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Mintoff could easily have stopped after the first police report. But he understood something the system refuses to admit: it can’t be trusted. So he pushed harder. He followed up, coordinated with the other architect, filed a second report, and insisted until someone finally listened. That’s why people are alive today – not because the system worked, but because someone refused to let it fail in silence.

Now we’re hearing the usual press statements. Investigations have been announced. We’re told “lessons will be learned.” But we don’t need an investigation to know what happened. If the BCA was doing its job, it would already have the answers.

Because the system fails at every level – prevention, enforcement, accountability—we’re once again picking through the rubble to figure out who’s to blame. In a functioning country, the regulator would already know. Instead, we’re left to reconstruct the timeline ourselves, while every player scrambles to spin the story.

Take Glenn Zammit. He’s now being publicly framed as a hero. But he’s the architect for the developer next door – his job was to ensure that works were safe from the outset. And Mintoff had been flagging concerns for years—concerns Zammit either ignored or failed to act on.

In fact, according to the BCA’s own clearance letter for this project, the developer and architect were required to conduct condition reports of all adjacent properties before starting works. These were also meant to be shared with neighbours. Yet several residents told Lovin Malta they never received any. The BCA has not replied to requests for copies.

We’re told Zammit raised the alarm—but why only at the last minute? It took a second police report for action. That’s not foresight. That’s risk management. That’s a paper trail.

This is how narratives shift. A day after a collapse in a tourist zone, we’re talking about heroes—not how it was allowed to happen.

The BCA’s behaviour after the collapse also illustrates the problem perfectly. Lovin Malta published footage sent to it by neighbours clearly showing new cracks in an adjacent block. The footage was also sent to the BCA. Shortly after the video was published, the BCA called the newsroom. Not to inform it that action was being taken, but to ask which building we were talking about. Instead of going to the site, they were on the phone, asking which building we were talking about—more than 12 hours after the collapse.

Since then, other neighbouring blocks were also evacuated and quickly demolished. It is unclear whether other buildings in the area will also need to be brought down.

And what now? We’ve lost count of how many times the public has been told that a collapse is a “wake up call.”

We’ve heard this before. In 2019 alone, three buildings collapsed, one killing a 77-year-old woman. In 2020, Miriam Pace died in a collapse in Ħamrun. In 2022, 20-year-old Jean Paul Sofia died when a Kordin site caved in. Each time, the same empty promises.And let’s be clear: this doesn’t need a public inquiry or another round of expert panels. It needs a straight answer to a simple question: who approved the works? Were the conditions followed? Who was responsible for enforcement? And who ignored the warnings?

And most importantly – who’s resigning?

Because someone should. This was a building that was not meant to be demolished. It was levelled to the ground under the watch of agencies and professionals who were told in advance that something was wrong. That building fell with everyone’s eyes wide open.

And the Prime Minister? Missing in action. Robert Abela hasn’t said a single word about this near-catastrophe – no public statement, no reassurance, no promise to investigate. I’ve been trying to think why. Perhaps the problem is far bigger than we realise, and he’s wisely avoiding comment. Maybe he’s too consumed by the PN leadership drama—or worse, maybe he’s betting that, since nobody died this time, the story will fade away.

In a sense, it might even be better for him to stay silent than to offer the usual empty vows of reform or inquiry—because the truth is, nothing ever changes. At least this time, he’s being honest about his intentions by saying nothing.

That silence speaks volumes. It’s a tacit admission that the system is broken—and that saying anything would demand accountability he doesn’t want. It’s clearer than any press release: without real political leadership, nothing will shift. Who’s going to lose their seat? Who’s going to lose their job? Not the industry, not the regulator, not the people at the top – they’re all shielded by a system that is so dysfunctional that even assigning responsibility is challenging.

And here’s the truth no one wants to say: I have no doubt that no action will be taken again this time around. In fact, I’m not even convinced that serious change would follow if 30 people had died — let alone in a case like this, where, by sheer luck, no one did. That’s how low the bar has dropped. And that’s why this story will almost certainly be forgotten by the end of the week.

It’s tempting to say we were lucky. That no one died. But that’s the wrong conclusion. Nobody died despite the system, not because of it. We got lucky. And luck is not a policy. It’s certainly not a substitute for regulation. If residents have to force the state into action every time cracks appear, then we’re not living in a regulated construction environment. We’re living in a free-for-all, where survival depends on whether someone cares enough to make a scene in time.

That’s not development. It’s negligence.