AK: Well, first I started to cry. And all the policemen, together, started saying to me, you have to tell us why, what happened? They wanted all these details that I couldn't tell them, because in the end, what happened was this: when I said the name of "Patrick", I suddenly started imagining a kind of scene, but always using this idea: images that didn't agree, that maybe could give some kind of explanation of the situation. I saw Patrick's face, then Piazza Grimana, then my house, then something green that they told me might be the sofa. Then, following this, they wanted details, they wanted to know everything I had done. But I didn't know how to say. So they started talking to me, saying, "Okay, so you went out of the house, okay, fine, so you met Patrick, where did you meet Patrick?" I don't know, maybe in Piazza Grimana, maybe near it. Because I had this image of Piazza Grimana. "Okay, fine, so you went with him to your house. Okay, fine. How did you open the door?" Well, with my key. "So you opened the house". Okay, yes. "And what did you do then?" I don't know. "But was she already there?" I don't know. "Did she arrive or was she already there?" Okay. "Who was there with you?" I don't know. "Was it just Patrick, or was Raffaele there too?" I don't know. It was the same when the pubblico ministero came, because he asked me: "Excuse me, I don't understand. Did you hear the sound of a scream?" No. "But how could you not have heard the scream?". I don't know, maybe my ears were covered. I kept on and on saying I don't know, maybe, imagining...