The tragic murder of Twannie Aquilina: A Maltese mystery

Welcome to True Crime Tales with Cosette, where we dive into the stories that linger in the shadows of history. 

We’re exploring a tragedy that shook a small Mediterranean island—a crime that turned a boy into a symbol of innocence lost. Twannie Aquilina’s murder not only horrified Malta but also sparked prayers for his intercession and, decades later, growing doubts about who really killed him. Grab a drink, settle in, and let’s step back to a warm summer evening that became a nightmare.

Twannie Aquilina wearing his First Holy Communion suit.

Valletta in 1960 was the heart of Malta, a tiny island where life revolved around faith, family, and community. Narrow streets echoed with children’s laughter, neighbours’ chatter, and the aroma of fresh bread from corner bakeries. At 102 St Dominic Street, in a cramped two-room apartment, lived eight-year-old Anthony Aquilina—known as Twannie—his mother, Luiga Camilleri, called Ġiġa, her husband, Leli, a marine engineer at HMS St Angelo, and Twannie’s sisters, Carmen and Marthese. Both Twannie and Carmen were Ġiġa’s children from a previous relationship, a detail that may have fuelled tensions in the household. To outsiders, they might have seemed like an ordinary family, but behind closed doors, Twannie’s life was far from idyllic.

Twannie was a gentle boy who had recently celebrated his First Holy Communion, a sacred milestone in Malta’s deeply Catholic culture. Dressed in a white suit, he stood proudly before his community, a rare moment of joy in a life marked by hardship. Teachers noticed bruises on his body, which he begged them to keep secret. Classmates shared their lunches when his food was barely edible. Neighbours whispered of abuse—Leli reportedly tied Twannie to a balcony and burnt him with a cigarette, while Ġiġa overburdened him with chores, treating him more like a servant than a son. In 1960s Malta, child welfare was rarely addressed, and social norms discouraged interference in family matters, leaving Twannie vulnerable in a home where love was scarce.

On August 23, 1960, as the sun set over Valletta’s golden limestone, a call reached a policeman on Strada Stretta around 7:45 p.m. A boy had reportedly fallen and died at 102 St Dominic Street. Constable Carmelo Attard arrived, expecting a tragic accident. Instead, he found a scene of unimaginable horror.

Twannie lay lifeless on the kitchen floor, surrounded by a pool of blood. His small body bore signs of extreme violence: three deep lacerations to his skull, likely caused by a heavy deadbolt, numerous scratches across his skin, and a throat slit so deeply it nearly severed his head. Medical experts confirmed he was still alive, possibly unconscious, when the fatal cut was made, as his heart had emptied its chambers. A bloodstained bread knife was found in a kitchen drawer, debunking claims of a fall. Bloodied handprints and puddles lined the slum’s stairway, with traces of brain tissue along the steps, painting a gruesome picture.

A washing machine in the apartment had been used shortly after the murder, containing freshly washed clothes and bedsheets. Bloody fingerprints were found on the machine—some belonging to 14-year-old witness Alfred Fitzpatrick, known as Freddy, and others untraceable. Curiously, no bloodied fingerprints from Ġiġa or Leli were found, nor were traces of blood on their clothes. A nail, inexplicably found in Twannie’s underpants, went unidentified, adding a chilling mystery to the scene.

Who could commit such a monstrous act? Suspicion fell on Ġiġa, 32, and Leli, 29, the adults closest to Twannie. Both were questioned by Superintendent Edward Attard, and both denied involvement. Leli claimed he was buying stationery when he heard shouting and saw people rushing toward Strada Forni. He said he found Twannie in a pool of blood and checked for a pulse, only to realise his throat was cut. Ġiġa said she was at a local gathering spot called Il-Fossa, playing cards with her daughters, when Twannie didn’t show up for dinner. She sent seven-year-old Carmen, her daughter from a previous relationship, to check on him. Carmen returned, saying the lights were on, but Twannie didn’t answer. Ġiġa sent Carmen back with another girl, Mary, who reported seeing blood.

Ġiġa’s behaviour was baffling. She claimed she found Twannie covered in blood and then ran downstairs shouting, ‘Look what happened to me!’—a phrase many found oddly self-centred. Even stranger, after the murder, she dressed her daughters, went shopping for food, ate at Il-Fossa, bought chips, and shared prickly pears with them before sending Carmen to check on Twannie—despite Carmen later claiming she saw the murder and knew Twannie was dead. How could a mother carry on so casually after such a horrific act? And why send her young daughter to fetch a brother she allegedly knew was dead? These questions have fuelled doubts about Ġiġa’s guilt, especially in recent years.

Witness testimonies were pivotal but fraught with inconsistencies. Eight-year-old Carmen Cauchi, a neighbour, heard crying and shouting from the slum’s common area. Freddy, the 14-year-old witness, said he saw Ġiġa lifting a motionless Twannie from the stairs, hearing a faint moan and a metal object hitting the ground—possibly the deadbolt or knife. Freddy later found Twannie’s body through an open kitchen door, touched him, and left without speaking, even when he came face-to-face with a policeman knocking on a neighbour’s door. His bloody fingerprints on the washing machine raised questions about his involvement, though he was never charged.

Twannie’s sister, Carmen, gave a chilling account, claiming she saw her mother with a bread knife near Twannie’s body after he was beaten for touching Leli’s tools. But in court, she recanted, declaring everything she said was untrue, casting doubt on her testimony. Two other witnesses were jailed during the trial for confusing jurors with contradictory statements. Forensic evidence deepened the mystery: scratches on Twannie’s body didn’t match Ġiġa’s or Leli’s fingernails, which showed no traces of skin or blood. No blood was found on their clothes, and the nail in Twannie’s underpants remained unidentified. A rumour circulated that the autopsy doctor found signs of a sexual attack by a man on Twannie’s body, but in court, the doctor denied saying this, leaving the claim unverified. These gaps left many wondering if the full truth had been uncovered.

On February 25, 1961, Ġiġa and Leli faced trial in a case that gripped Malta. Initially held behind closed doors, the 17-day trial revealed shocking details when made public. The prosecution argued that Ġiġa and Leli resented Twannie and Carmen, Ġiġa’s children from a previous relationship, possibly fuelling their hostility. Evidence included bloodstains, the knife, the washing machine’s use, and witness accounts. But the lack of direct forensic links—no blood on their clothes, no matching fingerprints—combined with Carmen’s recantation and jailed witnesses, left room for doubt. The brutality made motive almost irrelevant, yet the case wasn’t airtight.

The public was outraged. Twannie’s First Holy Communion photos became iconic, with some circulating holy pictures and praying for his intercession, believing his innocent soul could act as a martyr. Ġiġa herself, in a rare 1993 interview with the Church newspaper Il-Ġens, claimed, ‘My son is a martyr. He is a saint. If you want to be granted some grace, pray for his intercession,’ insisting she didn’t kill him. ‘How can a mother kill her son?’ she asked. Most saw her as guilty at the time, and the prayers for Twannie reflected Malta’s Catholic faith, turning him into a symbol of purity, akin to ex-votos at Marian shrines.

Ġiġa was sentenced to death, later commuted to life imprisonment. Leli received 20 years with hard labour. But in 1971, Ġiġa walked free after just 10 years, sparking controversy. Over time, public opinion shifted. A 2012 Xarabank interview with Carmen, now living in Australia, intensified doubts. She claimed she lied in court, saying she saw a young man standing over Twannie’s body—not her mother—and cited unmatched fingerprints. She pleaded for truth to free her family from stigma, saying, ‘We want to live our last days in peace, not shunned as though we carry a disease.’ Today, fewer people believe Ġiġa was guilty, with many pointing to her casual behaviour—shopping, eating, and sending Carmen to check on Twannie—as evidence that she may not have known he was dead.

The Xarabank interview fuelled a growing theory: could Freddy, the 14-year-old witness, have been the killer? Some now believe the young man Carmen saw over Twannie’s body was Freddy. His bloody fingerprints on the washing machine, his silence when meeting the policeman, and his presence near the crime scene raise questions. The unverified rumour of a sexual attack, though denied by the autopsy doctor, has led some to speculate that Freddy, a teenager at the time, may have attempted to assault Twannie, killed him to cover it up, and let Ġiġa and Leli take the blame. This theory, while unproven, gained traction after Carmen’s 2012 claims, as it explains the unidentified nail, untraceable fingerprints, and lack of forensic evidence against the couple.

But the theory has holes. Freddy was never charged, and his account of finding Twannie’s body aligns with other witnesses. The sexual assault claim remains unsubstantiated, and pinning the crime on a 14-year-old requires a leap. Still, the doubts—coupled with Ġiġa’s oddly normal behaviour post-murder—have shifted public sentiment. How could a mother go shopping, eat prickly pears, and send her daughter to fetch a dead child she allegedly killed? And why would Carmen, at seven, claim to witness the murder, then recant, and later say she saw another suspect? These contradictions keep the case alive in Malta’s collective memory.

Twannie’s murder left a lasting scar on Malta, exposing child abuse in a society where family matters were private. It drew Scotland Yard’s assistance, a rare move for a Maltese case. Former police commissioner Raymond Zammit dedicated his book to abused children, noting the stigma Twannie’s relatives, including Carmen, still face. ‘People whisper when we pass,’ one said. Crime historian Eddie Attard called it one of Malta’s most brutal murders, amplified by Twannie’s age and recent Communion. The apartment at 102 St Dominic Street remains empty, rumoured to be haunted. The holy pictures of Twannie fuelled a quiet devotion, with some praying for his intercession, believing his soul could bring justice. The case’s unanswered questions linger: the unidentified nail, untraceable fingerprints, the unverified sexual attack rumour, Carmen’s recantation, and Ġiġa’s casual demeanour. Was Freddy involved, or was he just a scared teenager caught in a tragedy? Did Ġiġa and Leli pay for a crime they didn’t commit, or were they guilty despite the forensic gaps? The Xarabank interview has kept these debates alive, with many now questioning whether justice was truly served.

Twannie’s story is a haunting reminder of children’s vulnerabilities, even in tight-knit communities. His First Holy Communion, a moment of joy, stood in stark contrast to his suffering. The washing machine, the nail, the scratches, and conflicting testimonies leave us questioning what really happened. The prayers for Twannie’s intercession reflect a community’s need for meaning, transforming a boy’s tragedy into a call for compassion. Malta has strengthened child protection laws since, but Twannie’s case urges vigilance. His memory endures in Valletta’s streets, in holy pictures, and in unanswered questions. Who really killed Twannie Aquilina? Share your thoughts in the comments—what do you make of the Freddy theory or Ġiġa’s innocence? 

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Sources:

• https://timesofmalta.com/article/murder-of-the-boy-in-the-first-holy-communion-suit.323602
• https://timesofmalta.com/article/twannie-aquilina-murder-stigma-lingers-on-60-years-later.813858
• https://timesofmalta.com/article/a-gruesome-murder.323643
• https://www.guidememalta.com/en/a-shock-to-the-nation-it-s-been-59-years-since-the-brutal-murder-of-twanny-aquilina
• Delitti F’Malta 1800-2021 by Edward Attard
• Ġiġa Hamsin Sena Wara 1960-2010 – The Crime Of The Century by Ramond G Zammit
• Il-każ ta' Ġiġa Camilleri fil-qtil ta' binha Twannie - Xarabank