MY SISTER'S MURDER
MY SISTER'S MURDER
Description
Eleni Dalaklidou describes her final days with her sister Zoi, and recounts the aftermath of the horrific murder outside their home in Xanthi, in 2012.
Tags
Credits
Field Reporter
- Maria Mpatziomhtrou
Interviewee
- Elenh Dalaklidou
Podcast Producer
- Dafnh Matziarakh
Sound Designer
- Dhmhtrhs Palaiogiannhs
Sound Editor
- Spyros Lymperopoulos
Voiceover
- Skyrah Archer
Music
- William Ryan Fritch
We were four siblings. Now, we are three.
We had a sister, who lived with me, here, in Thessaloniki. When I came here, she was with me. She had already finished a school in Xanthi and came here to Thessaloniki and finished another school, in graphics. She was looking for work at the same time, and she also lived here. She was a graphic designer. She mostly did design, but also worked for newspapers and as a cashier in a bar-restaurant. But her main inspiration was art. That’s what she did most. That’s what she liked.
Unfortunately, she was killed by someone who basically raped her and started a fire to cover his tracks; to hide what he had done to her and not leave DNA anywhere. It was 27th December 2012, in Xanthi. More specifically, under our building.
We were in Thessaloniki and, because it was Christmas, we decided to go to Xanthi, to celebrate all together. I arrived earlier and Zoe followed a little later. We always celebrated Christmas as a family, all together. The next day, we went to our village. And then the night, early morning of the 27th, she never came home.
Generally, my sister was a little reserved, she never expressed her emotions or whatever she might have felt. Those days she had—if not those days generally, that specific day—shown some signs which I wouldn’t have noticed otherwise… If it hadn’t happened. I mean, she was much warmer with our relatives. She greeted them; I think she greeted everybody. She hugged them more than she would normally have done. Generally, my sister was OK: she might have loved everyone and all that, but she wasn’t really a big hugger. That day, for some reason, she hugged my grandma’s sister, like she was saying goodbye. When we went to my aunt’s, our youngest cousin was out, and she waited for him to return to say ‘hi’, like she would never see him again. Like she felt it was like this.
As soon as we got back from the village, our father left us in the city centre, to go out. My friends were waiting there for me, so we said goodnight, and split up. My sister went out with her best friend, and I was somewhere else. And simply, I went back home earlier, and my sister, finally, never did.
The only thing I remember is I’d got her last message to me, to go and find her. And, in the end, I didn’t go and just slept. And I remember being woken up by shouting, or it could have been instinct; I don’t really know what woke me.
There were fires in the space under the building. We were confused, couldn’t understand what was going on. There were two sources of fire. One was the scooters; the other was my sister.
It wasn’t obvious that it was my sister, it didn’t even look like there was something human there, because there was a pile of leaves, so we assumed that it was leaves that had somehow caught fire. Some neighbour from the apartments next door threw water on it, he threw a bucket of water, he put my sister out, and he shouted that there was a person there.
My dad and my brother had already gone down to put out the burning scooter. They had called the Fire Brigade, of course, but until they came. And, when my dad was coming back in, he saw, in the entrance to the building, my sister’s keys in the outer door. And that’s how we learned that the person who had been burning was my sister.
He had seen her in the bar, from what he told us. When my sister and her friend got back, they split up. Obviously, he made a move on her, or something, he targeted her and went to speak to her. And, as he was drunk, or whatever, he forced her to go with him.
He was already known; he’d already attempted rape. Which he got away with, of course, because the girl dropped the charges. They found his fingerprints on a car, there, next to the parking area. And they found him a few hours later. They located him immediately. They went to his house. They found her mobile in his loft, so they knew it was definitely him.
They showed me a photo of him, to see if I knew him. I didn’t. And my sister didn’t know him either, because she’d lived in Thessaloniki for years, so she didn’t have friends in Xanthi. She only went during the holidays and in summer when we went to the village. So, everything that happened was just a matter of luck.
He lived in our neighbourhood; he had a grocer’s just down from our home. Which, naturally, he went and opened up as normal the following day, like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t had done anything, believing, and, in fact, saying and claiming, that he didn’t remember what he’d done.
The sentence was life imprisonment plus twenty-five years for manslaughter, rape, arson, and the fact that he’d stolen my sister’s phone. I was twenty-two going on twenty-three. The judges were clear about all this. I mean, as much as he tried to find excuses, even the fact that he asked for... To be examined by a psychologist and all that, the court refused. Obviously, I felt a sense of justice that they didn’t allow any mitigating circumstances. They didn’t even acknowledge the fact that he believed he was drunk. Because a drunk person couldn’t have done everything that he did: all the steps he took.
Clearly, he didn’t like the sentence, and all this time he was going to court, even as far as the Supreme Court: to get his sentence reduced, not to be released. So, on 15th January 2020, there was another hearing at the Supreme Court, on the appeal he had made against the Court of Appeals for legal… for legal issues… not so much about his sentence as about procedural matters. The Supreme Court decided that there should be re-trial about his sentence. So, on 6th October, the trial was held again, at which—naturally, with the new law—his sentenced was reduced. Despite this, the life sentence was not overturned, so the life sentence remained while the other years in his sentence were reduced.
I think I got angry the third time. I was angry because I had to see him again; angry because I had to go through it all again; angry because the law had been changed and I knew that the judges would have to reduce some of the sentences. I was really angry about all this. But, despite this, the Court was firm. Despite his claiming some mitigation, like the fact that he had married and wanted a second chance at life. The Court refused to accept this and kept the longest sentence they could give, even with the new state of things.
Hearing all this, I didn’t know if I should laugh at the absurdity or get even angrier. You can’t ask for a second chance when you have done something bad to another person like this, when you didn’t let them have a second chance. I mean, my sister might have wanted to start a family. But you didn’t let her. Why do you get to start a family? I just don’t get it. I mean, if you’ve done something, do your time and have done with it. Accept what you did. All this trying to get out earlier just makes things worse for you.
We have all tried our best for her. We have shouted for her, spoken for her, because she couldn’t speak for herself and describe everything she went through. So, yes, there is definitely a moral victory. The rest is down to God and he will decide what form justice should take. But I believe her spirit will be more at peace, even if just a little, after all this. Mostly, for the hell we have been put through.
Zoe was one of the most cheerful people there was, and one of the most serious. For me, she was my mother as well as my sister. Especially from the time I lived with her for a few years here, in Thessaloniki. She taught me stuff; she taught me how to treat other people, what to look for in them. She taught me about history, so many things. It’s hard to put into words, but she taught me to be the person I am today.
I remember her hugs; her hugs were so tight. And I think that I do that now, too: I hold people really tightly. Like tomorrow will never come. And I think that’s how we should love others.