It was a necklace that helped Denise Cosco identify her mother after she was murdered by her father and boyfriend. Cosco, her father Carlo, and mother Lea Garofalo went on holiday together in November 2009 on what she thought was a chance for them to reconcile after Lea testified to authorities about her husband’s drug dealing for the Calabria ’Ndrangheta crime syndicate. But Carlo was in no mood to forgive. It would be another three years before Lea’s body was discovered. “When they showed me the necklace among the remains of her charred bones, I knew immediately that it was hers and that she had given her life to save me,” Cosco later said. “I can never thank her for that.” Like her mother, Cosco spent years hiding out under Italy’s witness protection program as a result of testifying against the mob. Both left the program frustrated with the Italian state. And their connections did not end there. Most tragically of all, Lea was 35 when she died – the same age as Denise when she fell to her death from the apartment she shared with her husband and four-year-old son in Rome earlier this month. Prosecutors are now trying to determine if the mafia was behind her death by “inciting” her apparent suicide. She left no note to explain her mindset. The case has prompted renewed debate in Italy over the safety of those who enter the state witness program for mafia syndicates and the physical and psychological burden that weighs on anyone who dares to challenge the mafia’s code of silence. ‘You gave me strength’ Cosco spent six years living under an assumed identity created for her by the Italian state after testifying against her father and her then-boyfriend, Carmine Venturino, over the kidnapping, torture, dismemberment and murder of her mother in November 2009. Both were sentenced to life in prison, although Venturino’s term was later reduced. Lea Garofalo’s murder was deemed a revenge attack after she testified against her husband, her brother and others about their alleged criminal drug dealing in Milan. Her testimony, motivated by her desire to protect her daughter from growing up in a mafia family, made her one of Italy’s most celebrated “turncoats,” or state’s witnesses collaborating with authorities against organized crime. Since her murder, streets, parks and schools have been named after her in recognition of her courage. Garofalo’s remains were found after Venturino admitted to involvement in both her murder and the concealment and burning of the body, eventually pointing authorities to the hiding place. At her mother’s funeral in October 2013, Cosco, then 22, spoke from behind bulletproof glass and thanked her mother. “This is a very difficult day for me, but you gave me strength,” she said of her mother. “I will never stop thanking you.” Garofalo and Cosco were among a scant few women who have chosen – or been able – to escape their crime families, albeit with inarguably detrimental results. Around 6,000 people are enlisted in Italy’s witness protection program, according to Italy’s Interior Ministry, but many face difficulty in staying protected. Anti-mafia prosecutor Alessandra Cerreti, who has persuaded dozens of women to testify against crime families across all Italy’s crime syndicates, admits the risks are high. Under Italian law, investigators have 180 days to work with the potential collaborators to determine if they are telling the truth or are instead actually still faithful to their crime families. “We have a short period of time to understand the entire situation,” Cerreti told CNN, adding that there are often budget restrictions and a lack of corroborators, especially right after someone escapes the crime family. If they are accepted into the program, protection is evaluated every four years to see if the turncoat is still cooperative, or if they have returned to the mafia family or simply disappeared. The collaborators are given a place to live, a false identity, a job and a life story that can be corroborated if anyone checks, but they live on very little money and rarely feel safe, Cerreti said. Garofalo, who hid her daughter in convents and tiny towns around Italy until she left witness protection in 2009 – the year she was murdered – cited her reasons for departure as “financial hardship” and “the constant threat of being removed from protection” because the state was unable to corroborate any of the claims in her testimony due to the lack of other witnesses Under Italian law, if a turncoat’s testimony cannot be corroborated, or if a threat is no longer perceived, the state removes protection. “If we had more time, we could better protect those who do come forward, which would make it easier for others to do the same,” Cerreti said. “But it often feels as risky to flee as it does to stay.” ‘The mafia kills in many ways’ Cosco’s husband was home at the time she fell from the window and had been questioned but is not a suspect. It is unclear if he even knew she was under witness protection. She was only referred to as Denise Cosco by authorities after she died on September 10, having spent four days in the hospital. Her father, speaking through his lawyer from prison, said the two had started to reconcile, Italian media reported, but no details of what that meant have yet emerged. A criminal investigation has been opened and Cosco’s phones and electronic devices have been sequestered to determine if she had been facing threats from anyone tied to the murder of her mother, or if the pressure, guilt and sadness of her complicated life had become too much. Her lawyer, Enza Rando, who helped her testify against her father and boyfriend in 2009, told CNN the state was also to blame for not providing enough protection and support for those who cross crime gangs. “The mafia kills in many ways. It kills by creating true monsters in the lives of those left behind,” Rando said. Cosco’s death has shaken anti-mafia investigators. Naples public prosecutor Nicola Gratteri, who has led hundreds of state informants away from their criminal families to collaborate with the courts, told reporters her death was a setback for the fight against organized crime and could make it even more challenging to get people to testify. It has also rattled those who live under protection. Giuseppe Carini, who lives under an assumed identity as a witness in the murder of a Catholic priest who preached against the Sicilian Cosa Nostra in 1993, wrote in an open letter shared by his lawyer that Cosco had been let down by the “highest levels of the State and the government.” “It has been said that witnesses of justice are courageous people, that Lea and Denise were courageous women and as such will never die, but we do not want gravestones or epitaphs carved in marble. Witnesses of justice have the sacrosanct right to live and to live a normal life,” he said. After Cosco died, her aunt Marisa Garofalo posted a photo of her holding up a T-shirt bearing her late mother’s name. Since she was living under a false identity when she died, only her trusted family members even knew what Cosco looked like. “Now I can show you your beautiful eyes,” her aunt wrote. “No one will be able to decide for you anymore, you will no longer have to hide.” By Barbie Latza Nadeau, CNN
