"In the dark times, will there also be singing? Yes, there will be singing about the dark times." - Brecht

Unbeknownst to strangers who heard him sing in videoke, Crooner KR Guda did not have formal training in music, apart from a brief stint as a bass voice singing "Times of Your Life" during high school. Nowadays, he busies himself writing about politics and culture and studying photojournalism. As a journalist covering human rights issues, he is what can aptly be described by that John Berger quote: "Truly we writers are the secretaries of death." (Thanks to newly-sanctioned poet Teo Marasigan for that one)
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Murder She Wrought / 23 Nov 05
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A Seige of Mendiola / 15 Oct 05
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Shaping Up Before Shipping (Her) Out / 31 Jul 05
I was in the Office Working the Entire Time Neil Gaiman was in the Philippines / 17 Jul 05
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A Blogger's Mortal Sin: Infrequent Updating / 2 Jul 05
Beyond Da Vinci (Or the Beginning and End of My Days of Piety) / 7 Jun 05
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Rilke Writes Pimples / 12 May 05
Picking a Fight with the 'great' Sheila Coronel? / 12 May 05
Lurking (A Short Story) / 4 May 05
Ang Katutubo at ang Tubong Sampaloc / 27 April 05
Ay, ay Kordilyera! / 20 Apr 05
Cinema at Divisoria / 14 Apr 05
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He had been talking about it for years, but it seemed that outside the movement that he had led, few were listening. In 2001, Jose Maria Sison -- the exiled Filipino revolutionary leader, poet and radical intellectual -- talked of a supposed assassination plot against him by Philippine state security agents that was operationalized on May 2000 and, at the time of his revelation, was still in operation. Later, a Filipino police official, Col. Reynaldo Berroya, admitted to media that the government had indeed dispatched a team to liquidate Sison in 2000.
The leader of the team, it was later revealed, was Romulo Kintanar, former head of the New People's Army who in 1992 became an intelligence agent for the military. Along with Arturo Tabara and Nilo dela Cruz, Kintanar went to the Netherlands to carry out the plan. It was botched, according to Sison, when a "backup triggerman" was arrested by the Dutch police in an earlier separate incident. "The hit team floundered until December when once more it made a last desperate assassination attempt," said Sison. "But I did not appear at the spot where I had been anticipated."
All these have been underreported in media, even after Kintanar himself was killed by NPA partisans in 2003. According to the government and Kintanar's widow, it was plain murder. Gregorio Rosal, Communist Party spokesman, however, explained that the killing was a punitive action against an armed and dangerous man. News reports indicated Kintanar was heavily armed ("45 caliber pistol, an HK machine pistol and a Glock 9mm pistol," reported the Inquirer) at the time of his killing. (1)
Last Tuesday, August 28, the Dutch police arrested Sison. In an interview with ANC, Julie de Lima, Sison's wife, recounted how a Dutch police officer called the NDFP International Office and asked for an appointment with Sison. He requested the exiled revolutionary to go to the Police office to "pickup some documents" which, Sison assumed, were about the Dutch authorities' investigation on the 2000 assassination plot. Upon arrival at the police station, he was ordered under arrest and whisked away to the Dutch capital, The Hague, where he was held -- in Guantanamo Bay prison style -- incommunicado for charges of ordering the murder of Kintanar and Tabara in 2003 while in Dutch soil. This, according to reports, was the same prison used by the Nazis to encarcerate Jews during the Second World War.
Did Sison order the "retaliatory" assassination of Kintanar and Tabara? Reason points to the contrary. The NPA, which operates in the Philippines, had claimed responsibility of "punishing" the two military assets. It also denies that Sison has any operational control over the armed revolutionary group. Common sense would dictate that there would absolutely be no reason for Sison to be directly involved in the killing of Kintanar and Tabara. Although he is the chief political consultant for the NDFP in the negotiations, Sison is "aboveground" (as opposed to "underground", the term referred to actions outside the ambit of the legal system). By all intents and purposes, he is a public personality. And as the chairperson of the International League of Peoples' Struggle, he is a towering figure in international radical politics.
Sison is constantly under direct scrutiny from the media, who time and again asks him for opinion on Philippine matters. Filipino residents who had met him in the Netherlands and Europe say he is readily accessible to anybody who wants to meet him. It is to be assumed, too, of course, that he is under constant surveillance from the Arroyo, the Dutch and the US governments -- all of which brand him a terrorist.
Which brings me to one conclusion alone: that Sison's arrest is purely symbolic on so many levels. First, there are Kintanar and Tabara's widows, who as former revolutionary partisans should know very well the decision-making processes involved when the NPA applies "revolutionary justice" to its enemies. The Communist Party makes no secret of the fact that no single individual within its organization decides who to "punish". It is a "collective", an "organ" within the revolutionary movement, but never based on the whim of a single person, much less someone outside the country.
Second, because it takes a great stretch of imagination to conclusively pin Kintanar and Tabara's killings on Sison, the arrest and persecution is symbolic of the Philippine government's desire to put an end to the insurgency. This is revealed by Executive Secretary Eduardo Ermita's statement to the effect that the government sees the weakening of the NPA after Sison's arrest: "You can imagine a person who is suffering from [a] headache, when the head is adversely affected, you can see what happens to the rest of the body. It's the same thing in an organization."
Third, as an international "revolutionary" figure, Sison is a thorn to the US government's foreign policy of economic, political and military expansionism, of which he is a fierce critic. Years ago, at the onset of the US-led war on terror, it has been reported that the US government lobbied to have Sison arrested and held in custody by the US government, possibly in Guantanamo Bay prison. Today, the US government is under fire for its inhumane treatment of prisoners in Guantanamo where -- New Yorker magazine investigative journalist Jane Mayer reports, citing an internal CIA study -- more than half of the prisoners are probably innocent of the charges of terrorism and "are not even supposed to be there."
One can reasonably conclude, therefore, that Sison's arrest is a political move, calculated to weaken the revolutionary movement in the Philippines and stifle a strong voice against US "imperialism".
The Inquirer editorial, sometimes eloquently libertarian and often hopelessly naive, says in its August 31 piece that "If Sison did order the deaths of Kintanar and Tabara, no amount of revolutionary rationalization or ideological rhetoric can mask his liability." The Inquirer seems to be willing to bend logic to accomodate a long-existing prejudice against Sison (2). It is willing to believe that the Dutch government acted in good faith in arresting Sison, when in fact it has for years actively participated in denying Sison his rights as a political refugee, and even seconded the European Union in branding Sison as terrorist. Contrary to the Inquirer's claim, it is not the Dutch government, which had been trying to get rid of Sison for years, but the Filipino migrants and progressive Dutch libertarians (lawyers, politicians, activists, etc.) who have provided sanctuary to Sison.
Tragically, the editorial likewise reveals a deep distrust of the national democratic movement: that this revolution is still led, and its nefarious operations micromanaged, by no less than Sison himself, thousands of miles away from the country. And that the NPA guerrillas, its cadres and partisans are mere pawns in the game that Sison plays.
"This is the exact kind of justice, the same kind of truth-revealing investigation, that opposition politicians like [Satur] Ocampo have sought to apply to the President since the “Hello, Garci” scandal erupted over two years ago. Why, in effect, would they deny Sison his day in court?," says the editorial. In fact, there is an ocean of difference between both instances. Arroyo is still free as a bird, and, with the resources of the entire state at her disposal, wants truth stifled by suppressing evidence in Congress (i.e. EO 464 and the prohibition on playing the Hello Garci tapes), the streets (CPR), at the media (Proclamation 1017 and the libel suits). Sison, on the other hand, had previously spent a good nine years in solitary confinement for fighting the Marcos dictatorship, and today is being politically persecuted for holding fast to his principles and never backing down.
___________
Notes
(1) Under the Geneva Convention, Kintanar qualifies as a "lawful combatant" in the armed conflict between the Philippine government and the revolutionary movement of the CPP-NPA-NDFP.
Article 44.3 of the Protocol Additional to the Geneva Conventions states that:
"Recognizing, however, that there are situations in armed conflicts where, owing to the nature of the hostilities an armed combatant cannot so distinguish himself, he shall retain his status as a combatant, provided that, in such situations, he carries his arms openly::
( a ) During each military engagement, and
( b ) During such time as he is visible to the adversary while he is engaged in a military deployment preceding the launching of an attack in which he is to participate. "
(2) The Inquirer has been branding Sison a "self-exile"; columnist Luis Teodoro points out that there is no such word in the English language. Its use, too, betrays a prejudice against a man who did not voluntarily "exile" himself, but was forced to live abroad because of the Philippine government's cancellation of his passport and the subsequent threats to his life
Quentin Tarantino riding the padyak is a small, funny anecdote to the director's eventful Philippine trip: a collection of anecdotes, in fact, that involved a couple of tropical storms, a filmfest, some Pinoy delicacies, and Tarantino travelling from one "rat-infested place" (as Hollywood actress Claire Danes once rudely put it) like Cubao to another, like Malacañang. In fact, Tarantino had been quoted as saying he enjoyed the pedicab ride -- he really seems to be having a blast.
But somehow, I feel odd about seeing Tarantino, the irreverent director of such films as Pulp Fiction, Jackie Brown and Kill Bill, here in Manila. He does not seem to me like someone who would be interested in a crazy, westernized third-world country like ours. Sure he said he loved Eddie Romero films. And more importantly, he's crazy about our B-movies. But not in a way that we would like to be appreciated, for you've got to have a heightened sense of irony to appreciate our 1970s-1980s Tagalog films which were mostly cheap copies of Hollywood. Conversely, I don't think Pinoys have the sensibility needed to appreciate Tarantino's films.
I'm sure direk Tikoy Aguiluz meant well when he invited Tarantino to grace Cinemanila. After all, he's Tarantino the maverick Hollywood auteur. I, for one, swears by his work, especially Pulp Fiction and Jackie Brown, despite being a being a bigger fan of writer bell hooks who criticized Tarantino's reactionary, "cool cynical" view of the world. (Hooks argues that Tarantino, like his hip characters, brands every human endeavor from religion to revolution as mere "gigs" or "rackets"). She's got a point there. But in terms of filmic forms, Tarantino is pretty revolutionary to me.
Even in a third-world setting where postmodernism does not exist outside coffe shops and academia, there is something oddly powerful about Pulp Fiction's irreverence and utter disregard for conventional narratives, storytelling forms, and sympathetic characterizations. Stripped of its ability to delude you into believing that what you are watching is reality or a close proximation of reality and its rules, Tarantino's films can be appreciated in much the same way that French filmmaker Jean-Luc Godard's films are appreciated -- Brechtian, revolutionary in form, though completely elitist and sectarian as a whole.
Anyway, Tarantino getting a "lifetime achievement award" from both Cinemanila and Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo just does not sit well with me. For one, there's our so-called president, the lying, scheming woman who hates films of social value (she once called Jose Reyes' realist film Toro "soft porn") and hates the film-watching masses even more, handing out Tarantino the award. For another, there's the incompatibility: we Filipinos just don't view violence in much the comical, ironic way that Tarantino sees it.
It's no secret that Tarantino's films are violent. Filipinos, too, are violent. In fact, Tarantino has visited the country just as government troops were commencing punitive attacks on Moro rebels in Basilan and Sulu. A lot of our better films are violent, too -- Peque Gallaga's Ora Plata Mata first comes to mind. What differentiates, Tarantino from Gallaga, though, is the former's film's gratiuitousness with which violence is portrayed. For instance, unlike the carnage of war during the Second World War (which was the setting for Gallaga's Oro), violence in Pulp Fiction et al is never a necessary abnormality; in fact violence is normal, you could get your head blown off anytime, even when you're in the middle of a sentence or in the middle of shitting. Unlike an unjust war where violence is calculated and directed towards enemies and their sympathizers, Tarantino's violence is always indiscriminate, even black gangsters get butt-fucked by rednecks.
I always await Tarantino's films in our theaters with anticipation, but just don't see the same interest in him in many other movie-going Pinoys, except maybe the select few who love animei. I watched Pulp Fiction, in fact, the day it came out here in Manila -- three days later it was out of the moviehouses.
It’s no secret that show business is a dirty, dirty world. Or, for that matter, television. I greatly admire friends who are in television and somehow manage to not get involved in the sleaziness of it all. It’s hard keep some semblance of an integrity intact with everything going on being driven by the need to cough out a buck from the public.
Don’t get me wrong, though. I am a firm believer in the power of television. Though I fancy myself to be critical-minded, popular culture is so prevalent I cannot imagine living without it. Even folks in the remotest provinces are not immune from it, their transistor radios adorned with photos of the hottest artista, tuned in to the latest pop song brought to them by the latest brand of detergent designed to expunge the stingiest stain. Even communist rebels are daily tuned in to news, spliced in between hearing Deo Macalma bitch about the traffic and the hottest Pia Guanio chika in the news show’s radio version. Indeed, even revolutionaries cannot escape popular culture.
There is a geniune need in me that popular culture provides. Sometimes, that is a feeling of community, of having to share with the rest of the public stories and tunes that we feel strongly enough about. Sometimes it is the feeling of empowerment in being privy to some intimate details about the rich, the powerful and the famous. Everybody knows about Kris Aquino’s problems with men, with her siblings, with her uber-religious ex-president mother, or with her autistic child Joshua who Kris once accidently run over with her car. Kris Aquino is beyond opinion: she’s part of us – like a sexual harassing, drunkard uncle or for that matter, an autistic sibling – whether we like it or not.
Much of popular culture feels exactly like how I feel about Kris: utterly inescapable, like a fart clogging your nosetrils while you’re inside an cramped, windowless room.
Thing is, though, there are rare moments when you feel glad about all these, as if one whiff of fresh scent would make up for that stinking fart in the cramped, windowless room. Angel Locsin, to me, has been that rare moment. Before all the brouhaha about her leaving GMA-7, she was the hottest star of all, starring in one hit telenovela after another (soaps being the ultimate starmakers today – which reminds me: that 1979 Buggle song needs a Pinoy update: “Telenovela killed the Film Star”). Then, just at the height of her stardom, she drops a big project (Marimar, insiders say, was created especially for Angel), draws the ire of network executives, and signs up with a rival network.
Thus sucking her and all of us into a whirlwind of bad publicity. Suddenly, Angel Locsin “scandals” flood Quiapo and other pirate bays. She becomes the center of chismis (“buntis, kaya nag-London”, etc). And in a slew of shallow, negative stories that threaten the credibility of television journalism forever, Angel’s image is transformed from that of a sweet network angel to that of a lying, villainous snake (don’t know, though, what it is about snakes that connotes treachery).
Why did she switch networks? Why leave a lucrative career in GMA-7 where she started out in the first place and which, as its network executives repeatedly pointed out, invested so heavily in her? In an interview with Pia Guanio in Startalk, Angel’s erstwhile program manager, I forgot her name, related her bitterness in seeing Angel leave GMA-7 because they were the first to put faith in her bankability even when she was a nobody. “Walang utang na loob” is a phrase being used a lot to refer to the actress nowadays.
I can’t say I’m not surprised at this reaction. Yes, we all know about how they gambled on Angel, but how about the booty? The Guazons and the Duavits probably profitted much more from Angel than Angel profitted from GMA-7. Angel’s telenovelas consistently topped the ratings, thereby flooding Siyete with advertisements and enabling its marketing department to considerably hike up its ad rates. Hence, a lot of money for the network, and possibly the title of the top TV network in town. Angel, in return, got her five-year contract which was, I presume, pegged at the actress’ worth five years ago, before Mulawin, Darna, Majika, and Asian Treasures, and has a new house-and-lot (Manny Villar got her a discount for the lot) and a Hummer to show for it.
Angel is no saint, I’m sure, and money played a considerable role in her decision to switch networks. There’s nothing shocking there. But what really interested me is why Angel left Siyete where she could probably get an equally substantial amount of money. People close to her disclose her newfound disliking for showing some skin. In Marimar, she would have had to do that a lot. A short encounter with Angel gave me the impression that she did not like to be bossed around, that she was one tough momma. Marimar, in contrast, is a nutcase, a dim-witted barrio lass who is desired by a lot of men and talks to her dog. Angel is said to have sworn off posing for men’s mags (and, in return, got booted out of the No. 1 spot of FHM’s sexiest), and reportedly threw a tantrum when Asian Treasures writers wrote a part in the show where she had to wear a bikini.
Is this a good thing or a bad thing? This, of course, is surely bad news for all salivating, testosterone-driven men, but good news for Angel herself. She has started to take herself seriously, conscious of the enormous power and influence she wields as an artista on television. “Di porke artista wala nang alam,” she once said to me in an interview (that was a short, one-time interview haha). We need role models, but we need people with guts, too, who can stand up to their networks and place their reputations and fortunes at stake for something they truly believed in.
She may still be a work in progress, but if she keeps this up she may be the best thing that has ever happened to corporate entertainment television.
Natawa si Edita Burgos. Ngayon kasi ang pangalawang pagkakataong nakaharap niya ang isang sundalong Abadilla. Unang pagkakataon nang arestuhin ng isang kinakakatakutang Abadilla ang asawa niyang peryodista. Pangalawa, isang Abadilla na naman ang humaharang sa hangad niyang mailabas at mapalaya ng militar ang kanyang anak.
“Noong panahon ni (dating pangulong Ferdinand) Marcos, muntik na akong suntukin ni Maj. Rolando Abadilla,” kuwento niya. Disyembre 7, 1982 noon, at sinalakay ng mga tropa ng Metrocom (Metropolitan Command) ni Abadilla ang opisina ng We Forum. Hinarap ni Edita ang opisyal at nagmatigas na isuko ang asawang patnugot ng pahayagan. Namula sa galit si Abadilla at itinaas ang braso, naghahandang bigwasan si Edita. Sa eksaktong pagkakataong iyon, pumasok sa eksena ang abogado ni Joe Burgos na si Joker Arroyo. Dingding na lang sa likod ni Edita ang sinuntok ng opisyal. “Ang lakas ng suntok, bagsak ang dingding,” alala ni Edita.
Noong nakaraang biyernes, Agosto 3, isang Lt. Col. Arthur Abadilla naman ang nakaharap niya sa pagdinig ng Court of Appeals sa kasong writ of habeas corpus na inihain niya para ilabas ng militar ang pinaniniwalaang dinukot nito na si Jonas Joseph Burgos, aktibista at miyembro ng Alyansa ng Magbubukid sa Bulacan.
“Di ko alam kung kamag-anak nitong Abadilla ’yung dating Abadilla,” sabi ni JL Burgos, kapatid ni Jonas.
Ang bagong Abadilla ang kasalukuyang provost marshal ng AFP (Armed Forces of the Philippines). Trabaho niya ang pagsasagawa ng mga internal na imbestigasyon sa mga tiwaling opisyal. Noong Mayo 9 – o 11 araw matapos dukutin si Jonas sa Ever Commonwealth Mall sa Quezon City – inutusan ni AFP Chief of Staff Hermogenes Esperon si Abadilla na imbestigahan ang posibleng pagkakasangkot ng mga sundalo sa pagdukot kay Jonas. Sa korte, inilahad ng security guard na si Larry Marquez, 22, na nakita niya si Jonas na sapilitang isinasakay sa isang Revo na kulay maroon na may plakang TAV 194. Napag-alamang pag-aari ng 56th Infantry Battalion ng Philippine Army sa Norzagaray, Bulacan ang naturang sasakyan.
Sa Court of Appeals, inamin ni Abadilla na nagpatawag siya ng 16 opisyal at sundalo ng 56th IB para imbestigahan ang mga ito. Sa husay ng direktang eksaminasyon ng abogado ng pamilyang Burgos na si Dean Pacifico Agabin, nahikayat pa si Abadilla na banggitin ang pangalan ng ilang opisyal tulad nina Lt. Col. Noel Clement at Lt. Col. Melquiades Feliciano.
Pero tumanggi si Abadilla na ilabas sa korte at kay Edita ang kanyang ulat sa imbestigasyon. “Isinumite ko na ang ulat ko sa aking boss. Wala akong karapatang magdala ng anumang dokumento sa korte nang walang permiso ng Chief of Staff,” giit ni Abadilla. Humingi ang korte ng deklarasyon mula kay Abadilla na masisiguro niyang mailalabas ang dokumento matapos magpaalam kay Esperon, pero matigas na tumanggi ito. Kasintigas, ani Edita, ng suntok ng nakatatandang Abadilla.
Walang duda
Walang duda sa isip ni Edita na militar ang dumukot kay Jonas. Maging ang Court of Appeals ay kumbinsido. Patunay nito ang utos ng korte sa Philippine Army na ilabas na ng huli si Jonas. Tulad ng inaasahan, tumanggi ang Army na nasa kanila si Jonas. Sabay deklara naman ni Army Chief Gen. Romeo Tolentino na batay sa kanilang imbestigasyon ay miyembro ng NPA (New People’s Army) si Jonas.
Pero sa kabila ng gabundok na ebidensiya, nangangamba si Edita na hindi na ilalabas ng military si Jonas. “Hindi nila inilalabas si Jonas dahil kapag nilabas nila ang anak ko, parang inamin na nila na ang pagdukot sa iba pa,” sabi ni Edita. Sa pagkakasulat ng artikulong ito, 185 na ang aktibista at sibilyang dinukot diumano ng militar dahil sa kanilang pampulitikang paniniwala. Sa 185, isa ang kaso ni Jonas sa iilan lamang na maituturing na may direktang ebidensiya na militar ang maysangkot. Sa halos lahat ng kaso, malakas ang ebidensiyang sirkunstansiyal. Pero direktang ebidensiya, iilan lamang.
Dahil dito, ipinaghahandaan na ni Edita ang posibilidad na hindi na ilalabas nang buhay ng militar si Jonas. Ipinalakas pa ito ng pag text sa kanya ng isang opisyal ng militar na huwag na raw hanapin si Jonas dahil patay na raw. “Marami naman kaming kaibigang opisyal na nakakausap naming. Ang sabi nila, maghanda na raw ako kasi malamang na pinatay na siya,” ani Edita.
Malabo na nga, pero may mga indikasyong nagsasabing maaaring buhay pa siya. Isa na rito ang mga sinabi ni Executive Secretary Eduardo Ermita sa kanya.
“Kaibigan ng pamilya si Ermita. Katunayan, ninong pa siya ni JL (Burgos),” kuwento pa ni Edita. “Kinausap namin si Ermita. Sabi ko sa kanya, ‘Sige naman o, ilabas niyo na ang anak ko’. Ang sagot ni Ermita, gagawin niya ang lahat sa saklaw ng kanyang kapangyarihan. E di parang inamin na rin nila. Hindi niya itinanggi na nasa kanila si Jonas. Ang sabi niya, gagawin niya ang lahat.”
Relihiyoso, saradong Katoliko at mapamahiin si Edita. “Hindi pa siguro pinapatay si Jonas kasi mararamdaman ko iyon kapag patay na siya,” aniya. Pero palagi siyang sinasabihan ng mg anak tulad ni JL na “wala naman daw magagawa ang pagsimba-simba” para mahanap si Jonas. Pero siyempre, ina siya. Wala siyang magagawa kundi magdasal at hanapin ang anak. Hanggang matiyak ang naging kapalaran ni Jonas.
Panganib
Sa paghahanap, maging ang buhay ni Edita ay nailalagay sa panganib. Noong mga nakaraang lingo, tuwing umuuwi siya sa New Manila ay nakararamdam siya na sinusundan siya. Isang beses, habang nag-iikot sa Shopping Center sa UP Diliman, naramdaman niyang sinusundan siya ng isang babae. Pumasok siya sa isang stall at sinundan din. Nagpanggap ang espiya na nagbebenta ng siniguwelas. Binili niya, pero bago iabot ang pera, binulungan niya ito ng: “Masama iyang ginagawa mo. Mananalangin akong hindi ka mapupunta sa impiyerna.” Namutla ang babae at kumaripas ng takbo, hindi man lang kinuha ang bayad. “May libreng siniguwelas tuloy ako,” patawang kuwento ni Edita.
Sa isa pang pagkakataon, sinundan siya sa isang kumbento sa New Manila. Isang lalaki ang nakaupo sa harap ng kumbento. Nilapitan niya at sinabihang kung gusto niyang maghintay ay pumasok na lamang sa simbahan. Umalis ang lalaki at sumakay sa isang nakaparadang sasakyan.
“Kailangan talaga hinaharap mo (ang mga sumusunod). Kausapin mo nang maayos. Kasi gusto lang nilang takutin ka. Imbes na matakot, hinaharap ko,” sabi niya.
Ito umano ang naging aktitud niya sa pagharap sa paghahanap kay Jonas. Alam niyang ang layunin ng pandarahas ng estado ay para takutin ang mga mamamayan, para hindi na magreklamo. Pero sa halip na matakot, dapat ay lalong harapin ang estado. Dapat singilin at igiit ang nararapat. Tulad ng matapang na pagharap niya sa mga Abadilla.
Batid niyang sa susunod, maaaring higit pa sa bigwas ng suntok ang matanggap niya, pero handa si Edita na harapin ang mga ito.