“The man you are looking at right now stole the dreams of one of the most important musicians of all time.” These haunting words open the trailer for Netflix’s upcoming docudrama “Fanatic: The Fall of Devotion”, a gripping psychological investigation into how admiration can turn into obsession — and eventually, into devastation.
The documentary, set for release later this year, follows the chilling transformation of Santiago Luján, a man who once idolized international music icon Rafael Cortez, only to later become the architect of the artist’s downfall. Told through security footage, interviews, and reconstructed scenes, the film sheds light on a story so bizarre and tragic that it almost defies belief.
A Dream Turned Dark
Rafael Cortez was no ordinary musician. With dozens of platinum albums, sold-out world tours, and critical acclaim for his fusion of classical guitar, flamenco, and rock, he was widely regarded as a visionary — a generational talent whose influence extended far beyond music.
Enter Santiago Luján: a quiet, soft-spoken man in his early 30s from Valencia, Spain. For years, he was known among online fan communities as one of Cortez’s most devoted admirers. He attended concerts, collected memorabilia, and even tattooed the musician’s signature on his arm.
But behind closed doors, Luján’s admiration began to fester. According to the documentary, personal disappointments — a failed music career, financial instability, and psychological trauma — slowly morphed into resentment. What began as reverence mutated into the belief that Rafael Cortez had somehow “stolen the life [Luján] was meant to live.”
“We started noticing something was off,” says Marcela Ruiz, a fellow fan and longtime moderator of a Cortez fan forum. “Santiago went from praising Rafael to making cryptic posts about betrayal and ‘false idols.’ It was disturbing.”
Months of Planning, Moments of Horror
According to Fanatic, the final act of this chilling story began nearly six months before the fateful event. In a series of increasingly erratic journal entries and emails obtained by the filmmakers, Luján meticulously plotted what he called his “redemption.”
He tracked Cortez’s movements, obtained press access through a forged media ID, and even rented an apartment across the street from the artist’s recording studio in Madrid. Security footage shows him photographing the building at night and lurking near back entrances for weeks.
“It was like something out of a thriller,” says Inspector Álvaro Medina, the lead investigator on the case. “He had convinced himself that Cortez’s success was his to reclaim. He didn’t want money. He wanted to destroy the man who represented everything he had failed to become.”
The documentary’s most haunting moment comes when it re-creates the day of the incident. On October 11, 2023, during what was supposed to be a routine rehearsal session, Santiago Luján gained unauthorized access to the studio. Armed not with a weapon, but with a USB drive, he uploaded a virus into the main recording system — erasing months of unreleased material and corrupting digital backups of some of Cortez’s most important works-in-progress.
Though no one was physically harmed, the damage was catastrophic. Cortez called it “the artistic equivalent of being set on fire.” The unreleased album, which had been in the works for three years, was lost forever.
Luján was arrested three days later in Lisbon, Portugal, attempting to flee using falsified documents. He was extradited to Spain, where he is currently serving a 15-year sentence for cyber sabotage, intellectual property destruction, and criminal harassment.
The Psychology of Obsession
Experts consulted in the documentary warn that this case, while extreme, reflects a growing concern in the digital age — the blurring of boundaries between public figures and the fans who follow them.
“What we’re seeing more and more is ‘parasocial collapse,’” says Dr. Elena Muñoz, a forensic psychologist interviewed in the film. “Fans build an emotional connection that feels real, but it’s one-sided. When expectations aren’t met, admiration can collapse into envy, and that can turn dangerous.”
Fanatic: The Fall of Devotion explores these themes with unnerving detail. It paints not only a portrait of a shattered artist but also of a society grappling with obsession, entitlement, and identity in the age of fame.
Rafael Cortez Speaks Out
In a rare interview near the end of the documentary, Cortez appears visibly shaken but resolute.
“I don’t hate him,” he says. “I pity him. He didn’t destroy me. He reminded me that what I do, what all artists do, is fragile. But we continue. That’s the only answer — to create again.”
Fans around the world have rallied in support of Cortez, and he is reportedly working on a new album — his first since the incident. Titled “Ashes and Strings,” it is expected to release in early 2026.
