Could It Have Been Artificial Insemination?

One theory suggests that Tanti smuggled out a semen sample, which his partner then used to inseminate herself at home. It’s an idea that has floated around similar cases internationally — but it quickly starts to fall apart under scrutiny.

To begin with, semen doesn’t survive well outside the body. At room temperature, sperm cells begin to die within minutes. For insemination to be viable, the sample must be preserved in a sterile container, kept at or near body temperature, and used within an hour or two — sometimes less.

That would require extremely precise planning. Tanti would need a private moment to collect the sample. Someone — possibly a visitor or a staff member — would need to smuggle it out discreetly and quickly. The sample would then have to be rushed to his partner, who would need to be ovulating at the time and ready to perform a do-it-yourself insemination using a sterile syringe.

In theory, this is biologically possible. In practice, it’s a logistical minefield.

More importantly, success in such a situation would typically rely on medical intervention. Fertility clinics preserve sperm properly, monitor ovulation, and carry out intrauterine insemination or IVF in ways that maximise the chance of success. Without those tools, the odds of pregnancy are significantly reduced.

In Malta, this route is even more far-fetched. The country’s Embryo Protection Act strictly regulates access to assisted reproduction. Clinics require documentation, identity verification, and signed consent from both parents. A fertility clinic would not — and legally could not — accept an undocumented sample smuggled out of a prison, especially from someone convicted of murder.

That leaves the “DIY insemination” theory without a clear path. It’s possible in a narrow, scientific sense, but extremely unlikely under the conditions described.

Could It Have Happened During a Prison Visit?

There’s a less far-fetched, though still speculative, middle-ground theory: that Tanti smuggled a semen sample to his partner during a prison visit, and that she inseminated herself then and there — possibly in a bathroom within the visitor area.

This method eliminates the challenge of transporting the sample outside of the prison environment and increases the chance of timing insemination while the sperm is still viable. It would still require precise coordination. The sample would need to be freshly collected, quickly handed over, and used within a narrow time window. The woman would also need to know she was ovulating and come prepared to carry out the procedure in a public facility — discreetly and without proper sanitation.

Biologically speaking, it improves the odds slightly over at-home insemination. If visitors’ bathrooms offer some privacy and security checks are lax, the scenario becomes plausible.

Still, it raises serious questions: would anyone go to such lengths — with such low odds — rather than seek more direct physical contact?

Or Did They Simply Have Sex?

For all the attention on smuggling and speculation around DIY fertility tactics, the most straightforward explanation remains the one nobody wants to say out loud: that Tanti and his partner had sex while he was in custody.

Malta does not allow conjugal visits, and the authorities insist Tanti was never alone during his brief stints of prison leave. But official denials do not always reflect institutional reality.

Corradino Correctional Facility has long been dogged by allegations of abuse, inconsistent rule enforcement, and a deeply opaque internal culture. Reports by international observers and former inmates have painted a picture of a prison where discipline is inconsistent, oversight is weak, and special favours are not unheard of.

In that context, a few minutes of unsupervised contact — whether during a visit, a medical appointment, or a temporary leave — is entirely possible. It would not require a conspiracy. Just a moment of silence. A door not locked. A guard looking the other way.

This scenario requires no scientific acrobatics, no plastic containers, no public bathroom gymnastics. It explains the pregnancy cleanly and directly. And in a system with a history of looking the other way, it becomes not just possible — but probable.

If that’s what happened, then someone inside the prison helped or allowed it. Or, just as likely, no one asked too many questions.

What Does This Say About The System?

If Tanti’s partner is pregnant, and if he is the father, then we are left with only two possibilities.

Either Erin Tanti managed to smuggle semen out of prison, and together he and his partner successfully pulled off a feat that would normally require multiple medical professionals, regulated fertility procedures, specialist equipment, and careful timing — possibly even on prison grounds.

Or the prison authorities are lying.

Lying when they say Tanti was never left unsupervised. Lying when they say conjugal visits are out of the question. Lying not necessarily to protect Tanti, but to protect the illusion of control. Because if Tanti had access to private time with his partner — then he’s either the recipient of special treatment, or just one of many prisoners quietly being allowed the same under-the-table privileges.

Either way, the outcome is the same: the system isn’t being honest with the public.

That dishonesty could be calculated — a policy quietly changed but never admitted. Or it could be defensive — the result of an institution that has lost control and doesn’t want to admit it. But in both cases, the cover-up becomes more troubling than the act itself.

This isn’t just a story about a pregnancy. It’s a test of credibility. And if the state can’t be trusted to tell the truth about something as basic as how a prisoner became a father, what else is it hiding behind locked doors?