Dear Daphne,

I refreshed your Running Commentary a hundred times since your execution. And then I remember, they killed you. The crooks, they killed you. They wanted to shut you up for good.

Many fear what will come next. So many political, criminal or business interests stood to gain from your death. Not so for us, law-abiding citizens. Your execution was an attack on us all, our way of life, and our future.

At times, I wonder whether you’re laughing your head off, watching your staunchest opponents, those who called you a 'hate blogger', 'the queen of bile', 'the witch of Bidnija', who filed endless lawsuits to cripple you financially, ‘mourn’ your death. They are very, very [ahem] devastated by the news of your murder. They say it in a voice that seems somewhat insincere to me. And that's putting it mildly. They recite a statement composed of phrases we had heard a thousand times whenever things fall apart – ‘Unite’, they told, ‘Now is the time to come together as one nation’. Empty words they are, no more than words, just like the “liberation of Palestine”, which never happened, and never will.

They say it in a voice that seems somewhat insincere to me. And that's putting it mildly. They recite a statement composed of phrases we had heard a thousand times whenever things fall apart – "Unite", they said, "Now is the time to come together as one nation". Empty words they are, no more than words, just like the “liberation of Palestine”, which never happened, and never will.

By now, you know what happened. You uploaded your last blog and half hour later, you were dead. The crooks, they used no less than half a kilogram of Semtex, the same type of explosive which killed hundreds of people over Lockerbie. It ravaged an airplane, let alone your tiny Peugeot 108.

You mattered, so they wanted you dead. Your son, Matthew, the Pulitzer-Prize winner, of whom you were so proud, described the scene in the field a few metres away from your house. It is too painful to recall what he saw.

As expected, your murder made the rounds, in Europe and beyond. EU leaders, prime ministers, leading international newspapers, and TV channels, even Pope Francis, mourned your death. You mattered, and how.

Daphne, Malta is a nation in mourning – the many, who followed your writings and for whom you were a beacon of hope in a mad world, they mourned your loss.

Government launched an inquiry, roping in investigators from across Europe, and the US. The Prime Minister says he wants to get to the bottom of this. OK, OK – I don’t want to get you started, I'm sure you’re not amused by the government’s reaction. You never were, anyway. I don't blame you.

The Police Commissioner, yes following your assassination, he’s still there – well, not really there, he never was anyhow. It took him three days to summon the press. As you may well imagine, the presser left the journalists none the wiser. Were you not the victim, you'd be hounding him for his incompetence. But the victim had to be you – because you mattered.

You exposed their darkest secrets. You got to the bottom of things. You were not one for turning – regardless of the endless lawsuits meant to cripple you financially, regardless of the death threats. Staying alive is, usually, a person's primary aim. Yours was to expose the truth. Your writing, superb, and a pleasure to read was a searing indictment of shady politicians, and their acolytes. "The crooks", as you, fittingly, described them in your last blog.

We hope your killers will be brought to justice. We hope. Admittedly, it's like dealing with a monster with a thousand heads. Criminals don't show their face. They are cowards.

I recall a conversation we had, when lawsuits were filed, tens of them, against you by a government minister. Any other person in your situation, would have succumbed to the pressure and retracted the story – not you, you were upbeat and determined to stand tall. “They want to cripple me financially”, you told me, “but I won’t give up”. You valued your freedom. You fought for what is right.

Then, Egrant. All hell broke loose. A snap election was called. The woman, with the laptop, who brought down the government was on everybody's lips.

Following the election, many thought you would give up. They were wrong. You were relentless in your fight against evil. It was evil which, last Monday, ripped your body in a thousand pieces, but not your legacy. Your legacy will live on. Thousands of candles were lit up since Black Monday. Yours will never blow away.

The question on everybody’s – I rephrase, on the people-of-good-will, lips is, ‘Who will continue what Daphne started?’, ‘Who has the guts to confront shady politicians, and hardened criminals as you, relentlessly, did?’ Many feel that everything you had achieved, any comfort they had found in the knowledge that you would continue to expose what others want to be kept a secret, has vanished in a puff of a wind.

In times like these, desperate as they surely are, giving up would only play in the hands of the crooks you, so bravely, fought. Optimism over despair is, therefore, a must.

I'm confident that people who like you valued what is right, and despised what is wrong, will come forward to continue what you started. But no one, absolutely no one, can be as excellent, and brave, as you were. Your superb writing laden with surprising metaphors, but hard-hitting, razor sharp criticism, that cannot be emulated, by anyone.

Dear Daphne, rest in peace. You shall be missed. We shall refresh your running commentary, and find no updates. Your last words are immortal, “There are crooks everywhere you look now. The situation is desperate”. Indeed, it is. But help us not give up, not yet, not now.