In recent days the Italian Justice has filed forever one of the most famous criminal chapters of the so-called "Roma bene", the massacre of the Circeo.
It was 1975 and two girls were raped and tortured (one to death, the other one saved himself pretending to be one) by three sons of "good family". 
One of them, Andrea Ghira, son of a well-known Olympic water polo champion, managed to escape and, according to the investigation and repeated analysis of his remains over the years, he died of an overdose in 1994 in Spain, after enlisting in the Spanish Legion stationed in Morocco.
The appendix to the trial sought to establish who from Italy had fuelled the escape and sponsored Ghira's escape for twenty years.
At that time the young killer would be seen in Argentina, North Africa and even Kenya. After his death, there were many testimonies in this sense and the news also appeared in newspapers and magazines.
The mid-eighties, early nineties were the years in which among the Italians (all Italians, but the Roman colony was well represented) it was fashionable to go on holiday, if not escape, to Malindi.
That exotic paradise without extradition agreements with Italy, was beginning to be more popular than South America with repentants, blockheads and those who were in all kinds of trouble with Justice. They were part of all the countrymen who, for one reason or another, wanted to start a new life.
There were failures, divorcees, big game hunters, even a lot of good people. But there were also sons of bitches who were half enough.
It was a mirror of the red and black Belpaese of the Lead years.
Malindi was certainly not the place to continue to perpetrate misdeeds, rather Africa could be the "buen retiro" where to regain contact with real life or cultivate a new identity forever.
But to someone, in the end, even the lukewarm and golden prison in the shade of the palm trees, could stay tight.
In that Malindi prison, for two or three years, the legend that Andrea Ghira was "Lorenzo", the manager of I Love Pizza, was fuelled. 
Obviously it was not so, but Lorenzo was a Roman scion and there were those who swore that he had a striking resemblance to the "Monster of the Circeo". On the other hand, it was known that he was wanted all over the world and that the victim who remained alive, Donatella Colasanti, was using her life with lawyers and investigators to find him and make him rot in jail.
But Malindi's Lorenzo "Ghira" seemed too calm and relaxed, king of nights and caipirinha (legend has it that he was the one who taught it to the first Kenyan barmen) to be traced back to the restless right-wing extremist Parioli who had participated in one of the most heinous murders of the seventies.
Lorenzo's pizzas actually revealed how he was not in the business, because they were not much, but his clientele was as varied as a "Banana Republic" could offer, as Lucio Dalla and Francesco De Gregori sang. 
At "I Love Pizza" (now closed forever, like the Circeo trial) could be stationed in the same evening the former red brigadier Roberto Sandalo, the rebellious son of Gianni Agnelli Edoardo, the tennis player Nicola Pietrangeli and the dolphin of Craxi Claudio Martelli, with Albano and Romina humming "Nostalgia Canaglia". It's normal for someone to see "the monster" even where he wasn't there.
It was an absurd Malindi, mysterious, anarchic and not at all candid. But so romantic and full of incredible characters that even a "monster" could fit in, with the necessary distances. Even if, as Lorenzo's relatives let us know, despite his nature as a histrioner and defiler, as a viveur and companion, the former resident of Malindi always suffered from that tropical handkerchief rumour of extradited people.
Today, with extradition and international police agreements, Kenya is no longer that kind of paradise, but it is also Italy that has changed. 
In Ndrangheta it is in the ministries, the mafia deals with marketing and informatics and the crimes for which one escapes abroad are, above all, the tax crimes.
It makes those who speak today of a Malindi receptacle of mafiosi and criminals laugh, the more years pass, the more one can compare it to the Brooklyn of the Thirties or to Panama of the second post-war period.
But of Monsters (or allegedly such) preparing caipirinhe and churning out pizzas, we won't see any more.