Revenge Of The Knox, The Smear-All Book: We Get Down To Nailing ALL Her Invented Claims #1

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1. Why “Revenge of the Knox”?

In 2005, Star Wars III, Revenge of the Sith, came out.  In it, the hero Anakin Skywalker started out as a Jedi Knight, and Hero of the Republic.

Without much reason or plausibility, he morphed to Sith Lord Darth Vader, and went on an implacably nasty, destructive, power driven rampage.  He causes absolute destruction to everyone who ever cared about him.  ‘‘A powerful Sith you will become.  Henceforth, you shall be known as Darth ... Vader.’‘

Makes sense to me….(!)

In ‘‘Waiting to be Heard’‘, by Amanda Knox, 2013, with addition in 2015, she starts off portraying this quirky, free-spirited, but serious and ambitious young woman, who wants to be her own person, study languages, and work as a translator.

Without much reason, or plausibility, she morphs into an immature kid, naive and oblivious, and engages in a campaign for casual sex.  She doesn’t seem to take the death of her ‘‘friend’’ seriously (other than it could have been her), and her actions cause absolute destruction to anyone who ever cared about her.

‘‘A freespirited skank you will become.  Henceforth, you shall be known as Foxy .... Knoxy.”

Makes sense to me… (!)

2. The Knox Book In Context

I previewed this series here previously. The series consists of my own dissections of Knox’s claims. ‘‘Tell-All’’ Memoir ‘‘Waiting to be Heard’‘! Or… is it her ‘‘Blood-Money’’ novel, ‘‘Waiting to Cash in’‘?

Knox’s book was written in the first few months after Judge Hellmann, probably illegally, let her walk, though her legal process was (and still is) far from done.

My opinion is that this book is essentially Amanda Knox’s way of getting back at everyone in Italy she ever encountered, while falsely making her notoriously brash, sharp-elbowed, frequently drugged-up persona look endearing, naive, and squeaky-clean.

Knox includes numerous lies, smears, and stories to compromise literally dozens of others in the book.

None of them help clear up what happened to Meredith.  And given how rampant the lies are, it doesn’t really clarify anything about Amanda as well. All it really does is to muddy the waters, which may be the real desired benefit to her.

Since the hardcover came out we have pointed in many long posts to specific “mega-lies” of Knox in the past, such as her “interrogation” claims.

Amazingly on 9 June 2015 HarperCollin released a paperback edition, totally unchanged except for a nasty afterword added on. With that new edition fully translated into Italian for legal purposes, skeptical readers in Italy and elsewhere can now start to really zoom in.

These will be combined with any others for one master set of Knox’s lies. This post covers pages 1-67 of the 2015 paperback’s 482 pages. Much more here soon.

3. Dissection Of Pages 1 To 66

[Chapter 1, Page 6] ‘’ ... It wasn’t until my freshman year in college that I realized I had a knack for languages and started playing around with the idea of becoming a translator. Or, if only, a writer.

When it came time to decide where to spend my junior year, I thought hard about Germany. But ultimately I decided to find a language and a country of my own—one my family hadn’t already claimed. I was sure that would help me become my grownup self—whoever that was.

Germany would have been the safer choice, but safety didn’t worry me. I was preoccupied by independence. I trusted my sense of responsibility, even if I sometimes made emotional choices instead of logical ones—and sometimes they were wrong.’

  • Well, if this had actually happened, it would have been a very grown up way to alter her life.  However, as she states very shortly, her real only interests are booze, boys and drugs.  So take this passage with a few ounces of salt.

[Chapter 1, Page 8] ‘’ ...As I began researching programs in Italy, I realized that having my dad’s support was fundamentally important to me. I’d never rehearsed any part in a play as hard as I had this conversation in my head. I wanted my dad to be impressed. I wasn’t at all sure what I would do if he said no. Once we were seated, I couldn’t wait a second longer. I started making my case even before the waiter brought us menus.

“Dad,” I said, trying to sound businesslike, “I’d like to spend next year learning Italian in a city called Perugia. It’s about halfway between Florence and Rome, but better than either because I won’t be part of a herd of American students. It’s a quiet town, and I’ll be with serious scholars. I’ll be submerged in the culture. And all my credits will transfer to UW.”

To my relief, his face read receptive.

Encouraged, I exhaled and said, “The University for Foreigners is a small school that focuses only on language. The program is intense, and I’ll have to work hard. The hours I’m not in class I’m sure I’ll be in the library. Just having to speak Italian every day will make a huge difference.” ...’‘

Like the last quoted passage, this sounds great—if it were actually true.  A few things stand out:

  • She began researching programs in Italy?  Well, she took a single course, so clearly didn’t research much.

  • She didn’t know the University for Foreigners was attached to the school at large?  Great research skills.

  • ’‘All my credits, would transfer’‘? Perhaps, if she actually took more than one.

  • ’‘I’d never any part in a play as hard as I had this conversation in my head?’’  Are you talking about your June 2009 testimony?

  • ’‘The hours I’m not in class I’m sure I’ll be in the library’‘...?  Are libraries still for reading and studying, or is Perugia different?

[Page 9] ‘’ ...I kept going. “I’ve been living away from home for almost two years, I’ve been working, and I’ve gotten good grades. I promise I can take care of myself.”

“I worry that you’re too trusting for your own good, Amanda,” he said. “What if something happens? I can’t just make a phone call or come over. You’ll be on your own. It’s a long way from home.”

Dad has a playful side to him, but when he’s in parent mode he can sound as proper as a 1950s sitcom dad. “That’s the whole point, Dad. I’ll be twenty soon, and I’m an adult. I know how to handle myself.”

“But it’s still our job to take care of you,” he said. “What if you get sick?”

“There’s a hospital there, and Aunt Dolly’s in Hamburg. It’s pretty close.”

“How much is tuition? Have you thought about the extra costs involved?”

“I’ve done all the math. I can pay for my own food and the extra expenses,” I said.

“Remember I worked three jobs this past winter? I put almost all of it in the bank. I’ve got seventy-eight hundred dollars saved up.”

  • Dad can sound like a 1950’s sitcom dad?  RS mocks his father in Honor Bound as well

  • You can pay for food and extra expenses?  Great, just as long as they aren’t booze and drugs.  Wait ....

  • You have $7800?  How did you burn through half of it in just a month?  Even with ‘‘a job?’‘

[Chapter 1, Page 11] ‘’ ... During senior year at my Jesuit high school, Seattle Prep, almost all my friends sent applications to schools hundreds of miles from home. Some even wanted to switch coasts.But I knew that I wasn’t mature enough yet to go far away, even though I didn’t want to miss out on an adventure. I made a deal with myself. I’d go to the University of Washington in Seattle, a bike ride from my parents’ houses, and give myself a chance to season up. By the time high school graduation came around, I’d already started looking into junior-year-abroad programs.

  • Well, give Knox credit for one thing.  She acknowledges in high school she is immature

  • She started researching programs in high school?  Wait a minute, on the last page, she says she began researching in 2nd year university.  Now she says she has been doing it for at least 2 years.  Which is it?

  • I guess with all the ‘‘seasoning up’’ (that might be a metaphor), we can now observe the serious student in action.

[Chapter 1, Page 11] ‘’ ... I was the quirky kid who hung out with the sulky manga-readers, the ostracized gay kids, and the theater geeks. I took Japanese and sang, loudly, in the halls while walking from one class to another.  Since I didn’t really fit in, I acted like myself, which pretty much made sure I never did.

In truth I wouldn’t have upgraded my lifestyle even if I could have. I’ve always been a saver, not a spender. I’m drawn to thrift stores instead of designer boutiques. I’d rather get around on my bike than in a BMW. But to my lasting embarrassment, in my junior year, I traded my friends for a less eccentric crowd.

I’d always been able to get along well with almost anyone. High school was the first time that people made fun of me or, worse, ignored me.  I made friends with a more mainstream group of girls and guys, attracted to them by their cohesiveness. They travelled in packs in the halls, ate lunch together, hung out after school, and seemed to have known each other forever. But in pulling away from my original friends, who liked me despite my being different, or maybe because I was, I hurt them. And while my new friends were fun-loving, I was motivated to be with them by insecurity. I’m ashamed for not having had the guts to be myself no matter what anyone thought.

Several contradictions are apparent here

  • Knox says since she never fit in, she just acted like herself

  • A few paragraphs later, she says she is ashamed for not having the guts to be herself.  Which is it?

  • She is drawn to thrift stores, and is a saver, yet blows through half her ‘‘savings’’ in one month.  How, if not gambling or drugs?

  • You make friends with a ‘‘mainstream, cohesive group’‘, yet are motivated by insecurity to be with them?

  • Knox is not clear how, not being herself hurts her ‘‘outsider’’ friends.  Were they jealous, or did she change?

[Chapter 1, Page 13] ‘’ ... Most of my other friends were male. We played football, jammed on the guitar, talked about life. After we smoked pot we would choose a food category—burgers, pizza, gyros, whatever—and wander around the neighborhood until we found what we considered the best in its class.

As I got ready to leave for Perugia, I knew I hadn’t become my own person yet, and I didn’t quite know how to get myself there. I was well-meaning and thoughtful, but I put a ton of pressure on myself to do what I thought was right, and I felt that I always fell short. That’s why the challenge of being on my own meant so much to me. I wanted to come back from Italy to my senior year at UW stronger and surer of myself—a better sister, daughter, friend.

  • You jammed on the guitar.  Did you ever learn more than 1 chord?

  • Most of your friends are male?  Guess we can all agree with that.

  • You felt pressure to do what is right, but always fell short? Huge understatement.

  • Perugia is the challenge of being on your own? You told your parents were grown up and had spent 2 years on your own.

  • You want to come back a better sister, daughter, friend? I thought the motivation was to learn languages and be a translator.  Though, to be fair, she could have multiple motivations.

[Chapter 1, Page 13] ‘’.... I received a blank journal and a fanny pack and tins of tea. Funny, irreverent Brett brought me a small, pink, bunny-shaped vibrator. I was incredulous; I had never used one.

“Until you meet your Italian stallion,” Brett said, handing it to me. She winked.

Her newest cause was to convince me to give casual sex a chance. I’d heard the same thing from other friends. It seemed to make some sense. I yearned to break down all the barriers that stood between me and adulthood. Sex was a big one—and the one that scared me the most. I’d bloomed late and didn’t kiss a guy until I was seventeen. I lost my virginity after I started college. Before Italy, I’d had sex with four guys, each in a relationship I considered meaningful, even though they had turned out to be short-lived.

I left for Italy having decided I needed to change that. For me, sex was emotional, and I didn’t want it to be anymore—I hated feeling dependent on anyone else. I wanted sex to be about empowerment and pleasure, not about Does this person like me? Will he still like me tomorrow? I was young enough to think that insecurity disappeared with maturity. And I thought Italy would provide me the chance to see that happen.

On the day I was leaving—in a rush to get to the airport and without a single thought —I tossed Brett’s pink bunny vibrator into my clear plastic toiletry bag. This turned out to be a very bad idea.

  • This is somewhat confusing.  A few pages back I read about this serious young woman who planned a study year abroad, and who had ambitions to be a translator.

  • Now .... what we get are Amanda’s rationales for wanting to sleep around.

  • (Whether the details are true or not), no one cares about your sex life.  We want to know what happened to Meredith.

  • You don’t want sex to be emotional, you want it to be empowering and about pleasure?  Okay, Ms. Arias.

  • And while tossing the vibrator in a clear bad may have been due to a rush in time, you know, you could have stored it in something else once you got to Perugia.

  • Yes, we know you turned out.  You don’t need to publish it.

[Chapter 2, Page 16] ‘’ ... We shared a joint, and then, high and giggly, we went to his hotel room. I’d just turned twenty. This was my first bona fide one-night stand. I’d told my friends back home that I couldn’t see myself sleeping with some random guy who didn’t matter to me. Cristiano was a game changer. We didn’t have a condom, so we didn’t actually have intercourse. But we were making out, fooling around like crazy, when, an hour later, I realized, I don’t even know this guy ...’‘

  • Wow, so you leave your sister Deanna alone to do a guy you met on the train?

  • And lacking condoms was the only thing preventing you from going all the way?

  • Wasn’t his real name Federico Martini?  Wasn’t he supplying you with free drugs in return for sex?

  • Out of curiousity, how do you think Deanna would feel, not only knowing this, but knowing you published it?  And you named her?

[Chapter 2, Page 19] Referring to a man who gave Amanda and Deanna a ride ‘’... I rode shotgun and did all the talking. On the off chance that he did anything crazy, I’d be the buffer between him and Deanna. As the oldest, I automatically reacted this way to any possibly dicey situation that included a sibling. I also felt safer when I had the illusion of being in control. Now, looking back, I see that I had a ridiculous amount of unwarranted self-confidence. Why did I assume I knew the way to a hotel in a country I’d been in once, years before, and a city I’d never been in at all? I hadn’t been in a physical fight in my life. What could I have done to protect Deanna if the ride had gone wrong?

  • Amanda says that she is too trusting, yet has fear about the man she and Deanna accepted a ride with.  Odd

  • You react this way to any situation that involved a sibling.  Yet, you just ditched your sister to go hook up with a stranger.  Please explain.

[Chapter 2, Page 22] ‘’ ... They said I wasn’t the first roommate they’d interviewed. A guy they called “totally uptight” was interested in renting, until he found out they smoked—cigarettes and marijuana. “Are you okay with that?” Filomena asked…’‘

  • You state earlier in the page that Filomena and Laura worked at law firms.  Yet, you publish that they are into marijuana, a great idea, given the socially conservative nature of law firms

  • Did you not also post a few photos of the 3 of you together as ‘‘friends’‘?

[Chapter 2, Page 23] ‘’ ... I couldn’t wait to return. But I’d also been chastened by my first trip to Perugia. A few days after Deanna and I got to Germany, I broke out with a gigantic cold sore on my top lip that Dolly and I figured must be oral herpes—from Cristiano. To my great embarrassment, Dolly had to take me to the pharmacy to find out how to treat it. I couldn’t believe this was the first wild thing I’d done in my entire life and—bam! I’d made an impulsive decision, and now I’d have to pay a lifelong consequence.

I was bummed knowing I’d have to take medication forever. Even more humiliating was that from here on out I’d have to explain to potential partners that I might be a risk….’‘

  • So, not only do you publish the fact that you ditched your sister to go screw a stranger, you now publish that you shared it with your Grandmother, and that you needed to get medication?

  • Yup, definitely the stuff Grandma wants to read about ....

  • Curiously enough, you leave out the part about getting arrested for throwing rocks in Seattle, and devote a huge amount of time to covering this casual encounter with Cristiano, or Frederico, or whatever his name is.  I would be interested to know your version of the Seattle ‘‘riot’‘.

  • Of course, if you wanted to talk about this guy supplying you with drugs, it would be interesting to know that as well.

[Chapter 3, Page 26] ‘’ ... But what drew laughs in Seattle got embarrassed looks in Perugia. It hadn’t dawned on me that the same quirks my friends at home found endearing could actually offend people who were less accepting of differences. A person more attuned to social norms would probably have realized that immature antics didn’t play well here.

So I was glad I could hang out with Laura, Filomena, and Meredith at home. Even though Meredith was definitely more mainstream and demure than I’d ever be, and Laura and Filomena were older and more sophisticated, I felt comfortable in their company. They seemed to accept me for me right from the start.

During my first month in Perugia I spent more time with Meredith than anyone else. I liked her a lot, and she seemed to enjoy being with me. I could already see us keeping in touch by e-mail when our year abroad was over. Maybe we’d even end up visiting each other in our hometowns. ...’‘

  • ’‘Quirks’’ such as publishing sexual topics involving family members?

  • If you realized these things, why did you not tone your behaviour down?

  • Antics such as bringing strange men home and disturbing the women you lived with?

  • You and Meredith became close?  Then why did she complain about you to her friends and family?

[Chapter 3, Page 30] ‘’ .... I didn’t let my mistakes keep me from getting to know my neighborhood or my neighbors a little better. Each time I went to the Internet café to Skype with DJ or chat online with Mom, I’d talk to the guy who ran it, Spyros, a Greek in his late twenties.  We talked about the same things that filled my conversations with my UW friends—mainly our ideas and insecurities…’‘

  • This is the ‘‘Spyros’’ that Knox put in her ‘‘list of suspects’’ November 5/6th, 2007.  Not entirely sure what he does to make Amanda think he is a potential murderer, he seems friendly enough.  Perhaps she will elaborate later.

[Chapter 3, Page 32] During dinner at his kitchen table my thoughts battled. Was I ready to speed ahead with sex like this? I still regretted Cristiano. But I’d also been thinking about what Brett and my friends at UW had said. I could picture them rolling their eyes and saying,  “Hellooo, Amanda. Sex is normal.”

Casual sex was, for my generation, simply what you did.

I didn’t feel that my attitude toward sex made me different from anyone else in my villa. I knew Meredith hadn’t been with anyone since her serious boyfriend in England.  Filomena had a steady boyfriend, Marco Z., in Perugia. And while Laura was dating and sleeping with a guy she thought was sweet but clingy, she encouraged sex outside relationships.

From the start, all four of us were open to talking about sex and relationships. Laura insisted that Meredith and I should just have fun. Filomena was a little more buttoned-up. She couldn’t understand how, with our history together, DJ and I could just be friends and inform each other about our romantic exploits over Skype.

  • What is the point of all this?  Amanda supposedly writes this book so she can get her story out, but so far, she just seems content to embarrass everyone she has come in contact with.  On the next page, Knox goes on to detail her next casual encounter, some guy named Mirko.

[Chapter 3, Page 34] ‘’... I walked back to the villa alone, feeling both exhilarated and defeated.

The next morning, I told my roommates I’d had sex with Mirko. “I feel conflicted,” I said. “It was fun, but it was weird to feel so disconnected from each other. Is that just me?”

Laura absolved me. “You’re young and free-spirited. Don’t worry about it.”

That made me feel a little better.

[on their next encounter…]

[Chapter 3, Page 34] I was too ashamed and embarrassed to go back to the café after that. Was there something wrong with me? Or was it with him? Either way, I couldn’t bear to run into him again.

I was alone with Meredith when I told her about fleeing from Mirko.

“I feel like an idiot.”

“Amanda,” she said, consolingly, “maybe uninvolved sex just isn’t for you.”

  • I have serious doubts that Laura, who was by Knox’s admission a serious woman, would say that.  At a minimum, Laura would likely have been annoyed to be hearing about this, at worst, somewhat alarmed by AK’s behaviour.

  • In any event, it partially confirms the story Laura and Filomena told about Amanda being an attention seeking exhibitionist.

  • Knox tells Meredith about another (almost) encounter with Mirko, and supposedly Meredith is very understanding…

  • More likely is that a professional woman, and a serious student, would be turned off by these antics.

[Chapter 3, Page 35] ‘’ ... We shared a house, meals, a bathroom. I treated Meredith as my confidante. Meredith treated me with respect and a sense of humor.

The only awkward interaction we had was when Meredith gently explained the limitations of Italian plumbing.

Her face a little strained with embarrassment, she approached me in my room and said, “Amanda, I’m sorry to bring this up with you. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but with our toilets, you really need to use the brush every time.”

  • In Knox’s May 2014 interview with Chris Cuomo, Knox admitted that some of Meredith’s English friends had issues over cleanliness.  Seems odd, if this was the only awkward interaction

  • ...
  • Like before, why does she need to bring this up?  Unless Meredith was killed over a flushed toilet, it really is rather pointless and irrelevant.

[Chapter 3, Page 37] ‘’ ...Around our house, marijuana was as common as pasta. I never purchased it myself, but we all chipped in. For me, it was purely social, not something I’d ever do alone. I didn’t even know how to roll a joint and once spent an entire evening trying. I’d seen it done plenty of times in both Seattle and Perugia, but it was trickier than I thought it would be. Laura babysat my efforts, giving me pointers as I measured out the tobacco and pot and tried rolling the mixture into a smokable package. I never got it right that night, but I won a round of applause for trying. Either Filomena or Laura took a picture of me posing with it between my index and middle finger, as if it were a cigarette, and I a pouty 1950s pinup.

I was being goofy, but this caricature of me as a sexpot would soon take hold around the world.

  • Again, you know that Laura and Filomena work for lawyers, yet you publish accounts that claim they are involved in regular drug use?

  • With ‘‘friends’’ like these ...

  • Curious whether these photos actually exist, or are something her mind made up.

[Chapter 4, Page 39] ‘’ ... I went to school for two hours, five days a week. Besides grammar and pronunciation, I had a third class, in Italian culture. We all went home for lunch at noon, and I spent the rest of the day and night doing whatever I wanted. My teachers didn’t give homework, so I’d sit on the terrace or, when the days cooled, at my desk with a grammar book and a dictionary, making my way, one word at a time, through the Italian translation of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

  • Knox says she has 3 classes: Grammar, Pronunciation, and Italian Culture.  Wait, was she not only doing 1?  Did she drop 2?  Which ones?

  • 10 hours a week (by her admission), is not really a full course-load in ANY university in Canada.  Is it in Italy?

[Chapter 4, Page 41] Like Juve, Patrick wasn’t interested in my work experience. Looking back now, I’m sure they hired me because they thought I’d attract men to the bar. But I was too naïve back then to get that. I still thought of myself as a quirky girl struggling to figure out who I’d be when I grew up. I now realize that the point of the job “interview” was to see if my looks were a draw or a liability.

  • Wow. a bit narcissistic, aren’t we.  Lumumba is nice enough to give you a job (without a work permit), and you think he just wanted to use you as a piece of meat to attract customers?

  • Well, coming from the woman who has casual flings and then writes about them, maybe it’s where your mind always goes.

  • And no, your looks are not a ‘‘liability’‘.  Your ‘‘creative writing’‘, on the other hand ....

[Chapter 4, Page 44] My job made me feel like a bull’s-eye in the middle of the chaos. Guys continually came up to me to flirt, saying they’d stop by Le Chic only if I promised to be there.

Brushing them off, as I would have liked, would have been bad for business. So I hoped my chirpy “You should come by” came off as inviting for Patrick’s sake and not too suggestive for mine.

  • Um… you are supposed to be promoting a bar.

  • And aren’t you the one (in your Diane Sawyer interview), you said she went on a campaign for casual sex?

[Chapter 4, Page 44] ‘’ ... But I could see why they didn’t come back. Le Chic didn’t get a lot of foot traffic, so the dance floor was usually empty. The bar felt forlorn—not exactly a recipe for a good time. Patrick was jovial and did his best to make it welcoming, but it was still noisy and dark inside and attracted a crowd of older men—often friends of Patrick’s—and not students.

There was nothing truly dangerous about Le Chic, but its seediness did hint at Perugia’s dark side. What I didn’t know when I arrived was that the city had the highest concentration of heroin addicts in Italy. I never heard about the high level of trafficking and drug use until I was in prison, bunking with drug dealers. During my trial, the prosecution and the media seemed to take for granted that our neighborhood was bad and our little villa a deathtrap.

Even without knowing this, my mom worried about my safety—a lot. One day, while I was e-mailing back and forth with her at the Internet café, she asked, “Who should I call if I can’t reach you?”

“We don’t have a home phone, but I can give you Laura’s number,” I wrote. “But honestly, Mom, I think I’m safer here than in Seattle. My friend Juve walks me home from work most nights, and Perugia is much smaller than Seattle. I’ve really made a lot of friends.”

“Okay,” Mom wrote back. “I feel better.”

I believed what I said—not because I had reason to but because I was in love with the city’s many charms. And I didn’t pick up on some obvious clues.

One night, when Le Chic was closing and Juve couldn’t walk me home, I saw an acquaintance of Meredith’s. I didn’t know his real name, only that Meredith and her girlfriends had nicknamed him Shaky because of the way he danced. He offered me a ride home on his scooter. I figured a friend of a friend was close enough to trust. I figured wrong.

  • Patrick’s bar isn’t doing well, but he is hiring staff—you—to help promote it?

  • Let me guess, you framing Patrick only helped attract business with the free publicity?

  • You didn’t know about Perugia’s drug problems?  Didn’t you choose that city BECAUSE there were drugs available?

  • While you pass yourself off as a hard worker, Lumumba said he wanted to fire you for laziness. Which is it?

  • The prosecution claimed your villa was a deathtrap?  Didn’t your lawyer, Dalla Vedova, claim that the police don’t know how to handle a murder case since Perugia hadn’t seen a murder in 20 years.  Your town (and home), can’t be a deathtrap if there hadn’t been any murders in decades.

  • You made a lot of friends? Why were you already considering leaving Perugia?

  • You’re in love with the city’s charms? You just said it was seedy, had heroin problems, and a dark side.

  • Juve and ‘‘Shaky’’ also appeared on your list of suspects that you gave to Rita Ficarra.  Why exactly did you include them?

[Chapter 4, Page 46] ‘’ ... Giacomo handed me a beer, and I pushed my way through the crowd to find Meredith. When we had rejoined the guys, they introduced us to a friend who, I’d later learn, had moved to Italy as a kid, from Ivory Coast. His name was Rudy. They sometimes played pickup basketball with him.  The five of us stood around for a few minutes before walking home together. The guys invited us to their apartment, but Meredith and I first stopped at ours to drop off our purses.

“Ready to go downstairs?” I asked her.

“You go. I’ll be down in a second,” she said.

When I opened the door to the downstairs apartment, Giacomo, Marco, Stefano, and Rudy were sitting around the table laughing. “What’s funny?” I asked.  “Nothing,” they said sheepishly.  I didn’t think another thing about it until months and months later, when it came out in court that just before I’d opened the door, Rudy had asked the guys if I was available.

A short time later, Meredith came in and sat down next to me at the table. The guys passed us the joint they were smoking. We each inhaled, handed it back, and sat there for a few minutes while they joked around in Italian. Tired and a little stoned, I couldn’t keep up with their conversation. After a little while I told Meredith, “I’m going up to bed.”

  • In her December 2013 email to Judge Nencini, she claims to have never met Rudy.

  • In that same email, to claims to have crossed paths with Rudy once

  • In WTBH, Amanda, Meredith, Rudy, and the men downstairs get high together.  That is more than just ‘‘crossing paths’‘.

  • In the 2009 trial, there was testimony that Rudy Guede frequently visited the downstairs floor

  • Why would it be funny asking if Amanda is available?  It’s not like she is a loose woman or anything.

  • Meredith is your ‘‘friend’‘? Why leak these details?  Her family doesn’t want to hear them.

  • So, Rudy was interested in you?  Thank you for confirming a possible connection as to why he might have been upstairs in your [the women’s] floor.

  • Silly question: was Rudy the ‘‘South African’’ from the basketball court that you put in your list of suspects?

[Chapter 4, Page 49] ‘’ ...When we got home, Bobby followed me to the front door.

“Do you want to come in?” I asked.

“Are you sure?”

I nodded. This was the first time I’d invited a guy into my bed since I’d arrived in Perugia. We went to my room and had sex. Then we both passed out.

The next morning I got up before he did, got dressed, and went to make myself breakfast. Bobby came into the kitchen a few minutes later.

We were eating cookies when Laura came out of her bedroom. I’d never entertained a lover at the villa for breakfast, and it was awkward, despite Laura’s proclaimed sense of easy sexuality. All three of us tried to ignore the feeling away.

After breakfast Bobby left to return to Rome. I walked him to the door. He smiled, waved, and walked away….’‘

I didn’t feel the same regret I’d had after sex with Mirko, but I still felt the same emptiness. I had no way of knowing what a big price I would end up paying for these liaisons.

  • Again, I am not sure what Knox is trying to prove here.  Meredith, according to her English friends, found Amanda to be somewhat deranged and disturbed.  And here, Knox is confirming that Laura found this awkward, and it was only the first one…

  • Laura and Filomena reported that Knox brought MANY strange men home.  Seems AK is a little vague on the exact extent of this, maybe we need to ask her best truth… wait a minute! This is a murder case.  No one cares who Amanda slept with.

  • Perhaps Amanda’s roommates can see right through her.

[Chapter 4, Page 49] A few minutes later, Meredith came upstairs. She and Giacomo had slept together for the first time, and she was giddy. It had been a wild night at No. 7, Via della Pergola, but it turned out to be a one-time thing.

  • So, Meredith is your ‘‘friend’‘, and yet in your book you publish details of HER sex life?  Wow…

[Chapter 5, Page 51] ‘’ ... Later I would wonder what would have been different if this hadn’t happened. What if Meredith had stayed at the concert? What if Raffaele had gotten there in time to get a seat? Would we have noticed each other? Would he, naturally shy, have introduced himself without the excuse of a needed chair? Would never knowing him have changed how I was perceived? Would that have made the next four years unfold differently? For me, maybe. For Raffaele, absolutely.

But we did meet. And I did like him. Raffaele was a humble, thoughtful, respectful person, and he came along at the moment that I needed a tether. Timing was the second ingredient that made our relationship take off. Had it been later in the year, after I’d found my bearings and made friends, would I have needed the comfort he offered?

Waiting for the return of the quintet, we talked. His English was better than my Italian.

  • So which happened first? Did you meet Raffaele because Meredith left, or did Meredith leave because you were interested in Raffaele? You are unclear here

  • Relationship?  You spent the last few chapters talking about casual sex?  Why do you need a relationship?

  • So, what exactly about Raffaele was a ‘‘tether’‘?

  • Do you typically sleep together in relationships, or just casual encounters?

  • Would the next four years unfolded differently?  For me, maybe, for him, definitely…?  So, you would have found other goons to help you murder Meredith?

[Chapter 5, Page 52] ‘’ ...When we stood up to leave, he asked for my number. In Perugia, where I’d gotten this question a lot, my stock answer was no. But I thought Raffaele was nerdy and adorable—definitely my type. He was wearing jeans and sneakers that evening. Like DJ, he had a pocketknife hooked to his belt loop. I liked his thick eyebrows, soft eyes, high cheekbones. He seemed less sure of himself than the other Italian men I’d met. I said, “I’ll be working later at Le Chic on Via Alessi. You should come by.”...’‘

  • Seriously?  You go on a campaign for casual sex, and you typically DON’T give out your number?

  • Raffy likes to carry knives?  Great, thank you for confirming it

[Chapter 5, Page 54] ‘’ ... Raffaele looked surprised, then pleased. “Do you want to come to my apartment and smoke a joint?”

I hesitated. He was basically a stranger, but I trusted him. I saw him as a gentle, modest person. I felt safe. “I’d love to,” I said.

Raffaele lived alone in an immaculate one-room apartment. I sat on his neatly made bed while he sat at his desk rolling a joint. A minute later he swiveled around in his chair and held it out to me.
......

The marijuana was starting to kick in. “You know what makes me laugh?” I asked.

“Making faces. See.” I crossed my eyes and puffed out my cheeks. “You try it.”

“Okay.” He stuck out his tongue and scrunched up his eyebrows.

I laughed.

By then, Raffaele had moved next to me on the bed. We made faces until we collided into a kiss. Then we had sex. It felt totally natural. I woke up the next morning with his arm wrapped snugly around me. ....’‘

  • Okay, we get it.  You hooked up with Raffaele, and on the first meet What is this, the fourth different guy you’ve written about sleeping with?

  • This whole thing about hooking up with strangers… you are still reluctant?  Or is this a relationship?  I can’t tell.

  • Sex with a knife carrying, pot-smoking Harry Potter is natural?  Okay, to each their own….

[Chapter 5, Page 57] ‘’ ... Raffaele looked at me seriously, appreciatively. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

We’d known each other for three days.

“Yes,” I said, feeling a tiny twinge that I took as a warning sign. This is moving too fast. Is Raffaele making too much of our relationship too soon? He’d already said he wanted to introduce me to his family at graduation, and he was planning our winterweekends together in Milan. We barely knew each other.

I couldn’t see how we would last, because we were a couple of months away from living in two different cities, and I was definitely going back to Seattle at the end of the next summer. Since a big part of why I’d come to Italy was to figure myself out, it occurred to me that maybe I should be alone, that I should slow things down now, before they rocketed ahead. But just because I thought it doesn’t mean I did it.

It was easy to shove my doubts aside, because I really liked Raffaele. He was sensitive, and I felt calm around him. And without any solid ties, I’d been lonelier in Perugia than I’d realized…’‘

  • You slept together on the first night, but aren’t sure if this is another quickie, or a relationship.  And now you are worried about moving too fast?

  • Three days later, Raffaele asks you if you want to be a couple

  • You are lonelier than you realized? Didn’t you tell everyone that you were having a blast, making all kinds of friends?

  • Figure yourself out?  You previously said you wanted (a) to learn languages, (b) work as a translator, and (c) that you wanted to do your third year abroad If you actually were doing (a), (b), and (c), you wouldn’t be so lonely, trying to figure yourself out.  You would be too busy.

  • Besides, weren’t you going on about how Meredith and Laura were such great people to be with?  Why do you feel ‘‘lonely’‘?

  • Definitely going back to Seattle? I thought you had all these ambitions abroad?

[Chapter 5, Page 57] ‘’ ... Being with Raffaele also taught me a big lesson about my personality that I’d tried so hard—and harmfully, in Cristiano’s case—to squelch. I was beginning to own up to the fact that casual hookups like I’d had with Mirko and Bobby weren’t for me. I like being able to express myself not just as a lover but in a loving relationship. Even from the minuscule perspective of a few days with Raffaele, I understood that, for me, detaching emotion from sex left me feeling more alone than not having sex at all —bereft, really. I didn’t know that this lesson had come too late to do me any good…’‘

  • You learned too late that casual sex with strangers can result in STD’s?  Did you not know, or just not care?

  • Did Cristiano (or I mean Federico Martini), have something else besides his looks? Drugs prehaps?

  • You realized after the fact that unattached sex leads to feelings of emptiness?

  • Why are you going through these ‘‘self-discoveries’’ anyway’?  Didn’t you have a full slate of ambitions, and amazing people living with you?

[Chapter 5, Page 59] ‘’ ... Around 12:30 A.M., when I met Spyros and his friends for drinks, I couldn’t get into the good time they were having. Even on a blowout party night, Perugia’s social scene didn’t do much for me, and the whole evening felt like a dud. It made me nostalgic for the sit-around-and-talk gatherings of friends at UW. I was glad when Raffaele came to Piazza IV Novembre to walk me home. By that time it was 1:45 A.M., and most of my eyeliner whiskers had rubbed off. Thankfully, Halloween 2007 was over.

  • Well, still waiting to hear what Spyros did that made you add him to you ‘‘suspect list’‘

  • Why does the evening feel like a dud?  You told your mother you have lots of friends.

  • You’re in the great town of Perugia, and you just want to sit around and talk?  Didn’t you have your fill in Seattle?

  • What is the real reason you are not enjoying yourself?

[Chapter 5, Page 61] ‘’ ... Raffaele and I were good at being low-key together. We chilled out in the common room and smoked a joint while I played Beatles songs on the guitar for an hour or so. Sometime between 4 P.M. and 5 P.M., we left to go to his place. We wanted a quiet, cozy night in. As we walked along, I was telling Raffaele that Amélie was my all-time favorite movie.

“Really?” he asked. “I’ve never seen it.”

“Oh my God,” I said, unbelieving. “You have to see it right this second! You’ll love it!”

Not long after we got back to Raffaele’s, his doorbell rang. It was a friend of his whom I’d never met—a pretty, put-together medical student named Jovanna Popovic, who spoke Italian so quickly I couldn’t understand her. She’d come to ask Raffaele for a favor. Her mother was putting a suitcase on a bus for her and she wondered if he could drive her to the station at midnight to pick it up.

“Sure,” Raffaele said.

As soon as she left, we downloaded the movie on his computer and sat on his bed to watch it. Around 8:30 P.M. I suddenly remembered that it was Thursday, one of my regular workdays. Quickly checking my phone, I saw that Patrick had sent me a text telling me I didn’t have to come in. Since it was a holiday, he thought it would be a slow night.

“Okay,” I texted back. “ Ci vediamo più tardi buona serata!”—“See you later. Have a good evening!” Then I turned off my phone, just in case he changed his mind and wanted me to come in after all. I was so excited to have the night off that I jumped on top of Raffaele, cheering, “Woo-hoo! Woo-hoo!”

Our good mood was only elevated when the doorbell rang again at 8:45 P.M.: Jovanna had come back, this time to say that the suitcase hadn’t made the bus and that she didn’t need a ride after all. With no more obligations, we had the whole rest of the night just to be with each other and chill out.After the movie ended, around 9:15 P.M., we sautéed a piece of fish and made a simple salad. We were washing the dishes when we realized that the kitchen sink was leaking. Raffaele, who’d already had a plumber come once, was frustrated and frantically tried to mop up a lot of water with a little rag. He ended up leaving a puddle.“I’ll bring the mop over from our house tomorrow. No big deal,” I said.Raffaele sat down at his desk and rolled a joint, and I climbed into his lap to read aloud to him from another Harry Potter book, this one in German. I translated the part he didn’t understand, as best I could, into Italian or English while we smoked and giggled.

[Chapter 5, Page 45] We planned to break our routine the next day, All Souls’ Day, by taking a long drive into the countryside, to the neighboring town of Gubbio. The November 2 holiday wasn’t usually observed with as much fanfare as All Saints’ Day, but since it fell on a Friday in 2007, a lot of people, including us, were turning it into a four-day weekend. I thought, Italians having a good time again. And I couldn’t wait.

  • You remember playing Beatle’s songs for an hour.  Okay, do you remember which ones?

  • Silly question, I don’t remember Raffaele having a guitar.  Whose was it?

  • Raffaele had already called a plumber before?  Would be interesting to see a service record.

  • So… was this a minor spill, or was your house virtually flooded? How serious was it?

  • You live in this apartment? Do you not have a single towel?

  • If it had leaked before, why did you not have a mop, or at least a few extra towels?

  • You turned off your phone.  In Honor Bound, Raffy says he turned off his.  Is this normal?

  • You have a German Harry Potter book, and you are translating parts of it into Italian and English.  So much for barely knowing Italian.

  • Mentioning Jovanna may seem like an alibi… but the murder happened much later.

  • You are excited about not having to go to work?  What happened about being a serious person?

  • You are a language student, and you really didn’t know that a common Italian expression means something totally different in English?

  • So, AK and RS are about to head to Gubbio.  Sounds like a fun trip.  All Amanda has to do is go back to her place, shower, and grab some clothes, right?

  • How long were you planning to be in Gubbio?  How many changes of clothes would you need?

  • And of course, she adds details about sex, and how she got a scratch (I mean, hickey, on her neck).

  • Had you and Raffaele done any road trips before, or was this a first time thing?

  • Alibi, check. Excuse for scratch, check. Not being able to wait, check.

  • You said in your November 6th statement you didn’t remember if you read or made love.  Why don’t you remember?

  • If you and Raffaele were doing things that could cause a hickey, why don’t you remember making love?

  • You seem to have a very detailed memory of that night.  Why did you tell the police many different stories later?

[Chapter 5, Page 62, Knox letter to police]’‘Then I turned off my phone, just in case he changed his mind and wanted me to come in after all. I was so excited to have the night off that I jumped on top of Raffaele, cheering, “Woo-hoo! Woo-hoo!”

Our good mood was only elevated when the doorbell rang again at 8:45 P.M.: Jovanna had come back, this time to say that the suitcase hadn’t made the bus and that she didn’t need a ride after all. With no more obligations, we had the whole rest of the night just to be with each other and chill out.

After the movie ended, around 9:15 P.M., we sautéed a piece of fish and made a simple salad. We were washing the dishes when we realized that the kitchen sink was leaking. Raffaele, who’d already had a plumber come once, was frustrated and frantically tried to mop up a lot of water with a little rag. He ended up leaving a puddle….’‘

‘’ ... This is what happened and I could swear by it. I’m sorry I didn’t remember before and I’m sorry I said I could have been at the house when it happened. I said these things because I was confused and scared. I didn’t lie when I said I thought the killer was Patrick. I was very stressed at the time and I really did think he was the murderer. But now I remember that I can’t know who the murderer was because I didn’t return back to the house….’‘

  • This has you receiving the message, replying, and turning off your phone BEFORE your dinner.  Which is it?

[Chapter 6, Page 65] On that cold, sunny Friday morning, I left Raffaele asleep in his apartment and walked home to take a shower and get my things together, thinking about our romantic weekend in the Umbrian hills. In hindsight, it seems that arriving home to find the front door open should have rattled me more. I thought, That’s strange. But it was easily explained. The old latch didn’t catch unless we used a key. Wind must have blown it open, I thought, and walked inside the house calling out, “Filomena? Laura? Meredith? Hello? Hello? Anybody?”

Nobody. The bedroom doors were closed.

I wasn’t alarmed by two pea-size flecks of blood in the bathroom sink that Meredith and I shared. There was another smear on the faucet. Weird. I’d gotten my ears pierced. Were they bleeding? I scratched the droplets with my fingernail. They were dry. Meredith must have nicked herself. It wasn’t until I got out of the shower that I noticed a reddish-brown splotch about the size of an orange on the bathmat. More blood. Could Meredith have started her period and dripped? But then, how would it have gotten on the sink? My confusion increased. We were usually so neat. I went to my room and, while putting on a white skirt and a blue sweater, thought about what to bring along on my trip to Gubbio with Raffaele.

I went to the big bathroom to use Filomena’s blow dryer and was stashing it back against the wall when I noticed poop in the toilet. No one in the house would have left the toilet unflushed. Could there have been a stranger here? Was someone in the house when I was in the shower? I felt a lurch of panic and the prickly feeling you get when you think someone might be watching you. I quickly grabbed my purse and coat and somehow remembered the mop I said I’d bring back to Raffaele’s. I scrambled to push the key into the lock, making myself turn it before I ran up the driveway, my heart banging painfully.

By the time I was a block from home I was second-guessing myself. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe there was a simple reason for the toilet being unflushed. I needed someone to say, “Amanda, you’re right to be scared. This isn’t normal.” And if it wasn’t okay, I wanted someone to tell me what to do. My skittering brain pulled up my mom’s mantra: when in doubt, call. Forgetting the nine-hour time difference between Perugia and Seattle, I pressed the number sequence for home. My mom did not say hello, just “Amanda, are you okay? What’s wrong?” It was in the middle of the night in Seattle, and she was worried.

“I’m on my way back to Raffaele’s,” I said, “but I just wanted to check in. I found some strange things in my house.” I explained my reasons for worrying. Then I asked, “What do you think I should do?”  “Call your roommates,” she said. “Go tell Raffaele, and call me right back.”

  • So, you leaves Raffaele’s apartment, to grab some things to take back for your Gubbio trip?  Okay.

  • White skirt and blue sweater?  Well, you can’t really deny that, since you were photographed in it.

  • Didn’t you walk by Filomena’s room to get to the front door?  You didn’t notice the broken glass?

  • The front door is open, but you think nothing of it?  If someone was taking out the garbage, wouldn’t you have passed them?

  • You find blood in the bathroom sink (even 2 spots), and you don’t clean it)?

  • You see an orange shaped lump of blood, and you think it is Meredith ‘‘dripping’‘?  You leave the mat where it is?

  • You find ‘‘poop’’ in the toilet, which at this point probably smells rank, and don’t think to flush it?

  • And this ‘‘happens’’ to be the poop left behind by Meredith’s ‘‘sole killer’‘?

  • You notice both poop, and ‘‘menstrual blood’‘, and you don’t think to clean up either?

  • You are in a panic to leave, but you grab your coat, purse .... and a mop?

  • You think you may be overreacting, and you don’t go back to flush and clean the blood.  Did you not just say you were usually so neat?

  • And Mom doesn’t advise you to just flush the poop either?  Odd family.

  • When Edda Mellas testified at the 2009 trial, did she not say that Amanda thought someone had been in the house?  And that Meredith was missing?  Did Edda not tell her to hang up and call the police?  This account is VERY different.

[Chapter 6, Page 67] I called Filomena first and was relieved when she picked up. “Ciao, Amanda,” she said.

“Ciao,” I said. “I’m calling because when I came home from Raffaele’s this morning,  our front door was open. I found a few drops of blood in one bathroom and shit in the other toilet. Do you know anything about it?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice instantaneously on high alert. “I didn’t stay there last night—I was at Marco’s—and Laura’s in Rome on business. Have you talked to Meredith?”

“No, I tried you first,” I said.

“I’m at the fair outside town,” she said. “I just got here. Try Meredith, and then go back to the house. We need to see if anything was stolen.” She sounded worried.

I called Meredith on her British phone. A recording said it was out of service. That struck me as odd. Then I pulled up Meredith’s Italian number. It went straight to voice mail.

By that time, I was back at Raffaele’s. He was in total vacation mode: he’d slept in and had just gotten out of the shower. I’d forgotten about our trip. “Hey,” I said, trying to sound casual, “does this sound weird to you?” I told him what I’d seen.

“Yeah,” he said. “We should definitely go over and look around.”

Over a quick breakfast, Raffaele and I talked some more about what I’d seen. “Maybe the toilet is just broken,” he said.

Even before we’d downed the last sips of our coffee, Filomena called back. “What do you see?” she demanded. Her panic was retriggering my own.

“Filomena,” I said, as evenly as I could, “we’re just leaving Raffaele’s.”

Ten minutes later, when we reached the villa, my stomach was knotted with dread.

“What if someone was in here?” I said, feeling increasingly creeped out. Raffaele held my free hand while I unlocked the door. I yelled, “Is anyone here?”

At first nothing seemed amiss. The house was quiet, and the kitchen/living area was immaculate. I poked my head in Laura’s room. It looked fine, too. Then I opened
Filomena’s door. I gasped. The window had been shattered and glass was everywhere.

Clothes were heaped all over the bed and floor. The drawers and cabinets were open. All I could see was chaos. “Oh my God, someone broke in!” I shouted to Raffaele, who was right behind me. In the next instant, I spotted Filomena’s laptop and digital camera sitting on the desk. I couldn’t get my head around it. “That’s so weird,” I said.

“Her things are here. I don’t understand. What could have happened?”  Just then, my phone rang. It was Filomena. “Someone’s been in your room,” I said.

“They smashed your window. But it’s bizarre—it doesn’t look like they took anything.”

“I’m coming home this second,” she said, her voice constricted.

Meredith’s door was still closed, just as it had been when I was home earlier. I called out, “Meredith.” She didn’t answer. Could she have spent the night with Giacomo? Or with one of her British girlfriends? Still, at that moment I was more worried about the smashed window in Filomena’s room than about Meredith’s closed door.

I ran outside and around the house to see if the guys downstairs were home and to see if they’d heard anything during the night. Outside, away from Raffaele, my anxiety soared. My heart started racing again. I pounded on their door and tried to peer through the glass. It looked like no one was home.

I ran back upstairs and knocked gently on Meredith’s door, calling, “Meredith. Are you in there?” No sound. I called again, louder. I knocked harder. Then I banged. I jiggled the handle. It was locked. Meredith only locks her door when she’s changing clothes, I thought. She can’t be in there or she’d answer. “Why isn’t she answering me?” I asked Raffaele frantically.

I couldn’t figure out, especially in that moment, why her door would be locked. What if she were inside? Why wouldn’t she respond if she were? Was she sleeping with her earphones in? Was she hurt? At that moment what mattered more than anything was reaching her just to know where she was, to know that she was okay.  I kneeled on the floor and squinted, trying to peer through the keyhole. I couldn’t see anything. And we had no way of knowing if the door had been locked from the inside or the outside.

“I’m going outside to see if I can look through her window from the terrace.”  I climbed over the wrought-iron railing. With my feet on the narrow ledge, I held on to the rail with one hand and leaned out as far as I could, my body at a forty-five-degree angle over the gravel walkway below. Raffaele came out and shouted, “Amanda! Get down. You could fall!”  That possibility hadn’t occurred to me.

“Please come in before you get hurt!” As soon as we got inside, we went back to Meredith’s closed door. “I can try to kick it down,” Raffaele offered. “Try it!” He rammed the door with his shoulder, hard. Nothing. He kicked next to the handle. It didn’t budge.

I called my mom again. “Mom,” I said. “Someone broke into our house, and we can’t find Meredith. What should we do?”

“Amanda, call the police,” she said.

My stepfather, Chris, yelled into the speakerphone, “Amanda, get the hell out of the house, this instant!”

While I was talking to them, Raffaele called his sister to see what she thought. She was a police officer in Rome.

  • You called Filomena first?  Wasn’t the first call a very brief one to Meredith?

  • So, you tell Filomena about the poop and the blood, and she doesn’t just say to flush/clean it?

  • You just ‘‘forgot’’ about your Gubbio trip?  I thought there was nothing to be alarmed about.

  • Raffaele’s first reaction isn’t to just flush either?  Okay….

  • You ‘‘opened’’ Filomena’s door?  RS, in Honor Bound, said it already was…

  • Filomena’s room looked like it had been broken into.  Why was there no glass outside, assuming the climb was possible?

  • So, you are incredibly alarmed by Meredith’s locked door, but tell the police it is no big deal?

  • You thought Meredith might be with Giaccomo, or her British girlfriends. Did you call any of them?

  • Did you tell the police about your efforts to look in through the terrace?

  • Raffaele is a kickboxer, yet he could not break it down?

[This post covers 1-67 of the 2015 paperback’s 482 pages. Much more very soon]




Comments

Chimera does extremely well to capture the pervasive hypocrisy of the book and to show up the true Knox as the erratic sharp-elbowed utterly thoughtless layabout and drug-taker that she had become.

“With the book and its new afterword now fully translated into Italian for legal purposes,  skeptical readers can now start to really zoom in”

Remember Knox published this only in English, a coward’s way out, and it was never checked out by anyone in Italy or by the publishers and promoter in the US. The UK and Italian arms of the publishers refused to go ahead, considering it defamatory way back then, though Amazon offers it in both countries now.

Despite excerpts of the book already put on trial in court (the Oggi trial) and some well-proven huge lies, such as the framing of Dr Mignini and the “interrogation” hoax and legal action already begun against Sollecito for his book, Knox changed not one word in the extended paperback edition that came out two months ago. She merely added another chapter of whiny abuse.

Those finally reading it in Italian now who were impugned are reported to be appalled. It’s a nasty, dangerous, dishonest bit of work. The Supreme Court will already know of this. Vilipendio and diffamazione trials for Knox stretching forward years seem a sure thing, and publishers and collaborators dont seem safe. 

Posted by Peter Quennell on 08/17/15 at 11:21 PM | #

@Chimera

Simply. Brilliant.

Hoisted by her own petard. Even the fawning idiots who follow this immoral slag heap must surely question whether she is someone they would choose to have in their lives.

There appears to be not one redeeming feature in this hateful, attention seeking nothing of a person.

I look forward to the rest of the series Chimera.

Posted by davidmulhern on 08/17/15 at 11:29 PM | #

@Chimera - thanks for your systematic, Page-by-Page exposure of Knox’s Deceptions, Lies, and Omissions.

Please add to your Page 44 List Knox’s omission of where her mobile telephone was 8:18:12 P.M. on Nov.1st, 2007. She wrote:

[Page 44] Around 8:30 P.M. I suddenly remembered that it was Thursday, one of my regular workdays. Quickly checking my phone, I saw that Patrick had sent me a text telling me I didn’t have to come in. Since it was a holiday, he thought it would be a slow night. “Okay,” I texted back. “ Ci vediamo più tardi buona serata!”—“See you later. Have a good evening!”

In context, Knox describes her continuous presence at Sollecito’s residence that whole evening, from the time that Jovanna Popovic had called, and AK/RS then began to watch Amelie.

At the time of receiving Patrick’s call, Knox’s phone connected to the cell on Via dell’Aquila 5-Torre dell’Acquedotto sector 3, whose signal does not reach Raffaele Sollecito’s house. Amanda Knox’s mobile phone, and presumably Knox herself, was therefore absent from Corso Garibaldi 30 when the SMS reached her, as she was walking in an area which was shown to be served by the Via dell’Aquila 5-Torre dell’Acquedotto sector 3 cell.

This point of her route could correspond to Via U. Rocchi, to Piazza Cavallotti, to Piazza IV Novembre, bearing in mind that Lumumba’s pub is located in Via Alessi, and that Amanda Knox would have had to travel along the above-mentioned roads and the piazza in order to reach the pub.

Unless it was her mobile telephone that privately went out for a walk, Knox was therefore certainly not at Sollecito’s Corso Garibaldi Lodging at that time, contrary to any allegation/implication that she was at Sollecito’s, but Knox certainly-could have been at her cottage.

***

On the same page, Knox describes her kitchen-leak/mop story, re which you listed four questions.

Please add the fact that this story fails the Italian Law test for Circumstantial Evidence Admissibility and although “corroborated” by Sollecito, and his father, they had plenty of time to collaborate on this allegation which is already inadmissible.

Posted by Cardiol MD on 08/18/15 at 12:32 AM | #

Do I have this right?

She had no problems hopping into bed with a stranger with Herpes, but did not do “the deed” because no condom was available?

Heh heh.

Posted by Bettina. on 08/18/15 at 01:28 AM | #

Thank you Chimera. An excellent analysis, indeed. I would also like to add the following.

The amount of blood Amanda Knox saw in the bathroom has changed several times. Actually it even changes in her book -

Chapter 6

…two pea-sized flecks…

… another smear on the faucet…

… a reddish-brown splotch…

Chapter 21

… two dots of blood…

… a tiny smear on the faucet…

In her 2013 Diane Sawyer interview, the term she used was ‘speckles’.

***

Also in her book, she wrote about the night of Meredith’s murder, November 1st 2007, of her (with Sollecito) “…we smoked a joint, we had sex”.

Knox made repeated references to smoking marijuana in her book. Did her memory fail her so comprehensively after every experience, or just that night of the murder?

Looking forward to part two. Thank you again.

Posted by Johnny Yen on 08/18/15 at 02:05 AM | #

Great start Chimera, although IMV it’s a waste of time posing questions to Knox as she already knows she’s lying.

The biggest lie here that points to guilt is the one that even pussyfooting Massei felt the urge to point out in his report was the lie by omission.

Filomena urged Knox to “call Meredith”.  As well as in her book WTBH Knox was also evasive with Filomena _before anyone knew Meredith had been murdered_ and failed to inform Filomena _she already had_, letting Filomena believe her “concern” about Meredith was an innocent one by someone who at that stage supposedly “knew nothing”.

It is a sure giveaway Knox KNEW MEREDITH WAS DEAD when she rang up Filomena that morning faking “innocent” concern.

To continue doing so when the whole world knows she rang Meredith before Filomena, shows how deeply Knox understands it points to her guilt.

Posted by Slow Jane on 08/18/15 at 09:54 AM | #

Amanda,
How perfect you once were. The picture you paint of yourself is truly inspired. And it was simply because others around you that persuaded you to have casual sex and smoke joints. And God knows what else.
(absolutely laughable stuff).

And when she first went to the house she didn’t even knock on Meredith’s door to see if she was ok.
Absurd.

Posted by DavidB on 08/18/15 at 11:47 AM | #

@ David Beckham

I never thought of that. Excellent point.

Posted by JohnQ on 08/18/15 at 02:45 PM | #

Spell check, sorry.

Posted by JohnQ on 08/18/15 at 02:46 PM | #

Beckham’s fine! >

Posted by DavidB on 08/18/15 at 05:47 PM | #

@Chimera, congratulations for your indepth analysis and your commendable tolerance.  I for one can’t read a single line of Knox’s feeble drivel without wanting to hurl.

Posted by MHILL4 on 08/18/15 at 08:51 PM | #

Thanks guys.  Glad you liked it.  Any points made here will be added to the final master list.

Doubtful that any fact-checking/due diligence was done.  In fact it’s unlikely anyone at HarperCollins actually read the entire book.  I had to stop many times while doing the review.

@MHILL4 - I found it very tedious to go through the book.  And odd, for a ‘‘creative writing’’ graduate and a ghost writer, the quality of writing was very poor.

@Slow Jane - These were rhetorical questions.  I have no expectation Knox will ever answer.

@Bettina - Yes, that is exactly what she claims.  Funny, her ‘‘tell all’’ book omits that she was trading sex-for-drugs with the man and that she gave his number to police, putting him in jail for 28 months.

Much more to come.

Posted by Chimera on 08/18/15 at 11:15 PM | #

While I agree completely that the only testimony/claims about a ‘sink leak’ on Nov 1 come from RS, FS and AK, the story that there had been a problem with the sink tap, necessitating the engagement of a plumber some week or so before is confirmed by the statements of the landlady of the apartment.

Posted by Sallyoo on 08/19/15 at 05:03 PM | #

Two anagrams of Raffaele Sollecito

1) A fecal sterile fool

2) A facile self looter

Both strangely apt in their own way.

For Amanda Knox we get

A dank man ox

Again, not an entirely inaccurate description!

Posted by davidmulhern on 08/19/15 at 08:10 PM | #

Please excuse my pessimism but the court document we are waiting for seems to have been lost. It would appear that for reasons of expediency the final reasons for the decisions that were made seem to have disappeared. OK! I understand that Italian law takes a long time to even get started but I believe it will be delayed for as long as possible, even delayed for years for one reason or the other.

Posted by Grahame Rhodes on 08/19/15 at 11:23 PM | #

@Sallyoo:
Re page 61 Chimera asked these Qs:

So… was this a minor spill, or was your house virtually flooded? How serious was it?

You live in this apartment? Do you not have a single towel?

If it had leaked before, why did you not have a mop, or at least a few extra towels?

You point-out the landlady’s corroboration of the “week or so before” leak.

Do you believe that AK/RS were not exploiting the latter fact to mask their need for that mop to clean up the murder scene on Nov.2, 2007?

Posted by Cardiol MD on 08/19/15 at 11:36 PM | #

The mop to clean up a spill that would have evaporated most likely by morning, the bath mat shuffle that no sane person would undertake (especially on a bloody bath mat), the describing of the bath mat stain as “a splotch, the size of an orange” when any normal individual could tell it was a partial footprint, the turning off of the phone that had never happened before, the unfeasibly short calls to Meredith’s phone (s) on the morning the body was discovered, the wholly inappropriate post discovery behaviour being dismissed as her “quirkiness”, the “Meredith always locked her door” nonsense, the knife drawer conniption, the framing of Patrick, the refusal to withdraw her allegation about Patrick (and subsequent refusal to pay him what she owes him), the non appearance at Meredith’s vigil, the interrogation lies about length of time, being hit, number of attendees etc etc etc etc. These are only a few of the irrefutable lies she has told and never been properly pinned down on in public.

As I said many posts ago good liars need to have intelligence and, more importantly, superb memory abilities to keep track of their lies.

Knox has shown herself to be hopelessly inept at every turn. Like a child when it has been found out lying, it will continue to claim that it didn’t break the ornament and will become increasingly annoyed when its parent won’t accept whatever ludicrous explanation the child comes up with on the spur of the moment. There is Knox’s greatest problem. Immaturity borne out of a chaotic upbringing where she was no doubt over indulged, over praised and given far too long a leash by her mother and under praised and seemingly unloved by her father.

I’m sure there is a genetic element to her psychopathy but her upbringing and environment helped ensure that she wouldn’t just become a social oddball, her behaviour would turn murderous. It’s hard to believe that her murderous rage won’t surface again at some point and then we’ll be treated to more childish drivel in the Jodi Arias style.


She forced herself to do interviews because her PR machine doubtless told her it was a way to sway public opinion in her favour. She felt she had rehearsed her answers well enough and would come across well enough to gain traction for her campaign to get away with murder.

Instead she looked disingenuous, uncaring, narcissistic, self obsessed and, at times, borderline psychopathic. At times her anger was barely below the surface. She genuinely feels hard done by, even though her sub conscious is well aware of the crime she has committed.

I’m sure her PR machine ensured that she mainly faced compliant interviewers, although some were a bit more searching than others. None of them interviewed her properly though, asking properly difficult questions and dissecting her answers.

Seriously, you could probably choose any one of a couple of dozen of the regular posters on here to list some crucial questions for her to answer. Especially as we would be armed with proper refutations as and when she trotted out the well worn and well debunked lies propagated by the FOA. Now that would be a television event I’d happily pay good money for.

Meantime, I share Grahame’s despondency around the final motivation report. I still retain hope but it strikes me that there is a pernicious political element to this case now that may prove to be the ultimate block to justice being served. I suspect justice by other means, a la OJ, may be our last best hope. I’ll still keep wishing though!

@grahamerhodes, I notice there is a recent thinly veiled threat from “G Man Moore” on his Twitter feed directed at you I presume. You seem to have riled up our erstwhile Eliot Ness wannabe. You must be doing something right!!

I’d love to be a fly on the wall in the Moore household just to see how a normal conversation went. It would be like watching a Dumb and Dumber movie I suspect.

Posted by davidmulhern on 08/20/15 at 06:13 AM | #

Yeh Moore tried it on with me but he is such a simpering coward along with the immature nut job he’s married to that he would never dare to face me one on one.

In truth it was a huge joke and one I had a lot of fun going along with. It would seem that in some quarters people in the FBI (read Steve Moore here) seem to believe that the very mention of the name ‘Federal Bureau of Investigation’ will have everyone running around screaming in fear and waving their arms in the air.

The original threat was to stop me posting on Knox blog telling the truth about what a lying bitch she is. This seemed to have ruffled some feathers in the Seattle outpost of the FBI (Again read Moore)

Sorry Stevie baby that won’t work since if Knox wanted to block me posting then all she has to do is block me since I have made no secret of just who I am.

So there Stevie sweetheart lets go. lets see what you’ve got?

Posted by Grahame Rhodes on 08/20/15 at 10:31 AM | #

This is an excellent post, Chimera. Thanks for taking the time to do it. Like many others though, I can barely read what she writes because it’s so distasteful.I’m still gutted that they “got away with it.” I hope something eventually comes around to get them. I know they are not “free” because they will be trapped in their lies forever, but their arrogance still really irritates me.

Posted by Wascana on 08/20/15 at 01:51 PM | #

My worst fears came through.
Long back I had posted my doubt of what if they get away with this .. And it happened as justice is denied.(for now,may be). Coming from country like India , injustice like this is common here.
Excellent post . keep updating. And have hope.
Thank you. Tc

Posted by sikandar on 08/20/15 at 02:10 PM | #

True but I believe in my heart that they will not get away with it. Oh sure perhaps for a time but something will happen. In all my life experience and in the life experience of others I have known there is always a balance. Something really bad is going to happen to both Knox and Sollecito and my belief also is that it will be a slow painful death either through disease or accident.

Posted by Grahame Rhodes on 08/20/15 at 04:44 PM | #

@ Grahame

May your wish come true.
Tough I don’t believe in karma, I wish they rot in pieces. There r millions of bad suckers on our planet who lived happily long after n may be even died peacefully.. I just wish they are not the ones..

Tc

Posted by sikandar on 08/22/15 at 07:55 AM | #

Great post, Chimera. You quote her:  Still worked up, I turned around and gaped. “How could she not have suffered?” I said. “She got her fucking throat slit. Fucking bastards.”

Bastards plural? She’s leaking like a sieve. AK knew there were more than one bastard.

Apologies if this observation has been made before.

Posted by pensky on 08/23/15 at 07:03 PM | #

@ pensky

Yes that says a lot..  Good catch..

She knew there were more than one..bingo!

Posted by sikandar on 08/24/15 at 02:04 PM | #

Pensky,
Great observation!

Posted by DavidB on 08/25/15 at 10:23 AM | #


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