A Triple Homicide Within the Vatican’s “Secret Service”

Swiss Guards: the “Secret Service” of Vatican City sworn to protect the Pope at all costs, yet a 1998 triple homicide suggests that perhaps guarding even the Pope with your life is not enough to protect your own

 

In May 1998, a nun discovered three bodies in the apartment of Alois Estermann, a commander of the Swiss Guard appointed to his new position just a few hours prior. Estermann, his former-model wife Gladys Meza Romero and young guardsman Cédric Tornay were found dead at the scene.

 

Within a few hours, the papal press office had already established a conclusion: Tornay shot the couple and then committed suicide in a fit of madness, spurred by his failure to receive a promotional medal.

 

But why and how could the Vatican open and close a murder case so quickly?

 

No autopsies or forensic investigations had been performed by the time of that first press conference. Plus, every member of the Swiss Guard was sworn to secrecy about the killings early the next morning. The Vatican even refused help from the Italian police.

 

Was it really a fit of madness, or is it a cover-up for something more scandalous—perhaps a homosexual affair between a young recruit and his superior?

 

One of the most popular theories is that Estermann, a bisexual, was having an affair with Tornay. Estermann allegedly preferred young recruits; it is said that when Estermann ended relations with Tornay and began seeing another young guardsman, Tornay lost his temper and killed the commander and his wife out of anger and jealousy.

 

The Vatican has characteristically shut down all rumors that the killings were a crime of sex, passion or some other scandal. The families of Estermann and his wife also addressed a four-page letter to journalists, shaming the Italian press and asking the media to stop speculating about the couple's marriage.

 

''We do not accept the slightest suspicion about presumed hypotheses about tormented love stories or espionage with which some have tried to stain Alois,'' the letter said. ''We would be grateful if people would stop adding to the pain that we feel.''

 

While no one may ever know if the gay love triangle theory is true, it does bring to attention the structure of the Swiss Guard itself as a fraternal organization.

 

Currently composed of 135 men, the Swiss Guard is the world’s smallest army and one of the world’s oldest military units in continuous operation. To join the Guard, recruits must be unmarried Swiss Catholic males between 19 and 30 years old and at least 174 centimeters tall. They must have a professional degree or high school diploma, completed basic training with the Swiss Armed Forces and can obtain certificates of good conduct.

 

The Pontifical Swiss Guard commandant, Daniel Anrig, suggested in 2009 that the Guard might someday be open to recruiting women, but that possibility remained far in the future and may only be considered when separate barracks for guards-women are built.

 

“Sixty percent of our corps is under the age of 25; women in the same barracks (as the men) would create big problems,” Colonel Elmar Mäder, then-commander of the Swiss Guard, said in 2004, explaining why he would never allow women in the guard at the time.

 

This is a logical reason—but only when assuming all the Swiss Guards are heterosexual men. And putting sexual relationships aside, there are other problems to be found in all-male organizations, a breeding ground for high competition and jealousy.

 

Like other armed forces, there are (limited) ranks that allow for some mobility within the unit, with higher ranks being paid higher salaries. Regular guardsmen receive a tax-free salary of 1,500 euros per month (as of 2019) in addition to room and board.

 

This could be considered a decent basic income in Italy, but not by Swiss standards. In fact, the Swiss Guard has had trouble filling its ranks in recent years for this exact reason.

 

But Tornay was about to receive the Benemerenti medal, a promotion regularly awarded after three years of faithful service. Yet Estermann, his superior, denied this promotion for Tornay due to an incident where the young corporal spent a night outside the Vatican walls without permission.

 

This was not Tornay’s only grievance. In a letter to his mother, Tornay, who was Swiss-French, wrote that he felt discriminated against by the majority Swiss-Germans in the force. He was also critical of the operations of the Swiss Guard at the time and tried to urge for reforms, but to no avail.

 

Was there something else at play behind the murders? It’s very likely. Was Tornay truly guilty, or the victim of a larger power play in which he, Estermann, and Romero were caught in the crossfire? Also possible.

 

Given the Vatican’s reputation for secrecy and lack of transparency, we will probably never know the full truth.

 

What we do know is that working and living in an intimate, all-male organization while being underpaid for stressful, high-risk responsibilities has significant potential to foster a space for competition, jealousy and frustration. Some sort of envy and power struggle was involved, and perhaps the passing up of his promotion was a breaking point, enough to prompt Tornay to pull the trigger.