The name Petr Rychlý carries weight in Czech households. For years, viewers welcomed him into their living rooms through long-running television dramas, most notably Ordinace v růžové zahradě, where he became a familiar presence—steady, expressive, reassuring. His career unfolded gradually, built not on scandal but on consistency, discipline, and a quiet understanding of audience expectations. At home, however, the spotlight was shared differently.
Among his four children, it is his eldest son, Matěj Rychlý, who has drawn public curiosity in recent years. Not because he attempted to imitate his father, but because he did something slightly more complicated: he chose media, yet from another angle entirely.
| Name | Petr Rychlý |
|---|---|
| Born | 9 September 1965, Prague, Czech Republic |
| Profession | Actor, presenter |
| Known For | Ordinace v růžové zahradě (The Office in the Rose Garden) |
| Children | Matěj, Ondřej, Petr, Denisa |
| Reference | https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Petr_Rychl%C3%BD |
Matěj grew up backstage and on set, watching how scenes were framed, how tension was built, how emotion was measured. Children of actors often learn early that performance is crafted, not accidental. Yet rather than stepping directly into scripted drama, he gravitated toward something more unpredictable—crime reporting.
He works for Prima television, focusing largely on crime stories, hosting Crime News and contributing to other programs. It is not glamorous work. It involves police tape, grieving families, tense interviews, and the kind of silence that lingers after sirens fade. The difference between playing tragedy and reporting it is strikingly visible.
Those who have worked with him describe a reporter who is careful with his reputation. He understands, perhaps instinctively, that a well-known surname can open doors but can just as easily invite skepticism. “I try to behave decently wherever we are filming,” he once explained. That instinct—to protect one’s name rather than exploit it—feels deliberate.
Before television, he tested his curiosity at school, serving as editor-in-chief of the school magazine. It was an early signal. Writing, selecting stories, organizing content—these habits suggested someone less interested in applause and more interested in narrative control. Coincidentally, the school’s owner had connections to regional broadcasting, and that opportunity became one of Matěj’s first real steps into media.
Careers rarely move in straight lines. His father’s path was shaped by theater stages and camera crews; Matěj’s by microphones and field reporting. Yet certain parallels remain visible. Both work in front of the camera. Both rely on voice and presence. Both understand the power of timing.
Matěj has covered severe criminal cases, including high-profile incidents that required traveling abroad and navigating sensitive investigations. One report involved a convicted murderer whose brutality shocked the country. Another assignment placed him near a crime scene along the Vltava River, where tensions between journalists and investigators briefly flared. He later admitted that the situation taught him restraint.
That lesson—about boundaries and professional respect—seems to have shaped his approach. “You can’t use force like that,” he reflected about the incident. It was a moment of recalibration rather than confrontation. Journalism, especially crime journalism, demands ambition, but it also demands patience.
“The worst thing is when children are part of the case,” he once confessed, admitting that sometimes he cannot hold back tears when cameras are off. That vulnerability stands in quiet contrast to the composed presence viewers see on screen. It suggests a reporter who has not numbed himself entirely to what he witnesses.
It is easy to forget that crime reporters absorb the aftermath of events most people only read about. They enter homes marked by shock, interview neighbors still trembling, stand beside investigators reconstructing violence. Over time, such exposure can either harden someone or deepen their empathy. In Matěj’s case, colleagues say it has sharpened his awareness rather than dulled it.
At home, the dynamic within the Rychlý family appears unusually collaborative. Petr has joked that his children now “take care” of him. Matěj encourages him to stay active; another son offers creative direction; another helps formulate questions. The image is almost reversed—the seasoned actor guided by the next generation.
Matěj is married to actress Tereza Rychlá, herself known from television drama. In this sense, performance remains present in his life, though adjacent to his own work. His household balances scripted fiction and unscripted reality, entertainment and investigation. It is an unusual but modern blend.
Observers often comment on the physical resemblance between father and son. If Petr wore a beard, some suggest, they might be indistinguishable. The likeness invites comparison, but comparison can be misleading. Fame operates differently today. Petr’s era of dominance came through appointment viewing; Matěj’s through constant news cycles and digital distribution.
There is also the matter of responsibility. Petr’s characters carried fictional burdens; Matěj’s reports carry real consequences. A misstep in drama may earn criticism. A misstep in crime reporting could damage investigations or reputations. That awareness appears to have instilled caution in him.
He has spoken about not judging people too quickly. Appearances mislead, he has learned. A well-dressed figure can be cruel; someone marginalized may act heroically. Crime reporting reveals both extremes. It is a profession that dismantles assumptions.
Meanwhile, Petr continues acting, steady and recognizable. The Czech audience still associates him with warmth and reliability. Yet watching his son build credibility through difficult reporting adds another dimension to his public image. The family narrative has expanded beyond scripted roles into lived complexity.
