Forgive me for asking you this rather graphical question on a Sunday morning. But it seems to me that by now we can easily split Malta in two. On the one side there are people who went ‘Eh?-Yorgen-who?’ when his name first made the headlines; and on the other side are those who grabbed their phones and promptly got in touch with him. From what I can gather, the latter group seems to include half the cabinet of Joseph Muscat, and the word ‘touch’ seems to be quite open to interpretation.
This mega businessman, who looks the spitting image of Kojak – sans lollipop, but same sunglasses – was first seen by us laypeople strutting outside of the law courts in his pinstripe suit. His alma mater, St Edward’s, was imprinted all over him. He walks that typical St Edward’s walk – chest jutting out, head tilted back, one hand in trousers pocket; he speaks English in that typical Edwardian fashion – a droopy lower lip and the dropping of the ‘r’s. He looked out of place, and yet… not.
Apart from being arraigned as the alleged mastermind of Daphne Caruana Galizia’s assassination, Fenech’s CV also boasts involvement in the corrupt Electrogas power station deal approved by Muscat. He also has a hand in a corrupt Montenegro wind farm deal approved by Muscat as the owner of the corrupt 17 Black secret company, which was used to funnel €5,000 a day from our taxes into the pockets of Minister Konrad Mizzi and Fenech’s lifelong best friend Keith Schembri, the then prime minister’s chief of staff.
Until his arrest in November, Fenech and Schembri would speak to each other every day. They liked to share and discuss recipes, we were told during one court sitting.
Now, it so happens that Schembri’s other best friend is Muscat. The three of them were together in February last year for Muscat’s birthday party at Girgenti. Fenech, by then already a murder suspect, gave Muscat €6,000 worth of Petrus wine by way of birthday celebrations.
Months later, in November, on the day the police were closing in, and Fenech was allegedly planning to escape on his yacht, Muscat furrowed his brow and turned to Schembri and told him: “Make sure he does not leave the island”.
Muscat said he had never discussed Fenech being a suspect with Schembri, so we are to presume that the then chief of staff had no idea what he was talking about but still he followed orders.
Keith: “Aw Yorgen,” he squeaked. “Joseph said ‘Don’t leave’.”
Yorgen: “Alma!? Why?”
Keith: “I don’t know what he’s on about, I’m just repeating what he said. Anyway, I know it’s the middle of the night but do you fancy chatting to me for the next half an hour? Maybe you can tell me all about your latest rabbit recipe, before I’ll hit the bed.”
This is but the tip of the iceberg; the jigsaw is still being pieced- Kristina Chetcuti
Fenech was quite the social animal. Another best friend of his was Assistant Police Commissioner Silvio Valletta. Even when Fenech was a police suspect, they went abroad to watch Champions League football matches together, and larked about in Fenech’s Rolls Royce. Why, he was such a staple in the household that Fenech’s son used to call him ‘Uncle Silvio’. Uncle Silvio also happened to be the husband of another of Muscat’s cabinet ministers, the Gozitan Justyne Caruana.
Now, last week it has been alleged that Fenech was also on very good terms with the top media man of the Nationalist Party; he was on very bed-terms with a junior minister and he was on constant phone-contact terms with another Muscat cabinet minister. Of course, one by one, they are all issuing Clinton-like statements: “I never had any relations with that man”. Ouch, the piercing sound of the rooster crowing.
This is but the tip of the iceberg; the jigsaw is still being pieced. I have to say that even writing all this makes me want to lie down. Really, how many hours long was Fenech’s day? In between texting, wining, dining, driving, flirting, boinking, flying and footying, he was not only running the empire business he inherited from his grandfather, but allegedly also plotting the silencing of a journalist.
Fenech’s was a life of decadence – the perfect tableaux for a mafia cobweb. His debauchery and excess had all the marks of someone dripping in gold but bored, who wanted the approval of all and therefore keen to live on the edge and be part of a web of greed.
But he clearly couldn’t have done it by himself. Others in the web had what he didn’t have: political power, and with it, criminal protection – i.e. Muscat and his cabinet posse.
Prime Minister Robert Abela told journalists last week that cabinet ministers should not be “humiliated for having had a relationship with Fenech”. Err, that’s rather odd. No one is after humiliating them. What we are after is that they pack up their filth bags and resign from positions where they are paid from our taxes.
Prime Minister, we don’t want people who are the mafia, or who sleep with the mafia, representing us in Parliament, thank you very much.