Murder in Crete: “I was not myself” – What the 54-year-old claimed in his testimony

The 54-year-old accused of murdering the 20-year-old in Heraklion, Crete, as well as his 56-year-old wife, who was in the car with him at the time of the murder, were remanded in custody.

According to Nea Kriti, the testimonies of the two took place under strict security measures and away from the public eye, at the offices of the Heraklion Security Directorate, inside the Police Headquarters. For security reasons, it had initially been leaked that the procedure would take place on Monday; however, it was ultimately carried out on Thursday, in the presence of their defense lawyers.

What the 54-year-old claimed in his testimony

According to cretalive, during his testimony the 54-year-old referred to the psychological collapse he had been experiencing in recent years following the death of his son, as well as his anger over the alleged impunity of the 20-year-old, as the reasons that drove him to commit the crime, which continues to shock the local community.

“At that moment I lost the ground beneath my feet, a black veil covered my already burdened and sick mind, I blacked out, I entered a state of frenzy, delirium, and complete mental turmoil, and immediately, under a regime of immeasurable pain, terrible anger, and immense rage that blocked my thinking — without realizing it — I crashed into the car driven by the deceased,” the defendant reportedly said while describing the moment of the murder.

In detail, he stated:

“For the past two and a half years, unfortunately, I saw no progress at all. My already burdened mental state was worsened by the fact that the deceased was walking around freely without any punishment; no criminal prosecution had even been brought against him for any offense. Many times when he encountered me on the street, he mocked and ridiculed me by screeching his tires and making maneuvers, driving past my house blasting loud music, while both he and his family, instead of expressing any sympathy to me — even in a symbolic way — had filed a false complaint claiming that I had shot at them outside their house, which was not true.”

“No justice, divine or human, would bring back my George, my strength, my laughter.”

Describing his psychological condition shortly before the killing, he claimed:

“My condition kept deteriorating continuously, with the result that lately I had not slept a wink for at least 10 days. I cried incessantly because the day of Saint Irene was approaching, on which day, exactly nine years ago, the son of my first cousin Konstantinos Varotsis — Charilaos — unjustly lost his life in a traffic accident at the exact same spot (the same pole) where my only son also died, exactly the same amount of time after the incident as my son (19 days later), and who is buried in the same grave as my son. It should be noted that I named my late son Georgios in honor of my also late first cousin Georgios Varotsis, brother of Konstantinos, who likewise died in a traffic accident in 1990 outside the entrance to Heraklion airport. So I took the revolver with me (which I voluntarily handed over to the police during my spontaneous and voluntary appearance) to the cemetery in order to fire two celebratory shots into the air in honor of the child’s memory, as is customary in our region. However, because many outsiders had gathered at the memorial service — gatherings over our children’s grave — I ultimately did not do it.”

“At that moment I lost the ground beneath my feet, a black veil covered my already burdened and sick mind, I blacked out, entered a state of frenzy, delirium, and complete mental turmoil, and immediately, under a regime of immeasurable pain, terrible anger, and immense rage that blocked my thinking — without realizing it — I crashed into the car driven by the deceased. Instead of getting up and leaving, he got out of the car and attacked me, kicking me with both feet. At that moment, under the weight of harsh feelings of rage, indignation, anger, and boundless sorrow that overwhelmed and consumed me, and that blocked my perception and my calm and rational thinking and causally determined my behavior, I pulled out the revolver and shot at the deceased — I do not even remember how many times — killing him.”

“At that moment, in his face I saw nothing other than my son’s killer. I was not myself. Besides, the real Kostas had long since disappeared. I could not control myself, my thoughts, or my behavior. A black veil had covered my mind. The only thing I barely remember from that moment is my wife screaming, ‘NO KOSTAS NO NO,’ and crying while pulling her hair inside the car. Whatever I did, I did without being able to control myself, overwhelmed by harsh feelings of rage, indignation, anger, and at the same time disappointment from the mockery consistently shown by the deceased, the inaction and overall delay of the system, as well as particularly by his behavior immediately preceding my act. I had become a madman…”