In today’s bold interview, we have Germán Gómez García, the whistleblower who leaked five terabytes of information from Televisa, Mexico’s largest media conglomerate and one of the most influential broadcasters in Latin America. In what became known as Televisa Leaks, Gómez exposed materials from a secret laboratory referred to as El Palomar (or The Bunker), a hidden space allegedly dedicated to fabricating audiovisual content (fake news), orchestrating smear campaigns, fuelling political persecution and boosting the media visibility of public officials to serve shifting political agendas. The case was made public by Aristegui Noticias in April 2025.
Beyond his work producing content for Televisa, Germán is also an actor and erotic content creator, a fact that, among others, made him the target of a smear campaign in which he was accused of suffering from mental disorders. His precarious position inside Televisa, working without a formal contract, medical benefits or institutional support, combined with workplace pressure and a lack of empathy, led to psychiatric hospitalisations and suicide attempts. In Mexico, there are no public policies that protect whistleblowers from retaliation, leaving those who come forward exposed to threats and insecurity. Gómez has reported receiving death threats.
Despite being publicly stigmatised for living with borderline personality disorder, he found support through online communities that share experiences of mental health. Since then, he has committed himself to exposing media corruption and advocating for the legal recognition of whistleblowers in Mexico, so that those who denounce abuses are not punished for doing so.
In this editorial fiction, photographed and creatively directed by Claudio Mansour, Germán’s body is subjected: he does not speak, see or hear. His gaze becomes a distorted code, and the camera turns into a tool of surveillance inside his private space. The setting is sterile; he inhabits it under a regime of rigorous self-care, compulsive hygiene, dumbbell workouts on the Le Corbusier chaise longue, discipline and an architecture worthy of a serial killer. The concept flirts with the archetype of the mysterious hacker: we never truly know who is behind the computer, nor whether he is also producing gay porn. Styling by artist Mexican Jihad, who also interviews him, seduces us into a symbolic terrain riddled with contradictions: flag logomania, post-truth activism, campus radicals, eco-terrorists, Apple devices and blindfolds, cold gel masks to reduce dark circles, or leather to deprive sight; kidnapped or role-playing.
I think we can start by asking who you are and what #TelevisaLeaks is — a big recap.
I’m Germán Gómez. I worked for almost eight years at Televisa, in an area called Vicepresidencia de la Información. At the beginning, my activities were legitimate: I was hired to make videos for a project called Oti, and little by little they started asking me to edit videos in which we would attack other companies and competitors. It seemed normal, like branded content from Televisa. I didn’t think it was a big deal; it was content making fun of a competing football team because another company had taken the contract. But then it escalated. They thought it was not safe for me to be in the office space with the rest of the staff, so they moved me to the eighth floor, a secret floor called Séptimo Anexo, reserved for CEOs and VPs. Part of that area was called El Palomar.
What exactly happened there?
El Palomar was tasked with creating disinformation. Its main goal was to serve the interests of high-profile clients such as Arturo Zaldívar, whom El Palomar helped to become President of the Supreme Court. By El Palomar, I mean Televisa. Televisa worked with Metrics, the company that supplies the bots, humanised accounts and fake accounts, as well as the systems that monitor all social media and distribute the fake content generated in El Palomar. They also hired what they called “mercenaries”: real influencers who would support certain campaigns.
When did you decide to make the leak?
During my time at Televisa, the work pressure was so intense that my mental health began to deteriorate — I became dependent on clonazepam. That was the first symptom of the condition I have now been diagnosed with. I realised that this was not at all what they had hired me to do: I wanted to make videos and write scripts. During the pandemic, I reached a point where I was taking eight pills a night. I decided to take action and sought help from a psychiatrist, who diagnosed me with depression and anxiety. I stopped taking clonazepam, started CrossFit, discovered exercise, and began setting boundaries.
You start taking care of yourself.
I started taking care of myself. I thought about quitting, and I bought a professional camera to start making films, but then I got sick. Because I didn’t have my work insurance, I ended up with a huge debt of 200k, and that was partly what kept me there, tied to the job. At the same time, my discontent began to grow.
I demanded my legal benefits as an employee, but they wouldn’t listen. I asked them to hire someone else to help me; they wouldn’t budge. Then I asked for a hard drive, at least to be able to continue working late at home. They agreed, and from then on everything started backing up onto it. The work chat contained all the evidence: all the conversations, all the campaigns, all the videos.
As I became more worried about the legality of the operations, I developed more symptoms of borderline personality disorder and made my first suicide attempt. I was burned out — completely isolated and absorbed by work, and the work itself was extremely stressful. I was paralysed by fear. I decided to stop working at El Palomar. I stayed in the chat, though, and given my situation they only asked small things of me. There was a lot of tension.
I demanded my legal benefits as an employee, but they wouldn’t listen. I asked them to hire someone else to help me; they wouldn’t budge. Then I asked for a hard drive, at least to be able to continue working late at home. They agreed, and from then on everything started backing up onto it. The work chat contained all the evidence: all the conversations, all the campaigns, all the videos.
As I became more worried about the legality of the operations, I developed more symptoms of borderline personality disorder and made my first suicide attempt. I was burned out — completely isolated and absorbed by work, and the work itself was extremely stressful. I was paralysed by fear. I decided to stop working at El Palomar. I stayed in the chat, though, and given my situation they only asked small things of me. There was a lot of tension.
And they knew about your suicide attempt?
Yes, they knew it all, they even knew they were the cause of it; they saw I started to self-harm, cutting myself. Everything got worse when one of my bosses left — Juan Manuel Torres. He was the link between Metrics and Televisa. The new guy completely harassed me. They did everything possible to make me quit and leave. The chat backup contains almost eight years of conversations and documents, and the hard drive contains all the files to back it up. This is what became #TelevisaLeaks — what I gave to Carmen Aristegui and her team. They then went through the material and built the story. There are many stories within it, but they chose to highlight some of them.
And what is your status in the case now — who represents you, and what kind of protection do you have?
I am what is known as a whistleblower, even though that legal figure does not yet exist in Mexico. It is a free speech case, because it involves information of public interest. That is how my pro bono lawyers are representing me.
And has there been any concrete blowback because of the revealed information?
Well, we haven’t sued Televisa yet, because that would be a risk for me at the moment. We are seeking something called ‘criterio de oportunidad.’ I’m not going to give anything to the government until I have that protection.
So your case would be the legal precedent?
There is already one, with Lydia Cacho.
She had to flee to the US for a while.
Well, there’s that as well. Since Televisa is a binational company, its crimes don’t only affect Mexico but also the USA. I do have American nationality, but even without it, the US government could offer me protection. So that is also a possibility — that the process is handled from there.
Besides that, you’re also an adult content creator, so I thought of asking more cheeky questions. But first of all, if you had to describe Germán briefly, what would you say?
I’m really shy, very creative, emotionally unstable but very centred. I also like video games.
Fun! Which ones?
Valorant and Overwatch.
Do you Twitch?
Not really, streaming isn’t my thing. I tried it a little on YouTube after launching my OnlyFans.
Is it active?
I’m about to relaunch it.
Is it more like horny pictures, or do you make porn?
It started like that, and I did end up doing scenes mainly because I already knew many content creators. Pinkie Mike was the one who convinced me; he was my first collaboration.
What turns you on? What are your kinks?
I’m a bottom, so the idea of being submissive to a dominant top really turns me on. I haven’t tried bondage.
So you’re not fully sub props.
No, I like it more casual. I also love cruising, or rather hooking up in unexpected places, like at the doctor’s office, on the subway, or during a bus trip. I have tons of stories where I’m sitting next to someone, they start getting hard, and we end up fucking.
Well, you do have that sexy vibe going on. Who are your gay totems?
Since I was a kid, it’s been Madonna. My dad had that film In Bed with Madonna.
Right, that documentary where her dancers talk.
Yeah. There’s homosexuality, tits, and it’s all very gay. I remember watching it with my brother. Since then, she’s been an icon for me.
And a sex gay icon?
I can’t think of anyone, I don’t follow male figures. I don’t even listen to music by men.
How fast do you fall in love?
I fell in love for the first time recently, when I turned thirty-two.
Your current lover?
No, the aforementioned. That turned out disastrous. The context in which I grew up was not ideal. The model of love presented by my parents was not positive, so I always thought love was fake. I’ve always been very promiscuous. I started experimenting and having sex very young. I never saw men as a fantasy of spending my life with someone, or dating. It was always about sex.
You’re not really romantic.
No, never.
What’s next for you?
With the case, every week there’s something new. I can’t really say anything more concrete, but positive things are coming — not only on the legal side, let’s just say that.
What about your OnlyFans?
I’m helping other creators record or take photos for their content, but I’m planning to resume my OnlyFans account next year. I mean, it all depends, my main focus right now is bringing Televisa to justice and making them pay for the damage they have done to all of us Mexicans: employees, and me personally, both physically and mentally.
