I don’t know if you’ve ever been inside a newspaper newsroom. Maybe it’s not very different from your workplace at city hall: there are rows of desks, computers side by side, and many journalists staring at their screens. Those who have been in this for a long time say that in the past, newsrooms had more table-to-table conversations, more collaboration, and you could literally hear it — there was more noise. One thing that hasn’t changed in newsrooms is that there are always lots and lots of books. There’s always a shelf or a table where newly arrived books are left so anyone can take them if they want. One of the first places where publishers send their books is, precisely, a newsroom. Sometimes books stay on those shelves for days, weeks, even months without anyone reading them. Other times, some books get lucky and are read really quickly. Vidas rotas [Broken lives] was one of those books.
[Music]
Vidas rotas is a huge book. I have it in my hands now; it has over 1,000 pages, and it tells the stories of each victim of ETA. It was published by the Foundation of Victims of Terrorism, written by three well-known authors in this field, and even today it’s a key reference for learning about the victims’ lives, from the first to the last. Literally. And the first one, the one that opens that list, is your sister.
The book was published in 2010, and very quickly reviews appeared in various media outlets. Ten years had passed since the assassination of Ernest Lluch, and the idea that your sister had been ETA’s first victim had somewhat fallen into oblivion. The tribute in Lasarte was being organized at that very moment, but it hadn’t happened yet — there were still a couple of weeks until your mother would receive that recognition, which did her a lot of good. So reading in such an important book that a little girl had been ETA’s first victim caught the attention of several journalists. Especially one:
Duva: And then I read the book and said, “Well, there’s something here about a little girl I had no idea about, this girl who died from a bomb at the San Sebastián station and so on…” And so I got to work.
Not long after, a feature story appeared in El País that would change many things.
[Music]
Welcome, Bego, and welcome to She Had My Name. A documentary series about a family’s silence over the years and the noise that broke it.
[Theme music]
A series by (De eso no se habla), co-produced with EITB Media and supported by the Ministry of Culture.
And this is episode 4: The Echo.
Duva: Well, I published this about the first, presumed first victim of ETA, the little girl Begoña Urroz.
Isabel: Why did you say presumed? You said the first, the presumed first victim of ETA…
Duva: Well, I always say presumed because when I’m not 120% sure of something, I call it presumed. In fact, I always jokingly say my presumed father, because I know for sure who my mother was, but my father… They told me that man who lived in my house was my father, but they never proved it to me.
[Theme music]
Jesús Duva was a journalist at El País in 2010.
Duva: And I am, because you die a journalist, right? I worked as a journalist for 43 years.
I met him in the lobby of a hotel in Madrid.
Duva: Let’s get to this because otherwise…
He told me that as soon as he read your sister’s story in Vidas rotas, he started trying to locate you.
Duva: I don’t know how it was… Maybe with something as simple as the phone book, which I’ve always used.
He thinks the person who answered the phone was your brother, Jon.
Duva: He was surprised that after so much time, no one, no one had ever been interested in them… Suddenly, a crazy journalist from Madrid called them because he wanted to talk about what happened many years before and about the death of their sister Begoña.
Of all the things someone can tell those of us who tell stories, that “No one had ever been interested in this before” is maybe what makes us think the story is right there. And Jesús Duva, of course, felt the same. Not long after that call, he showed up in Lasarte, at your mother’s house. Your father had died two years earlier, so he was received by your mother, your brother, and you.
Duva: His sister, if I remember correctly, is also named Begoña, which surprised me. I said, “Wow, how strange, having lost a girl named Begoña, the parents named another girl the same name.”
Since that call from Ernest Lluch, since that shared phone call with Ixabel, it was the first time anyone outside of Lasarte had shown interest in your story. You spent hours talking.
Duva: Very well. Very cordial and… I remember they called a neighbor. And she had also heard something about ETA and such.
That neighbor was Ixabel, the owner of the kitchen where Bizikidetza meetings were held.
A few days earlier, the Lasarte town hall had asked if you wanted to participate in the tribute. And suddenly, there comes “a crazy journalist from Madrid,” as he says. As if everyone had agreed to recognize your sister right at that moment: in 2010, the year marking the 50th anniversary of her death.
[Music]
Duva returned to Madrid happy.
Duva: Very happy.
He knew he had a great story in his hands.
Duva: “I think we have the lead story for this Sunday. The main theme is going to be this, man. This is a great, unknown story. I got the family to talk to me. We have photos…”
And he wasn’t wrong: his report was published in the Domingo supplement, a central booklet in the newspaper where big reports were published, stories you took the time to read. And of course, you have that report saved in your folder.
Bego: Look, this is the first… This is the first news story that came out. Look, January 31, 2010.
Your sister’s story appeared on the front page.
Bego: You see, the front page is a photo of my sister…
The little girl with the angora sweater you showed me the first time we talked. Below, the headline.
Bego: “The first victim of ETA.”
And then this lead paragraph:
Bego: “On June 27, 1960, a bomb exploded at the Amara station in San Sebastián. Begoña Urroz Ibarrola, 22 months old, died burned. For decades, the authorship of the attack remained in darkness. Now, 50 years later, the family breaks their silence and speaks to El País.”
Isabel: The headline was “The first victim of ETA.” How… Did you have any doubts? Was there any doubt about how to title it?
Duva: Yes, yes, we had doubts. We had doubts about how to title something as definitive as “The first victim of ETA.” But obviously, with everything I had obtained and such, everything pointed to her being ETA’s first victim. With whatever reservations you want, but obviously you couldn’t expect an official statement from ETA.
And lacking an official declaration, Duva tried to verify authorship by other means: he had the sources cited in Vidas rotas…
Duva: The vicar Pagola, Lluch, this and that…
… what you had told him at home and what he was told when he went to ask around the town…
Duva: And well, everyone said it seemed, seemed that the bomb, the one that killed little Begoña, seemed to be ETA’s.
And he told me he even talked with the Gipuzkoa police.
Duva: No, the truth is they didn’t say “jump in the pool, it’s 100% ETA,” but they said “Who else could it be?” and such… “Everything points to it”… “But well, they didn’t claim it.” “Well, that doesn’t mean anything”…
And after those checks, Duva thought ETA’s authorship was, above all, coherent.
Duva: I mean, well, yes, it’s coherent. That they never wanted to claim it? Yes, because it’s definitely not an action to be proud of, let’s say.
I asked him if today, knowing that it wasn’t ETA that killed your sister, would he have done anything differently.
Duva: Ah, no, no, I would write that report the same way after all these years under those circumstances, and I stand by what I said. And that’s what journalism demands and… Jurisprudence says, that when you do due and sufficient diligence to verify something, even if later it turns out you were wrong, you cannot be condemned for falsehood, because you did everything in your power to confirm it. And honestly, I did everything I could.
Isabel: Wouldn’t you have added “allegedly”?
Duva: Maybe, yes, yes, why not? I’ve never skimped on “allegedly.” Yes, yes, why not? Yes. El País or anyone else would never have titled “The alleged first victim of ETA.” Because, I mean… A lot of time has passed, but I tell you, I have always doubted and still doubt even about my own father, so… If they put you between a rock and a hard place and ask you “Is she or isn’t she the first victim of ETA?” Well… As far as we know, yes. But I don’t know, the absolute truth only God knows if God exists. So…
Isabel: Allegedly.
Duva: Allegedly.
Duva’s report had a huge impact.
Duva: Politicians, people very aware of terrorism, fellow journalists and such… Everyone told me “Wow, what an interesting and beautiful story”…
And your family liked it a lot too. You yourself have told me several times and I’ve seen the affection with which you keep that report, so many years later: the first report that made you finally feel recognized.
Duva: They were very happy. They liked the approach, the presentation, everything. They didn’t complain at all about the headline being “The first victim of ETA,” not at all.
But very soon doubts started to appear.
Duva: “Hey, they say maybe it wasn’t ETA, maybe it was ETA, maybe the DRIL, maybe I don’t know who”… “Guys, honestly I’ve gone as far as I could, I don’t know.”
Those doubts came from other media, but also from the newspaper itself.
Aizpeolea: Well, when it was published, I saw him one day and said “Very interesting, but well.” But I said “But… I don’t know. I mean… You’ll know,” more or less, right?
This is Luis Aizpeolea, who is now retired but worked for many years in the National section of El País. I spoke to him a lot, and you’ll hear him several more times in this series. It turns out that for him, one of the people who knows the most about ETA, it was not confirmed that your sister was its first victim.
Aizpeolea: I had the idea that ETA’s first murder was Pardines’ in June 1968.
And other colleagues didn’t have it confirmed either.
Aizpeolea: Patxo Unzueta already died. He was an editorial writer at El País. He knew a lot and had been in ETA’s leadership in the late 60s. And he told me, he was so surprised… He told me no, it wasn’t confirmed for him. But we didn’t do anything.
I asked him why they didn’t do anything, why they didn’t notify the newspaper.
Aizpeolea: I also didn’t dare without having the opposing argument. Also, it happens a bit with a colleague, right? When a colleague writes a piece and you have doubts, if you don’t have clear arguments, you respect them, I mean… And besides, the newspaper gave it a lot of coverage. It was three pages, a Sunday… Anyway, it got coverage.
But for Aizpeolea, what happened with that report had to do with something beyond Duva, even beyond the newspaper itself:
Aizpeolea: The question you ask yourself is “Why did a powerful colleague, like Jesús Duva, fall? Well, Jesús fell like everyone else. At that moment, of course, there was a whole climate, a climax around ETA. It was the time when all newspapers, TV stations, were talking about ETA all day. Just as now they talk about Pedro Sánchez, back then it was ETA all day. Obviously, in that climate it could only be ETA.”
And soon articles started to appear on the topic in other media. Articles that mostly accepted the story of the girl as ETA’s first victim. But some authors questioned that version. The first came two weeks after Duva’s report and was published by historian Iñaki Egaña. Egaña knew your sister’s story well. After all, it had happened in his city.
Egaña: I think in Donosti it was a very, very well-known story, but I don’t know why it had been left out of all the narratives and had been abandoned by history, just a footnote…
In fact, as a historian, he didn’t feel the need to write anything about your sister until 2010.
Egaña: I think I was aware that a big fuss was being made when some major media outlets started to claim that ETA was responsible for an attack. And then I said “Well, I have many elements of judgment and I can write an article pointing out what was a big lie, a big fabrication,” right?
He titled his article: “How a lie is constructed.” In it, he questioned the whole tradition that had started with Pagola’s footnote, picked up by Lluch, and reaching the El País report, passing through Vidas rotas, the book where Duva read your sister’s story. And to question those sources, Iñaki Egaña based himself on several things.
Egaña: The first reason was that, from some of the work I had done, I interviewed the entire first generation of ETA, right? And well, I already knew everything they had done.
And among those people, no one had ever told him about the attack that killed your sister.
Besides that, Egaña examined the sources and documents cited as proof of ETA’s authorship, comparing them with other documents from the time of the attack…
Egaña: Well, the DRIL claims, the opposition newspapers then say…
And he concluded his article saying there was no document that proved ETA’s authorship.
Egaña: Well, I have the impression that, since I wrote where I wrote and in the medium I wrote it, the easiest thing was to discredit me, right? They told me the medium was pro-ETA, that I was a conspiracy theorist, that I was a…
That medium, the medium where it was published, was Gara, a newspaper with an editorial line close to the Basque left-wing nationalist movement. But Gara was not the only outlet to question ETA’s authorship version: doubts also came from other media linked to more traditional nationalism like Deia or Noticias de Gipuzkoa, and from a Vocento group newspaper like El Correo. A few months later, for example, historian Santiago de Pablo published another article in that newspaper, El Correo. It was titled “The First Victim of ETA?”—with question marks.
De Pablo: What I did was a bit of research, like historians do, trying to be serious and go to the sources.
De Pablo started with the first source: the footnote by Vicar Pagola.
De Pablo: And in that sense, frankly, it seemed to me, honestly, rather unserious, because it was more like “it is said,” “the family believes,” “they may have the conviction”… No, it didn’t seem like a completely solid source.
He also analyzed the other sources on which Lluch had based his claims.
De Pablo: Of course, it seemed to me that those weren’t solid sources.
And, like Egaña, he looked for other types of sources he considered solid. But, beyond the sources, for De Pablo there was another fundamental aspect about that newly founded ETA.
De Pablo: The modus operandi of ETA at those early moments didn’t really match the case of Begoña Urroz, especially considering that on the same day other bombs had been planted in other places in Spain, so the whole puzzle simply didn’t fit.
And with all that, he wrote his article, which ended like this:
De Pablo: Well, I said, “In summary, there is no reliable source that allows us to affirm, not even as a well-founded hypothesis, that ETA killed Begoña Urroz, while some publications about DRIL seem to confirm their authorship.” That was my conclusion.
Despite the strength of these articles, and others that were published, the version that your sister had been ETA’s first victim kept repeating like an echo. I searched how many times your sister’s name appeared in the press before and after the publication of Vidas Rotas and Duva’s report. In 2000, after Lluch’s article, it appeared 6 times total; between that year and 2008, it didn’t appear more than a dozen times per year. And in 2010 it appeared 248 times. And since then, the frequency of publication hasn’t decreased.
Bego: Then the newspapers started calling us, wanting interviews… It was a bit chaotic, right? And then everyone wanted to tell our story, a historical duty, you know.
Many times you’ve told me you felt very grateful that your sister’s story finally came out of silence. But you also told me you weren’t prepared for what came next.
Bego: I felt overwhelmed. It was like, “Ugh, why did we say anything, why did we say anything?” Because suddenly you go from absolute silence to everyone wanting to know, everyone wanting to ask, everyone wanting… So I said, “Well, until now… until now, where were you?”
Suddenly, your story had, in a way, stopped being just yours. This was a recurring topic with Juanlu and you in your kitchen.
Bego: I said, “We are not going to give any interviews,” I remember one time they came, my mother must have said yes.
Juanlu: They called from everywhere.
Bego: She must have said yes, and one day I go to my mother’s house and I find cameras at the entrance. I say, “What’s this, what’s this?” “Yes, she said she wants to do it.” I said, “No, my mother isn’t going to do any interview. She’s 80 years old.” Then I remember we told my mother, “Don’t answer the phone and if they say anything about a TV station, tell them to wait for us.” So that’s it, they rope you in… Then they called from here. As soon as something came out in Diario Vasco, boom, you had…
[Music]
And maybe to take it back, to reclaim your story after giving a few more interviews, you decided not to speak anymore.
But despite your silence, your sister’s story became more and more known… even reaching places you didn’t imagine.
[Congress Ambience]
Bono: Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats…
This is the Congress of Deputies. The date is March 11, 2010. The event, a tribute to the victims of the 11M attack.
Bono: Today, March 11, we bring to the Congress floor the memory…
The President of Congress, José Bono, announced they had decided to commemorate every year the Day of the Victims of Terrorism.
Bono: Any day would do, any day would do, because our calendar…
Any day would do, but they had to choose one.
Bono: On June 27, 1960, fifty years ago, ETA killed for the first time. Its victim was Begoña Urroz. Everyone must know and nobody must ignore, neither in Spain nor abroad, that ETA’s first victim was a 22-month-old girl.
[Music]
Between that announcement in Congress on March 11 and the celebration of the Day of Victims of Terrorism on June 27, three months passed. I’ve thought a lot about those three months. Three months is a university term, a whole subject is taught in three months. Three months is the time pregnant women wait before announcing they are expecting. Three months is a long time.
I think a lot about those three months because I wonder if in that time, once it was public, no doubts arose. If nobody in the President’s team at Congress read Egaña’s article, De Pablo’s article, and the other articles warning of serious doubts about ETA’s authorship. If nobody warned…
Aizpeolea: Well, Bono might not have known, right? But some of us told him.
Luis Aizpeolea, a journalist from El País, told me yes, he warned Bono himself.
Aizpeolea: It was in a meeting with journalists and at one point, on the side, I made the comment, right?
And he said that his colleague Patxo Unzueta sent him a letter.
Aizpeolea: I know he sent a letter putting in doubt the version that it had been ETA.
And he wasn’t the only one.
Erkoreka: Obviously, I was surprised when I realized that everyone was taking that data as unquestioned, right?
Josu Erkoreka was the spokesperson for the Basque Nationalist Party group in Congress that year 2010. He clearly remembers what he thought when he heard that your sister’s date was going to be the Day of Victims of Terrorism.
Erkoreka: I was surprised because in Euskadi you don’t need to be an expert in terrorism to know that… Well, many people who have researched these topics deny that this was ETA’s first attack, right?
He told me he also warned people.
Erkoreka: I said, “Hey, if you really are thinking about choosing this date as the Day of Victims of Terrorism, you should check the information you have and document yourselves better.”
I asked him whom exactly he warned.
Erkoreka: Well, anyone who wanted to listen. Yeah, I said it in the Board of Spokespersons. I told President Bono too. And on every occasion when this was discussed or debated in hallways, in the seats, in, well, the thousand spaces parliamentarians have to debate among themselves, I expressed it.
But…
Erkoreka: But, despite everything, the machine kept going.
Why did the machine keep going, if there had been warnings, if there were doubts? Why did Congress go ahead?
Txema: Look. Either they did it very lightly and didn’t bother to ask and so on…
Txema Urkijo, who worked in the Victims’ Office of the Basque Government at that time and whom you will remember from previous episodes, has also thought a lot about this.
Txema: Or they did it without consulting the then Interior Minister or, I don’t know, maybe the minister didn’t think about “Hey, let’s make sure of this.” I don’t know.
The Interior Ministry, of course. Because this was a decision by the Congress of Deputies and Congress is independent from the Government, but did the Government know? Did the Interior Ministry know that it wasn’t so certain your sister was a victim of ETA?
Txema: But if the question is “Did Interior know?” Interior had to know. Of course they did. Interior had to know there were doubts at least. Interior had to know there were doubts. Yes. Definitely.
[Music]
At that time, the Interior Minister was Alfredo Pérez Rubalcaba. Rubalcaba died in 2019, so I thought the best person to ask about whether there were doubts in the Interior Ministry was his right hand on victims’ issues, José Manuel Rodríguez Uribes.
Uribes: The participant is recording this meeting.
Rodríguez Uribes was Director General of Support to Victims of Terrorism between 2006 and 2011.
Uribes: I’m quiet…
He had also been at the tribute to your sister at the Lasarte town hall that year 2010.
Uribes: I am muted.
When we talked, he was Ambassador to UNESCO in Paris, so we spoke via Zoom. The sound was not perfect.
Uribes: Better?
Isabel: Better.
Uribes remembered your sister’s case well.
He told me he learned about the case from Txema Urkijo and Maixabel Lasa, his counterparts at the Basque Government Victims Office.
Uribes: We began to realize there was an earlier unresolved case.
He called your sister’s case “an unresolved earlier case.”
Uribes: Indeed, we saw there was a gap there and that case hadn’t been recognized.
He also told me he was so interested in your sister’s story that he even investigated on his own:
Uribes: I started investigating in the Ministry and there were some police reports from during Franco’s time or later, which pointed out that it wasn’t ETA, that it couldn’t have been ETA materially, because ETA in 1960 wasn’t properly constituted as an organization yet.
So, Uribes, Rubalcaba’s right hand, the Interior Minister from the PSOE party that was in power when the Day of Victims was instituted, was clear even then that ETA hadn’t killed your sister?
Uribes: Let’s see. There weren’t absolute certainties about who was responsible. What there was more certainty about was that it wasn’t ETA. From the beginning, from the Ministry of Interior, we had that clear.
Then, I asked Uribes what he thought when he heard the President of Congress announce the chosen date?
Uribes: I don’t know where I was, I remember… Maybe in my office, on the radio, whatever. And I said, “But why are they repeating what some people say if it’s not proven?” You know? It struck me. But I thought he repeated it because that’s what was being said in the media and… And that’s it, I didn’t think much more… It made me angry. I tell you because I said, “We are here affirming things that have no basis…” And Alfredo Pérez Rubalcaba was surprised too. Actually, we were both surprised. We were together when we heard it.
When I heard this, I thought again about those three months between the announcement in Congress and the Day of Victims. And I asked if during those three months they said anything, if they warned.
[Music]
Uribes: We warned the Congress of Deputies when we heard that the President had said it was indeed the first terrorist attack, meaning the date was still valid, and in fact, June 27 continues to be commemorated. But we said, “Let’s not add that it was ETA, because there’s no evidence, quite the opposite.” I think if you look at government statements from that time, there won’t be any saying that it was ETA. The other thing is that nobody officially denied what was being said…
And that’s what I told them exactly: well, but it wasn’t denied.
Uribes: Maybe we didn’t do it as effectively as we should have. But I think at that time, we weren’t very keen on stirring controversy, given the mother was involved, you know? It was kind of… It was a bit harsh, you know? To go out and say, “No, it wasn’t ETA, it was this or that,” you know? The whole context was like that.
The context. Uribes talked a lot about the context.
Uribes: Remember, those were the years of ETA’s last gasps. Also, of an effort by the Spanish Government and the Basque Government to reach an agreement to end terrorism. So, I think in that context, in that breeding ground for the end of ETA—which hadn’t happened yet but could happen—there was still talk about ETA.
And think that it was this context that allowed the idea to spread that your sister had been a victim of ETA. The first victim of ETA.
Uribes: The case of Begoña Urroz, when it came up, was said again to be ETA, right? Also, on March 11 there was an attempt to attribute it to ETA, remember that. So, that context of political polarization, of… Now you would call it fake news or… I think it starts from an original mistake. I think the book Vidas rotas also plays a role in that… And an idea that spreads like wildfire in those circles and keeps getting repeated.
And there was, once again, Vidas rotas. The book from which Duva took your sister’s story. And now Uribes says that, for him, it was also part of that polarized context.
Uribes: Vidas rotas was a book rushed out in 2010, like, a thousand pages trying to say “Look at this horror.” And it’s true that ETA’s actions were horrific, but they added things saying “Well, wait, no…” It made me really angry because, listen, that’s not right… And we cross-checked the data we had, and, well, “Why do they count wounded as dead? That can’t be.” I’ll be clear: neither Minister Pérez Rubalcaba nor I presented the book because it had errors, including the Begoña Urroz case.
Despite chatting on Zoom and Uribes being quite busy, we ended up talking for several hours: Uribes has thought a lot about terrorism victims and likes to talk about it, you can tell. That’s why I think he understood so much my wanting to know what happened with your sister’s memory.
Uribes: Well, there’s also a part that has to do with caring for victims, right? Victims of Francoism also say, “We want the truth. The most important thing is: truth.” And I think, in honor of the truth, you have to tell the truth. It took a long time, well… But, well, Isabel, you know, there are many elements, many things at once… What I remember is that indeed many people started saying it was ETA, and surely many in good faith… People didn’t even question it. And some people sometimes use that for ugly political interests, you know? Nothing dignified. But in the middle are always the families, and they have to hear those things and so there’s damage that isn’t considered…
[Music]
And that brings us to June 27, 2010, at the Congress. The first time the Day of Victims of Terrorism was celebrated.
Six months had passed since Vidas rotas was published. Five since the El País report. Three months since the announcement in Congress. Many months but, still…
[Music and Congress ambiance]
Bono: With your permission, sir. Majesties. Associations and Foundations of Victims of Terrorism. Members of Parliament. Authorities. Mayor of the capital. Lehendakari of the Basque Government. Ladies and gentlemen.
And in the middle, there was a family that, despite the noise, remained silent.
Bego: I also remember they told us to go to Madrid. We said no, we didn’t want to go. Because after so many years of silence, suddenly appearing and telling the story is very hard…
Bono: Today, sir, is not just any day. The deputies have unanimously decided that June 27 be remembered in the history of Spain…
Bego: You can’t just erase those years of absolute silence with a stroke and say, “Okay, now I’m going to Madrid.”
Bono: A day like today, 50 years ago…
Bego: So many years keeping quiet…
Bono: ETA killed an innocent 22-month-old girl.
Bego: And you can’t suddenly say, “Okay, now I’m going to tell everything and here I am, I’ve gotten over it.” No.
Bono: She would be 52 years old today.
Bego: The pain is still there. The silence is still there.
Bono: In the calendar of our hearts, the death of little Begoña Urroz was just yesterday, and that is why we remember it.
Bego: No, no… We couldn’t do it.
After the Day of Victims, your sister was awarded the Grand Cross of the Royal Order of Civil Recognition for Victims of Terrorism, a plaque was placed at Amara station, she received the Gold Medal of San Sebastián…
Bego: Another medal. Then everything was, well, you see, all medals, right?
But why did this recognition come suddenly after so many decades of silence? That’s what you and Juanlu wondered in your kitchen when I brought you the information heard in this episode.
Juanlu: Of course, at that time the PSOE was in Parliament, I mean, in Congress there was PSOE, Bono was there, the president of Congress, and then…
Bego: It’s like talking to him…
Isa: Do you want me to talk to him?
Juanlu: You can talk, but he’s going to… Well, but… Yes, you can talk.
Isabel: The family wants to know…
Juanlu: Because it’s “Why?”, why, right? To see if they didn’t have enough information to say it wasn’t ETA. To their face, so they tell me “Look, we did it because of this and that.” I want to know the truth, the real truth, which they will never reveal, which they can tell.
Bego: No, they won’t tell you.
So I had no choice but to do one thing…
Isabel: Yes, I have his assistant’s number, but I don’t know if he’ll want to talk to me.
Aizpeolea: Maybe he doesn’t want to, but… But try it, yes. If he doesn’t want to, say he didn’t want to talk.
Isabel: Of course, of course. No, I have…
Aizpeolea: Well, tell him… Tell him if people didn’t warn him, if some told him he was wrong.
Uribes: I think he said it because he had read it 80 times and repeated it. He didn’t do more, but well, if you could talk to him, ask him.
That, in the next episode, Sunday, June 15.
Thank you for listening to She Was Called Like Me. If you are enjoying this story, help us reach more people. Recommend it to your friends, family, coworkers, or whoever you want. If you’re curious to know more, on our website you have access to much more information about these episodes: photos from the time, documents, and many more things at deesonosehabla.com, and in the “Extra Materials” section of each episode. You can also subscribe to our channels on any audio platform and even leave us a rating. Thank you very much for listening. See you next week.
