I walk through the town of San Giuseppe Jato and notice that everyone is staring at me. I'm in heart of Mafia territory, reporting on a hotel and restaurant that is fighting back against the organized criminals.

But I refuse to allow paranoia fueled by silly mob films to influence my perspective. I tell myself that this is like every other dead-end town that no one visits. Locals wonder why you didn't keep going to better place.

Police hauled in the reporter for taking photographs of these signs located in a Silician town where the Mafia rules. Nancy Greenleese/World Vision Report

I approach an intersection where a half-dozen signs point to other towns. One is Corleone. As in Michael Corleone, The Godfather. American listeners know this name but few realize it’s the name of a town, another one where the Mafia rules. I snap a picture. "Signora! Signora!" calls out a young police officer. I freeze.

"Why are you taking a picture of people leaving the police station?" he asks, even though we are the only two people on the street.

I respond in Italian, botching up the noun and verb agreements. I'm flustered. Cops make me nervous, even ones that I could've babysat once upon a time.

I tell him that I'm taking a photo of the signs. He demands my documents and escorts me to the police station.

He tells me to make myself comfortable. What is comfortable about being pulled into a police station and having your documents taken from you for taking a picture?

He asks me what I'm doing in Italy. I tell him I'm a reporter. Then I lie and say I'm here on vacation. I'm sure he doesn't believe me. Yet I resist telling him I'm here to do a story about anti-Mafia efforts. In other countries, less corrupt countries, he might thank me and give me a firm hand shake. This is Italy. This is Sicily. While there are many brave and honest police officers, the authorities and the Mafia are often entangled. One palm greases the other.

His assistant writes down my passport number while I show the officer my pictures.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry," he says. He becomes super sweet, like one cannoli too many. I feel slightly sick. He's done what he set out to do: scare me. I'm not welcome.

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