By Gareth Gore | 23 May 2025
Substack: Gareth Gore
My contact with Opus Dei began in July 2022, when I flew to Madrid to conduct some research and interviews for my book. At that stage, I was mostly interested in the story of Luis Valls-Taberner, a former banker and numerary member of Opus Dei who had used – or abused, depending on your perspective – his position as chairman of Banco Popular, one of Spain’s largest banks, to syphon off hundreds of millions of euros to directly benefit the religious movement and bankroll its expansion around the world. That – and his wider life story – seemed like a fascinating tale.
Opus Dei has a long history of ignoring victims — and of using its sprawling global network and vast wealth to cover up abuse
I write about this in my book OPUS, which details its connections to dark money, human trafficking and far-right groupshttps://t.co/LyceCa33ni
— Gareth Gore (@gareth_gore) May 2, 2025
Luis had passed away in 2006. But I managed to track down his younger brother Javier, who worked alongside him at the bank for forty years. He had some choice words about some senior Opus Dei members in Spain, who he accused of manipulating his brother’s illness and death to wrest control of the bank. He warned me not to trust any of them. So, when I met with these men to ask them about such accusations, I was on my guard. But my suspicions soon seemed misplaced. The men seemed amiable, forthcoming – and delighted that a foreign journalist was taking an interest in Don Luis.
But one thing struck me as odd. Almost every conversation would begin the same way: with the member of Opus Dei explaining how everyone within the organization acted with complete freedom and that anything that any of them did – whether that be in business, politics, or more generally – was of their own initiative and nothing to do with Opus Dei. After the fourth or fifth rendition of this spiel, I began to wonder whether they had been told what to say. The weird thing was that they would each offer up this statement unprompted, before I had asked any real questions.
I returned to London and made contact with Jack Valero, an official spokesperson for Opus Dei – and one of the “local directors” charged with overseeing its network of members in the UK. He would be my point of contact for the next two years. We arranged to meet at Opus Dei’s UK headquarters in Notting Hill, one of the city’s most expensive neighbourhoods. I couldn’t help but smile to myself as Valero – completely unprompted – began our conversation with the very same spiel about how everyone within the organization acted with complete freedom. Not again, I thought.
The meeting went well. It was clear that Valero was highly suspicious of me – and especially of my interest in Opus Dei. I surmised, from his questions, that he had been asked by his superiors in Rome to check me out. Still, like his colleagues in Madrid, he seemed happy to answer my questions – and agreed to forward my request to access Opus Dei’s archives, which are closed to outsiders. In the street, as we said our goodbyes, I asked about the building next door where a huge multi-million-pound construction project was underway. “Oh, that’s got nothing to do with us,” he responded glibly.
It was only after getting home that I realised I had been misled. I pulled up the land registry records and discovered that the building next door was, in fact, owned by Opus Dei – only by the women’s section and not the men’s. Valero had answered a very specific interpretation of my question. The building next door had nothing to do with “us” – if “us” meant the men’s section. But clearly that hadn’t been my meaning: I was asking whether it had anything to do with Opus Dei. Why mislead me over this minor detail? Was there anything else about what he told me I needed to question?
Our interactions became more frequent as the months went on. Valero offered to help arrange some meetings for me when I travelled to the US, to show how “transparent” Opus Dei was – and how it had nothing to hide. It soon backfired. Several prominent members, including the group’s most high-profile priest in Washington, a man close to many powerful Republicans, refused to meet me. He didn’t “trust” me, Valero explained. Why did a priest need to trust me just in order to agree to a meeting? Opus Dei schools also refused my requests to visit. So much for transparency.
A few months later, I announced that I was travelling to Argentina. I wanted to meet with a group of women there who alleged that they had been coerced into joining Opus Dei as young girls and then basically forced to work as slaves – for fourteen hours a day and completely without pay. Their case had triggered a federal investigation into human trafficking and labour abuses (investigators later formally accused Opus Dei of these crimes). Valero responded by announcing he had been asked by his boss to accompany me. “He does not want a repeat of what happened in the USA, which was embarrassing, to say the least,” he explained.
The most serious allegations against the group are in Argentina, where federal prosecutors have formally accused Opus Dei of human trafficking and labour exploitation
Some girls were only twelve when they were groomed and then coerced into joininghttps://t.co/ywNHu08AvZ
— Gareth Gore (@gareth_gore) May 30, 2025
I didn’t need a chaperone and already had several interviews lined up. But I told Valero that, if he really wanted to help, then he could arrange for me to visit the residence at the centre of the scandal. Dozens of women still lived and worked there as “numerary assistants” – effectively as domestic servants. Opus Dei said these women were happy and that their lives bore no relation to the allegations made by former residents. There was also a clear link back to Luis Valls-Taberner: money from Banco Popular had paid for the residence. Let me visit and see it for myself, I said.
For the first five days of my trip to Argentina, I went about my own business. I also met Valero for coffee and reminded him of my request. On the sixth day, I brought it up again. He told me he was working on it. The next day, I received an email saying the women at the residence had considered my request but had turned it down – that the decision was theirs. I was offered a meeting with two selected numerary assistants at the Opus Dei press office. When I turned up and asked them about their decision not to allow me in, both of them looked at each other puzzled. Had I been played?
At Ezeiza Airport the next day, as Valero and I awaited our fourteen-hour flight back to London (it was just coincidence that we were on the same flight) I vented my frustration with being unable to visit the residence. I had travelled halfway across the world to hear the testimonies of not just the women who were alleging abuses, but also to see – with my own eyes – like for numerary assistants today. I also vented my frustration that the Opus Dei “information office” refused to provide me with a complete list of its schools and youth programmes. Valero had little to say.
With Donald Trump now turning against "sleazebag" Leonard Leo, the man who helped him stack the courts, it feels like a good moment to re-up this piece about Leo's deep connections to Opus Dei
A THREAD https://t.co/mOCCTuPOSK
— Gareth Gore (@gareth_gore) May 30, 2025
It was starting to become clear to me that Opus Dei’s public façade – that it was completely transparent and had nothing to hide – was a false one. A year into dealing with the organisation, it was blatantly obvious that, every time I asked a difficult question or requested some specific information or wanted to speak to anyone involved in anything controversial, then Opus Dei would throw some obstacle in my way. After giving the organisation the benefit of the doubt, it was clear I would now need to question everything they told me – and everything it did.
I’ll write more about that next time. You can also read more in my book.
Gareth Gore is a financial journalist and podcaster with more than 15 years of experience and has reported from 25 different countries around the world. For the past decade, he has been an associate editor at IFR and Thomson Reuters, a role that has seen him sent on various on assignments across the globe to spearhead coverage and write on some of the biggest financial stories. He is the author of OPUS – “vividly told and excellently researched” (Financial Times), “a well-told, gripping story” (Washington Post).
Faith, power, manipulation – The secrets of the Opus Dei sect | DW Documentary
Episode 112: The Danger of Opus Dei with Gareth Gore
Opus Dei: The Influential Ultra-Conservative Christian Sect (2002)
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