The Missing Head of Damasceno Monteiro

Eighteen

WE ARE AT THE Antártico, A WELL-KNOWN ice-cream parlor at the mouth of the Douro, overlooking the splendid estuary of the river which traverses the city of Oporto. We have been granted an interview by a personage very much in the public eye, and on whom, according to certain witnesses, grave responsibilities appear to weigh in the matter of the death of Damasceno Monteiro. I refer to Sergeant Titânio Silva of the city Guardia Nacional, of whom we give the following profile in synopsis: fifty-four years of age, native of Felgueiras, of modest social background, enrolled in the National Guard at the age of nineteen, military training at Mafra, cadet in Angola from 1970 to 1973, decorated for valor during his military service in Africa, and for more than ten years, a sergeant at the Guardia Nacional headquarters in Oporto.

— Sergeant, do you confirm the brief profile we have drawn you? Are you a hero of the Portuguese campaigns in Angola?

I do not think of myself as a hero, I simply did my duty to my country and to the flag. To tell the truth, when I went to Angola I didn’t even know the geography of the place. Let’s say that it was in our overseas territories that I acquired my sense of patriotism.

— Would you care to define what you mean by sense of patriotism?

I mean that I realized I was fighting against people aiming to subvert our culture.

— What do you mean by the word culture?

Portuguese culture, of course, because that is what ours is.

— And by the word subvert?

I was referring to the blacks who shot at us because ordered to by individuals like Amílcar Cabral. I realized that I was defending territories which had been ours since time immemorial, when Angola had neither culture nor Christianity, both of which were brought there by us.

— And then, having earned your medal, you came back home and started a career in the Oporto police.

That is inexact. At first I was posted to the outskirts of Lisbon, and, since we had lost the war, we had to deal with all the jobless refugees returning from Africa, the retornados.

— We who? Who had lost the war?

We had, the Portuguese.

— And how did things go with these people returning from the ex-colonies?

There were a lot of problems, because they claimed the right to be put up in posh hotels. They even organized demonstrations and threw stones at the police. Instead of staying to defend Angola by force of arms they came to Lisbon and wanted to be kept in the lap of luxury.

— And what was the next step in your career?

I was transferred to Oporto. However, in the first place I was posted to Vila Nova de Gaia.

— And rumor has it that at Gaìa you established certain friendships.

What do you mean by that?

— We have heard tell of friendly relations with import-export firms.

I think these are insinuations on your part. If you wish to make precise accusations then make them outright and I’ll take you to court, because that’s what you journalists deserve, to be hauled into court.

— Come, sergeant, don’t get all hot under the collar. I’m only speaking of rumors that have come to our ears. All the same we know that you had contacts with Stones of Portugal. Or do you think these also are mere insinuations? I repeat the question: do you or do you not know Stones of Portugal?.

I know them just as I know all the businesses operating in and around Oporto, and I knew they needed protection.

— Why? Did it come to your knowledge that they had been threatened?

Yes and no, even though the owner never explicitly complained of it. All the same we knew they needed surveillance because they imported hi-tech materials, delicate materials worth millions.

— We are told that along with the hi-tech materials other merchandise arrived clandestinely in those containers. Did you know about this?

I don’t know what you’re getting at.

— Drugs. Pure heroin.

If that had been the case we’d have known. We have first-rate sources of information.

— In short you had no knowledge that drugs from Hong Kong arrived in the containers shipped to Stones of Portugal?

No. Ours is a healthy city and doesn’t need drugs. Our favorite thing is tripe.

— All the same, we read in the nationwide press that here in Oporto there’s a nightclub where they peddle dope, and it appears that you own it.

I firmly reject that insinuation. If you are referring to ‘Puccini’s Butterfly’ let me tell you that it is frequented by people of class and distinction, and does not belong to me but to my sister-in-law, as duly registered with the proper municipal authorities.

— However, it is said that you work there.

I occasionally go and lend a hand with the accounting. I’m good at figures, I’ve done a course in administration.

— But to return to the Stones of Portugal, it appears that that evening you were in the area on patrol with your squad can you tell us about it?

We arrived with our headlights dimmed, I don’t recall the exact time but it must have been about midnight, it was only a spot-check.

— What was the reason for this spot-check?

I already told you that Stones of Portugal import hi-tech material, just the stuff to attract petty thieves, and our job is to protect it.

— Go on.

We parked the cars outside the gates and went in. The office light was on. I went in first and caught Damasceno Monteiro red-handed.

— Could you clarify that statement?

He was standing by the desk holding hi-tech material that he had certainly stolen.

— Only such material and nothing else?

Only such material.

— Wasn’t he also carrying some bags full of powder?

I am a policeman, an official of the State, do you make so bold as to doubt my word?

— Perish the thought! What happened next?

We immediately arrested the subject, who thereafter revealed himself to be Monteiro. We ordered him to get into the car and took him to the station.

— At this point there emerges a contradiction between your two statements. According to our information, in your first statement you declared that you had let him out of the car in the course of the journey.

Who told you that?

— Let’s simply say that the offices of the Public Prosecutor are always full of leaks; sometimes a typist, sometimes a switchboard operator, even a simple cleaning woman — but that’s just by the way, the important thing is that in your first statement to the examining magistrate you declared that Damasceno Monteiro had not been taken to the station at all, but had been put out of the car during the journey.

This is a misunderstanding which I took the trouble to clarify in person. A misunderstanding on the part of a colleague of mine, Officer Ferro.

— Can you give us a better explanation of this misunderstanding?

Our patrol was comprised of two cars. Monteiro was put into mine. The other car, driven by a colleague accompanied by Officer Ferro, followed behind. At a certain point we pulled up by the curb and Officer Ferro thought he had seen Senhor Monteiro alight from the car. But he was mistaken. I should make it clear that Officer Ferro is a recent recruit, a young fellow, and you know what young men are, and it’s easy to doze off in a car. He was simply mistaken.

— Nevertheless, in your statement to the examining magistrate you did not immediately question Officer Ferro’s account.

I questioned it later, when I was able to study his account in detail.

— Did you not in fact question that account because the witness, Senhor Torres, has sworn that he followed you in his car and with his own eyes saw his friend Damasceno kicked and beaten and dragged into the police station?

Kicked and beaten?

— That’s what the witness says.

My dear sir, we do not kick and beat people! Kindly set it down in black and white in your newspaper: we have all proper respect for the citizens of this country.

— We place it on record that the conduct of the Guardia Nacional is irreproachable. But would you care to describe what happened that night?

No trouble. We went up to the first floor, where the offices and detention room are, and set about a preliminary interrogation of the culprit. He appeared to be at the end of his tether, and burst into tears.

— Did you touch him?

Explain what you mean.

— Did you lay hands on him physically?

We don’t lay hands on anyone, dear sir, because we respect the law and the Constitution, if you want to know. I simply tell you that Monteiro was beside himself and burst into tears. We even tried to comfort him.

— You tried to comfort him?

He was a poor devil, a pathetic creature, he cried out for his mother and said his father was an alcoholic. At that time there was only me and Officer Costa, because the other officer had gone to the lavatory, so I told Officer Costa to go downstairs to the kitchenette and brew up some coffee for him, because I really pitied that lad, I really did, so Officer Costa went down and a couple of minutes later he called upstairs and said: sergeant, come down, the machine doesn’t work, the coffee won’t go through. So I went downstairs too.

— Leaving Damasceno Monteiro alone?

Unfortunately, yes. That was our big mistake, for which we assume total responsibility: simply to make him some coffee we left that desperate lad alone for a few moments, and that is how the tragedy happened.

— What tragedy? Could you explain yourself better?

We heard a shot and dashed upstairs. Monteiro was lying lifeless on the floor. He had snatched up a revolver that the other officer had thoughtlessly left on the desk and shot himself through the temple.

— Point-blank?

When someone shoots themselves through the temple it’s bound to be point-blank, don’t you think?

— Of course, I only asked in order to get an expert opinion, it’s obvious that any suicide shoots himself point-blank. And then?

Well, we found ourselves with that corpse on the floor. A thing like that, as you may readily understand, might throw a scare even into policemen thoroughly inured to the horrors of this world. Apart from that, I was on my last legs, I’d been on duty since eight in the morning, I had to get home and take an injection of Zomig.

— Zomig?

It’s an American remedy which has only lately come on the market here, it’s the only thing to relieve an unbearable attack of migraine. Attached to my legal statement is a medical certificate attesting to the migraine headaches I have been subject to ever since Angola, where a mine blew up right beside me and burst an eardrum. For that reason and that reason only did I leave my post, and that is the only offense, if it can be called an offense, which I shall have to answer for to the Court: that I fled the field, I who on the battlefield in Africa never left the field.

— And in so doing you left Damasceno Monteiro lying dead on the floor?

That’s what happened. I don’t know what my colleagues did after I left.

— Who were they?

I don’t wish to give any names. I have already stated them to the examining magistrate and they will be mentioned at the trial.

— And what about the corpse of Damasceno Monteiro?

You must understand the anguish, the bewilderment of two poor recruits left with a corpse on the station floor. I make no excuses for them, but I can understand why they removed it.

— But this is a criminal act, called concealment of a corpse.

Certainly, I agree with you, it is concealment of a corpse, but I say again that you must understand the anguish of two simple recruits who find themselves in that sort of situation.

— When Damasceno Monteiro’s body was found it had been decapitated.

Almost anything can happen in parks these days.

— You mean that when Damasceno’s body was removed from the station it still had a head on it?

That is something which will emerge at the trial. As far as I am concerned I will swear by my boys. I can assure you that my subordinate officers are not head-hunters.

— You mean that in your opinion Monteiro’s head was cut off in the park?

There’s a lot of odd people around in the parks of this city.

— It would be difficult to accomplish such a feat in a park, according to the autopsy the beheading was an extraordinarily clean job, as if it had been done with an electric carving knife, and electric knives have to be plugged in.

If it comes to that there are butcher’s knives that cut far cleaner even than an electric knife.

— Nevertheless it has come to our knowledge that the body of Damasceno Monteiro bore signs of having been tortured. There were cigarette burns on his chest.

We do not smoke cigarettes my dear sir, and you can put that down in your paper. No one smokes in my offices, I have expressly forbidden it, I have even put up notices to that effect on the walls. In any case you will have seen what the State has at last decided to print on every package of cigarettes? That smoking is seriously damaging to health.