Mrs Tsintzeli, indeed I was born and raised in Thessaloniki. My family was an average middle-class family, with education and culture which they also passed on to us children. My father was a lawyer, his brother and my uncle was a senior judicial official, and my mother, who came from the Greek community of Egypt, was a graduate of the French nuns' school in Suez, with exceptional culture and linguistic education. You can easily understand that I grew up in an environment that encouraged knowledge, culture and empathy toward our fellow human beings.

The truth is that, living from a young age within the atmosphere of the administration of Justice, I had decided that I too would try to contribute a small stone in that direction. Naturally, an essential prerequisite was admission to and study at one of our country's Law Schools. Thus, after examinations, I entered and completed my studies at the Law School of Thessaloniki. Afterwards, again following extremely demanding examinations, I entered the Prosecutorial Corps, from which I later resigned under the circumstances you are aware of.

In this latest book of mine I describe my long struggle and the unbelievable prosecutions against me aimed at stopping this attempt to humanize an inhuman system of torture, exploitation and destruction of prisoners. Behind all this, of course, enormous financial interests were hidden, mainly involving the free circulation of drugs inside the dungeon. Naturally, I did not write these things for myself, but so that there would remain an example both of the power of the filthy networks that infested this particular dungeon, and also of the power of truth and courage whenever and if the state prosecutor is determined to confront all these things head-on.

Of course these networks were all-powerful, with high-level protection from the Ministry of Justice itself. Furthermore, it was -and still is- well known how easily they resort to extreme violence when such enormous illegal interests are threatened. Unfortunately, the corruption also extended inside the Justice system itself. Do not forget that all the absurd prosecutions against me (which all -of course- ended in acquittals) were brought by my active colleagues, namely state prosecutors. Not, of course, because those prosecutors were members of any network. Quite simply, they were people -not to say "small men"- who, when faced with their careers, did not dare confront the Ministry of Justice of that era itself, which under no circumstances wanted the horrors of Yedi Kule to be exposed. Faced with this completely unequal conflict, it was natural that at certain moments I felt fear, not so much for myself, but for the members of my family as well. Yet not for a single moment did I think of backing down, nor for a second did I think of leaving children to be tortured and girls to be raped so that I could save my career or even my life.

Paradise! It's like a vacation there, essentially a vacation, and good for them that it is that way; there should be prisons like that too.
Well, this young man [Pagratidis], under the pressure of many different factors and circumstances, plus the prosecutor's promise, confessed... because I also forgot to tell you something else important: within seven days he gave seven or eight confessions. How can this mystery be explained? In the first confession, for example, he said: "Yes, I raped the nurse." Then the results arrived from the University, from the Forensic Department — the girl had not been raped! Crazy things happened in this case. He gives a second confession: "Ah yes, mistake, I do not remember clearly, I did not rape the girl"... well, this happened seven or eight times, adjusting this man's confession to every finding that arrived each day from some service, forensic, microbiological and so on.

You describe it as sloppiness in the interrogation, I describe it much more harshly: deliberate intent in the interrogation. Sloppiness has no malice. Deliberate intent has malice. Sloppiness means you are careless — the word itself says it: "quickly, let's get this over with." But deliberate intent, when you manipulate evidence, is not sloppiness at all. And in this case, and in the book I wrote, I am much harsher. You are extremely polite, but in this story I am much harsher in my expressions than you are. There is no sloppiness in this case. Nor in the trial! There is no sloppiness whatsoever.

Look, this is purely a theoretical scenario because nothing like that happened, so I too am obliged to answer theoretically. If such things appeared during the pretrial investigation, meaning irregularities of this sort, the entire procedure could collapse. The defendant, through his lawyer, could raise an objection, that objection could be examined by a judicial council, and the invalidity of some pretrial act that was not carried out properly could be declared. That is what would happen today. I answer theoretically because your question is also theoretical: "what would happen?" That is what would happen. But back then... First of all, let me tell you something, because my age cannot be heard through speech. Back then I was 10 years old. So not only did I not know about the case, but I could not judge whether the procedures were correct or not. I was a small child then. I do not know how my voice sounds, maybe I sound elderly, but I am not quite that...

I cannot tell you what happened then, but today such actions are immediately annulled.

Look, in all these procedures, in major cases, and this is established by Law (I am not saying it), the prosecutor supervises all investigations. Precisely in order to ensure what we discussed earlier. Now, if the prosecutor happens to be like the prosecutor who supervised the interrogations of Pagratidis, then the game is lost from the start. After all, all this is history; you cannot hide it. The man went to the other world. Wrongfully of all wrongs.

The prosecutor's role is always substantive, never merely procedural. Everyone knows the procedures — well, not everyone, that was an exaggeration. The police, the market inspectors, the fire department. Everyone knows procedures. The point is, in substance, that the essence should not be harmed. I do not know what every prosecutor does, and I have never supervised prosecutors myself, but the prosecutor must ensure through the procedure that the essence is safeguarded. Procedures, especially in criminal procedure law, are something that tires law students in university when they study them in such detail, but those of us who have some familiarity with these areas always say that although it sounds tedious, it is a safeguard of people's rights. We did not create all these procedures to waste time, for students to study them and for us to talk about them in courtrooms or lecture halls. Procedures, in cases where freedom and, in this instance, human life are at stake, are as important as the substance itself!

No, nothing. Prosecutors do not draft any reports. Prosecutors merely supervise.

Look, this is indeed a pivotal point. The police — or anyone conducting these interrogations — have all these rights and obligations from the moment charges are formally brought. That is, from the moment someone becomes an accused person, all the so-called rights of the accused are automatically activated, among them access to a lawyer. The police may simply conduct (or the prosecutor's office may order) what is called a preliminary examination. There, nobody is yet an accused person. So the police summon him on behalf of the prosecutor (or, in a serious case, the prosecutor himself does) in the sense of saying: "Come on, let's see what happened here, whether we should proceed or not." Here, nobody is accusing him of anything yet. But when charges are formally brought — what we now say as "I accuse you of homicide," "I accuse you of rape," "I accuse you of robbery" — from that point onward an entire set of provisions automatically comes into effect, which in one phrase are called the rights of the accused.

Perhaps that was it, yes. They probably made use of that argument: "we are not calling him guilty" (they would not have called him guilty anyway), "we are not formally charging him." Perhaps they thought of it that way.

At this stage, in these felonies, the examining magistrate repeats in greater detail what the police already did, because the police, as we said, had already taken his statement — in fact seven statements. The examining magistrate, if you look at the case file, you will see that there is an extremely lengthy statement — beyond the seven! Because in cases where we suspect that something improper or illegal may have occurred at the police level, the person no longer has that fear before the examining magistrate. He does not have that fear; the magistrate is a judicial officer. And the interrogation takes place in the presence of a clerk and with all the formalities. Here is yet another confirmation that procedures and formalities are not without significance! So the interrogation is formally conducted by a regular judge (the examining magistrate is a regular judge). If he wishes, the prosecutor may also attend the interrogation. This is not mandatory, of course, but if he wants to, he may attend; it is his right.

No, whichever prosecutor happens to be on duty that day may attend. Why? Because when the defendant's statement in this interrogation is completed, the issue will arise whether he should be remanded in custody or not. For someone to be remanded in custody, the examining magistrate and the prosecutor must agree. So in major cases, if the prosecutor does not have some other work at that moment, he may attend the interrogation and listen. Instead of the examining magistrate later explaining everything to him — when he asks for his opinion — he hears it at that moment, and the two of them jointly decide on detention or release. Also, if the defendant has no lawyer or no money to pay for one, the state, in felony cases, appoints one for him from an existing list.

During the interrogation, yes, if it concerns a felony. Because if it is a misdemeanor, for example, someone may say either during the interrogation or in court: "I do not have a lawyer, I can handle the traffic accident I caused myself." Then the law steps in and says: "Fine, it is a lesser matter." Some misdemeanors are very serious, of course, but in any case he has the right to say "I do not want a lawyer," what can we do? But in felonies, the law itself steps in and says: "You may not want a lawyer, but I want a balanced situation between the accused and the state. You may not want one, but I do!"

He was tried for felonies, he simply went before a different composition of judges. Look, let me put it this way. Homicides were tried before mixed jury courts, meaning with jurors. Robberies were tried before felony courts composed only of judges. He therefore had both homicides and robberies. The more serious offense was homicide. So he should have gone before a jury court. Let me give you one shocking argument: the prosecutor at Pagratidis' trial stood up before the trial began and requested that the court declare itself incompetent. "We are not," he said, "competent." The prosecutor was an honorable man. A man named Sgouritsas — let us mention his name too.

Michalis Sgouritsas. Such outrageous things happened here. When the prosecutor stands up and says "we are not competent to try this man, you brought him before the wrong court"... He said it three times. Once at the beginning, once in the middle and once at the end. All three times the court rejected it. And let me tell you just one thing, shocking in my opinion. When the court finally declared Pagratidis guilty of the things for which he was convicted, the death penalty should 100% have been imposed under the law. Sgouritsas then stood up and proposed life imprisonment. Sgouritsas was not ignorant; he knew what the penalty was.

With whatever procedural path he could find, because (having myself been a prosecutor for years, I can enter into the prosecutor's mindset) he obviously thought: "I cannot do anything else; at least let them not kill this man. Let us keep him alive and see what else may emerge in one or two years." Sgouritsas could not possibly have made such a mistake and proposed "life imprisonment" for such murders. He simply did not want this man to be executed.

I will tell you one thing: I do not know when it was decided. What I can tell you, negatively speaking, is this: it was not the examining magistrate’s responsibility. When the examining magistrate finishes the investigation and closes the file, as we say, he sends the entire file back to the prosecutor’s office. From that point on, who decided what... In any case, I can answer you directly in the negative: it is not the examining magistrate who determines which court the case will go to. The law determines which court it will go to. Now, what happened here and why they sent him to that particular court...

Yes, that is exactly what he did [the presiding judge]. He would pull his hair. When he did not like a question — unbelievable things, my dear, unbelievable — he would hit his head with his hands. Things that I, having spent more than 50 years in the field of Justice in various capacities, have never seen again. Many times we disagree with judges, judges disagree with us, when I was a prosecutor I disagreed with lawyers, all within the bounds of propriety. Never once did I ever imagine pursuing a lawyer with lawsuits and such things the way they pursued Pagratidis' lawyer [Sapountzis].

It was the exact opposite, the exact opposite. Public opinion was roaring, it was roaring.

Of course! I will tell you just one thing: I have in my hands a Police magazine that was published back then, I believe it was called Police Review. It contained entire lengthy articles by a police director explaining why Pagratidis was guilty. In another newspaper, there were similarly long articles by a prosecutor from Thessaloniki explaining again why Pagratidis was guilty. And I reasonably ask myself, because I have never seen anything like this before: once the trial was over, the decision final and irrevocable, and everything finished, what was the reason that compelled them every so often to keep shouting that "the man we sent before the firing squad was guilty"? So there was obviously something very serious that they perhaps did not want to lead to a new investigation (or who knows what else). Because the public never believed — never — that Pagratidis was guilty. The difference between society’s belief back then and my own book is that society correctly sensed it, but instinctively. My book, however, said the exact same thing, but with evidence. And God forbid I blame or disparage anyone, because ordinary people did not have the access I had to the Justice system. By access, I mean legitimate access to documents and everything else. I therefore considered it unworthy of my office and unworthy of my conscience that, while I was able to reveal these things, I should remain silent merely so as not to upset certain circles. I considered it my duty. Beyond that, let everyone else do as they understand best.

No, they are not protected at all, for the very simple reason that certain mechanisms — such as the appointment of the leadership of the Justice system by the government of the day — completely undermine impartiality and freedom of decision-making. When you owe a high-ranking position in the Justice system to a government, whichever government it may be, then obviously that government selects you so that you in turn will make certain specific choices later on, in major cases. Therefore, as long as the leadership of the Justice system is appointed by the government of the day, it is pointless to expect an independent Justice system at the higher levels. At the lower levels perhaps not. But the issue is that major cases eventually reach the upper ranks of these appointed judges (the very things you constantly read about in newspapers today). There is therefore absolutely no hope of an independent Justice system as long as this mode of operation remains in place. And now I will tell you something with bitterness — great bitterness. Yatagana and I were being persecuted by the Ministry of Justice and by the government that wanted to cover up those horrors [Yedi Kule]. Fine, up to that point. "What is the bitterness?" you may ask me. "Wouldn't you expect that from a government?" Of course I would. The bitterness lies elsewhere: the government carried it out through judges! In other words, the prosecution papers I received in my hands were not sent to me by the Minister of Justice. They were sent to me by a senior prosecutor! Then came the next prosecution, the second, the third, the tenth, from various prosecutors, none of whom belonged to any kind of criminal circle — none whatsoever — but who simply did not dare stand up and say... anyway, I do not wish to offend anyone.

Look, if you are asking theoretically, yes, it is possible. It is a legal remedy.

Not automatically, someone has to initiate it. And it does not necessarily have to be a relative, it can still happen, but in any case the issue is something else. Look here. A legal observation: for a retrial to be accepted, new evidence must have emerged that was not known to the court that originally heard the case. Please pay very close attention to this, both you and your readers. In this particular case of mine — take my book or any other book about Pagratidis written by someone knowledgeable on the subject — no new evidence has emerged. There is no new evidence whatsoever. What exists is the highlighting of the misinterpretation of the evidence that was already known. Consequently, the basis required for a retrial does not even appear to exist. And secondly, let us say for the sake of argument that there is one new piece of evidence, or two, or three, or thirteen. I am extremely skeptical as to whether the Greek Justice system would ever come forward and say: "We unjustly killed a 26-year-old young man." I am extremely skeptical. I do not wish to judge individuals, especially now after so many years. I do not even know who among my old friends and colleagues may now be sitting on the Supreme Court, I am not even sure who they are, and I do not wish to offend anyone. But whoever they may be, they are still the Justice system. In other countries, in America for example, the Justice system nearly imprisoned a president and did imprison the Minister of Justice, a man named Mitchell if you remember those old years (instead of imprisoning Nixon). But here we are talking about Greece. Will this Justice system that you know and I know ever come out and say, "Yes, by mistake we executed a man"? So when people asked me: "Why don't you yourself file a retrial request? You know the laws, you know everything, you possess all this evidence..." Yes, but among all the things I know, I also know the Justice system.

Leave it, do not pursue that now... I do not like talking about myself at all. You asked me, and the conversation shifted while we were discussing Pagratidis, and now we are speaking about Yedi Kule. But let me tell you something: sometimes a person's actions speak for them, and they do not need to say much themselves. When someone confronted such terrifying circles, succeeded in shutting down a prison, lost his position, and found himself out on the street at forty years old, then anything further he says is unnecessary.

Look, first of all, regarding myself personally, I cannot say whether I possess empathy or not, for one very simple reason: nobody can be a fair judge of themselves. I can say, however, with a slight modification to your question, that I think I possess empathy. I think. Because I always cared for prisoners, the poor, the underprivileged.
As for your second point, the empathy of the judicial body itself, that is a far more practical matter. Many people asked me, I believe in good faith: "Well then, before you, did other prosecutors not inspect Yedi Kule? You were simply the last one before everything happened and the prison closed down. Were there not others before you?" And I answered: "Of course there were others before me, but I cannot account for or explain the consciences of other people. Morally and legally, I am obligated only to explain my own conscience. As for the questions you ask, go and ask the prosecutors who came before me. Did they not see it? Did they forget? Did they not hear the screams of those being tortured? Go and let them tell you. I answer only to myself and to my conscience. Did I see it? Then that settles it. It will be exposed and the prison will be shut down. What the previous prosecutors did — they have homes, addresses, telephones, go find them and ask them. Just as you are interviewing me now, they should go interview them."

I do not know, I do not know that either.

Look, this is one of those questions where the answer seems easy, but is actually very difficult. Because what is the easy answer? To let myself be carried away by my own experiences and say: "Yes! Clash with them, fight them, do this, do that!" with the safety of knowing that I myself clashed with them, lost my position, and therefore possess the moral right to say such things. But because I know the consequences in this country, I am very cautious about acts of heroism and encouraging others toward heroics. Because I know what it means for a forty-year-old man with three infant children to suddenly find himself out on the street. Forty years old back then. I am not forty now. Now I am almost one hundred and forty (laughter). But given the conditions of that era, it was not easy... because think about something else too: for a university graduate to be unemployed is considered normal. He stays with his parents until he finds work, and so on. Now imagine a fully established man, with a family, with three small children, with a wife who did not work then (and still does not), with such studies behind him, after such difficult examinations, suddenly finding himself out on the street. Therefore I cannot now raise the sword of heroism and integrity and shout: "You should all do the same thing!"

Therefore the only thing I can say, very moderately and without grandstanding or heroic slogans, is this: "Your conscience will guide you. I cannot take responsibility for your lives and tell you to go through what I went through. Do whatever your conscience tells you to do, full stop."