People have criticized Leila Guerriero for being too kind and gentle in her treatment of Silvia Labayru. I find this criticism to be altogether unreasonable. To get a subject to disgorge a wealth of intimate details and confess to doing terrible things, you can’t approach them with self-righteousness and accusations. You have to establish a relationship of trust. You have to find something in them to like.
Guerriero cultivated her subject like a gardener tends to a rare and fragile flower. Throughout that time, she got to know Labayru. She met her husbands, her children, her friends. She participated in the daily life of her family. Unless you’re a total sociopath, you will feel a degree of closeness to a person you got to know so well. You will see their side of the story, and you will develop kindness and attachment towards them. All of this is clear from the structure and the tone of Guerriero’s book.
Still, as readers, we get to make up our own minds. Having read for five hours straight yesterday, I am now halfway through the book, and I have to say that my personal feelings towards Labayru are a lot less kind than those of Guerriero. The book would not be possible without Guerriero’s kind feelings towards her subject. I wouldn’t have any material to be able to make up my own mind. There is no need for me to accept the journalist’s perspective, even as I feel deep gratitude for the extraordinary amount of work she put into this project.
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