Barcelona Metropolis

Patrick Radden Keefe joked that the books Say Nothing and Empire of Pain could actually be titled as such because both former IRA commander Gerry Adams, in the first book, and all Sackler family members, in the second book, flatly refused to cooperate or provide information to resolve the conflicts raised. The case of Adams is special, as he has signed numerous memoirs and gives interviews from time to time, but Radden Keefe emphasises that he is “clever”, meticulously monitoring everything he utters, and only making public what is of interest to him. In the other case, Radden Keefe has run into many closed doors each time he tries to get in touch with the Sacklers, but has found alternative paths in the housekeepers, the company doormen and those secondary characters that, from the sidelines, could hold the key to unearthing and discovering the clan’s involvement in the multiple opiate overdoses that American society has endured since Purdue launched its star product, OxyContin, in 1996.

Thus, at first the journalist only sees the tip of the iceberg, a secret that promises a truly novel-like intrigue; and once they begin to dig into a terrain they cannot stop digging deeper until they get to the bone marrow. Thus we find the parallelism between Radden Keefe’s two books: both are based on denial, the leading characters deny access to the truth because, ultimately, they fraudulently deny their involvement in a web of injustice.

Private details

It may come as a surprise that the author has peppered his books with so many private details of some people, at first sight, unnecessary. Radden Keefe points out that revealing private information is not motivated by sheer sensationalism. These tiny biographical anecdotes make up the key moment in which the journalist becomes a writer. The journalist points out that, after reading a book, it is sometimes enough to remember the impact of a single sentence, a single tiny detail that has been lodged in memory, because, like a trigger, it triggers the entire memory of a character, or of the imagined sum of a book. Thus, in order to move from the journalistic to the novelistic stage, the journalist must know how to portray “three-dimensional” characters, choosing their most crucial features, so that the novel acquires an effect that is sufficiently plausible to be accessible to the reader.

Some people are easier to novelise: whereas Jean McConville, as a result of her murder by the IRA, can be read more as a symbol than as a character, Arthur Sackler, the eldest son of the brothers running Purdue Pharma is an extraordinary character, in his opinion. Radden Keefe’s intention has been to write a book that upholds the rigorous nature of an academic essay, but with a depth that is accessible to a non-specialist audience.

With a view to achieving plausibility, Radden Keefe recalls a simple but effective piece of advice for Hollywood screenwriters: “The villain in the movie never sees themselves as the villain”. Everyone can believe they are the hero of their story, and it can be a defence mechanism for the Sacklers not to have to bear a guilt that until recently they had not assumed in the courts. This perspective must be borne in mind when we interpret the grandiloquence with which the Sacklers have built an account of themselves as rich benefactors of cultural heritage with their philanthropic donations and their narcissistic taste for naming museum sections thanks to a spotless reputation.

It took the endeavour of Radden Keefe’s journalistic fiction to make public the private interests of a company that has deliberately sown addiction in American society over the past two decades. Radden Keefe and other precedents, such as Barry Meier, are committed to thorough research to discredit a thriving multi-billion-dollar industry that has claimed thousands of lives in the United States, to increasingly extricate the prestige from the Sacklers’ legacy (for instance, the New York Met is currently debating whether to rename the museum’s Sackler wing), in order to tinge the name with the shameful colours of infamy and mercenary ambition.

By way of his latest book, Radden Keefe believes that his message has undoubtedly vexed business positions that have so far made a pretty penny from suffering to build an empire of pain. Otherwise, he would not have received threats or even constant stalking during the lockdown, as he says at the end of the book. Nevertheless, the journalist insists that it is not enough to impose economic sanctions on the company through the trial taking place while Purdue Pharma is suspiciously declared bankrupt, due to some “odd” coincidence. It is paradoxical that a family that enjoys naming museum collections so much has so scrupulously hidden itself from their business ventures, from a strategic and cruel backroom. Radden Keefe recalls that no justice will be done as long as the company is blamed and not the people running it; he compares it to trying to hold an interchangeable, impersonal car accountable, and not its drivers. For the Sacklers, this is just a “speeding ticket”, a carte blanche so they can continue to commit crimes under other forms of camouflage.

In short, investigative journalism must be like “a chewing gum stuck to the sole of a shoe” for the powers that be. This is how Radden Keefe recalled how an anonymous person involved with Purdue had defined his book. And this is how Radden Keefe wished to bid farewell to the Barcelona public, once again reiterating his enthusiasm for the profession and, addressing new journalists, he advised patience, perseverance and effort. An example of his fast-paced, restless and committed pace lies in his current preparation of a collection of short stories for next year, previously published in The New Yorker, such as one that bizarrely links the CIA to the origin of the most famous Scorpions song, Wind of Change.