Friday, Nov. 14, 1969

RETURN OF THE NATIVE

IN the eyes of U.S. and Italian law, Raffaele Minichiello, the first transatlantic skyjacker, is accused of grave crimes that call for heavy penalties in either country. But to millions of Italians the AWOL Marine who saw combat in Viet Nam has become something of an instant folk hero. There has been a widespread outpouring of sympathy, tinged with more than a bit of nationalistic pride, for the Italian-born youth who managed to pull off such a daring trick. As Turin's La Stampa noted: "The 'pirate of the air' is still a pais`a [countryman]." Judged by much of the reaction, the U.S. would seem to be the real culprit for having mixed up a simple Italian lad. Many Italians have seized on Caso Minichiello as a means of venting their anger at many things that disturb them about America, most notably the war in Viet Nam.

Magic World. Raffaele's behavior is excused on the ground that he was suffering from shock as a result of fighting in Viet Nam. He had also become overstrained by the great American rat race. Besides, Italians regard the possible death penalty for skyjacking in the U.S. as excessive, if not downright barbaric. There is a great public outcry against returning Raffaele to face trial in the U.S. The attitude of Raffaele's mother, who flew from her Seattle home to Rome, pretty well reflects the general Italian mood. "After all, my boy didn't kill anybody," she said. "All he did was use up a little gasoline."

Though Raffaele has advocates all over Italy, the spearhead of his defense is centered in the village of Melito Irpino, 45 miles east of Naples, which is the home of his 76-year-old father Luigi. Carlotta Mandel, a local author and journalist, has organized a committee to gather support for Raffaele's cause. "Italy was for Raffaele the magic world of his childhood, to which he yearned to return at all costs," she explained. "His gesture was a return to his people, a return to normality." Other neighbors painted placards and mounted a demonstration that blocked traffic on the autostrada outside Naples for half an hour. "The hangman will not have Minichiello," read one of their placards.

Italy has been sorely bothered by labor disputes and workers' protests, and the instant hero of Caso Minichiello was a wonderful replacement on front pages. Rinalda Mustone, a 17-year-old girl in Melito Irpino, gushed to reporters: "I would do anything for him. I would give him a pension. I would marry him." Rome newspapers hinted that Raffaele had actually stolen the airplane to fly home to the girl he left behind him; alas, in his absence she had married someone else. One Rome film maker announced that it was scripting a movie whose title would be "Pais`a, perche m'arresti?" (Countrymen, why are you arresting me?), which was Raffaele's first remark to police.

Meanwhile, Raffaele was locked up in Rome's Regina Coeli (Queen of Heaven) prison, where he pored over his exploits in English-language newspapers. He was allowed to receive his parents and sister Anna for a one-hour visit. Father Luigi had left his family in Seattle more than a year ago and returned alone to Italy. The reunion was the first occasion since then on which all four were together. "He told us he was normal before the war," said Luigi, "but after that he get too much nerves. I asked him if he ever felt that way before he went to the war, and he said, 'No, I only feel that way after I came into the Army.' "

Lawyers from both the U.S. and Italy teamed up to defend the younger Minichiello, most likely on grounds that he was unable to comprehend the magnitude of his crimes. Though he is a nearly penniless youth, Raffaele was suddenly surrounded by high-priced legal talent. Attorney Marvin Mitchelson, who flew in from California to organize the defense, normally represents Hollywood clients. Mitchelson plans to seek a psychiatric examination for Raffaele, and he hopes to locate a psychiatrist who can understand Marine jargon. Raffaele, Mitchelson discovered, speaks poor Italian and only passable English and must fall back on military slang to express himself adequately.

No Surrender. Italian officials last week booked Minichiello on eight counts of kidnaping, violence and illegal possession of a gun. If convicted on all counts, he could be given a sentence of 30 years in prison, the maximum penalty under the Italian legal code. His supporters, however, hope that he will be committed to a mental hospital for treatment. An American federal grand jury also indicted Minichiello for air piracy, kidnaping and assault.

Given the mood in Italy, the government of Premier Mariano Rumor is highly unlikely to surrender Raffaele to the U.S. The U.S., in any case, has so far refrained from pressing extradition proceedings. Even if the U.S. does ask for his return, the Italians have more than only emotional reasons for not giving him back. The 1868 extradition treaty between Italy and the U.S. obviously makes no mention of air piracy.

The U.S. last week recovered six skyjackers who returned voluntarily from Cuba. All had skyjacked airplanes over the U.S. After traveling by freighter to Montreal, they were arrested at the U.S.-Canadian border. One of the six, a 19-year-old Detroiter named Richard Sendlin, said that he had been tossed into jail in Cuba as a suspected CIA agent. After a few months in Castro's crowded prisons, each of the six decided on his own that he would rather face possible death at home than continued imprisonment in Cuba.

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