Chapter 19: The witnesses

The senators took turns in interrogating De Gracia, mostly on details that related to Monir’s own testimonies. Since Monir was also present, she was forced, and relented to correct herself where her own testimonies contradicted that of De Gracia’s. One senator questioned the propriety of De Gracia’s dealing with Monir in the manner that she did, given her stature as a former judge. De Gracia replied that she had no time to figure out the transaction as it unfolded. She further explained that compliance with the adoption process, for which she said she coordinated with Social Welfare Office while completing the legal requirements, had effectively cured whatever defects might have tainted, in her own words, “the extrajudicial proceedings.” 

For the next hearing, De Yamat’s committee reinvited De Mozo and Father Andoy to appear. On the designated date, both De Mozo and Father Andoy did appear. The latter was accompanied by Monsi Ubanon, who was now retired as Rector of Quiapo Church. There was also a surprise witness in the person of Gidaben.

When the hearing started, the senators trained their questions at Monsi Ubanon, who earlier stated that on April 13 or 14, 1990, one Hijo discovered something at the back of the church, and that something turned out to be the boy that resembled the one described by De Gracia.

Senator Vlad Vasectomas (not allied with either Makatigbas or Sir Dikomo) said, “Monsignor Ubanon, can you please provide us details on what happened after one of the Hijos discovered “that something” that turned out to be a boy was discovered inside the church?”

Monsignor Ubanon replied, “When we checked the storeroom at the back of the church, we found the boy almost lifeless. The only sign that he was alive was his pulse. He could hardly move. When we untied him, he crumpled to the ground, prompting us to rush him to the clinic at the rectory. A couple of hours or so later, his vital signs were back to normal. He spent the night in the rectory. On the next day, we informed then Police Chief De Mozo about the boy. He agreed to present the boy in a press conference later in the day. The press conference did not happen, however, because the police who escorted the boy lost him in the middle of that melee at the underpass. We have not heard anything about the boy since then.”

Vasectomas said, “Did it not somehow cross your mind that the boy you found inside the church was the same boy you baptized five years earlier?”

Ubanon said, “Nothing of that sort crossed our minds. Probably it would have been different if the information uncovered by this investigation was available at that time.”

Sotomayor butted in, “Madam Chair, with Senator Vasectomas’s permission, can I briefly ask Monsignor Ubanon something, please?”

De Yamat looked at the senator. “Senator Vasectomas?”

Vasectomas said, “Yes, Madam Chair. Senator Sotomayor may proceed. But after he is through with his questions, I would like to ask Mayor De Mozo something next.”

Sotomayor said, “I have only one or two questions, Madam Chair.”

De Yamat nodded. “Carry on, please.”

Sotomayor said, “Monsignor Ubanon, can you please educate us on why you baptized a baby who in all likelihood did not understand yet about what was happening to him?”

De Yamat interrupted. “Excuse me, Senator Sotomayor. I hope you don’t mind. But how is that related to the kidnapping that has been the topic of this investigation for the last three or four sessions?”

Sotomayor replied, “Because the baptism of one who probably was not even a month old could have made the identification of the child harder to facilitate. As it is, the abandoned child now appears to have two distinctly different names. I suppose any investigator would run into complications first before realizing that the two names would refer to only one person.”

De Yamat said, “That still doesn’t make your question relevant to me. But OK, let’s hear what Monsignor Ubanon has to say.”

Ubanon said, “As a popular born-again Christian evangelist, I assume that Senator Sotomayor shares a common belief with the basic Catholic teaching that, as the Bible says, unless we are born again, we cannot enter the kingdom of heaven. For Catholics, the rebirth happens during baptism. We know what happens if an infant dies without the benefit of baptism. So, we have a duty to baptize infants even at the time when we know they have little capacity yet to decide for themselves. At any rate, we are all connected to the creator, and ourselves to others—we recite the Apostles’ Creed every day during the Holy Mass acknowledging, among other things, ‘the communion of saints’; we can trace this link to as far back as the beginning of creation, when Adam and Eve fell from grace. By that link we can lift each other up, deserving of mercy and redemption, so that by baptism we may be reunited with God in his kingdom, who reigns in perpetuity.

“This link requires us to promote our understanding of this gift and mystery of rebirth in all stages of human existence, from infancy to old age, with guidance especially from parents and godparents. And the best teacher that can guide us back to God’s grace by way of baptism is living a life that turns away from sin, and by doing something good for our fellow human beings and all the things around us.

“Then there is another sacrament, called Confirmation, on which occasion the baptized child gets confirmed at the time when he or she is much older. Catholics at any age can also renew their baptismal vows every year during the Triduum, which is the highest point of our Holy Week celebration.”

Sotomayor said, “Thank you, Monsignor Ubanon, for that instructive homily. That would be all, Madam Chair.”

De Yamat prodded, “Senator Vasectomas?”

Vasectomas said, “Yes, Madam Chair. May I now direct my questions to Mayor De Mozo, please?”

De Yamat nodded. “Please proceed.”

Vasectomas said, “Mayor Mozo, what happened to the press conference? Was it aborted? How did you lose the child?”

De Mozo replied, “Your Honor, Madam Chair, before I proceed, let me publicly apologize to Judge Vida De Gracia. There was no intent whatsoever to keep her in the dark on such a matter that undeniably was important to her, or to any parent for that matter. What happened was a mishandling of miscommunication of the worst kind. I was no longer in command of the department responsible for archiving records, and I failed to follow through. Again, I am sorry, and really hope Judge De Gracia will find her usual wide path for charity to accept my apology.    

“Now to answer the question. I will repeat what I have said countless times before in various fora and in media interviews. Our investigation showed that a mob, quite unrelated to the press conference that had been planned for the evening, went after an inmate who rushed inside the underpass at about the same time that my men were transporting the child from the rectory to my office across the Lanciano Boulevard. The commotion went out of control; the inmate himself, who was in Plaza Roma doing community service under the GCTA program, was shot by the prison guard, and the child slipped from police custody. We searched for him within the vicinity all night until the next day, but we could not locate the child.”

De Mozo was subjected to an intensive and sometimes heated grilling by the senators, whose collective disbelief over what the mayor had presented dominated the theme of their questions. Specifically, they found it hard to believe that the timing of the mob attack and the fetching of the child for the press conference was fortuitous or coincidental. They also asked, did he not try to find out who the parents of the kidnapped child were, given that this crime had attracted so much media attention? They sought a more straightforward explanation for why they should not think that the mob attack and the subsequent pandemonium at the Aguinaldo Underpass was staged.

The blank wall that De Mozo erected before the senators provoked the latter to call more witnesses, to the total but concealed amusement of Senator Makatigbas and his allies. At the next hearing, many witnesses who in previous hearings had testified were in attendance again. They included Monsignor Ubanon, Mayor De Mozo, Judge De Gracia, Sylvia Monir, among others. Then a bunch of volunteers also made themselves available, after making representations with the committee chair. They included Manila Vice Mayor Junie Justicador, who brought along with him his boyhood buddy Boy Deo, and Gidaben.

When De Yamat banged the gavel to open the adjourned session, Senator Rodrigo Boloroton asked to be recognized. Along with De Labuya and Dayamante, Boloroton was one of Makatigbas’s trusted allies in the senate. A transcript of the hearing went something like this:

De Yamat: “Gentleman from Benham Rise is recognized.”

Boloroton: “Thank you, Madam Chair. May I ask the secretariat to flash the photo on the big screen please, the one I shared with you earlier?” Shown for all to see on the projector screen was an old photo of then Police Inspector De Mozo along with three other card players joining him on what appeared to be a casino table. “Madam Chair, let me ask Judge Vida De Gracia if she recognizes anyone in the picture.”

De Yamat: “Judge De Gracia?”

De Gracia: “The lady and the two men who are seated beside the younger version of Mayor De Mozo here were the ones who tried to arrest us in Sta. Cruz in 1985 and the ones who snatched Franco from us in Sau Paulo in 1990. I would venture to guess that this picture must have been taken earlier than 1990, judging from the similarities of how they looked like when I saw them in Sta. Cruz.”

Boloroton: “Just curious, Judge De Gracia, why do you seem so sure of the identities of the people shown in the picture?”

De Gracia: “One of the fingers of the left hand of the muscular man—to the right of Mayor De Mozo—is missing, as you can clearly see in the picture. He pointed the forefinger of his left hand at my nephew in Sta. Cruz (he must be left-handed, by the way), and I saw the missing finger in that hand. It was the same hand he used to push Franco inside a Lancer that they used to kidnap the boy in 1990. The lady has a scar in her right eyebrow, and the third male companion has kept his moustache untouched from the time that picture was taken to the time they confronted us in Sta. Cruz in 1985.”

Boloroton: “Thank you, Judge De Gracia. Not to insinuate anything, the man with the missing finger was found dead supposedly from bullet wounds in a motel in Olongapo City in 1992. And the other two have been missing since 1993. Again, Madam Chair, I am not insinuating anything. I am just sharing some facts that this committee might deem helpful. I have nothing more to add, Madam Chair.”

De Yamat: “Mayor De Mozo, this committee grants you the opportunity to comment on the picture.”

De Mozo: “All I know is that the three people shown in the picture were former policemen—well, a policewoman in the case of the lady there—themselves. They were discharged from the service for a variety of offenses. But this picture must have been taken when they were still in active service, and as far as I can remember, they invited me to that casino-hotel in Sta. Cruz to ask a favor from me. They asked me to vouch for their satisfactory performance as a way, I suppose, to mitigate the gravity of administrative charges filed against them.”

As in the previous hearing, the senators ganged up on De Mozo. But for questions that he could not answer with convincing clarity, he invoked, on the advice of his lawyer, his constitutional right not to say anything that later might be used to incriminate himself. Or something to that effect.

After another hour of trying to pin De Mozo down, De Yamat, on the motion of Senator Boncaras, shifted to the testimony of another witness.

De Yamat: “Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to address all of you, including those who are watching on television. The rate at which this committee has come across witnesses who offered to testify is perhaps unprecedented in the history of congressional investigations. Today we have two more of these volunteer witnesses, and I am privileged to introduce our next witnesses: Manila Vice Mayor Junie Justicador and another one—a surprise witness if you will—who shall introduce himself to you later.

“In the meantime, let’s now call on the Honorable Vice Mayor.”

Junie Justicador: “Thank you, Madam Chair, Honorable Senators who comprise the investigating committees.”

He took out a prepared statement which he jointly wrote with Boy Deo. “Ladies and gentlemen: I felt obliged to appear before the honorable senators when they asked witnesses, as they again ask our esteemed mayor today, about what happened at the Aguinaldo Underpass in 1990. As mentioned earlier, somebody was ‘accidentally’ killed in that melee.”

Justicador appeared to gather himself; his voice cracked as he continued. “I will not beat the bush, but rather I will tell you now that the man who got killed on that day was my father. I also will not attempt to add to your doubts by raising my own questions to Mayor Mozo. I assure you I have asked him the same questions you asked him in this investigation. I had found his forthrightness wanting but, to his credit, his recollection of what happened has not changed.

“So instead of beating what, to me, in a figurative sense, is a dead horse, I wish to talk about my father. Hopefully this will contribute to achieving the purpose of this investigation when it was launched about five or six months ago, which is to find ways by which the government can better address organizational dysfunctions and social inequities.

“My father was an orphan at five. His parents—my grandparents—were murdered at noontime on a day when the sky was clear. It was not hard for witnesses to come forward, but my family was not moneyed enough to be able to buy sympathy. What should have been a double-murder case did not reach the courts; and even if it did, the HCMP case tells us that poor victims hardly get a fair hearing from some—and let me emphasize ‘some’—judges.

“My father was later adopted by his uncle, whose poverty constrained his capacity to assume an additional financial burden. For a pittance, his uncle shipped my father to a rice trader in Cerrito, Manila, three years later.

“At eight, my father worked and lived like a slave in his new Cerrito home. One day, he was accused and found guilty of bringing bad luck to his adoptive family. A house help brought him to a crowded street in Caloocan City and practically left him there alone, for dead.

“He made the streets his home, begging for food to survive, until he was old enough to steal. Throughout his teenaged years, my father built a reputation for being a sleight-of-hand artist, earning tags such as ‘Manila’s top thief and ‘Manila’s finest ripper.’ That reputation introduced him to the rogue elements of the police. He thrived as a leading member of criminal gangs covertly ran by the police; he was into snatching, illegal gambling, and, later, into the more lucrative illegal drugs business.

“I was born a year after my parents got married in 1982. My father renounced his criminal ways and, together with my mother, rebuilt a life away from the underworld. They coped well initially as sidewalk vendors. But just as my father was on his way to a complete transformation, determined as he was to lead a fully reformed life, he was picked up along with former fellow gangsters. They were drugged, tortured, and used as fodder in a staged shootout, supposedly in a police manhunt for kidnap-for-ransom groups. Miraculously, my father survived that massacre, although his three companions did not. The fifth one, designated as the driver of the vehicle which transported the condemned former members of police criminal gangs, is also alive. And he is here today to tell his story.

“The policemen involved in the manhunt operations detained my father without formal charges. Later, he was transferred to the Manila City Jail, still without charges. Two years later, he was sent out along with two other inmates to Plaza Roma for community service. He was mobbed at Plaza Roma, and the prison guard, thinking that my father was trying to escape, shot him.

“Like his parents, my father was murdered. My family had long longed for justice. We have yet to get any.

“Thank you, Madam Chair and Honorable Senators.”

De Yamat: “I know my colleagues have demonstrated their intention to interrogate Vice Mayor Justicador. But before we go to that, may I ask the surprise witness if his testimony is related to that of the vice mayor?”

Gidaben: “Yes, Your Honor.”

De Yamat: “OK, so that my colleagues can minimize repeating the same questions for both witnesses, we shall hear your testimony first. You may proceed after taking the oath. Secretariat, please administer the oath now.”

Gidaben (reading a prepared statement he and Junie and Boy Deo had jointly written): “My name is Foroylan Camuilagui. I am forty-seven years old. In the underworld, people called me ‘Gidaben.’ Later on, when shabu became more profitable than jueteng, the police who ran our operations called me ‘El Chapo.’

 “The gangsters under the protection of the police in our area, which covered Tepeyac, Avenida, Sta. Cruz and Quiapo, consisted of several sub-groups. I belonged to one of the sub-groups, while Yago, the vice mayor’s father, belonged to another sub-group. As far as I can remember, Yago’s group had five members.

“In the late 1970s, Yago and other members of his group alienated themselves to the police for being inactive in jueteng and shabu operations. As I now understand it, this was the time when Yago and his group had dropped their criminal ways and were on their way to conversion and transformation. The police thought, which was also the way I understood them then, Yago and his group members were double-crossing them. The same group of rogue policemen were involved in a kidnap-for-ransom operation in March 1984. On the 23rd of that month, I was tasked, under duress, to find Yago and his friends. After I showed to the police where Yago and his friends were, the police picked them up, tortured, and drugged them. Turned out they were going to be used as fodder for a staged shootout.

“On that day, I was also tasked to drive a Ford Fiera from Guadalupe to the intersection of Allende Boulevard and Peron Avenue. On board the Ford Fiera were Yago and three of his friends. The only indication that they were alive was that they were breathing.

“Upon reaching the Allende Boulevard and Peron Avenue intersection, I leaped out from the driver’s seat, following the instructions given to me by my police protectors. In seconds I heard gunfire. I looked back and saw uniformed men strafing the Ford Fiera. From the news, I later learned that Yago’s companions died on the spot.

“These rogue policemen themselves were involved in the kidnapping, and they made it appear that the murdered gangsters—who Vice Mayor Justicador had called reformed gangsters—were the kidnappers. The true kidnappers were gone before the police riddled the Ford Fiera with bullets.       

“I had no idea how Yago came out of it alive. But exactly two years later, when news broke out that the one who resembled his identity was killed at the Aguinaldo Underpass, I had to believe that somehow Yago must have survived the 1984 massacre.

“I may have been the best among jueteng runners and shabu pushers, but I have no record of being a violent person. I weep hard when people die young due to violence.

“My conscience tortured me without let up after I learned that Yago was murdered in 1990, and that I could have helped him alter his fate if I only knew he came out of the 1984 rubout alive. I searched for the family—his wife and his son, who is now the Vice Mayor of Manila—in Nueva Vizcaya, in Cerrito, in Caloocan, in Sta. Cruz, and other places in an effort to mitigate the irreparable damage that I inflicted on them. In fairness to the rogue cops, I got my share from the ransom booty in 1984. They made it clear that the money was also meant to buy my silence.

“But—I will not stop repeating this—my conscience bothered me. If only to repay a debt that was beyond redemption, I was willing to part half of the amount I got with the surviving wife and the couple’s only child. And I was and am willing to help the family in any way I can so long as I had the means, and the request was reasonable. When Vice Mayor Junie asked me to testify today, saying yes to him was easy, even at the risk of my own security. My own life is not enough to compensate for the injustices that government and society have inflicted upon the vice mayor’s father.

“Honorable Senators, that is all I have to say. Thank you.”

De Yamat: “Thank you, Mr. Camuilagui. I understand my colleagues are again jockeying for their turn to ask questions, but the plenary will convene in a few minutes. Shall we adjourn until tomorrow, same time? Hearing no objection, session is hereby adjourned until tomorrow, 11 February 2012.”