From his escapades as a young seminarian to the Church schools saga, Archbishop Emeritus Giuseppe Mercieca also reveals in his memoirs, for the first time, that a woman from the family caring for him was arrested and wrongly accused of planting the unexploded bomb found on his doorstep on Tuesday, September 25, 1984.

Joyce Tabone’s story:

The four police officers that came for me in Mdina, who included a woman, took me into a car. I thought they were going to take me to the Mdina police station, but one of the officers told me they had an order to ‘pick up suspects’ and they had to obey it.

They took me to the police depot in Floriana and put me in a room full of police officers. They took my handbag, in which they placed the watch and ring I was wearing. And then they took me into a small room with high windows. I couldn’t hear anything.

After some 30 minutes, two police officers came for me. I tried to note their service number, but they did not have one.

They took me out into a yard and then into a room with five police officers; three were seated and two were standing. I could not see their service numbers. One of them started asking me why I planted the bomb.

I told him I had not planted the bomb. I also told him: “As if I know how to make bombs.”

Another police officer asked me: “So, at what time did you place it there?” I kept insisting that I hadn’t planted any bombs.

Another police officer said words along these lines: “This is what we will do, so that you won’t get confused; because if you get confused it will be bad for you. They will now take you and then bring you back. Meanwhile, remember what you have just said and what you have to say so as not to mix things up.”

They passed me through a corridor and into a room with a low ceiling. I heard one of them describe it as a “chip”. I was locked inside.

I constantly heard water trickling down but could not see anything. I got the impression it was a recording. There was a bench inside the chip and I sat down.

I spent a lot of time in the cell, with tears rolling down my cheeks

I needed to go to the toilet. I knocked on the door and called out: “Sir”. A police officer asked me why I was calling. I told him.

Another officer came and took me into another room with other officers. One of them told him not to leave me alone.

They took me to a very dirty toilet with a door that only partly concealed the person inside; my head and feet were visible from outside. I did not want to use that toilet, but they told me I had no choice. I felt my dignity was being trampled upon. The police officer who was accompanying me stood close by, with his back to me.

I was taken back to the cell. I spent a lot of time there, with tears rolling down my cheeks. I was distraught. And then two police officers came to pick me up for the second interrogation. There were only two police officers from the first interrogation; another three were new to me. One of them, who was referred to as “Serg”, asked me whether I was ready to speak and whether I knew what I was going to say.

I signalled by lowering my head. He told me: “So, you told us: You woke up early in the morning, when everyone was still asleep, and opened the door…”

I interrupted him. I told him that is not what I had said and the bomb was not my doing.

The interrogator said: “Wait; do not mix things up. Tell the truth; do not add or omit anything.” I told him the truth was that I had not woken up early, but at 6am like I always did to prepare breakfast.

He responded: “But that is not what I want to know. How the bomb was placed there?”

I told him again that I had nothing to do with the bomb. At that point I raised my voice. He warned me not to raise my voice, “because over here we will increase your incarceration by the hour if you raise your voice”.

“Over here it is our voice that should be heard and not yours.” I told him it was not my intention to shout. Meanwhile, another police officer was typing away.

The interrogator told me: “Leave”. And he burst out laughing. The others started laughing as well. Two officers accompanied me.

As we were walking I heard someone mention the name of Mgr [Philip] Calleja. I heard him say that Mgr Calleja had phoned and the Archbishop was next to him. It seemed as if they wanted me to hear this conversation.

And then I heard male voices. I realised they were my brothers. From the sound of their voice it seemed as if they were very worried about me. The police were telling them they were not going to do anything to me. They assured them. After a while I could no longer hear their voices.

The police took me to the cell again. It was a long time. At one point, a police officer asked whether I wanted a coffee. I told him: “Yes… even a glass of water would be enough”.

He told me that he will bring me coffee. That is what he did. The coffee was in a glass. I started drinking. At that point in time another officer came up to me and, whispering, told me not to drink the coffee.

I was hurt by the officers’ insistence to make me lie so that they could blame me for the bomb and I started to cry

He advised me not to drink anything I was offered. I noticed that with the coffee, inside the glass, there were two finger nails. I was shocked.

Some time passed. They took me for the third round of questioning. The same officers from the second interrogation were there. The police officer who had spoken to me said: “Listen, you said nothing about the Archbishop. How many people reside there?”

I explained that on the day, apart from the Archbishop, I was present as well as my young sister, a primary school pupil, because our aunty was unwell.

He looked at a piece of paper: “At 7am you wake up the Archbishop and help him celebrate Mass…” I interrupted him. I reiterated that I had said nothing of the sort. I believe I raised my voice because I felt offended by the false statements they were trying to attribute to me.

An officer tapped me on the shoulder and ordered me not to shout, “because you will spend 48 hours locked up”. They continued interrogating me. The interrogator said: “Mgr Mercieca makes his own coffee.” I looked straight at him. He said: “Now don’t tell me that you didn’t say that.”

I told him that I did not utter those words. I insisted that I had not placed the bomb and did not say those words. And then he said: “Do not raise your voice because we will hold you for as long as we want.”

I was hurt by their insistence to make me lie so that they could blame me for the bomb and I started to cry.

The interrogator told me that crying did not impress them. I told him that I was crying because I had not said what they were alleging.

The officer in charge then said: “Take her away!” They took me to the cell. They came back after a while. While we were walking, I saw the police with a group of some 10 men, who I understood were arrested in connection with another investigation.

They took me for the fourth round of questioning in front of the same people. The officer in charge asked me: “What are you going to tell us now?” I told him that I would say what I had said previously; the bomb was not my doing.

He told me to admit that I was involved with an accomplice, “and we will send you home now”.

I kept insisting I had nothing to do with the bomb; and it had crossed my mind when I saw it that the bomb could have been a fake because in the previous days a fake bomb had been placed outside a shop in Żejtun. Suddenly the door opened.

Two police officers came in. They gave the interrogator a piece of paper. I heard one of them say they had finger prints that belonged to two men.

He also told him that the bomb was professionally made.

The interrogating officer told me to leave. I asked him whether I could go home.

He said that I had to wait a little while. They kept me waiting in a room. They then asked me whether I had anyone who could pick me up. I told them that I would phone my brother.

When I left the depot I discovered that they had also arrested some neighbours who lived in Mdina’s main square. They told me that they had kept them in different rooms, but treated them well; which was very different to the treatment I had received. It was the worst experience of my life.

Statement by the Curia

In a press statement released by the Archbishop’s Curia on the day the bomb was found, the Archbishop publicly forgave his detractors.

He also urged everyone to remain calm. He also asked everyone to eliminate the spirit of hate, division and violence.

He insisted it was love that fostered unity. The statement made no reference to Joyce Tabone’s arrest and the way she was treated.

Watching Madalena in Rome: a lesson learned

“On another occasion, my friends told me that a new film, Madalena, had just been released. They wanted to see it. Gradually, I also got the urge to watch it…

We did not tell the Rector of our whereabouts. There were five of us.

At one point during the film, one of us asked me, as his Prefect, to allow him to go back to the college.

He was not feeling well. I gave him permission to leave.

Back at the college, while we were gathered for dinner, the Rector clinked on the glass like he normally did whenever he wanted to speak to us before the food came to the table.

Silence fell. He called out my name.

I stood up. He asked me where I was in the afternoon. I told him that I had gone to see the film Madalena. He then asked me to sit down.

The Rector called out the name of my colleague who had to leave half way through the film.

He stood up. The Rector gave him a dressing down for snitching on us. It was a lesson for us all.”

Mintoff says sorry after Curia ransacking

“Around midday on September 28, 1984, I was at Mount St Joseph at Tarġa Gap.

At one point, I received a phone call from Prime Minister Dom Mintoff. He said he was sorry for what had happened.

In my conversation with Mr Mintoff I did not hide my feelings about what had happened and the ugliness of it all.

In that phone call, Mr Mintoff asked me to go to Castille that evening for a meeting with him and Karmenu Mifsud Bonnici [then education minister]. I went to Castille at 9pm, accompanied by Fr Joe Magro, my private secretary.

I walked into the meeting with Mr Mintoff and Dr Mifsud Bonnici determined that Church schools were there to stay.

I was also convinced that for these schools to be free, as I also had wanted them to be, there was only one way forward: calm, civilised and respectful dialogue intended to guarantee a just and doable solution.

A solution that would ensure the schools could operate freely and autonomously that respected their particular identity.

The atmosphere at the meeting was mixed. There were moments when all sides were calm and other instances when there was heated debate.

It dragged on until 1.15am. We mostly spoke about the prevailing situation and the need to control tension.

Beyond the issue concerning those schools denied an operating licence, it was planned that the rest of the Church schools should open on Monday, October 1, 1984.

In the terrible circumstances we were in, particularly after the Curia was attacked, before I went for the meeting with the Prime Minister, I had decided that on October 1 all Church schools should remain shut. I had decided that at the appropriate time I would release a press statement to announce this decision and urge parents and children not to turn up for school on the day.

I informed the Prime Minister and Dr Mifsud Bonnici of my decision and the reasons why during this meeting. He was taken aback, but I would not budge from my position.

It was an encounter during which I spoke in keeping with the worrisome reality that had developed not just in the relations between Church and State but… the whole country.

I spoke with conviction that things could not continue as they were because what happened was serious, shameful and of benefit to nobody. We debated the issue at length.

Mr Mintoff behaved in his usual manner.

On my part, I did not hold back from insisting on a point where I felt the need to do so.”

Mdina closed off to cars

“The year 1982 brought with it the regulations on restrictions for the entry and circulation of vehicles in Mdina.

Mdina residents suddenly found themselves unable to enter the city by car. We had to stop our car close to the entrance and walk home.

When I had to go abroad, we had to carry the luggage to the car on foot outside Mdina gate. The same happened after returning from abroad.

We spent a couple of months doing this. It was another sign of the times.

In time the situation changed and residents could start entering Mdina with their private car once again.”

Buy the book

Brothers in Christ, the memoirs of Gużeppi Mercieca, written by Charles Buttigieg, is published by Klabb Kotba Maltin.
Priced at €35, the 400-page book can be ordered by sending the form in the advert appearing on page 31 of today’s paper or e-mail admin@midseabooks.com.