nickname was Pia
16 Medical dictionaries in libraries or search ‘heart attack low blood pressure’ on the Internet.
17 Medical dictionaries in libraries or search ‘symptoms low blood pressure’ on the Internet.
18 Padovanews 24 Apr 78 ‘Como Bianco’
19 JAMA Oct 79. There are others including British Medical Journal 216. Search medical libraries
20 Nostro Veneto 24 Jul 67. Also, direct witness author.
21 Messaggero Mestre 14 Nov 71 La Repubblica18 Mar 77
22 La Repubblica116 Oct 78
23 La Repubblica122 Oct 78
24 La Repubblica 2 Nov 78
25 John Cornwell’s interview with Lina Petri in John Cornwell’s A Thief in the Night.
26 L ‘Osservatore Romano 28 Sep 78. Vincenza refers to Ian Fleming the creator of James Bond.
27 Murder in the Vatican 2003
28 There is a tendency of authors to include only those things which contribute to one’s preconvictions—the reason Yallop—In God’s Name—and Cornwell—A Thief in the Night—could interview the same witnesses and come up with two entirely different answers. There are no press references in these books. They depend entirely on witnesses of motive. Conversely, Murder in the Vatican—other than the author’s brief brushes with Luciani’s doctor Dr. Da Ros and Paul Marcinkus—sets forth the record of the press; over five hundred and fifty press accounts of the events of the time.
Photo John Paul - Associated Press Photo St. Peter’s Square - author’s property
Caricature of three popes in bed by Ben Vogelsang - author’s property
Chapter 2
The Worst of Children to the Best of Men
“This chalice contains one hundred and twenty-two of the world’s most pristine diamonds while children all over the world starve to death. Do you really think this is what Christ meant by his Church?”1
John Paul I
Albino Luciani was born into dire poverty in a small village in the Italian Alps to a scullery maid and a migrant worker.
His mother was a devout Catholic who prayed before crucifixes made of bits of wood. She told him the only path to heaven was on his knees in prayer.
His father was a social revolutionary atheist who often burned his mother’s crucifixes in the stove. He told him the only path to heaven was on his feet helping others.
When he was six years old, his grandfather told him, “Albino, today, you believe in Jesus and Santa Claus. Well,” he apologized, “there is no Santa Claus. We’ve been kidding you.”
He cried himself to sleep that night. How could they take Santa away from him? In his dreams he waved adieu to Santa, but he still had his Jesus. He pleaded, “Please don’t take my Jesus from me.”
The next day he trudged along the railroad tracks in the knee-deep snow. His shoes were tattered and worn and they did not match and his feet were frozen and they tormented him with each step. Yet he continued on, pausing here and there, filling his pail with scraps which had fallen from the rumbling coal cars.
He thought of the day before when he had gazed through the store window at the golden crucifix. At three hundred lire a pail he needed three more pails full and he would have enough to buy this splendid treasure for the very best mamma in the world. A smirk of a leer tinged his lips as he imagined his papa’s frustration when he would try to burn this one. It broadened into a smile which mirrored the look of surprise and wonderment his mamma would have when she would open the gift on Christmas morn. He imagined her puzzled expression when she would read the card,
You gave him life; I gave him hope.
Together for a time; we gave him paradise.
Now my quest must end; but for you the work goes on.
The struggle must endure; for the challenge remains.
The hope is still there; his dream must never die.
Santa
The worst of children
The icicles poured like waterfalls from the rooftops all the way down to the walkways beneath them. In the summertime, each house had its own identity—its own personality - red - green - blue - orange. Each had been a tiny splinter in a giant rainbow. But, now, in the wintertime, each was just one of an endless row of crystal figures in an enormous glass menagerie.
The parade of weather-beaten wooden carts moved through the streets of Canale d’Agordo in the Italian Alps as they had every other morning. The snow was heaped so high on each side of the road for the most part they passed unseen.
Yet, the shouts of the barkers broke the stillness of the morning air: “milk - milk - milk,” “cheese - cheese - cheese,” “lamb - lamb - lamb,” “bread - bread - bread,” “eggs - eggs - eggs.” Their voices echoing through the whitecapped rocky mountain gorge which engulfed the desolate hamlet. Yet, one had made its way before them—no wares—no barker—no echo. A silent one—a ghostly one.
The cart rumbled along the dimly-lit snow-covered cobblestone streets in the wee hours of the morning; its chauffeurs, pausing, here and there, gathering their ghoulish haul—those of Italy’s two million homeless orphans who hadn’t survived the wintry night.
Only the creaking of the wheels and an occasional thud of a frozen tot broke the quiet of the dawn.
They were orphans because they were the worst of children—BASTARDS. They called them BASTARDS because they were children who had been born out of wedlock. Nobody wanted them. That is, nobody in their right mind wanted them. Everyone hated them. That is, everyone who went to church. In those days everyone went to church. Every priest, every nun, every monk, every devout parent, every brainwashed child, despised them.
Each time their frozen bodies would pass by in the cart, they all thought it to be right. The only hint of compassion, now and then, “They are better off dead.” Everyone thought there was something holy about it. After all, it had been written in their Holy Bible, these were the worst of children—BASTARDS.2
That is, everyone except Piccolo, the little boy Albino Luciani. He thought it was wrong. He didn’t care if it was written in a book. In fact, he knew it was wrong. He knew it was wrong because his revolutionary socialist atheist father had told him it was
wrong.
His first mortal sin
Luciani told me of the first time he had missed Sunday Mass.
“I had just turned eleven and was as poor as a church mouse and often went hungry myself. Yet, I did have a mamma and papa to take care of me and love me. They were away visiting a sick friend on that subzero Sunday morning when I made my way to church with my fellow Catholics.
“We passed a dozen orphans who were begging in the street. Most of them were orphans because they had been born out of wedlock, the reason why they were barred from church, as it had been God the Father’s sacred testimony in Deuteronomy, ‘A bastard child shall not enter into the congregation of the lord.’2
“It was this that first made me realize what a monster Moses was, that first made me realize the Old Testament was not the word of God. As a matter-of-fact, it was not even inspired by God; it was obviously inspired by the hatred and greed of evil men.
“It may have been the intense cold that inspired me. Regardless, I turned around and hurried back to my house and quickly cooked up a cauldron of soup with all the vegetables and lentils I could find and, although it meant we would go without them ourselves for days, I took it to the orphans and placed it in the snow in the midst of them. For the first time in my life, I realized what Christ had meant when He said, ‘Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.’
“By that time church was over. I had missed Mass, a mortal sin in those days. I decided to go into the church to ask forgiveness. But, I forgot they locked the doors outside of service hours to keep the orphans from coming in to get warm.
“It was then—at that moment—when those doors would not open—I realized what Christ had meant by the word ‘Church.’ It was then—at that moment—when those doors would not open—I decided to become a priest. It was then—at that moment—when those doors would not open—I decided I would change the Church back to what Christ had intended.
“It was then—at that moment—when those doors would not open—I realized my devout mamma was a sheep, and my atheist papa was a lion. It was then—at that moment—when those doors would not open—I began to shed my wool, and groom my mane.
“I hoped the scolding I would receive when my parents returned would not be too harsh. I underestimated the wrath of my mamma who, taking me into the bedroom, left me on my knees pleading for God’s forgiveness for having broken His sacred law.
“Later, when my papa returned, he pulled me up off my knees and hugged me. He told me what I had done was wonderful. He told me to ask Christ to forgive my mamma. I should not think ill of her, as she was caught up in religion—Christianity—something he often referred to as the Opium of the Masses. Drugged with belief, she is unable to judge what is truly right or what is truly wrong.
“Though my mamma taught me the idolatry of Christ, it was my papa who taught me the reality of Christ; it was he who taught me right from wrong. While I loved her dearly, my mamma was too caught up in the Opium of the Masses, to know right from wrong…”
The best of men
Many years later on a rather chilly autumn evening as I sat by the fireplace in an overstuffed armchair, I reached for the newspaper and read: Associated Press, September 21, 1978, Vatican City. As he has on other occasions, after an audience, yesterday, John Paul called for assistance from his listeners. A young boy came forward.
The Pope asked, “What is your name and how old are you?”
“Anthony.” Then with a touch of pride, “I am sixteen.”
“Good. Tell me Anthony, what is the greatest of sins?”
The boy looked sheepishly around the hall, nervously twitched his lips, hesitated, and finally stammered, “I suppose sex?”
Smiling, the Pope apologized, “Sorry, to have put you on the spot. Yes, sex. We have made of sex the greatest of sins, whereas, in itself, it is nothing more than human nature and not a sin at all.
“I will give you another chance. Now, Anthony, think, what is really the greatest of sins?”
The boy thought a moment, “I guess, murder?”
“Well, you are getting warmer. But, what I am looking for is the cause. Not the result.”
The boy was silent. The Pope told him, “Anthony, the greatest sin of all is hatred—hatred of other kinds of people and hatred of those who live their lives differently. Hatred usually goes hand in hand with its partner, greed.”
The boy interrupted, “Now, that I think of it, you’re right. Hatred and greed have been at the root of all the grief of mankind, the countless wars of ethnic cleansing, murdering and destruction of individuals, and, at times, entire populations.”
“Why do you suppose you didn’t think of it when I first asked you?” the Pope asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe, because it is not a commandment,” the boy replied.
“Why do you suppose Moses left ‘hatred’—the greatest of sins—out of his commandments?” John Paul probed the boy.
“Well, I guess, he intended to leave it out or he made a mistake,” Anthony responded.
The Pope looked at the youth, “Believe me, Anthony, he made no mistake. He intended to leave it out…”3
The rich and the poor
A week or so later I picked up another newspaper: Associated Press, September 28, 1978, Vatican City. In a general audience yesterday, the Pope talked of the Church’s responsibility to help control the world’s population. “…I have been discussing birth control for forty-five minutes. If the information I have been given, the various statistics, if that information is accurate, then during these few moments, over one thousand children under the age of five have died of malnutrition. During the next few hours while you and I look forward with anticipation to our next meal, another five thousand children under the age of five will die of malnutrition. By this time tomorrow, thirty thousand children under the age of five, who at this moment are alive, will be dead of malnutrition. God does not always provide. It is our sacred responsibility to provide,” he raised his voice to a demand, “and we will provide now.”4
John Paul spoke in simple words so that the youngest child could understand what he had to say. As he had on many occasions as a bishop, he threatened the hypocrisy of the Vatican treasures.
“This morning, I flushed my toilet with a solid gold lever. At this moment, bishops and cardinals are using a bathroom on the second floor of the Papal Palace which trappings, I am told, would draw more than one hundred million dollars at auction.”
Reaching for a golden chalice and lifting it up, “This chalice contains one hundred and twenty-two of the world’s most pristine diamonds.” His eyes scanned the television cameras, “Do you really think this is what Christ meant by his Church?
“Believe me, one day, we who live in opulence, while so many are dying because they have nothing, will have to answer to Jesus why we have not carried out His order, ‘Love thy neighbor as thyself.’ We, the clergy, together with our congregations, who foolishly substitute gold and pomp and ceremony in place of Christ’s instruction, who judge our masquerade of singing His praises to be more precious than human life, will have the most to explain…
“Embrace the words of Paul VI in the Populorum Progressio, ‘It is the inalienable right of no man to accumulate wealth beyond his needs while other men starve to death because they have nothing!’”5
Search for the truth
He asked, “Can one of the children come up to help the Pope?”
A young boy stepped forward. “What is your name and what grade are you in?”
The boy stammered, “Daniele. I am in the fifth grade.”
The Pope asked, “Daniele. Now, do you want to stay in the fifth grade or would you rather go on to the sixth grade next year?”
The boy startled the Pope, “I want to stay in the fifth grade. If I go on to the sixth grade, I will lose my teacher.”
The Pope smiled to the crowd, “Well, this boy is different than was the little boy Luciani, for when I wa
s in the fifth grade, I would say to myself, ‘Oh, if only I were in the sixth.’ And, when I was in the sixth, I would say to myself, ‘Oh, if only I were in the seventh.’”
Turning to the boy, “Daniele, we have within us a need to make progress—to move forward. Only with progress can we find the truth. We started out living in caves and then progressed to huts and now we live in homes with modern kitchens and bathrooms.
“More importantly, has been our progress in accepting our fellow human beings as we do ourselves. Our enemy is what has gone before us. We wrongly assume our ancestors were smarter than we are. We wrongly accept what they wrote in their books as the truth. We assume that what they had to say was right and this misconception pulls us backward, instead of forward.
“Yet, we are much smarter than were our ancestors. As each generation comes forward, it benefits from all the knowledge that has been accumulated by all those which have gone before it.7
“Tell me, Daniel, what did God do on the first day of creation?”
The boy looked up at the Pope with a puzzled frown. “Why, He divided the waters that were there to create Heaven.”
John Paul followed, “And, on the second day?”
Daniele, “He gathered the waters together to allow the dry land to appear and He grew grass, trees and flowers.”
The Pope nodded agreement, “Now, how about, the third day?”
Daniele, “God hung the sun and the moon and the stars in the heavens to give light.”
The Pope smiled, “You have a good teacher. No wonder you don’t want to leave her. Nevertheless, when Moses told us the story of creation, he was unaware the earth was round and rotating on its axis and controlled by its sun. As a result, he told us God had told him the earth was flat and God hung the sun and the stars in the heavens the day after He created the earth and its vegetation.
“He told us this because he didn’t know, at his time, it is the sun that is the center of our solar system and controls all life on our planet. It is because he didn’t know the facts—the truth—Moses told his followers God had told him God had created vegetation the day before He hung the sun in the heavens.
Murder in the Vatican Page 4