A few weeks ago, Mikel Garikoitz, aka Txeroki, who was ETA's military leader, was released from Martutene prison under a semi-liberty regime. He has served seventeen years of the four hundred he was sentenced to. He leaves the penitentiary center to work and do volunteer work, as stipulated by justice. On El programa de Ana Rosa, they couldn't wait to find him at the door and chase him to see where he was going. Manu Marlasca, the collaborator expert in crime and other sordid topics, commented sarcastically: “Oh! Surprise! Seventeen years later, he enjoys a semi-liberty regime that has logically arrived when the Basque government takes charge of these types of consequences.” And, irritably, he asked the reporter if he had seen him working: “Have you seen him working much? Are his hands full of calluses, broken from working?” They insisted on the myth of the good life of ETA members. Ana Rosa Quintana lamented the difficulties in following him: “He is protected, unlike the raped woman”. She was referring to the victim of a previous news story.The reporter excitedly recounted his pursuit. The chaotic images recorded in the street with the shoulder-mounted camera incorporated the delirious questions he asked Txeroki: “Do you at least like democracy or something? With the victims there were when you were the leader of ETA, don't you even have the courage to say anything?” The journalist assured that the men accompanying him were “people from the abertzale environment” and reproached them for being with him: “Are you always with Txeroki, huh? Always warning him!” During a car chase on the highway, he ventured to state that the protagonist “moves the same way as when he was the leader of the terrorist group: he takes double turns at roundabouts, takes several directions, and when he reaches his destination, he changes cars”. While chasing him, the questions he asked him encompassed all the journalistic clichés of the jargon against ETA: “Do you regret what you did during your years as leader of ETA?”, “Has it been worth it?”, “What are you doing outside of prison, Txeroki? Aren't you saying anything to the victims?”, “Do you condemn violence or not? Or is this all a charade?” The reporter blamed him for his cold attitude, for not looking him in the eyes, and for not wanting to say a word into his microphone. All of Quintana's collaborators, fascinated by the reporter's intrepidness, congratulated him on the job done. The contempt they professed for him was paradoxical, and at the same time, how they lamented not conversing with him: “They were brave, when they killed innocent people in their jobs...”, criticized the presenter, blaming him for his cowardice in not showing his face. It is grotesque that these presenters who in the past lamented that dialogue with ETA was held to achieve peace now need to reincorporate these characters into the media circuit, have them exclusively, put a microphone to them, and obtain statements from them, even encouraging them to address their victims. The worst thing is to imagine what they would do if they obtained any response.
