Fernando Garrido sat across from Josemi Latasa, the man who helped destroy his family, in a room without cameras. Forty years after ETA killed Garrido’s parents and brother, they met face to face in an encounter arranged by Salvados, which kept it private. The attack took place on October 25, 1986, in San Sebastián. Garrido’s father, Rafael Garrido, then the civil governor of Gipuzkoa, was killed along with his wife and son in a bombing carried out by ETA, information from laSexta and other Spanish outlets.
The meeting lasted ninety minutes, away from the public. Garrido, who lost nearly everything to ETA’s violence, confronted a perpetrator who had left the group and expressed regret. The meeting began with a letter Latasa sent in 2011, apologizing for his role in the killings. That letter opened a door that had been closed for decades. Latasa was one of the ETA members involved in the attack, laSexta reported. He later distanced himself from the group and publicly criticized its actions. Latasa served about 10 years of a 479-year sentence for his role in the attack, a fact that reignited debate in Spain about justice and reconciliation.
Salvados, now in its eighteenth season, chose not to air the conversation itself. Instead, the program focused on what happened afterward and what the meeting meant. Garrido made it clear he never said the words “I forgive you,” though he felt it. “Of course I forgive him,” he said, stressing that forgiveness is private, not something to perform for others. Several Spanish media outlets noted that Garrido insisted on avoiding any "spectacle" and that the encounter was presented as a private dialogue about trauma and memory, including the limits of forgiveness.
Latasa’s remorse was not shown as a plea for absolution. The program avoided easy redemption or emotional manipulation. It presented reconciliation, if it happens, as something built on honesty and respect, away from TV drama and public catharsis. Information from elDiario.es and La Vanguardia, Latasa was among the first former ETA members to publicly renounce the group and seek forgiveness from victims, something still rare in Spain’s ongoing reckoning with ETA’s legacy. Spanish media have also described the episode as a private conversation rather than a public confession, and noted a broader turn toward personal encounters and letters to process ETA’s legacy alongside legal and political frameworks.
For Garrido, the process was about taking back control over his own pain. He insisted on privacy, refusing to let his trauma become entertainment. Salvados respected these boundaries, an unusual choice in a media field that often chases sensational stories.
By arranging the meeting without exploiting it, Salvados showed restraint. The program let the story’s weight speak for itself, offering a rare look at the aftermath of political violence in Spain. In a country still marked by ETA’s terror, a victim’s willingness to meet his family’s killer without spectacle or easy answers shows a kind of maturity that remains hard to find in Spanish public life. The encounter offered no closure; it showed the ongoing, difficult work of living with the past.
