“You were great, you have done everything possible,” says his wife Valentina. “Not enough” replies Marco Ranieri, the primary resuscitation of the General Hospital of Rome, in the eye, you realize that the man comes before the doctor. He just said that to Fabrizio is brain dead. The mother looks at me, tears and words go together: “They have invented many things, because you can not lay down our lives in exchange for her?” They are there mute, petrified, I can no longer cry is gone Fabrizio Forquet, the bravest of us, he disappeared a piece of the sun, but even before this death, terribly unjust, subtracts a father to four children (Ferdinand, Miosa, Marta, Giuliana) and me a real friend, a younger brother: the strength of the his head and the force of his behavior, the lively intelligence and the bitter smile of the difficult times, the joy of a fight to make things better.
In that flash of excitement I realize that for me nothing will be as before and, above all, I feel the weight of not having kept his promise to Valentina right here, in this room of the General Hospital, in a Monday morning two weeks ago with him hospitalized. “True Roberto Fabrizio back? True that his head will return to what it was before? Do you promise me? Yes, I promise, so I know that you trust only him, Fabrizio back because if not with whom you do a newspaper? “. Valentina has not come back, he did not have it made him, no we did ourselves, but I promise you that we will continue to do our newspaper because the Sun is a big family, a gym of talent and humanity, and now we have one more reason to prove it every day. And, then, forgive me, for some reason I see Fabrizio watching us from up there, before my eyes his big face that glows red, and feel that makes me: “Take it easy, now I put everything in place, there Forquet what’s the problem”. It is not true, but I like to think so.
I unfold before your eyes the film of a life, always together between Milan and Rome, and the first thing that comes to mind is the twenty years ago called Pasquale Nonno, a lot more to me than a director, who tells me on the phone: “Look is coming to Milan forquettino, it sends the Luiss where he made the school of journalism, his father Piero taught me without success to play bridge, but journalism I understand and I assure you that Fabrizio is good, has talent. ” Pasquale was right, as always, but this time he was wrong by default: Fabrizio was very good.
From practitioner was editor in chief, gave orders to everyone, even if someone tells me that the signals had already seen the school of journalism, here gave homework at all, we invented politics day and more, but I liked especially because I saw that was beginning to love the sun exactly as I love you, with the same passion for the unique way, factual, of journalism, the ability to say hard things in a calm way, with the rigor of the numbers and strength of the comparative-competitive comparison. “Fabrizio, hand me this piece if you do not find at least four errors have pretended to look at him,” and I remember his satisfaction when I made those warnings on the sidelines never inappropriate. Every time I was leaving for a vacation I sent a text message: “I do not know how to say this, but I promised Valentina a month in America ….”
When I was given the honor of returning to the Sun as director, now more than five years ago, after the long and successful experience to the Messenger, I had in mind very specific idea and publishing, ie , that there was nothing more than to return again to the old. We retraced the Sun in two days and this was possible because there is a top class management team and an extraordinary preparation that love this newspaper like me and Fabrizio, but the very special relationship that I have had with him has helped me decisively . Every so often quarreled, happens between people who value themselves they love. Once I got angry a lot and I laid my face for two weeks. Every morning came the same SMS “If you do not tell me I do not understand, answer c. on the telephone”. When we came to embrace not staccavamo us more.
I remember the MAKE EARLY morning, Italy was on the brink of the abyss, and I remember the question: “Are you sure? Yes I am sure”. “So I am more than you.” I remember her always lucid analysis, anticipatory, where economics and politics, Italy, and Europe, have been together naturally and are told with the facts, never giving in to the rhetoric, steady hand in leading the Roman edition of this newspaper and the ‘ enthusiasm with which immediately married the idea of Rating 24, we were able to make a flag of our way of information, the love Italyeurope24, the journalism school, the master in “political management”, the increasingly central role Rome in the multimedia system of the sun. Fabrizio never stopped and never said no, sometimes high protested verbally and here came out the Neapolitan and the exuberance behind which lurked a rare stretch of civilization and a multiplicity of affections and interests.
of this ordeal lasted two weeks I’ll never forget that lump of wires behind the head of Fabrizio and the damn machine that measures the fever and never wants to go down from 38 to 5 because of a pneumonia that complicates everything from the start. Wednesday night Professor Ranieri had been explicit: or within 12 hours drops below 37 or not do it because if we increase the cortisone put at risk the brain. Shortly after midnight I look at the car and I seem terribly absurd that in those few lines of fever can be contained the life of a man so young and so strong, crossing the eyes of Chiara who with his brother Aldo has never separated from that I read and perceive the depths of sorrow. I leave the Hospital with a fever of 37 and 2 and hope in your heart. The crisis on Wednesday is exceeded, the next Friday night no, I hate that damn machine. I feel that death is not the last word, but I know that he can be terribly unfair. I know he was with Fabrizio and I can not explain the reasons of this fury. Thank you, my friend, everything.
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