She is gone. Wiped out by unfeeling pitiless hands who feared her remorseless pursuit of their evil doing. Our paths first crossed in March 1984 when I was secretary general of the now forgotten Federation of Parent Teacher Associations and, as such, had urged and organised a protest march in Sliema. Some marchers squatted in Tower Road and caused traffic chaos by blocking it. Personally, I was thrilled at this civil defiance, even if it gave kittens to some others on my side.
Daphne Caruana Galizia was among the road squatters and was afterwards taken to the police headquarters where she got a first taste of what some officers can do.
She has come a long way since, all the way to international acclaim and, alas, eternity. She ignited many righteous flames that created severe discomfort for those who merited it and some of whom, somewhere, could no longer face the consequences of her damning exposures.
She ended up brutally assassinated and has joined a list of illustrious predecessors.
I am reminded sharply of Giacomo Mateotti, trampled to death by the jackboots of Benito Mussolini’s fascists for daring to expose their misdeeds. Of Italian journalist Mino Pecorelli, who was assassinated in Italy in 1979 while delving into the killing of Aldo Moro and unearthing some red- hot truths that led him to prophesise his own assassination. There are others too to recall, not least Magistrate Giovanni Falcone, blown to smithereens, as she was, for his Mafia investigations. As was his colleague Paolo Borsellino.
She was also a relative, an aunt to my eldest two grandchildren, who understandably regarded her in awe and now recall her in deep shock. But, relatives apart, she stood and will forever stand as a beacon of the unquenchable fire that springs eternal in the human breast, usually called truth. That same truth Pilate quizzed Christ about. That truth that sits so uncomfortably with those who would hide it, distort it or trample upon it for their own evil ends.
Our debt to her is not repayable except in a coin called inspiration, resulting in the courage to stand up and be counted. To do less may be somehow considered as human; to do nothing certainly amounts to diabolical.