Just a few hours after the death of Rosetta Cutolo, sister of boss Raffaele, founder of the Nuova Camorra Organizzata, the wife of the “Professor” asks why the police chief of Naples banned the funeral and had the funeral posters removed.

On the left a torn poster, on the right Rosetta Cutolo

“My sister-in-law did not receive the blessing in church and they banned the public funeral, why?”. In Piazza San Michele, the heart of Ottaviano, in Naples, the bell tolls for everyone. Not for Rosetta Cutolo. The Police Chief of Naples, as is his prerogative, banned the public funeral and ordered the removal of the funeral posters. This measure is not new in the Vesuvian municipality.

Two years ago, almost the same measures were taken for the funeral of Raffaele Cutolo, founder of the Nco, Nuova Camorra Organizzata, the criminal cartel that in the 1980s was responsible for the bloody Camorra war against the Nuova Famiglia. The “Professor”, as Raffaele Cutolo was nicknamed, died while serving multiple life sentences in a high-security prison. He was the younger brother of Domenica Rosa, considered by the highest investigative authorities to be a reference point for the Nco, during “Don Raffa蔑s detention.
The woman who passed away on October 14, 2023, had paid her debts to justice. According to her family’s account, “she dedicated herself to embroidery and her grandchildren and regularly attended mass.” However, this portrayal does not contemplate the years spent in hiding in Ottaviano, nor the memory of her fugitive years. Unlike her brother, there was only one police van guarding Rosetta Cutolo, not far from the small square where the church of San Michele stands, preceded by a row of “Libera – Against the Mafia” flags.

Truck carrying spoiled and dangerous fish stopped on the highway: the load seized

When we enter the alley that leads to the house that once belonged to Rosetta Cutolo, no one stops us. The French window of Immacolata Iacone’s house, Raffaele Cutolo’s wife, is open. There are friends and relatives with the boss’s widow, accompanied by a constant stream of people. They all enter uttering the same word: “Condolences”. Raffaele Cutolo and Immacolata Iacone “I wanted to clarify this situation, but it was decided this way. We are nobody.” These are Immacolata Iacone’s few words before asking us to sit in the kitchen. She makes coffee and begins to tell, accompanied by those present, the last hours of Rosetta Cutolo’s life and death. She refers to her as her mother-in-law, perhaps due to fatigue. “For me, she was practically a mother. I have lived here since I was 17. We have had our ups and downs. She used to go to church, before the fall.”

A few days ago, Rosetta was admitted to a clinic in Ottaviano due to a broken femur. She returned home. Only to die, assisted mainly by her sister-in-law and niece, Denyse. “She just went to sleep,” her mother explains. “She was playing with her aunt, she lived it. One should not be condemned because of a father, because of an aunt. She has a strong character,” Iacone continues, “she knows she shouldn’t feel like ‘the daughter of’. She was close to her aunt. She caressed her, braided her hair. It was a double suffering for her.” Denyse is the daughter of Immacolata Iacone and Raffaele Cutolo, conceived through artificial insemination while the boss was in prison. The father saw her for one hour a month, through a glass, and until the law allowed it, he could embrace her for ten minutes until she turned 12. The mother shows some photos of the 16-year-old girl who inherited the surname and genetic makeup, but not her father’s fate, according to Immacolata Iacone. She is certain of this. Immacolata Iacone today “Rosetta is a person who went through her troubles, we wanted to forget that chapter. Why should the grandchildren have to pay? Why should they carry this mark? I don’t wish this kind of pain on anyone. She is gone, let’s close this chapter. We couldn’t put up posters, we couldn’t have the funeral, she didn’t receive the blessing in church. We went straight to cremate her, with the police in front. They banned that poster,” Iacone continues, “but then I see it in all the newspapers.”

In addition to the removal of the posters, those present at the Cutolo’s house emphasize the tearing of that poster. This was mainly done by Rosetta’s sister. “I wouldn’t wish this suffering on a mother or the wife of the person who made this decision. How would they have felt in my place? They have already paid. Rosetta had nothing more to do with the law,” Iacone explains. “She had straightened her life out. She made a mistake following her brother. You can’t know the consequences it will bring. She paid her sentence. But that doesn’t mean tearing down the posters and not having the blessing in church. It’s pointless to punish a person and brand her even beyond death.” This is not the first time that Raffaele Cutolo’s family has been caught in controversy because of a poster. The last time was at the mass organized a year after the death of the founder of the Nuova Camorra Organizzata. On that occasion, there were two incriminated words, associated with the boss’s name: “blessed soul.” “A pre-printed model,” explains Immacolata Iacone, who then adds: “Denyse paid for those posters with the money taken from her piggy bank.”

“On Rosetta’s poster, there was no name to avoid controversy. I wouldn’t wish anyone to experience this, there’s nothing left after death. They want to create more myths,” she says repeatedly during her account. Iacone stops several times during her narrative to shake hands and respond to the condolences of the people entering her house. But she always returns to the same point. Raffaele Cutolo “What they did to Cutolo, they did to Rosetta. If they want to put an end to these things, they must let the children and grandchildren live normally. We are talking about a person who has died, who cannot react. The poster should not have been torn down; it should have been displayed like for a normal person.”

She repeats a phrase several times: “For the sake of my daughter, I tell everyone to stop with this, not to follow this path, it leads nowhere. The suffering is the same for everyone. We should not be selfish when it comes to pain.” Immacolata Iacone’s house fills up. During the comings and goings, someone recounts how, during her years of detention, Rosetta attended all the courses provided for female inmates in prison, so as not to lose touch with reality. These stories blend with the last sleepless hours, spent for a funeral granted to very few people, at dawn. Without the priest’s blessing. Young Rosetta Cutolo After her husband’s death, it was Immacolata Iacone herself, without ever regretting having loved a man only a few hours each month, who spoke these words to Fanpage.it: “I want to tell young people not to follow these ‘heroes’ because it doesn’t lead to anything, the suffering is real… freedom is better than this suffering in prison. It doesn’t lead anywhere, he didn’t even get to experience life outside.” She says this again, albeit differently, while mourning the death of her sister-in-law, surrounded by memories that she struggled to collect, consisting of a few photos of her deceased husband. Among those photos, there is no picture of their wedding in prison, without any of their loved ones, on the island of Asinara. One of the few things she has always preferred not to feed to journalists. But now she partially reveals it, searching through the memories of a bride who is now a widow. “My wedding was simple. Raffaele came close to the door, I stumbled on my dress, and he caught me. He kissed my hand and my forehead. And we walked to the altar. Behind the sacristy, the wives of the prison guards made us a cake. He hadn’t eaten sweets in a long time, and I pretended not to like it. He even ate my slice. We weren’t alone even for five minutes. I was convinced he would be released shortly.” Cutolo and his wife communicate through the bars Cutolo, on the other hand, returned home after many years, as a dead man. In between was a life spent in prison, also recounted in successful books and films, which the wife describes as “mostly fiction.” They don’t capture the complexity of a life lived in absence, subjected to the regime of high-security prison. As she talks about how Rosetta’s ashes will be placed next to her mother and father, as she wished, there is one concern: her daughter Denyse. “She’s starting to ask questions. She’s not satisfied with the answers I give her; she goes to check for herself on the internet. She tells me that the same things keep repeating. She revisited with her aunt what happened with her father.” And she repeatedly explains that her daughter must stay away from all this. Little remains of the years of hiding and the story of Rosetta Cutolo, closely linked to that of the founder of the Nuova Camorra Organizzata. Secrets that no one can reveal anymore. What survives is a warning and an image that the wife and sister-in-law of the two brothers choose to give us: “Don’t follow this path.” Then there are tales that fade away into the distant past, to which Immacolata Iacone responds, “Let’s not talk about these things, I don’t know anything about them.” As the last visitor leaves the Cutolo family’s house, the bell rings again. It calls the citizens of Ottaviano to mass. No earthly or divine law could or would open those doors on the day of Rosetta’s death to grant her the blessing. Even though perhaps the only “judge” feared by both her and her brother Raffaele Cutolo does not know any courts. She is 16, her name is Denyse.

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