Daniel Sancho and the €3,000 a month he reportedly spends in prison

Daniel Sancho and the €3,000 a month he reportedly spends on his body in prison

A prisoner in Thailand with a monthly allowance of €3,000. The figure, reported by journalist Saúl Ortiz and picked up by outlets such as 20minutos, describes the alleged spending pace of chef Daniel Sancho inside prison: money sent by friends so he can "live the way he lives in prison," according to that account. Of that amount, what has drawn the most attention is not the food —rice and chicken bought on top of the standard rations— but the ice: up to two bathtubs a day for so-called cold therapy, according to the same source.

The figure clashes head-on with the reality of the Thai prison system. A prison officer there earns between €300 and €400 net a month, according to the estimates used by those familiar with the terrain. In other words, the budget attributed to Sancho is nearly ten times the salary of a shift supervisor. With that comparison on the table, public opinion split in two: those who see the purchase of disguised privileges, and those who suspect the ice story is a journalistic embellishment with no basis.

What does it really cost to live in a Thai prison?

The first objection is prison arithmetic. In a maximum-security prison, where punishment prevails and inmates with very serious sentences are held together, the benefits of money are minimal: food, hygiene products and little else. Some point out that Sancho would be in a shared cell with several inmates, sleeping on the floor, which leaves little room for ice baths twice a day. The official version of the story —a man paying to maintain his athlete's routine behind bars— sounds, to this camp, more like a TV script than a prison file.

The other side does not dispute the detail of the ice, it disputes the substance: that an inmate could even have the possibility of moving €3,000 a month. That money, the argument goes, is not spent on ice, it is spent on protection and on a cell with better conditions. Cocaine and payments for security do not come free either, and in a system where an officer earns €300, a prisoner with €3,000 is an economic player within the prison.

The business of the story: who profits from the ice tale

The figure has an origin problem: it does not come from a prison record, but from a journalist citing "a source." On that basis, a character has been built —the chef who stays muscular through ice baths— that fits perfectly with tabloid consumption. It is no coincidence that the same story includes the detail of the rice and chicken: they are recognizable, everyday elements, easy to picture. The whole thing works as a brand, not as verified information.

There is a background issue the anecdote covers up: the money. If Sancho has €3,000 a month sent by friends, the relevant question is not how much ice he buys, but where that liquidity comes from and what it really buys in a facility where the average salary is ten times lower. The family, for its part, has been singled out in the past for attempts at economic pressure, which adds one more reason to scrutinize the figure.

---

The ice scene is so visual that it has displaced what matters: a Spanish inmate, in a Thai prison, with a monthly cash flow that exceeds the salaries of his guards. If that is true, the problem is not the cold therapy. If it is false, the problem is another one: to what extent the story of a court case is built out of details no one can verify.