C4, the journalist who challenges fear

There are people who live on the edge of danger. Every day, when they wake up, they don't know if they'll return home. They have made telling the truth an act of bravery. One of them is Carlos Jiménez , better known as C4, the crime reporter most feared—and respected—by criminals, police officers, and even some politicians. This Saturday, on The Minute That Changed My Destiny , I speak with a man who has made crime journalism his cross and his cause. An interview that not only reveals the risks his work entails, but also the personal wounds that have marked him.

Carlos Jiménez arrived at the forum with the serenity of someone who knows how to face danger head-on. He's neither an improviser nor a provocateur: he's a street reporter, hardened by patrol cars, yellow tape, and the sound of sirens. In the talk, for the first time he opens up about his private life, about the sacrifices he's made to report, about the emotional toll of being a journalist living under threat. "Yes, they've tried to kill me," he tells me with the coldness of someone who has already lived with fear. "And I know perfectly well where the threats come from. They're not rumors, they're not gossip. They're criminal groups that don't want us to talk about what they're doing. But I won't remain silent. If something ever happens to me, you already know who it was." His words are shocking, because they're not spoken with drama, but with resigned conviction. In Mexico, being a crime reporter is walking on hot coals. It's about looking closely at human cruelty and trying to translate it for an audience that often fails to grasp the risk.

Jiménez , who has reported on everything from clandestine graves to high-profile operations, has become a controversial figure: beloved by those who value his work and criticized by those who see him as a provocateur. But deep down, C4 represents a generation of reporters who refuse to give up, who report despite fear, despite threats, despite public trials.

During the interview, the journalist also addresses a personal topic he had avoided for years: the accusations of domestic violence that arose following his separation. Far from avoiding the topic, he confronts it with the same harshness with which he covers his stories. “I know many things have been said about me, some true, some false. But I don't hide. I'm a human being, I've made mistakes, but I also have the right to defend myself,” he tells me. That statement, in a country where public opinion judges before listening, shows the other side of C4: the man behind the journalist. The father, the son, the friend. The one who also cries, makes mistakes, and loves. Because while his name is associated with powerful stories, behind the helmet and bulletproof vest is a human being who lives in fear, who says goodbye to his family without knowing if he'll ever return.

The conversation with Carlos Jiménez reveals not only the brave reporter who confronts crime, but also the individual who faces his own demons. In The Minute That Changed My Destiny, there is room for journalism, but also for reflection. Is it worth risking everything to report? Who protects journalists in a country where reporting can cost you your life? Jiménez responds without hesitation: “It’s worth it, because staying silent is more dangerous. If we don’t report what’s happening, they win. And I’m not going to let them win.” That phrase sums up his philosophy of life: truth as a shield, denunciation as a weapon, justice as a utopia.

Throughout the program, it becomes clear that C4's destiny changed the day he decided not to be a spectator, but a chronicler of horror. That moment he crossed the line between the ordinary citizen and the reporter who sees what no one wants to see. Since then, he has been persecuted, targeted, and even recognized. But, above all, he has remained true to himself. In times when many prefer to remain silent out of fear or convenience, C4 represents the uncomfortable voice that makes power and crime uncomfortable, the journalist who doesn't hide behind a desk or fear treading the bloody ground of Mexican reality. His story is a brutal mirror of our country: a territory where reporting continues to be an act of heroism.

This Saturday, at 9 p.m. on Imagen Televisión , don't miss this conversation. Because beyond the journalist everyone knows, you'll discover the man who, despite his shadows, has decided not to give up. And in dark times, that's also an act of light. The minute that changed my destiny with Gustavo Adolfo Infante , only on Imagen Televisión .