Callisto Grandi was born in 1849 in Incisa in Val d’Arno, a quiet village in the Grand Duchy of Tuscany. Almost nothing is documented about his childhood or family, except that locals described him as physically deformed and of low intelligence. He earned his living as a craftsman and wagon repairer—just another face in the town, but one mocked relentlessly. They called him “Ventudito” (because he had a foot with six toes) and “Carlino il pelato” (“Bald Carlino”).

Between 1873 and 1875, a chilling sequence of child disappearances fractured the quiet villages of Tuscany—cases that locals initially whispered away as tragic accidents around the Arno River. It all began on March 18, 1873, when three‑year‑old Luigi Bonechi vanished shortly after his mother stepped away for what seemed like just a few minutes. Searches turned up nothing, and the assumption was that little Luigi had slipped into the river’s depths.

Nearly two years later, on February 2, 1875, another young boy, Arturo Degli Innocenti, disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Again, the Arno seemed the unwitting culprit, and grief-stricken families were left with unanswered questions.

But by the summer of 1875, those rumors of accidents began to unravel. Between 21 and 22 August, nine‑year‑old Fortunato Paladini and seven‑year‑old Angelo Martelli both vanished in Figline Valdarno. Panic rippled through the region: Paladini’s straw hat was discovered near the riverbank—but the river was dry.

Then came the day that shattered the community’s fragile calm. On August 29, 1875, nine‑year‑old Amerigo Turchi—clutching a piece of bread—wandered toward Callisto Grandi’s workshop on Via Petrarca. Moments later, his frantic mother and a neighbor heard him screaming, “Oh God, my nose—you're killing me!” From inside Grandi’s shop came a horrifying scene: Amerigo, wounded and bloody, emerged from a crude pit, while Grandi claimed the child had simply tripped.

In a hush‑broken raid by municipal guard Fortunato Piccioli, authorities stormed the workshop and uncovered the macabre truth. Beneath the floorboards lay the decomposing remains of Luigi Bonechi, Arturo Degli Innocenti, Fortunato Paladini, and Angelo Martelli. Grandi, confronted by his crimes, had no denial—he confessed immediately.

Forensics delivered a grim verdict: the children had been buried alive and then crushed—most likely as Grandi pressed a wheel over their backs. Their lungs were putrefied, and their brains had turned to pulp, signs consistent with asphyxiation and violent compression.

Grandi himself claimed that the children’s taunts—mocking his six‑toed foot and bald, oversized head—drove him to murder. He spoke of the nicknames pinned on him—“Ventudito,” “Carlino il pelato”.

On December 18, 1876, the Florence Tribunal convened to determine Grandi’s fate. In court, several psychiatrists testified that he was mentally incapacitated—diminished in the capacity to grasp or control his actions. Grandi himself confessed to each killing, offering fragmented, personal explanations for each child’s death. Less than two weeks later, on December 29, the court ruled that he was to spend 20 years in prison. The verdict sparked controversy; renowned criminologist Cesare Lombroso sided with the defense, arguing that Grandi’s mental defects made him unable to understand the magnitude of his crimes.

Grandi began his sentence in Florence’s Murate Prison, but his request for hospital treatment at Montedomini was denied. Eventually, in 1895, he was transferred to the San Salvi Psychiatric Hospital, where he remained confined until his death in 1911.