The question asked of him by the journalists was always the same: “what do you think of Luis Suchet?”, or “What would you say to the murderer of your family, if you had him in front of you”? As long as his fame was associated to me, there would be no hard feelings for him.
By chance, I learned one day that both of us had begun to study criminal law. He wrote an article about me in a newspaper and a friend cut it and sent me the clipping. I could tell he was very intelligent. I wrote him a letter but he never answered. Now, three years later, I had him there; I could talk to him in front of thousands or potentially millions of viewers. Everyone could decide then who was the best. We were playing for our destinies.
If there was something I had learned after being all over the news and being a public figure, it was that journalism needs two elements to survive and perjure: the story itself and the public figure. The story is either interesting or it is not. But the characters in it must keep the publishers and readers interested.
So it was difficult not to be loved by the press again, after the public statement I made. The next day’s headlines were “I would kill your family all over again.” That was what I said to him.
There was a little altercation with the journalists after the statement, although it did not matter because they really loved me after what I said. The scoop for them is always more important than morals. As for me, the immortality of my name is more important than morality. After all, isn’t that what the people we talk about in history books did back then? They just wanted to go down in history, no matter the cost, be it in terms of lives or economy.