Dear Jose Luis, Before grabbing the camera again I’ll write you a few lines with the latest news. It seems that there are many people who want to know about you, I would tell you that everyone asks me. I know you won’t mind because we trust each other and, let’s face it, you love it. Today, to make you feel proud, everyone talks about you. I tell them that you were good with your children, bad with the bad ones, irreplaceable for Cristina, naive with his eyes, frank with his laughter, tireless with the camera, transparent at heart, curious by trade, very broad as a friend and fraternal with me. For the forgetful we wear a black ribbon in your memory. I am not in mourning. I’ve got a spare laugh from you. Thanks for everything and until next time.
I wrote these lines 25 ago years in the old wording of the News magazine, in Corrientes and Talcahuano. With two fingers and on a rickety typewriter I tried to do what I had set out to do: tell who José Luis Cabezas was. In the days after his murder, the rumors spread were thousands. Cabezas was “an extortionist”, “a double agent”, “an addict”. Cataracts of dirt fell on the image of José Luis with the clear purpose of diverting the true reasons for that crime. The only thing certain was that Jose Luis he was no longer with us.
We, the photographers, knew very well the human quality of José Luis. Our task was to illuminate who he really was. Very quickly, the magnitude of what happened, the danger of that metaphor of impunity and corruption, settled in society.
The Association of Graphic Reporters of Argentina, ARGRA, with the leadership of Osvaldo Baratucci, worked tirelessly for the achievement of justice. It was all very confusing, complex and intricate. And once again, the only thing certain was that José Luis was no longer with us.
“Taking a picture of me is like shooting myself in the head.” That would have said Alfredo Yabrán, considered the intellectual author of the crime. He was a self-fulfilling prophecy, he blew his head off with a shotgun when he was about to fall into the hands of justice. Before, someone had plotted the death of the author of that photo.
Things have changed, we photojournalists who have grown up with the ambition of being part of that publishing world, of getting to work in the big magazines like Paris Match and Time or our Seven Days and News itselfwe are running out of work.
I remember the incredible stories told by the beloved photographer Hugo Ropero when he was sent by Noticias to a Caribbean island. There, the famous trade unionist, Armando Cavalieri, enjoyed the sand, the sea and a young company. The magazine spent thousands of dollars and the work of two journalists to obtain this revealing document. Today it is unthinkable and, above all, unnecessary. The protagonists themselves post their photos on the networks without shame or modesty. We are inundated with photographs and it seems that we have lost the capacity for wonder.
Of everything that exists there is a photo and if there is no photo it is because it does not exist. The sick determination of Yabrán in maintaining his anonymity today would be impossible. But the truest thing of all is that José Luis is no longer with us.
* William Canton. Photographer and editor of Contrastes magazine, which will publish this text in its next edition.
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