Trapani Unveils Memorial to the Pizzolungo Massacre

A new memorial artwork by artist Massimiliano Errera has been unveiled in Piazza Vittorio Veneto, Trapani, to commemorate the Pizzolungo massacre.

After years of neglect, the armored Fiat 132 used by Judge Carlo Palermo and targeted in the mafia attack of April 2, 1985, has been restored and transformed into a monument of remembrance.
The car, abandoned for decades among the rubbish of the city’s vehicle depot, has been returned to the public as a "symbol of truth and civic commitment."

The inauguration ceremony was attended by Salvatore La Porta, one of the judge’s former bodyguards, and Margherita Asta, daughter and sister of three of the victims of the attack.

On April 2, 1985, a car bomb containing TNT, intended to kill Judge Carlo Palermo, exploded along the seafront of Pizzolungo.
The vehicle of Barbara Rizzo, a young mother traveling with her twin sons Giuseppe and Salvatore Asta, was in front of the judge’s car and took the full force of the blast.
All three were killed instantly. Judge Palermo survived, but the attack left a lasting scar on the city.

“This car sat among the rubbish for thirty years. Since 2021 we’ve been working to restore it and turn it into a monument,” said artist Massimiliano Errera.
“I saw it bare and raw, like the Pizzolungo attack itself. The mafia can kill, but it cannot erase the truth.”

Joining the ceremony via video link from Trento, Carlo Palermo recalled:

“From the beginning it was clear there was another, deeper truth behind the events — something more hidden and complex than just the mafia. The rust on the car reflects the bitterness and memory that cannot be erased.”

Trapani’s prefect, Daniela Lupo, stressed that the vehicle should not arouse curiosity but reflection:

“It is a symbol of memory, so that such tragedies may never happen again.
The flowers emerging from the wreckage are a sign of hope: today, Trapani chooses to stand on the side of legality.”

Mayor Giacomo Tranchida noted:

“Only the remains of this car are left, but it once carried men who served the State. This is not about theatricalizing pain, but making it a living memory.”

The most emotional words came from Margherita Asta:

“This work of art represents everything — the ugliness of what happened and the hope that follows.”
“Yes, the rust is there and will remain,” she added, “because we still don’t know the full truth about why Carlo Palermo had to die. But today, we choose to look toward hope.”