Bumps (9)

HALAW ang mga sumusunod sa aking pangalawang aklat “BUMPS: Fifty Years of Dictatorship and Democracy in the Philippines (1972-2022).” Bahagi ng pangatlong tsapter ang mga nangyari bago ang 1986 EDSA Revolution. Pakibasa:

Ninoy refused and his refusal prompted Imelda to say: “If you come home, you will be dead.” Imelda categorically told Aquino that they (referring to the Marcos couple) might not control their supporters from murdering him. Facing the five-man Agrava commission, which Marcos had created to probe the Aquino-Galman double murder case, Salvador Laurel corroborated the May, 1983 meeting between Imelda and Ninoy and confirmed that Imelda told Ninoy he would be dead if he insisted to return home. Prior to Aquino’s homecoming, Doy Laurel, through his spokesman, former 1971 Con-Con Delegate Antonio Alano, gave a daily briefing to Manila-based foreign journalists about Ninoy’s movement and whereabouts. They flocked to the airport on the day of his arrival. This is my personal account, portions of which were included in the TV program Agosto Beinte aired over ANC, the cable TV station of the giant ABS-CBN:

FRONT SEAT TO HISTORY. As a Filipino journalist working in the Manila bureau of Jiji Press, a Japanese news agency, I was among the throng of journalists, who went to the airport to cover Aquino’s homecoming. I did not have any inkling that I would have a front seat to history and chronicle a tragedy of unimaginable magnitude, an event that could be the tipping point in the struggle against the Marcos dictatorship and all evils associated with it.

On our way to the airport with Shuji Onose, Manila bureau chief, we witnessed the yellow ribbons tied to the trees and lampposts along Roxas Boulevard and Airport Avenue and throngs of people, who, I was told, came from Ninoy’s home province of Tarlac, to grace his homecoming. Upon arrival, airport authorities herded us to the holding room, which was normally used for foreign dignitaries, who issued either post-arrival or pre-departure statements. At first, we thought Aquino would give his arrival statement there. Manila journalists working with foreign news organizations were mixed with opposition leaders and Aquino family members, whom we hardly knew during those days because they did not involve themselves in politics and, ergo, were low key.

I saw the likes of Dona Aurora, the mother, and siblings Paul, Butz, Maur Lichauco, and Tessie Oreta, although we came to know their identities later. Doy Laurel, wife Celia, and their kids were there along with Senators Lorenzo Tanada, Rene Espina, and Mamintal Tamano and human rights lawyer Joker Arroyo.

I personally felt that the Aquino homecoming would be different from previous events that I covered and chronicled at the airport, when I saw an inordinate number of fully-armed soldiers deployed in the airport terminal building. No one among the journalists, opposition leaders, and Aquino family members were allowed to go out of the holding room the very moment we entered it. We were completely locked up in that room; we were held there. We did not know anything that had happened outside the holding room.

I saw the stern-looking Col. Vicente Tigas, a ranking official of Gen. Ver’s Presidential Security Command, walking back and forth just outside the holding room with his hand holding a walkie-talkie radio, as if he was checking if all journalists were locked in that holding room. Journalists of the crony papers were assigned in a different area, but because they knew the airport terrain, they went to the area where they could see the China Air Lines plane that brought in Aquino.

Recto Mercene of the crony paper Times Journal took the iconic shots of soldiers dragging Ninoy Aquino’s body into a waiting van after he was shot. The group of journalists and civilians were already bored and restless when at around 2 pm, a moon-faced, bespectacled American national with a pair of chinky eyes to indicate he was of Oriental descent, barged into the holding room and went straight to Dona Aurora, the Aquino siblings, Tanada, and Arroyo to tell them nervously that Aquino, while in the custody of soldiers, was shot.

‘THEY SHOT HIM.’ I was just a few meters away when Ken Kashiwahara of U.S. network ABC, husband of sister Lupita and Ninoy’s brother-in-law, tearfully said these words that continue to resonate into my ears: “They shot him… Yes, they shot him.” A stunned Tanada asked: “Is he dead?” “Yes, he’s dead,” Kashiwahara replied as he recounted how the soldiers dragged his body to the van. Then, the Aquinos, Tanada, Arroyo, and others broke into tears.
Kashiwahara was too overwhelmed by emotions to narrate details of Aquino’s murder. But because he was a journalist too, he took pains to explain what exactly transpired when China Air Lines Flight 811 touched down at the airport and soldiers of the Aviation Security Command (AVSECOM), under Brig. Gen. Luther Custodio, took Aquino from his seat. Kashiwahara was our first source of information. We did not know that an unidentified guy, whom the military later alleged as Aquino’s gunman with communist links, was also killed on the airport tarmac.

Kashiwahara traveled to Manila to accompany Ninoy Aquino. His wife, Lupita, earlier arrived in Manila to prepare for the homecoming. Jim Laurie, Kashiwahara’s colleague at ABC, also traveled with Ninoy Aquino’s party to do the coverage with his crew. Other journalists in the China Air Lines flight included Sandra Burton of Time newsmagazine, Max Vanzi of the United Press International (UPI), and controversial Kiyoshi Wakamiya, freelance Japanese journalist, who earlier said he saw a soldier shoot Aquino but later recanted it.

We went back to our office in the Ermita district to file news reports about Aquino’s murder. I called up various sources – opposition leaders, defense and military officials, Malacanang, and fellow working journalists (it was customary for us to share information) – for updates. By 5:30 pm, we went back to the airport for the press conference of Maj. Gen. Prospero Olivas, PC-INP Metrocom chief, who told newsmen that the unidentified gunman (later known as Rolando Galman) shot Aquino with a .357 handgun.

At that point, Marcos had firmed up the theory that Aquino was killed by an alleged communist hit man. By nightfall, more details trickled in. Aquino was brought by his military escorts to the Army Hospital in Fort Bonifacio.

I was told that Doy Laurel, Dona Aurora, and Aquino’s siblings went to the army hospital, but were stopped at the entrance of Fort Bonifacio, forcing them to walk for an hour under the boiling sun because the soldiers did not allow them to use their vehicles in going to the hospital, and, of course, I heard the confirmation that Aquino was dead. By late evening, I had an idea that Aquino was a victim of a military rubout, a conspiracy of the lowest kind.[8]

I consulted my media colleagues by telephone and the emerging consensus was that a military plot to kill him was implemented the moment he arrived in Manila. By midnight, I felt the extreme exhaustion of our coverage. It was a long day indeed. Suddenly, I felt tears start rolling down my cheeks.

I am a journalist trained to take distance from my coverage. But I am also a Filipino, who felt indignant at the way they killed Aquino. It was most repugnant for me to see a patriot being murdered in broad daylight. My Japanese boss saw how I felt. He did not say a word, although I felt he sympathized with me. He allowed me some minutes to compose myself out of respect for my feelings. Then, he gently told me we should go home for tomorrow’s coverage. By 8 am the next day, I was in the office for another day of hard work.