LITMIR.BIZ

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is not that I want to justify myself or anything like that, I know that what I have done is, at the very least, unforgivable, and I am sure that the sentence I have is fair, only that the same routine becomes unbearable every day.

      I don’t know how others do it, a lot has been heard from those who try to flee, or from those who end up taking refuge in a religion, but in my case I have no hope of salvation for my soul.

      When one runs over someone while intoxicated, or has an accident by overturning the vehicle that he is driving carrying a score of passengers, causing the death of some of them, one can come to repent and ask for forgiveness to the victims, One can even justify oneself that it was not intended, and that, if the circumstances had been different, none of it would have happened, but it is not my case, it never was.

      Nor is it that I consider or compares myself with one of those psychopaths, serial killers or terrorists, capable of killing in cold blood, without feeling any kind of remorse, or with those who seem to enjoy hurting others.

      I am just a normal man who has made a decision, I do not know what to call it, perhaps the right word is “drastic”, but I am sure that anyone else in my place would have made it.

      Some may see me as a kind of vigilante, as some newspapers have described me, or perhaps as enlightened, as others have described me, but I do not feel either one or the other.

      If they asked me, I would say that I am a normal man doing what my conscience dictated, it is true that this may not be the best, nor the most appropriate, but it was the only thing I could do.

      Now with time, I think that I could have other opportunities, other methods and ways of doing things, that did not lead to this end, but in those moments, perhaps due to pressure, it can be that, led by the circumstances, I had not seen any other option.

      Many media have judged and condemned me, even before knowing my version, so in the trial on several occasions the judge had to silence those who wanted to recriminate my actions, with insults and even threats.

      To tell the truth, this jail may not be so bad after all, since it protects me from such an agitated mass that wanted to take justice into their own hands, seeking to end my life, for an act of a few seconds.

      I do not try to justify what I did, not even the consequences of my actions, although sometimes I doubt that my sentence is fair, since there are worse people who spend just a few months locked up and are released, as if they had already been redeemed from their sins.

      The certainty that those are worse than me, is that in a short time they return to prison for a new crime.

      On the other hand, I have only committed a single crime in my life, if it can be called that, a fact that has changed everything I had thought about my future.

      Although they call me a lone wolf, I once had a house, family and friends, and I have nothing left of that now.

      The only memory of my past are those newspaper clippings, which call me a cold and calculating murderer, one of the worst in history, compared to the anarchists, who have tried to change the history of a country based on guns or bombs.

      And of course, my number, the one I wear on my clothes and by which they call me when a guard wants to address me, as if I had no name.

      All my life I have been called by that name my parents gave me, and suddenly, since I came here, no one has ever called me that again.

      Only my lawyer has ever called me by my name, well, I say my lawyer not to mention my lawyers, given the many that I have had and that have not lasted.

      Public lawyers obliged by the bar association to give legal attention to even to the worst people, who, in my case, precisely because of what I had done, no one wanted to represent me and they looked for any excuse to leave the case.

      Nobody wanted to see their professional career tainted with my case on their resume, something that bothered me a lot at first, since I live in a country where even prisoners are supposed to have the right, but I learned to accept it over time.

      On the other hand, and to my surprise, there are other cases, equally despicable like mine, that due to the notoriety they arouse in public opinion, they even fought to defend them, whether they were multiple murderers or rapists, all for a good headline.

      In my case, it is not that my crime is one of the worst, or maybe it is, but what I did not have was what is called good press, on the contrary, the media had primed me, they had scrutinized my intentions, my life, my relationships and even my history, and everything had been presented in a twisted way so that it seemed that I was born to commit that act.

      Even when I had given an interview to explain my reasons, they had only uttered those phrases or words that supported my guilt, not letting the general public hear my version.

      Hence, I have decided to write my memoirs, so to speak, that is, my version of the events that led me to be the media center of the country, as well as the most hated man of the moment, if this is something that could be measured somehow.

      In my years in prison, I have seen many types of prisoners, but I don’t think there was any like me who had a clear conscience knowing that what they had done was fair and necessary, despite the sacrifice that it implied.

      Day after day I remember that moment that changed my life and that of so many, for an act qualified as one of the most horrible that has been ever possible to commit.

      Although from time to time a chaplain comes here hoping that I will repent, I always tell him that I have a clear conscience and although the means may not be the most appropriate, the purpose justified it.

      In truth, no one knows what it feels like when everyone looks at you badly, and I don’t mean what the homeless person who lives on the street may feel and who just receives any attention from others; if not from the looks and feelings of contempt that they had never felt.

      Since the police caught me, I went from being a person to being, I don’t know how to say it, but those looks, gestures and even the treatment I received were anything but cordial.

      I do not even think that animals should be treated in this way, as if touching me supposed that some kind of infection for the policemen who were guarding me, avoiding looking at me, or if they did, it was with looks of contempt.

      It is true that my act may be despicable, but even so, I do not stop being a person, who has committed a wrong act, but a person, after all.

      But what hurts me the most of all is the issue of family, it is true that I did not have a close relationship with my closest family, but years have passed and I have not received a single visit, not even a note or letter, that has hurt me a lot.

      I still get some invitation to a television program, to tell what happened from the point of view of the dramatization of my actions, that is, as a way to sell books or documentaries using my name and my actions, using for such purpose, actors who highlight a part of me that I’ve never had.

      Envy, persecutory ideas or even insanity are the attributes that these actors usually exhibit who try to explain through the drama the events that some claimed could have changed the course of history.

      And that is precisely where I agree with the journalists, my ultimate intention was precisely that, neither more nor less, to change the story, or, rather, to change the story that will come and nobody wants to hear about that.

      They prefer to hear criminals who claim to hear voices that tell them to commit despicable acts, and even those who seem predisposed to crime from a young age because they suffered some kind of trauma, but my version is at least not very credible and therefore they prefer to ignore it.

      Sometimes they have been compared me to a religious fanatic due to my convictions and justifications for my actions, although I have always said that it is not a religion, or to follow some written precept, if not a question of basic morality.

      But when I had tried to explain how anyone else in my circumstances would have ended up doing the same, the journalists have even gotten up and interrupted the interview, as if I had offended them with my

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