Ricardo Carrascosa García, 49 years old, hacked his two daughters to death: Nerea, six years old, and Martina, three years old. When he found that they were dead, he took his own life throwing himself into the void from the sixth floor. He was separated from the mother of the little ones who, since then, breathe pain. It happened last September 25 in Castellón. As the days passed, it was learned that a judge denied the mother an order to leave the parricide.
I had threatened him with phrases as hard as: «I'm going to carry what you love most» or «From here, I end up in jail and all dead», but nobody considered that there was real danger and they denied it. If they had investigated a little, they would have found out that it was not the first time he had uttered intimidating phrases against a woman. Maria, his first wife, had to endure them. She stayed married for only five months. It was more than enough time to realize that he could die at any moment. Her then husband, among other things, had problems of uncontrolled violence and drugs.
María has decided to speak for LA RAZÓN exclusively. He has made the effort to remember the saddest part of his life because he wants to help. It asks that the judges, before making decisions, submit to drug tests and psychological tests to those denounced. "So, perhaps, the tragedy could have been avoided", adventure. "One day I found a note written by him, with the list of things pending for the next day. Put: "Call mom, pick up car, take money, farlopa + beer." In the neighborhood there are some who say that they were good people, but they do not know anything ». This is his story.
When did you meet Ricardo, your ex-husband?
In 1995. He lived here in Castellón, he worked in a tile factory, he was introduced to me by a friend. We met and we like each other. We had an ordinary courtship.
When did your relationship start to go wrong?
On the honeymoon. We went to Tenerife in July 2002. Suddenly, I saw him in the room pulling a joint with all the naturalness of the world. I asked him: "What are you doing?" And he answered me: «What do you mean?». "Al porro," I reproached him. "This is normal!" He replied. I got angry because I'm anti-drug and he knew it: "How normal? Here is a problem. " He did not turn it off, he gave the same and smoked it whole. Every time he wanted to, one would get involved. It was our first fight. The worst thing is that he did not buy it there, he had to bring it from Castellón. Imagine that they caught us at the airport, I knew absolutely nothing.
Was there any more fight later?
Yes, the next one was three days after the honeymoon. I arrived from work on a Thursday almost at eleven o'clock at night and I did not find him at home. I called his cell phone, but he did not pick it up. So I contacted several hospitals, but nobody knew anything … It was twelve o'clock, one o'clock and two o'clock. At four in the morning he appeared. I calmed down to see him, but I was pissed. I told him I could not get the phone. And he replied: "It's not that bad, my brother has come and we've gone to have a few beers. Why do I have to give you explanations? ». «I am your wife, I was worried», I answered. This is how our second row started.
Did it ever get violent?
If he did. The first time I had to call the police was in the first month of marriage. The reason you will not believe it: my mother gave me a set of coffee, among other things, for the wedding. Suddenly, he wanted to smoke in the bathroom and needed an ashtray. I did not like the idea, but I accepted. Then he told me to give him one of the coffee dishes as an ashtray. I refused. "Well, I want it," he cried moodyly. I stood and he had an explosion of violence. He picked up the coffee set and smashed it all over the floor while insulting me and shitting everything. I threatened him: "Either stop or call the police." Then, he punched the wall: "Call whoever you want." I was terrified.
I call them?
Yes. I was so afraid that I went down to the portal to wait for them. They arrived and I told him. The senior policeman replied: "These are typical things of coexistence." "But if I just got married," I defended myself. They did not even talk to him. I was helpless. I did not go to my mother's house because the poor woman was very sick and did not want to scare her. So I went up, I picked it up, I swept it and since we only had one bed, I lay down next to him. He did not speak to me at any time, everything was silent and I was terrified. The next day he said: "Are not you ashamed to call the police?" And he left. That was the first, but before we separated, I had to call the police up to three times more because of the fear that they would do something to me in those violent attacks.
When did the next one take place?
The day I saw him use cocaine in front of me. He began to make stripes on a table in a room that he had for his things and in which he forbade me to enter. I could not even go clean. He left the door open and I saw him snorting as if it were the most normal thing in the world. I reproached him and he replied: "Here who has the problem is you!" "You sniff the drug and the problem is mine?" I replied. A huge rally was mounted that day. But it would not be the last.
When did you decide to break your relationship?
When he raised my hand, during the last row. As I was still smoking and using cocaine, I told him that I did not tolerate it and that I had to do therapy. He was furious: he broke furniture, insulted me, kicked the bed and destroyed it. He even raised my hand. I could not mentally anymore. I was afraid that he could kill me. So I drew strength and said, "As that hand comes down and rubs me, I call the police." "I'm going to give you a shot," he replied with a disheveled face and continued: "I do not know if I'll go to jail or where, but I only leave this floor if you first do it with your feet in front of you." That day I decided to separate from him and start a new life.
Did you leave home or did you prefer to wait?
No, the lawyer recommended that I stay, so we lived together waiting for the judge to decide. He ate and dined on the street to avoid spending time with him. I was beside myself. He was able to yell at me for folding and placing his clothes in the closet of the room. He accused me of hiding it to drive him crazy. He said that the right place was on top of the scattered bed. At bedtime, he would make a ruckus and leave it on the chair. Look how I was in the head! Suddenly, one day they came to deliver him a letter. I knew it was to summon him for the trial of provisional measures of separation. I was terrified. I told him that the postman was looking for him. He opened the envelope, read it and began to scream at me: "Why do you want to separate? Our marriage is a raft of oil. " Another candle was set, of course. Finally, it was held and the judge ruled that he left home. That decision surely saved my life.