His father had never owned a foreign account, he insisted.
In a Barcelona courtroom, the legacy of Jordi Pujol—once the defining political figure of Catalonia—is being quietly dismantled by his own children. The trial examines whether hundreds of millions of pesetas hidden in Andorran accounts belonged to the former president or to the family members who now claim sole responsibility for them. It is a story as old as power itself: the moment when inherited fortune and public trust are forced into the same light, and someone must answer for what is found there.
- A 307-million-peseta Andorran account has surfaced at the center of a tax evasion investigation into one of Catalonia's most powerful political dynasties.
- Rather than defending their father, the Pujol sons are testifying against his involvement—an unusual inversion that raises as many questions as it answers.
- Jordi Pujol Ferrusola claims he personally managed the funds, even describing carrying religious missals to Andorra in a detail too specific to be easily dismissed or easily believed.
- Brother Josep corroborates the inheritance narrative, placing his own share at 125 million pesetas and framing the fortune as a family legacy, not a political secret.
- The trial now hinges on whether this coordinated testimony reflects genuine family accounting or a carefully constructed shield around the former Catalan president.
The courtroom in Barcelona has become the stage for an unusual spectacle: the sons of Jordi Pujol, former president of Catalonia and one of the region's most consequential political figures, are testifying not in his defense but in his absence from the fortune. Jordi Pujol Ferrusola, the eldest, told the court plainly that his father had never held a foreign bank account—that the 307 million pesetas discovered in Andorra were his alone to account for.
His testimony was detailed in ways that cut both ways. He described managing the funds himself, moving money at his mother's direction, and even carrying religious missals to Andorra intended for a priest at the bank. The specificity either anchors the story in lived experience or reveals the careful stitching of a constructed alibi.
His brother Josep offered a parallel account: their grandfather's inheritance had been divided among the family, and his own portion had amounted to 125 million pesetas. Together, the brothers were assembling a coherent architecture—old money, family inheritance, personal management—that placed their father at a deliberate remove from the hidden wealth.
What hangs over the proceedings is the question the testimony cannot quite resolve: whether this is an honest reckoning with a complicated family fortune, or a strategic repositioning designed to protect a patriarch whose decades of political power have now drawn the scrutiny of tax authorities. The trial will ultimately decide not just who owned the money, but what accountability means when private wealth and public power have spent a lifetime entwined.
The courtroom in Barcelona held the weight of a family's unraveling. Jordi Pujol Ferrusola, the eldest son of Jordi Pujol—the former president of Catalonia who once shaped the region's political destiny—sat in the witness box and made a simple claim: his father had never owned a foreign bank account. The millions hidden in Andorra, he insisted, belonged to him alone.
The trial had become a strange inversion of family loyalty. Rather than defending the patriarch, the sons were systematically distancing him from the fortune that had emerged from the shadows in recent years. The Andorran account in question held 307 million pesetas—a sum substantial enough to reshape lives, to raise questions about where it came from, and to invite scrutiny from tax authorities who had been watching the Pujol family with increasing interest.
Jordi Ferrusola's testimony offered a particular narrative: he had managed the money himself, moving funds to Andorra, handling transactions that his mother had entrusted to him. He described carrying religious missals—prayer books—to Andorra, items his mother had intended for a priest at the bank. The detail was oddly specific, the kind of thing that either grounds a story in truth or reveals the seams of a constructed one. Either way, it placed the responsibility squarely on his shoulders, not his father's.
His brother Josep corroborated the story, though with his own variation. He testified that their grandfather's inheritance had been divided among the family members. His own share, he stated, had been 125 million pesetas. The brothers were building a consistent architecture: the money came from inheritance, not from hidden dealings or undisclosed business arrangements. It was family wealth, passed down, managed by the sons rather than the father.
The trial was examining not just the existence of the hidden accounts but the question of who bore responsibility for them. Jordi Pujol, the expresident, had long been a towering figure in Catalan politics, a man who had held power and shaped policy for decades. Now, in his later years, his own children were testifying in court, and their words were creating distance between him and the fortune that had come to light. Whether this was a genuine accounting of family finances or a strategic repositioning remained the central question hanging over the proceedings.
The implications extended beyond the courtroom. If the sons were telling the truth, then the hidden wealth was a matter of family inheritance and personal management. If they were not, then questions of tax evasion and the concealment of assets by a former regional leader would loom larger. The trial would ultimately determine not just the facts of the case, but the nature of accountability in a family where political power and private wealth had long been intertwined.
Notable Quotes
My father never held a foreign bank account— Jordi Pujol Ferrusola, eldest son, testifying in court
My share of the grandfather's inheritance came to 125 million pesetas— Josep Pujol Ferrusola, corroborating his brother's account
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why would the sons testify against their own father's interests? Doesn't that seem counterintuitive?
Only if you assume family loyalty trumps legal exposure. They're not testifying against him—they're testifying for themselves. By claiming the money was theirs to manage, they're saying he didn't control it, didn't hide it. That's actually a defense.
But doesn't that make them look complicit in whatever happened with the accounts?
Perhaps. But complicity in managing inherited money is different from complicity in tax evasion by a political figure. One is a family matter; the other is a scandal.
The detail about the prayer books—does that feel like truth or theater?
It feels like the kind of specific, almost embarrassing detail that people include when they're trying to be believed. Theater would be grander. This is mundane.
What happens if the court doesn't believe them?
Then the expresident faces questions about where the money came from and why it was hidden. And his sons face questions about whether they were covering for him, or for themselves.