They present themselves as Angels of the Night. And, on paper, they appear to be a spontaneous group of neighbors alarmed by the increase in insecurity in Valencia. Uniformed with black t-shirts and caps, adorned with a silver logo of two children holding hands under celestial wings, the avenging legion prepares to comb the streets. Their first assault will be La Malvarrosa, a maritime district of 13,000 inhabitants condemned by its proximity to the slum of Las Casitas Rosas, the epicenter of daily pilgrimage to the drug hypermarket of a silent legion of drug addicts.
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Behind Angels of the Night is not a spontaneous citizen movement, but the Valencian fascist party España 2000, led by lawyer and private security businessman José Luis Roberto Navarro, 72 years old. Through the NGO Hogar Social Patriota María Luisa Navarro ―named after his mother and registered in 2010 as a social assistance entity in the Generalitat Valenciana― the group masks the authorship of the initiative.
Roberto admits to EL PAÍS being the father of the creation. He maintains that their patrols ―six members per squad, trained in martial arts and staunch followers of the ultra and anti-immigration creed― are legal. And, therefore, they will report their movements to the authorities. “The purpose is to collaborate with the police in hot spots,” he acknowledges from the desk of a Spartan office in the heart of Valencia, headquarters of his private security empire. A bust of Francisco Franco, a framed photo of Enrique Rodríguez Galindo ―former Civil Guard general convicted for the GALs― and a charcoal portrait of the fascist leader Ramiro Ledesma Ramos watch the scene.
For the ultra, logistics is essential. And, although Roberto considered that his black squad initially carry personal defense sprays, the idea was soon discarded. When they start combing the streets in the coming weeks, the patrollers will carry a whistle and must comply with a code of good conduct to avoid excesses and temptations. Most of the volunteers, the extremist confesses, are members of España 2000, a small group of 2,500 militants that lacks representation. And that, in 2015, before the rise of Vox, managed to obtain six councilors in four municipalities of the Madrid Corredor del Henares. Their lure: no water for immigration.
The militia’s mission will focus on detaining the wrongdoer until the police arrive. They will also distribute security leaflets to tourists. “We will do it in areas with more immigrants. Moroccans and Algerians cause problems. The second phase will take place in downtown Valencia,” defends this lawyer known as El Cojo for walking with a prosthesis on his right leg due to thalidomide, that drug that caused malformations in babies in the fifties.

Roberto, joseantoniano, acolyte of the dialectic of fists and guns, is not alone. The former secretary general of the brothel employers’ association Anela has recruited for his street command the lawyer and criminologist Ricardo Ferris, who was until 2022 chief inspector of the National Police at the central police station of Valencia. A commander who was dismissed by the Interior Ministry after linking immigration and crime in a conference organized by Vox.
Ferris, who is a partner of a subsidiary in the Dominican Republic of Roberto’s security company, will closely supervise the initiative. “We will be the eyes and ears of the police,” specifies the former inspector, who, after his dismissal, moved to secondary activity and is now retired.
Unit of destiny
The next sequence takes place in Roberto’s office. After an hour of conversation, the leader admits that the NGO, the España 2000 party, and the association La Resistencia are part of the same setup, an identical unit of destiny. And that everything is coordinated from a headquarters near the La Malvarrosa neighborhood, where the patrols will soon be trained. The movement’s headquarters, self-proclaimed fascist, schedules afternoon events. A conference by the nurse of Adolf Hitler’s lieutenant, Rudolf Hess; or talks by old ultra-glory figures, such as the neo-Nazi bookseller Pedro Varela, pepper the suggestions of this group that chains puddles and lawsuits for hate crimes.
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A historic figure in the Valencian blue circles, the NGO of the founder of España 2000 became famous 14 years ago for distributing food only to Spaniards. It followed the trail of the Greek neo-Nazis of Golden Dawn. The revelation, uncovered by EL PAÍS, caused the Valencia Food Bank, which supplied Hogar Social Patriota with provisions from the Agricultural Fund (Ministry of Agriculture), to cut off the supply. And Roberto’s squad was forced to collect food from blue solidarity at supermarket doors.
The fascist also organizes self-defense workshops against the “enemies of Spain.” Active officials of the State Security Forces and Corps and the Army attend them. Choking techniques are included in the training program.

Roberto’s fixation centers on not revealing his corporate network. It is his best-kept secret. The ultra only appears linked in the Mercantile Registry to two companies. The main one is a private security firm created in 1979, which in 2024 yielded profits of 8.4 million with 194 employees. In the last nine years, the company has secured 900,000 euros in public contracts.
The Geological and Mining Institute of Spain (550,000 euros); the Ramón Pignatelli Student Residence and Study Center, dependent on the Zaragoza Provincial Council (159,436); and the Economy and Finance Delegation of Tarragona (125,928) have awarded him their most lucrative contracts, according to the Contracting Platform. “Most of my security companies in Spain and abroad are not in my name,” admits Roberto.
The strategy of this lawyer and former professor, who in 2003 became the recipient of a bomb envelope sent by anarchists that injured two postal workers in Valencia, is based on preventing administrations governed by the left from banning his mercantile conglomerate.
And, as media puddles and millionaire businesses do not always go hand in hand, the ultra carefully calculates the reach of his words. A man who promoted in 2021, along with the former leader of Ultra Sur Alberto Ayala de Cantalicio, a neo-Nazi march shouting “queers out of our neighborhoods” in the heart of the LGTBI community, the Madrid neighborhood of Chueca, must swim and keep his clothes dry. “I am always on the edge of what can be done,” confesses Roberto with his gaze fixed on the charcoal portrait of the founder of the National Syndicalist Offensive Boards (JONS), Ramiro Ledesma Ramos.