Starved for Love: Gozo Pensioners Left Without Food as Son Funds Heroin Habit, Court Hears

‘Mama, I just need €20 more, I swear I’ll stop tomorrow.’
Those words—repeated for years—left an elderly Gozitan couple so desperate that their kitchen cupboards were bare except for a half-empty jar of għasel tal-ħarrub. Yesterday, at the Gozo Courts in Victoria, their 32-year-old son admitted to “habitually extorting” his parents, forcing them to choose between his heroin habit and their own daily bread.

Magistrate Dr. Donatella Frendo Dimech heard how the pair—both pensioners aged 78 and 81—survived on neighbourly charity after handing over every cent of their combined €620 monthly pension to their only child. Prosecuting inspector Bernardine Briffa told the court the father had recently collapsed outside the Rabat parish church; doctors later confirmed severe malnutrition. “He told us he had not eaten protein in three weeks,” Briffa said, visibly shaken. “All so his son could score another bag.”

The case has struck a raw nerve across Malta and Gozo, where family ties run thicker than most Mediterranean blood. Here, the commandment to “honour thy father and mother” is more than Sunday sermon material—it is woven into the lace of village festa banners and shouted across summer rooftops during Arsenal vs. City arguments. Watching that bond weaponised by addiction feels, to many, like sacrilege.

Local NGOs say the tragedy is not isolated. “We’ve seen a 40 % spike in elderly abuse linked to substance misuse since 2020,” revealed Marlene Pace, director of Caritas Malta’s elder-outreach unit. “Adult children manipulate pensions, sell family silver, even threaten eviction. The shame keeps parents silent.”

Cultural pressure compounds the problem. In tight-knit communities like Xewkija or Żebbuġ, gossip travels faster than a festa petard. Admitting your child is an addict—or that you can no longer feed yourself—carries a stigma sharper than a festa dagger. One neighbour, who asked to remain anonymous, told Hot Malta she had slipped leftover rabbit stew through the couple’s window for months. “I thought they were just frugal. We never imagined they were starving.”

The court heard that the son had begun using opioids after losing his hotel-worker job during the pandemic slump. Without tourists, the island’s main artery, many young people found themselves idle and vulnerable. Gozo’s serene façade—Instagram’s darling of azure bays and basilicas—hid a 20 % youth unemployment spike that fuelled a local heroin resurgence. Cheap, potent, and couriered in by fishermen under cover of night, the drug crept into farmhouses and terraced alleyways alike.

Yesterday, the son pleaded guilty to extortion, causing bodily harm, and theft from vulnerable persons. Dressed in a borrowed blazer too large for his gaunt frame, he wept as prosecution read out his parents’ impact statement: “We forgive our son, but we can no longer live in fear of our own flesh and blood.” Magistrate Frendo Dimech ordered immediate detention at Mount Carmel Hospital’s addiction wing, plus a three-year restraining order. She also mandated that half of any future wages be paid into a court-monitored fund for the parents’ upkeep.

Outside the courtroom, Gozo Bishop Anton Teuma led a small prayer circle. “This island must decide,” he told Hot Malta. “Do we protect our parents or protect our pride? Silence is no longer mercy; it is complicity.” His words resonated with onlookers clutching rosaries and reusable shopping bags—symbols of two Maltese generations colliding.

The Ministry for Gozo has since announced an emergency €250,000 fund for “invisible elderly abuse,” including 24-hour hotlines run by parish volunteers and mobile food banks. Meanwhile, local band clubs—usually busy rehearsing marches—have begun collecting non-perishable goods to the beat of tambourines instead of drums.

As the sun set over the Citadel, one image lingered: the mother’s trembling hand resting on the wooden dock where her son once fished for lampuki, now empty. “I gave him everything,” she whispered. “Tomorrow, I just want bread.” The island is listening.