Exactly three years ago tonight, two friends of mine were murdered in their home. Alexis lived along Times Street and Nika was just here in Manila on an extended visit. She was due to leave a couple of days later. I was present at the crime scene and I remember that Alexis died holding his house keys.
President Aquino’s family home is on Times Street, too. He grew up and lived there ’til the day he took office and he’ll probably move back in after he leaves the Palace in a few years, or maybe not. (shrug)
It’s 315am and I can’t sleep so I decided to write whatever comes to mind. No, they never found my friends’ murderers. No one is charged with their murders. None. There’s a lead, a missing helper, with a million-peso bounty on her head, but still none.
The President’s father was assassinated in 1983 at the airport that now bears his name – and to this day there is no definite culprit, no set accused. Sure, by command responsibility and circumstantial presence at the scene of the crime a number of soldiers were convicted and sent to prison for a long time and they were (if I’m not mistaken) recently pardoned or acquitted for lack of evidence or whatever it is the courts had or did not have on them. Nihil sub sole novum.
If a family with two Presidents can’t even find out who killed the head of their Times Street household, what more the friends of another one?
Fast forward to today, I hope and suppose that Times Street is now safer than it was then.
But this is the Philippines, so (sadly) all bets are off.
Tonight I am angry.