In the Soto del Real prison, there are two things that everyone who has visited or been incarcerated there knows exist. One is the tower and the other is Father Paulino, both are institutions within the prison.

He has been dedicating himself to prisons for over 29 years, interacting with the prisoners. Since May 2, 1998, he has been the chaplain of Soto del Real. Alongside another chaplain, they hold Mass weekly for over 300 people.

Some say he is a media character, that he likes to move in those environments. He denies it. As a good friar, he couldn’t admit it. Others directly think that, in reality, he is a character.

“I wake up in the mornings thinking that there are people who need me and that I can help”

Those of us who reside here permanently have to acknowledge that he has a skill that he must have perfected over the years. That skill is knowing, no matter how little he knows you, when you’re feeling well or when you have any worries or problems. If there’s one thing you can be sure of, it’s that you have his shoulder to lean on and talk to him, ask for advice, or simply have him give you a smile, a loving insult, or even a slap, and with that, you already have the feeling that he has changed your day.

I am a Catholic who attends Mass every Sunday and on holidays. I must say that on the first day I attended a Mass, I left a little scandalized and knocked out, I wasn’t very clear about what had happened in the last hour of my life. I had a doubt. Did I really attend Mass? Was the man in white the priest? Over time, not only do I understand it, but I also share his way of doing Church.

Who is Paulino Alonso?

Paulino is a normal person, leading a normal life, who has discovered that God is with him and that he is called to put his life at the service of others, and he feels happy extending a helping hand to anyone who needs it.

What did the young Paulino want to be when he grew up?

Nothing, I didn’t know what I wanted to be. I was destined to stay in my village, taking care of cows or pigs, working the fields, which is what there was in my village at that time. There was no thinking about anything else.

Did you ever think as a child that you would be surrounded by prisoners?

Never in my life, never thought about it. In a small town in Zamora, talking about prisoners was unthinkable.

How was your childhood in a town in Zamora?

Childhood in a town in Zamora was always the same: playing with companions and friends, going to school. And in winter, at most, going to the house of whoever had a television to watch it. In winter, everything revolved around the fire because of the cold.

Good or bad student?

Bad student, really bad.

Which subject was the most challenging for you?

Physical education, I always failed and had to retake it in September.

And which subject did you like the most?

Language, it didn’t bother me.

You served in the military, how would you rate that experience?

For me, it was very positive, I felt happy, right now I would do it again.

Would you bring it back?

Not right now. I consider that, in some way, the military service was a waste of time for many people. But I would leave it as a voluntary option, for those who want to do it.

When did you decide that you wanted to be a religious person?

I went to study in Salamanca when I was 11 years old, at the Trinitarians, and gradually I discovered something, while I started feeling something. At 18, when I was finishing high school, I decided to start the path.

“I try to give the inmates a bit of human warmth, the warmth that the walls and the concrete cannot provide.”

Vocation or devotion?

Total and absolute vocation, I wouldn’t do anything out of devotion.

Friar or priest?

Friar.

Why the Trinitarian religious order?

Due to a casual circumstance, when the friars were traveling through the towns, it was very typical in those years, searching for vocations. At that time, there were 9 guys from my village studying in Salamanca, and instead of going to León with the Augustinians, I preferred to go to Salamanca with my friends. It was a complete coincidence.

What makes you get up every morning?

Thinking that there are people who need me and whom I can help.

Is it easy to give up many things that you could have for the sake of helping others?

It’s very easy if you are truly convinced of what you want to do and what you are living.

When I found out that you don’t have a driver’s license and, therefore, don’t drive, I was amazed and admired you even more. What is a normal day during the week like in your life?

I wake up at seven-thirty, at quarter to eight, we pray the morning prayer with the 6 friars I live with in the community. At half past eight, I have breakfast, at 9 I organize a bit of what I have to do during the day, and around ten to ten, I arrive at the Ave María dining hall. When I arrive, attending to the end of breakfast, there is always someone waiting for me, I attend to them and organize a bit the things I have to see there. Then I dedicate myself to the commitments I have, either with the inmates in Soto del Real or with people from the dining hall. Until lunchtime, at three o’clock, I take the bus to Soto del Real. But I always try to do it with a smile and happily.

Then I spend the whole afternoon in Soto del Real until eight-thirty when I take public transportation back to Madrid. I pass by the dining hall, if I have something to leave or pick up, and then I go to have dinner at the community. I have dinner late, very late.

“The first time I entered Carabanchel prison, I was scared, totally scared.”

Are you a Barça fan to stir up controversy or out of belief?

Both, although I believe more in Barça than in Madrid. At the same time, I enjoy teasing Madrid fans and creating a bit of controversy and atmosphere. It’s important to keep everyone on their toes before the Mass, and football is a good tool. Afterwards, I start sending the messages that I want them to think about in their blocks.

When did you decide that he wanted or could be a prison chaplain?

I never thought about it in my life, it happened by chance. They offered us the chaplaincy of Carabanchel prison, and to not lose the position, I decided to go. I don’t know what happened, but I got hooked to it in such a way that it would be a tragedy if they took away the chaplaincy from me now.

What was your first time entering a prison like?

I was scared, totally scared. If they hadn’t shut the first gate, I would have run back. The fear I had was criminal, and those Carabanchel bars made a tremendous noise. I had no choice but to stay there until they opened the next gate for me to enter.

A father should never be asked who his favorite child is. Which block brings you the most comfort when visiting?

I am very happy in all of them, everyone receives me wonderfully. But if I had to choose, I would choose block 5.

Are you aware of the influence he has on the inmates?

I believe so, that my words are received with affection. And I also believe that what I say helps them, and often they tell me that the time I spend with them in the block or after Mass comforts them, which pleases me because it means that something must be happening.

Your work is not only with the inmates, but also with their families. Who do you think is in greater need of help, the inmates or their families?

They are two different ways of seeing things, it’s not the same situation. It’s clear that both need help, but obviously the one in greater need is the one inside the prison because he lacks everything and above all is deprived of one of the most important things in life, freedom. Families also need help because they don’t know exactly how their relative is inside the prison.

How do you feel when you leave the prison every day?

I feel that I haven’t wasted my time, I feel that there were people who felt a little better, especially that they felt a bit of human warmth, warmth that walls and concrete cannot provide.

If they told you that you had to stop going to Soto del Real, what would your reaction be?

I would be angry and rebel against everything, it would be very difficult for me to accept it.

“How would I feel if he were no longer able to visit Soto del Real? I would be angry and would rebel.”

How do you feel when people ask you about the most well-known prisoners?

I feel the same as with the others, as I have always said, they are all equal to me, I make no distinctions. Undoubtedly, some need my help more than others, but for me, the treatment is the same, they are all equal.

How many people have you dealt with over the years in prison?

In the 29 years I’ve been here, if I say 10,000 or 15,000, I might be underestimating.

And how many of them do you stay in contact with?

I stay in contact with quite a few, but fewer than they would like. I like to differentiate between the prison stage and what comes after being released. Maintaining continuous contact would remind them of the years they have been deprived of their freedom, and I consider that is not good for them, so I try to avoid it. That’s why when people tell me they’re going to write to me, I tell them it’s fine but that I won’t respond, but if they come to visit me, they won’t bother me.

“Every night, when I leave the prison, I feel that I haven’t wasted my time.”

What is the greatest injustice you have seen in prison?

People who could have been helped, but were abandoned because of a silly mistake they made at a certain moment.

If you hadn’t become a friar, what would you have liked to be?

Opening a restaurant in Laredo, Cantabria. I always said that if I left the friarhood, I would open a restaurant. Cantabria is my second home, and the food is very good in the Laredo area.