The Lonely Summer Of Jaume Matas

Like other coastal resorts in Mallorca, Colonia Sant Jordi has its fair share of residences which are rarely occupied other than in the height of summer. These are the apartments, houses and villas which are holiday homes. Their owners might typically only stay in them during the month when Mallorca all but closes for business, August. It is a pleasant place, Colonia Sant Jordi, a pleasant place to have a holiday home. It is busy but not too busy. The wonderful beach of Es Trenc is close at hand. A boat can take you to the island of Cabrera.

Sometimes you wonder about these holiday homes. They seem like a lavish expenditure for only one-twelfth of the year. But then there are those who can afford such lavishness. Aren't there. At one of these holiday homes a photo was taken in August 2010. It was a photo of the owner. He was wearing a light-grey polo t-shirt and a pair of orange shorts. He was in pretty good spirits, it seemed. He was back last year, slightly earlier than normal in July. From his holiday home, an apartment rather than a house, he was able to make trips around the island. He visited Sóller, taking the train and hiring one carriage for himself and friends. The town's mayor, Carlos Simarro, greeted him as though he were royalty. He visited Alcúdia, where he dined at the Bistro Mar with an old friend, one of Telefonica's top men. He visited Palma where he had more to eat; it was a lunch date with an old colleague, the president of the Partido Popular in Palma, Jose Maria Rodríguez.

This summer, he will not be going to his holiday home. The apartment in Colonia will be empty and closed up. The owner will be going somewhere else. To a prison cell.

In August 2010, Jaume Matas, twice president of the Balearics, was in good spirits, despite knowing that not all summers in the future might be filled with days of wine and roses. In the back of his mind, he must have thought that one summer (perhaps several summers) would come along when he couldn't go to Colonia Sant Jordi. Or maybe he believed that those summers would never come. Charges for corruption that he and the rest of the world were aware of in August 2010 were just charges. Ever since, he has projected a persona of innocence, one of disbelief that charges could or should stick. Last July, he gave a press conference at a hotel in Colonia. He was coming on holiday and he was protesting his innocence. A few months earlier, he had been sentenced to nine months in prison for the trafficking of influence, a sentence which, to the surprise of many, had been reduced from six years.

Much has happened since last July. In November, and many of you will recall, there was some very bad weather in Mallorca. One particular storm hit Colonia Sant Jordi. Two pine trees fell down. They had given the holiday home some privacy. Now, it was exposed. The trees came down violently and suddenly. They were a metaphorical fall. It has been a very much slower process, but the fall of Jaume Matas has now been confirmed. He probably still doesn't believe that it's happening. How can they do it to him?

It has taken this length of time because Jaume sought a way of avoiding going to jail. He asked for a pardon. There was astonishment at the request. On what grounds? Astonishment or not, the request was processed. Some thought this process might take years. Maybe Jaume did, too. It didn't. Last week, he discovered that the pardon had been denied. The final say-so was had by his old colleague in national government, Mariano Rajoy, from the days when Jaume was environment minister and when another colleague in government was that top man from Telefonica, Eduardo Zaplana. Strictly speaking, it is the king who grants a pardon or doesn't. He does so on the advice of the government. Felipe was not about to make his first act as king a pardon for a politician found guilty of corruption. Nor would his father have made it his final act. Jaume has not spoken, but what must he be thinking? How could his old friend Mariano have allowed this?

In a few days, maybe this week, Jaume will enter prison. It will be a shock because he has given the impression that he believed it would never happen, that he was somehow above the law or at least capable of moulding the law to let him off. But he wasn't. The law, finally, has seen to it that he is imprisoned. And Jaume may himself, finally, realise that summers in Colonia will not be like they were. This summer might just be the first.