Speaker 1: Warning. This episode contains references to extreme violence. Please use
Speaker 1: discretion when listening.
Speaker 2: The past is never dead. It isn't even past. William Faulkner.
Speaker 1: Down a winding road on the west side of the
Speaker 1: city of San Salvador, there's a peaceful little hideaway. The
Speaker 1: grounds are covered with palm trees, snake plants, and flowering
Speaker 1: buen villiers. It's a small hospital, the hospice really where
Speaker 1: cancer patients go to live out their last days. And
Speaker 1: it was here that Oscar Romero, a quiet man with
Speaker 1: an easy smile and some seriously enviable eyebrows, made his home.
Speaker 1: It's an odd choice. Oscar is not sick, and he's
Speaker 1: supposed to be living in the heart of downtown because
Speaker 1: Oscar is one of the most important people in El Salvador.
Speaker 1: He's the archbishop, the highest ranking priest in a country
Speaker 1: that's so Catholic it's named after Jesus. And on a
Speaker 1: muggy March afternoon in nineteen eighty, Oscar Romero gathered a
Speaker 1: group of worshippers to the hospital's chapel to commemorate the
Speaker 1: life of a local grandmother. It's a ceremony he's done
Speaker 1: thousands of times He steps up to the pulpit and
Speaker 1: performs the rituals of Mass. He blesses the wine, turning
Speaker 1: it into the blood of Christ. He prepares the Eucharist,
Speaker 1: the gift of the flesh. Side a red Volkswagen has
Speaker 1: pulled up to the entrance of the church. There are
Speaker 1: two men in the car. There's no way to know
Speaker 1: if Oscar saw them, but the street is only about
Speaker 1: forty paces away from the pulpit. I think he must
Speaker 1: have seen them. Oscar raises a chalice high above his head,
Speaker 1: lifting it up to God, and mid sentence, he's shot
Speaker 1: with a single bullet through the heart. Oscar Romero died
Speaker 1: that day, killed by a twenty two caliber bullet. The
Speaker 1: bullet fragmented inside of him, destroying everything it touched. It
Speaker 1: sent a message because Oscar's killing wasn't just an act
Speaker 1: of murder. It was an act of war, an attack
Speaker 1: against the Catholic Church itself and in turn, the people
Speaker 1: of al Salvador. Oscar would go on to become one
Speaker 1: of the world's most beloved saints. There's even a statue
Speaker 1: of him in Westminster Abbey, next to a statue of
Speaker 1: Martin Luther King. But to become that Saint Oscar had
Speaker 1: to sacrifice his life. His death marked the start of
Speaker 1: one of the darkest times in Salvador in history, the
Speaker 1: Civil War, a war that would leave more than seventy
Speaker 1: five thousand people dead and send a million more across
Speaker 1: the globe fleeing the violence. My family includes both those
Speaker 1: that fled and those that died. When I started working
Speaker 1: on this story, I wanted to find out what really
Speaker 1: happened to Oscar Romero, who was responsible for his murder
Speaker 1: and all of the violence that followed, And to find
Speaker 1: out if the same forces that killed Oscar Romero were
Speaker 1: the ones that brought death to my family's doorstep. I'm
Speaker 1: Jasmine Romero, and this is Sacred Scandal, Season three, Nation
Speaker 1: of Saints. This is episode one. Oscar. Okay, let's get
Speaker 1: one thing out of the way. My name is Romero,
Speaker 1: but I am not related to Oscar Romero. I think
Speaker 1: I'm pretty sure. Well, I asked my parents and they're
Speaker 1: pretty sure. But I guess it's possible. Romero is an
Speaker 1: extremely common name in Elsalvador. In nineteen eighty one, my
Speaker 1: parents fled from El Salvador with my three older sisters
Speaker 1: to Los Angeles. Los Angeles has the largest population of
Speaker 1: Salvadorans of any place outside of El Salvador. It's also
Speaker 1: where I was born. I grew up going to MacArthur
Speaker 1: Park on Saturdays to watch my dad plays soccer. The
Speaker 1: field would be lined with other immigrant families like mine,
Speaker 1: eating elotes and trying to start over. But the ghost
Speaker 1: of Oscar Romero was everywhere. There's a statue of him
Speaker 1: in that same park, and just up the street is
Speaker 1: a clinic named after him. Los Angeles is covered in
Speaker 1: murals of his face. But in my family, Oscar Romero
Speaker 1: really wasn't a topic of discussion with.
Speaker 3: I.
Speaker 4: Central America has been transformational because of the politics.
Speaker 1: Yeah, a few years ago, I went to this event
Speaker 1: in La There was a salvador and comedian with this
Speaker 1: big tattoo on her arm, and the host complimented her
Speaker 1: on it.
Speaker 4: Her arm has got the most beautiful tattoo I have
Speaker 4: ever seen in my life, and it is of il
Speaker 4: Arsobispo Arnulfo Romero on her arm.
Speaker 1: They started talking about the war and the meaning of
Speaker 1: Oscar Romero's life, and I remember feeling this embarrassment wash
Speaker 1: over me. These two strangers knew more about the history
Speaker 1: of my family's homeland than I did. My parents never
Speaker 1: really talked much about El Salvador or the reasons why
Speaker 1: they left. Growing up, we were so concerned with surviving
Speaker 1: the present there wasn't much room to consider the past.
Speaker 1: But I also had never really made the effort to
Speaker 1: ask what horrors did my family experience that made them
Speaker 1: leave a place that they truly love, Who was the
Speaker 1: man on those murals? And if I really wanted the answers,
Speaker 1: I knew where I needed to go. So it's one
Speaker 1: in the morning. I'm at JFK.
Speaker 5: Way did you board my flight?
Speaker 1: My parents are going to pick me up when I
Speaker 1: get there, and I'm very sleepy. A few years ago,
Speaker 1: my parents shocked the entire family by moving back to
Speaker 1: El Salvador to retire. They used their life's savings to
Speaker 1: build a little house in their hometown, San Miguel. I've
Speaker 1: been to Al Salvador a handful of times, mostly when
Speaker 1: I was a kid, but ten years have passed since
Speaker 1: my last visit. Looking around the plane, everyone's faces look
Speaker 1: like mine, but I still feel like an outsider stepping
Speaker 1: into a world that doesn't belong to me. I grabbed
Speaker 1: my bags and headed out into the humid air to
Speaker 1: look for my parents. They were thrilled I was coming,
Speaker 1: even if it was for work. Wonder and yes, my
Speaker 1: dad was holding up a handwritten sign that said Jasmine
Speaker 1: Roulero in capital letters. It was written inside of a
Speaker 1: pizza box, so I'm guessing they got hungry while they
Speaker 1: were waiting for me. My mom just hugged me for
Speaker 1: a long time. They both looked relaxed, which was nice
Speaker 1: and confusing. If you grew up with immigrant parents, you
Speaker 1: know what I mean. As we walked to my dad's
Speaker 1: old pickup truck, my mom kept pointing out how nice
Speaker 1: and new things look. At the last time I landed
Speaker 1: in this airport, ten years ago, it had a different name.
Speaker 1: It's now called the Oscar International Airport in honor of
Speaker 1: the dead archbishop. It feels like everywhere you look there
Speaker 1: are signs of change of a new era. The terminal
Speaker 1: I flew into is only a year old, and there's
Speaker 1: new pavement on the sidewalks everywhere, new tar in the
Speaker 1: parking lot. Leaving the airport, we drive past a forest
Speaker 1: of palm trees and tall billboards that welcome tourists to
Speaker 1: explore the new El Salvador ads for swinkie resorts at
Speaker 1: surf city, beach or day camps ziplining in the rainforest.
Speaker 1: But just past those billboards there are rows and rows
Speaker 1: of little roadside shacks, people selling fresh coconuts, bags of
Speaker 1: water for a quarter, and souvenir machites, the tool of
Speaker 1: choice for the country's working poor. El Salvador is still
Speaker 1: considered a developing nation, which just means that most of
Speaker 1: the population is living in poverty. The average Salvadoran makes
Speaker 1: four hundred dollars a month, and it's even less in
Speaker 1: more remote cities like San Miguel, where my family and
Speaker 1: Oscar Romero's family both come from. Poverty is something that
Speaker 1: both of our families knew very well. Oscar Romero was
Speaker 1: one of eight kids, just like my dad. My mom
Speaker 1: is one of nine. Both of my parents were raised
Speaker 1: in homes where the floor wasn't made out of wood
Speaker 1: or tile, it was dirt. My dad didn't even own
Speaker 1: a pair of shoes until he was fifteen. All of
Speaker 1: this is on my mind as we make the long
Speaker 1: drive back to San Miguel to visit two of my
Speaker 1: theas my aunt's there are constant reminders that this level
Speaker 1: of poverty is still very much a reality here in
Speaker 1: the new El Salvador. My Thea rents a place on
Speaker 1: the outskirts of San Miguel with one of my cousins
Speaker 1: and her young son, whose name I finally learn is Ken.
Speaker 1: The house is made out of cement blocks with a
Speaker 1: tin roof, and there are extra pieces of tin leaned
Speaker 1: up against the house. She's saving up to install them
Speaker 1: over the patio. As we settle into the plastic chairs
Speaker 1: that Mithia set out for us, A herd of cows
Speaker 1: passes by Ken waves. Mitha also takes care of my
Speaker 1: great aunt, my Godmotherasita, who I haven't seen since I
Speaker 1: was a little girl. Mathia. Pasita is eighty nine years old,
Speaker 1: and she's so thin it feels like she'll snap if
Speaker 1: I hug her too hard. She's almost completely blind, and
Speaker 1: she's hard of hearing too. It takes a minute for
Speaker 1: her to recognize me, but when she does see, she
Speaker 1: smiles a big, toothless grin and wraps her frail arms
Speaker 1: around me. She can't believe how big I've gotten. I
Speaker 1: put her hand on top of my head to show
Speaker 1: her how tall I am. We all start talking, catching up,
Speaker 1: and it feels cozy and familiar. I snuggle in next
Speaker 1: to my pass and we reminisce about the last time
Speaker 1: she saw me. I don't have any memory of these events,
Speaker 1: but the stories are familiar. The time I broke my wrist,
Speaker 1: the time I gave her my mom's purse as a present.
Speaker 1: Walking to church together. Finally, I tell her that I'm
Speaker 1: here to learn about Oscar Romero.
Speaker 5: Inn through Plat.
Speaker 1: To my surprise, she starts talking about him like he's
Speaker 1: an old friend. She tells me that she remembers going
Speaker 1: to see him preach, which makes sense. For twenty three years,
Speaker 1: Oscar Romero was the local priest in San Miguel, her priest.
Speaker 1: San Miguel is where he got his start in the
Speaker 1: Catholic Church. But I had no idea that my family
Speaker 1: actually knew him. Used the.
Speaker 5: Elt sre.
Speaker 1: She tells me that she remembers him being tall, like
Speaker 1: my dad, who's about six two, that he was the
Speaker 1: kind of priest that you could talk to about anything,
Speaker 1: that she often went to him for advice. I can
Speaker 1: hear the affection in her voice. It's a strange feeling
Speaker 1: to realize that my family was so close to such
Speaker 1: an important historical figure. It's like finding out that your
Speaker 1: dad played Little League with JFK. But being a local
Speaker 1: priest was the vast majority of Oscar's life. For most
Speaker 1: of his career, he just did the normal things that
Speaker 1: a parish priest does. Attend funerals, perform baptisms, maybe the
Speaker 1: occasional exorcism. Well maybe not that last part. Who knows.
Speaker 1: In El Salvador, the local priest is an integral part
Speaker 1: of the community. He's who you go to when you're
Speaker 1: having a problem, and that's who Oscar Romeril was in
Speaker 1: San Miguel. I keep asking my tepassy the questions, but
Speaker 1: she starts to get tired. As I'm taking her inside
Speaker 1: to rest, she mumbles something that makes my stomach turn.
Speaker 1: What a punishment they gave him, she says. Going to
Speaker 1: the capital was his ruin. It was in the capital
Speaker 1: that he gave his last mesa before being shot down.
Speaker 1: We'll be right back after this break. Being in this
Speaker 1: cozy house, it's easy to see how San Miguel could
Speaker 1: make you forget about the troubles of the world. It
Speaker 1: has a small town quality to it, isolated from the
Speaker 1: politics of the capital. Maybe that's why some of the
Speaker 1: richest Salvadorans have estates out here. I didn't even know
Speaker 1: there was such a thing as rich Salvadorans when I
Speaker 1: was a kid, and now I'm learning a lot about
Speaker 1: this hidden world that my parents never told me about.
Speaker 1: On the drive home, I asked my parents about something
Speaker 1: that I came across in my research, the fourteen families.
Speaker 1: The fourteen families, they say, oh, they're the owners. It's
Speaker 1: what Salvadorans call la the oligarchy, the rich land owning
Speaker 1: families who have run the country since the late eighteen hundreds.
Speaker 1: These families are the terretinents, the landowners that control most
Speaker 1: of the country's wealth. These families became fabulously wealthy by
Speaker 1: owning plantations that cultivated coffee, cotton, and corn. These families,
Speaker 1: they owned the stores and the goods that filled the stores,
Speaker 1: and the land that the goods were grown on. Meanwhile,
Speaker 1: the compassinos who worked on those plantations lived in abject poverty.
Speaker 6: Lussa ladio, heern dramente in crave lamentin houstos.
Speaker 1: This is Marisa da Martinez. She invited me to her
Speaker 1: home in the capitol and we spent an afternoon, sitting
Speaker 1: in rocking chairs and talking about her work keeping Oscar
Speaker 1: Romero's legacy alive. She's an activist who protested the unfair
Speaker 1: treatment of the working class in the seventies, and she's
Speaker 1: the co founder of the Oscar Romero Foundation. Because what
Speaker 1: happened to Oscar Romero and the history of the working
Speaker 1: class in El Salvador, they kind of go hand in hand.
Speaker 6: And daran porlos seeing say colonees the ideas he Yeslasion
Speaker 6: Soto Campina kea Pocamari Bivier sultante.
Speaker 1: In the nineteen seventies, when Oscar Romero was serving in
Speaker 1: San Miguel, the vast majority of the country lived this
Speaker 1: way in an insulting poverty. Competinos made less than a
Speaker 1: dollar a day, and most families suffered from malnutrition, including mine.
Speaker 1: My great grandmother who helped raise me. She had fourteen kids,
Speaker 1: only six of them survived past six months. That's the
Speaker 1: kind of malnutrition we're talking about here. And for many families,
Speaker 1: the only option to survive was to buy things on credit,
Speaker 1: credit that they got from their own bosses, the plantation ownersdotals.
Speaker 6: I mean fila de hintel di lacinde la fila the
Speaker 6: hint parandoz it is euna.
Speaker 1: It was a never ending cycle. Most Campsinos never learned
Speaker 1: to read because there were no schools, and so neither
Speaker 1: did their children. They lived at the mercy of the
Speaker 1: plantation owners for.
Speaker 6: Generations loke sinica potlaying Houstisia.
Speaker 1: And these rich oligarchic families they didn't just control the
Speaker 1: country's wealth. They were also deeply involved in the Catholic Church.
Speaker 1: By involved, I mean controlling. Now, the relationship between the
Speaker 1: wealthy and the Catholic Church didn't start in El Salvador.
Speaker 1: They've been intertwined since the first gold bar was delivered
Speaker 1: to Vatican City. But the relationship in El Salvador was
Speaker 1: particularly tight. It was a well oiled machine. The country's
Speaker 1: rich would provide lavish donations to the Church, and in return,
Speaker 1: the Church would turn a blind eye to the systemic injustice.
Speaker 1: Priests would tell the poor, your reward is waiting for
Speaker 1: you in heaven. But in the seventies some priests dared
Speaker 1: to break this protocol. That's after the break is one
Speaker 1: of the priests who dared to step out of the
Speaker 1: established oligarchy church relationship. I met him on a sweltering
Speaker 1: afternoon at his parish in Montserrat, a suburb in the
Speaker 1: hills around San Salvador. He's about eighty years old, with
Speaker 1: a thin sheet of white hair and a twinkle in
Speaker 1: his eye. He invites me, in my fixed Roerto, into
Speaker 1: his cramped office in the back of the church. On
Speaker 1: his desk is a picture of him as a young man,
Speaker 1: smiling next to a somber oscar Romero. If this is safe, Eira,
Speaker 1: It's ninety degrees with sixty percent humidity. I've already swept
Speaker 1: through two shirts. He seems totally unfazed by the heat.
Speaker 1: He offers me and Roerto some ice water. As we
Speaker 1: settle in, Roberto asks him, don't you need some water?
Speaker 1: Paparretoar just smiles.
Speaker 7: No, tomorrow, keta Coca col.
Speaker 1: Yeah, the old man's got swag anyway. When Barrettoar became
Speaker 1: a priest in the early seventies, the church was still
Speaker 1: doing what it had been doing since the Spaniards landed
Speaker 1: on the shores of a place called Guscatlan and decided
Speaker 1: to rename it after Jesus. Keeping their packed with the
Speaker 1: rich and the poor in their place.
Speaker 7: O Compecinokala King and Sulugan Ilo Rico Vivienzo Cistoia.
Speaker 1: And this is where Oscar Romero comes back into the picture,
Speaker 1: because while my tapas might remember him as a man
Speaker 1: who knew the troubles of the poor, he did not
Speaker 1: have that reputation among the country's elites.
Speaker 7: Yes, Mother and Plata de San Miguel.
Speaker 1: For the rich families in San Miguel, Oscar was the
Speaker 1: ideal priest, quiet shy, happy to baptize their babies and
Speaker 1: enjoy a good carna with them afterwards.
Speaker 7: Elista and el sentido solo araci una fees in dimensium
Speaker 7: uman as in dimension politic as in dimensium.
Speaker 1: Oscar was regarded as a gentle bookworm, and this unassuming
Speaker 1: nature it got him far. He quietly rose through the
Speaker 1: ranks from deacon to priest to Bishop of San Miguel,
Speaker 1: far from the politics of the capital. If he disagreed
Speaker 1: with the elite's business practices, he didn't share it out loud.
Speaker 1: Maybe he wrote about it in his journal, maybe he
Speaker 1: prayed on it. But Oscar's easy life in San Miguel
Speaker 1: would soon get flipped upside down. In nineteen seventy seven,
Speaker 1: Oscar's boss, a man who had served as archbishop in
Speaker 1: El Salvador for thirty eight years, decided to resign. But
Speaker 1: who would be next? The Church and the oligarchy came
Speaker 1: together to hand pick the country's next top priest. The
Speaker 1: obvious and expected candidate was the auxiliary archbishop who had
Speaker 1: been second in command, but to everyone's surprise, the Vatican
Speaker 1: announced that Oscar Romero would take the position. The nation
Speaker 1: turned their eyes to this quiet priest from the.
Speaker 8: East, Hello the Rio.
Speaker 7: Conveniencias digamos de fe in Lilesia.
Speaker 1: Politic it was a politically convenient move. Oscar was known
Speaker 1: as a quiet local priest, the kind who built his
Speaker 1: career on staying away from controversy. In February of nineteen
Speaker 1: seventy seven, Oscar Romero was named Archbishop of El Salvador
Speaker 1: by Pope John Paul.
Speaker 7: Himself stansso Fuelay Garda de Monsignor Romero.
Speaker 1: Oscar moves to the capitol his new parish and starts
Speaker 1: leading Sunday Mass in the largest cathedral in the country.
Speaker 1: The rich pat themselves on the back for assigning a
Speaker 1: priest that they believe will watch over their interests for
Speaker 1: decad needs to come. Here's Marissa again.
Speaker 9: La.
Speaker 6: Porqurado alce seesuponi the via asumir elasovial.
Speaker 1: But Oscar was stepping into a hornet's nest. There had
Speaker 1: been unrest brewing in the capitol and several protests led
Speaker 1: by Campasino groups. People were unionizing demanding better wages. The
Speaker 1: military government's response had not been pretty.
Speaker 6: The Graciaca guando marchas solicitando pacificamente dos tortillas lejuadrons de quesouevoitres.
Speaker 1: Marisa says that the compasinos would organize marches in the
Speaker 1: capitol asking for better wages, and that those protests regularly
Speaker 1: ended with the military shooting directly into the crowd, and
Speaker 1: when the protests didn't stop, the military started going after
Speaker 1: the leaders of the movements. People started disappearing. Oscar Romero
Speaker 1: had a habit of going out into his congregation after
Speaker 1: mass on Sundays. He wanted to get to know the
Speaker 1: people of his flock the way that he had in
Speaker 1: San Miguel. But here in the capital people were coming
Speaker 1: to him with names, the names of sons, brothers, mothers
Speaker 1: who had disappeared or been taken. Oscar had gone from
Speaker 1: baptizing babies to having to face the cries of mourning mothers.
Speaker 1: In the span of a few years, Oscar transformed from
Speaker 1: a quiet bookworm into a champion for the poor. Three
Speaker 1: years after his arrival to the capitol, he stood before
Speaker 1: his congregation as a changed man, not a puppet, but
Speaker 1: a priest with.
Speaker 9: A message Ermano's song de matan ermanos campesinostar ure lala matar.
Speaker 1: He gave a speech that cemented his legacy. It's a
Speaker 1: speech that's the Salvadoran equivalent of Martin Luther King's I
Speaker 1: Have a Dream speech.
Speaker 9: Nimundo esto.
Speaker 1: Oscar was issuing a warning, a warning to the rich
Speaker 1: that he would not be in their pockets. The speech
Speaker 1: would be the landmark of his career, and he tells
Speaker 1: the government soldiers to disobey the orders of their commanders,
Speaker 1: to stop the repression against their own people and follow
Speaker 1: God's most basic command, thou shalt not.
Speaker 9: Kill ignombre de dios, the numbre pueblo, CuO lament maas
Speaker 9: tumultuosos lesuplico leego leon.
Speaker 1: It's the last homily he ever gave, the very next day,
Speaker 1: before Oscar could give communion, he was shot in the heart,
Speaker 1: murdered at his own pulpit. But Oscar was just the
Speaker 1: beginning of a domino effect, one that brought us to
Speaker 1: the new El Salvador we have today. El Salvador's President, Naibukele,
Speaker 1: has won reelection today in a resounding victory that has
Speaker 1: essentially wiped out the opposition. Over the next eleven episodes,
Speaker 1: we're going to cover one of the bloodiest chapters in history,
Speaker 1: one that includes government cover ups.
Speaker 6: So it was just outrageous that the nuns would have
Speaker 6: guns and would have exchanged fire.
Speaker 8: A school for dictators every time there was a heinous
Speaker 8: killing in Alsawada Hills with somebody that was past grides
Speaker 8: of the School of America.
Speaker 1: One of the biggest massacres to ever occur in the Americas.
Speaker 3: The security forces in Al Salvador have been responsible for
Speaker 3: the deaths of thousands and thousands of young people. Are
Speaker 3: we really going to send military advisors in there to
Speaker 3: be part of that type of machinery?
Speaker 1: But I'll also tell you the story of one family mine,
Speaker 1: because on this journey I discovered things about my family
Speaker 1: that still haunt us today, Mom.
Speaker 5: What happened to your sister Margarita?
Speaker 1: Well, they said that they took her and the next day.
Speaker 2: She was that she was killed.
Speaker 8: She was killed.
Speaker 1: Ye, that's this season on Nation of Saints Sacred Scandal.
Speaker 1: Nation of Saints is a production of AJA Podcasts in
Speaker 1: partnership with Iheart's Mike Wultura podcast Network, and is hosted
Speaker 1: and written by me Jasmine Romero, produced by Jazmine Romero
Speaker 1: with help from Jorge Just, Renald Gutierres, and Aloesbres. Research
Speaker 1: and reporting by Jasmine Romero, Edited by Cyda Kevelo, Porge
Speaker 1: Just and Rose Red. Nation of Saints was recorded in
Speaker 1: New York City at the Relic Room with engineering by
Speaker 1: Sam Bear, Mixing and sound designed by Paciquinones. Original music
Speaker 1: by Golden Mines, Darko and Dieme based on Patrick Hart's
Speaker 1: original composition. Fact checking by Erendidra Aquino Ayala. Executive producers
Speaker 1: are Carman geraterol Isaac Lee, rose Red, and Nando Villa.
Speaker 1: Our executive producers at iHeart are Giselle Mansis and Arlene Santana.
Speaker 1: Sacred Scandal was created by Melanie Bartley and Paula Vadros.
Speaker 1: Special thanks to Roerto Valencia, Matt Eisenbrandt, sayid Tjan Thomas,
Speaker 1: Alice Wilder, Sofia Palita Carr, Eric Mennel, Peter Bresnan, and Riemachres.
Speaker 1: The recording at the top of the episode is from
Speaker 1: Latino USA and provided courtesy of Futuro Studios. This episode
Speaker 1: is dedicated to Mythia Pacita, who passed in twenty twenty four.
Speaker 1: For more podcasts, go to the iHeartRadio app or wherever
Speaker 1: you listen to your favorite podcasts.