He brought the sheet, covered the body, then calmly called 112.
En una tarde de miércoles en Lleida, una disputa familiar silenciosa llegó a su punto de ruptura más violento: un hombre de 78 años mató a tiros a su yerno, agente de los Mossos d'Esquadra, después de que este le prohibiera ver a sus nietas. El abuelo actuó con una frialdad que sugiere premeditación, cubrió el cuerpo con una sábana y llamó él mismo al 112. Detrás del crimen no hay un arrebato, sino el retrato de un hombre que eligió la eliminación ante el exilio afectivo, y que plantea ahora preguntas incómodas sobre los límites del sistema de salud mental y el control de armas.
- Un abuelo de 78 años esperó a su yerno en la calle con una pistola del calibre .22 y una sábana blanca en la bolsa, habiendo visitado un hospital de salud mental esa misma mañana.
- Nueve disparos, dos de ellos en la cabeza a corta distancia, dejaron muerto a Víctor, agente de policía de 47 años y padre de dos niñas de 9 y 14 años.
- El sospechoso cubrió el cuerpo con la sábana, guardó el arma y llamó al 112 para confesar el crimen sin oponer resistencia, desconcertando a los agentes que llegaron en menos de dos minutos.
- Los investigadores descartan violencia de género o disputas conyugales: el conflicto era exclusivamente entre el abuelo y el yerno, quien le había cortado el acceso a sus nietas.
- El sindicato policial USPAC y los investigadores exigen ahora saber cómo un hombre con problemas psiquiátricos documentados mantuvo una licencia de armas vigente y un arma cargada en casa.
Un miércoles por la tarde en el barrio de Cappont, en Lleida, Antonio, de 78 años, esperaba en la calle Doctora Castells con una pistola del calibre .22 y una sábana blanca guardada en una bolsa de la compra. Esa misma mañana había pasado por el Hospital Santa María de Salut Mental. Cuando su yerno Víctor, agente de los Mossos d'Esquadra de 47 años, salió de un supermercado cercano, Antonio le disparó nueve veces. Dos de los tiros fueron a la cabeza, a corta distancia. Después sacó la sábana, cubrió el cuerpo ante los vecinos paralizados por el horror, metió el arma en la bolsa y llamó al 112 para confesar lo que acababa de hacer.
Los investigadores no creen que fuera un acto impulsivo. Víctor había prohibido a Antonio ver a sus dos nietas, de nueve y catorce años, y la relación entre ambos se había vuelto insostenible. La propia hija de Antonio —esposa de Víctor— había roto el contacto con su padre debido a su carácter conflictivo y a los continuos enfrentamientos con su marido. El abuelo quedó excluido de la vida de su familia, y según los investigadores, decidió matar al hombre al que culpaba de ese exilio.
La secuencia de los hechos apunta a una planificación meticulosa. Víctor había llevado a sus hijas al colegio Frederic Godàs a las tres de la tarde y se despidió de ellas. En ese mismo momento, Antonio ya estaba en el barrio, conocedor de las rutinas de su yerno. Cuando llegaron los cuatro coches patrulla de los Mossos —en menos de dos minutos, pensando inicialmente en un ajuste de cuentas— encontraron a un anciano de pie junto al cuerpo, esperando con calma. Entregó su documentación y confesó sin dudar: «Lo maté yo».
Víctor era un agente respetado en la comisaría de Pla d'Urgell-Garrigues, en Mollerussa. La noticia sacudió a sus compañeros y a la localidad. Pero a medida que emergían los detalles, las preguntas se desplazaron hacia el sistema: ¿cómo pudo un hombre con problemas psiquiátricos documentados conservar una licencia de armas en vigor y tener una pistola cargada en casa? El sindicato USPAC ha pedido explicaciones. Los protocolos, dicen, fallaron. Y dos niñas han perdido a su padre en una tragedia que, según todos los indicios, era evitable.
On a Wednesday afternoon in Lleida, a 78-year-old man named Antonio walked into the Cappont neighborhood carrying a .22 caliber pistol and a white bedsheet stuffed inside a shopping bag. He had visited a mental health hospital that morning. By 3:24 p.m., he was waiting on Doctora Castells street for his son-in-law, Víctor, a 47-year-old police officer with the Mossos d'Esquadra. When Víctor emerged from a nearby supermarket, Antonio fired nine times. Two shots went into his head at close range. Then, with the neighbors watching in shock, Antonio pulled out the bedsheet, covered the body himself, placed the gun inside the bag, and calmly dialed 112 to report what he had done.
Investigators believe this was not a moment of rage but a planned act of revenge. For some time, Víctor had forbidden Antonio from seeing his two granddaughters, ages nine and fourteen. The relationship between the two men had become irreconcilable. They lived only about 800 meters apart in the same neighborhood, yet family members had taken to avoiding Antonio's street entirely because of what sources describe as psychiatric problems he apparently suffered from. The grandfather's access to his granddaughters had been cut off completely, and according to investigators, he decided to kill for it.
The sequence of events that morning suggests calculation rather than impulse. Víctor had driven his daughters to Frederic Godàs school, a facility in Catalonia where the school day is split into two sessions. He kissed them goodbye at three in the afternoon and left them in the care of the school. At that exact moment, Antonio was already in the Cappont neighborhood, having come from his appointment at the Hospital Santa María de Salut Mental. He knew his son-in-law's routines. He knew what time Víctor would pass through that street. He had brought a gun and a bedsheet.
When the four Mossos d'Esquadra patrol cars arrived—they came in less than two minutes, initially suspecting a gang-related killing—they found something that defied comprehension. An elderly man was standing over the body of his son-in-law, calmly waiting. Antonio handed over his identification and confessed without hesitation: "I killed him. It was me." The officers could barely process what they were seeing. This was not a street execution carried out by criminals. This was a grandfather who had methodically murdered his daughter's husband.
Víctor worked out of the Pla d'Urgell-Garrigues police station in the small town of Mollerusa, about 16,000 people. He was a respected officer in the Basic Police Area. The news hit his colleagues like a shock wave. A local councilor described the mood as one of deep distress. But as details emerged, questions began to surface about what had actually driven this killing. Some wondered if there had been custody disputes between Víctor and his wife, or domestic violence issues. Investigators quickly ruled that out. There were no signs of gender-based violence, no ongoing divorce proceedings, no custody battle with his spouse. The conflict was entirely between the grandfather and the son-in-law.
What emerged instead was a portrait of a fractured family. Víctor's wife—Antonio's daughter—had apparently broken off her own relationship with her father because of his difficult temperament and the constant disputes he had with Víctor. She had sided with her husband, which meant the grandfather lost access not just to his son-in-law but to his granddaughters as well. He had been locked out of their lives. And rather than accept that exclusion, he chose to eliminate the man he blamed for it.
Now investigators are examining Antonio's medical history to determine whether he was receiving psychiatric treatment at the time of the killing. What they have confirmed is that he visited the mental health hospital on the morning of the shooting. They are also asking harder questions about how a man with apparent mental health problems was permitted to maintain a firearms license and keep a loaded pistol in his home. The police union USPAC has expressed condolences to Víctor's family but has also raised an alarm: the protocols failed. A person with documented psychiatric issues should not have been allowed to hold a gun. How did his license remain valid? What psychological evaluation, if any, had authorized him to keep the weapon? These are the questions now being asked in the aftermath of a killing that was, by all accounts, entirely preventable.
Notable Quotes
Everything points to the elderly man having planned this. He was preventing him from seeing the girls, and it appears his father-in-law took revenge.— Mossos d'Esquadra investigator
Here the protocols failed. It's not possible for a person with apparent mental health problems to remain in possession of a pistol.— USPAC police union
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why would a grandfather plan something like this? What breaks in a person to make that choice?
The investigators think it wasn't sudden. He'd been cut off from his granddaughters for a while. Víctor had drawn a line—no more visits, no more contact. For an older person, especially one with mental health struggles, that kind of total exclusion can feel like erasure.
But that's a common family conflict. Custody disputes, estrangement. Most people don't respond with violence.
True. Which is why the mental health piece matters so much. He'd been to a psychiatric hospital that very morning. Whatever was happening in his mind, it was acute enough that he needed treatment. And yet he still had access to a loaded gun.
So the real failure was the system, not just the man.
That's what the police union is saying now. How does someone with documented psychiatric issues keep a firearms license? Who checked on him? Who made sure he was stable enough to own a weapon?
And the son-in-law—did he know how dangerous this had become?
There's no indication he did. Víctor was just living his life, taking his daughters to school, going to the supermarket. He had no reason to think his father-in-law would be waiting for him with a gun.
The bedsheet is the detail that stays with me. Why bring that?
Because he planned to cover the body. He wasn't acting in the heat of the moment. He brought the sheet, he knew the routine, he waited in the right place. Then he called it in himself. That's not rage. That's something else entirely.