The lonesome deaths of Stephanie Rapa

By Sebastian Tanti Burlo

Anthony Chircop killed Stephanie Rapa. He drove at 140km/h down a well-lit 35 km/h stretch of road into the unsuspecting thirty-year-old pharmacist.  He used “a special feature” to increase his speed. She was retraining to become a doctor, working at the pharmacy late that night. Video footage shows the impact. She is violently thrown meters into the air, landing on her head on the Gzira front tarmac. She didn’t die on impact. 

For those who knew Steph, the first thing you remember when you think of her is her smile. Followed by her slight guffaw. One of those laughs that showed her whole self, a good person. When I asked our classmates for their memories of her, they all said the same thing:

“I always remember her genuinely caring about how we are. That big smile asking, ‘ How are you?’ Even after school, she’d always be happy to see me at the pharmacy. She was a lovely person taken too soon.”

“You genuinely felt that she cared; it wasn’t just asking for the sake of asking. I can picture her tilting her head as she asked. She loved to joke too; there was a running joke she’d just repeat every time we met and found it hilarious.”

“Her smiling eyes!”

I went through primary and secondary school with Steph. We were on the same bus for all twelve years. Every morning when I was picked up, she was already on the bus, smiling, and every afternoon she was still smiling when I was dropped off. I was a grumpy child; a lot would say I still am, but her boundless optimism was infectious. 

Mr and Mrs Rapa adopted Steph when she was just six months. She had a sunshine face and wore glasses that magnified the kindness in her eyes.  She was smart and diligent, a nerd truly loved by all. I often find myself thinking of her. It brings a smile to my face, but it immediately turns when I think of what happened to her that night. Her smile, that car, the tarmac. I am confronted by feelings of anger when I remember how the justice system failed her and her parents. Feelings that turn to guilt because we let her down.

“She was the heart of our home,” Mrs Rapa told reporters with tears rolling down her face.

“Life does go on for us, but the beauty of it has gone.”

I can’t recall why I thought of Steph the other day. Somebody’s laugh? Another road fatality? I looked up reports. I blinked. 19th October 2017. Only three days after Daphne Caruana Galizia’s assassination. I was convinced Steph’s death had happened years after. I clearly remember how I reacted when I first heard the news. But I couldn’t remember when.

“To think that Steph was adopted by such loving parents, gave her the best education they could, provided her with a safer life than that she would have otherwise experienced, for Malta to end up being far deadlier,” another school friend said.

In the past nine years, at least 158 people have died on Malta’s roads.

Anthony Chircop was convicted of involuntary murder. He was a serial offender. Arrested multiple times for reckless driving, drunk driving, and driving without a licence. 2001, 2014, and 2016. Each time, he was let off with a warning, a measly fine or a suspended licence. In 2017, he inevitably killed someone. He pled guilty six years later, received a suspended sentence, and had his license disqualified for two years.

His Nissan Skyline, originally confiscated, was returned to him on appeal because of another procedural fuck-up. At least in that same appeal, they overturned the previous court’s heinous ruling that the victim, Stephanie, was equally guilty for crossing next to the pelican-crossing and not on it.

I wonder what Anthony Chircop is doing now. On an island where the laws are regularly flouted, it is easier to imagine him thundering down the road, tyres screeching around the corner from where your child is crossing the street.

Next week will be the ninth anniversary of her death, and Daphne’s. Both bound by a justice system that continues to fail its citizens “But what about Karin Grech?” “What about Raymond Caruana?” Yes, the state has failed them too. Just as it failed Daphne, it failed Stephanie Rapa, Jean Paul Sofia, Lassana Cisse, and the countless other victims in Malta’s relentless race to the bottom. 

Our fight for justice does not begin and end with Daphne Caruana Galizia. We fight for justice in Malta and for all the people who call it home. We are all victims of this justice system – and we should all be standing side by side with those who are fighting for a better Malta on 16th October at the Great Siege Memorial.

On an island where we are all potential collateral, remember Stephanie Rapa. Remember her smile. And if you find that you cannot smile, then rage. Rage against those who would rather we forget.