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and Raffaele stood alone. They seemed only interested in themselves. Amanda was crumpled. Her hair was messy, and she was wearing wrinkled, faded jeans. She eventually put on an ill-fitting military jacket from Raffaele’s car. Raffaele was composed—his long hair perfectly combed and his clothes fresh, a yellow woolen scarf wrapped elegantly around his neck. Raf was distracted, looking around the garden and up to the roof of the parking garage, lost in thought. He had the same look of aloof detachment that he would later display in the courtroom. As Raf followed every movement of the police into and out of the house, Amanda hugged and kissed him constantly, almost desperately, and whispered in his ear. The video and still shots of them cuddling in the cold would become Exhibit A in the court of public opinion.

Carmignani, who knew all the cops by name, broke away from the gaggle on the roof and sauntered down to the crime scene. The police confided to him some observations that never got to court. For example, police said Amanda’s body odor contradicted her claim that she’d just showered; she smelled like sex. They noticed that her face was puffy, with makeup smeared under her eyes. Because she was not then a suspect, no drug or alcohol tests were ordered. Before the police sealed the crime scene, Amanda was even allowed to go back into the house unescorted to collect a few things.

That afternoon, in London, Meredith’s father John Kercher heard that a British student had been stabbed to death in Perugia, and he had an immediate, gut feeling that it was Meredith. A freelance journalist for the British tabloids, John has the air of an academic, with his black turtlenecks, dark corduroy jackets, long gray hair, and sculptured beard. He would later write an article in the Daily Mirror describing that terrible day. The piece was published in tandem with his court testimony in Perugia, effectively scooping his colleagues on what he would tell the judge.

“Meredith’s mother Arline called to say she’s heard reports that a British girl student has been murdered in Perugia,” John said. “Obviously there was concern, but there are thousands of British students in Perugia and you try to use that as a calming influence.”

Still, John was worried, so he tried to call Meredith. His stomach dropped when he reached an automated message that her phone was off.

“For the next half hour I try at least a dozen times before it suddenly starts ringing.” Still no answer. He starts to panic. “By now my instincts have kicked in. I have to get information fast.”

John called the foreign desk of the Daily Mirror and asked what they had heard. They told him to call back in an hour and they might have more. When he called back, his editor confirmed his worst fears.

“I shall never forget her words: ‘The name going around Italy is Meredith.’”

John then drove to Arline’s house, where he was joined by their other children: Stephanie, John, and Lyle. “We’re all distraught,” he wrote in the Daily Mirror article. “By now, Arline has spoken to the Foreign Office who confirms the worst. At 9 P.M., Meredith’s photo comes on the news. The room falls silent. We all hug.”

4

“Everyone Cried Except Amanda and Raffaele”

ON NOVEMBER 3, Meredith Kercher’s murder was the only thing on anyone’s mind in Perugia. The coffee bars were buzzing, radio and television news carried nonstop coverage, and a steady stream of cars crept past via della Pergola to get a glimpse of the casa degli orrori —“house of horrors.” The universities were still closed for the long holiday weekend, but the administration issued an official e-mail warning students to keep their eyes and ears open—an assassin was on the loose. The ERT scientific experts, up from Rome, had worked through the night collecting evidence and documenting the crime scene. It was still dark when an ambulance arrived to take Meredith’s body to the coroner. In London, her family members were finalizing their travel plans to Italy. Meanwhile, Rudy Guede remained in Perugia, nervously milling around the city center,