Where were you when you heard the news? I was seated at my desk, reviewing a document, when a tiny notification from Twitter informed me that the Supreme Court had acquitted Hubert Webb and his co-accused.
And where was I when I heard the news about what was going to be called the Vizconde Massacre? I was in school, most probably; I was a high school sophomore. I definitely heard it first by word of mouth. Our school was in a village beside the village the Vizcondes lived in. Some of the students in our school were their neighbors.
There's something about that time and the heinous crimes that were committed on young people during that time that marked my generation. The word "heinous" was brought to me by the 1990s.
In June of 1991, there was the Vizconde Massacre, which took the life of Carmela, 18, and her sister Jennifer, 7, and their mother. In July of that same year, there was Eldon Maguan, 25, shot in a traffic altercation by Rolito Go. Days later, Maureen Hultman, 16, and her friend Roland John Chapman, lost their lives to Claudio Teehankee, Jr., who shot them for no apparent reason. Two years after, Eileen Sarmenta and Allan Gomez, both UP Los Baños students, were abducted and killed by the men of Mayor Antonio Sanchez of Calauan, Laguna. Four years later, there was the Chiong rape-murder case in Cebu.
All these cases were played up in the media. All of them had alleged perpetrators perceived to be upperclass, to be powerful. Incidentally, all the accused in these cases were found guilty.
You can just imagine how scared everyone was and how worried parents were and how sheltered many children had to be. My sister, upon hearing strange noises outside our house, once put knives under her pillow. I would wake up in the middle of the night, imagining intruders climbing our gates and breaking into our house, and shiver in fear until daylight.
Terribly fearful times, but, when I think about it now, it was more because we had so few streams of information. We only relied on what media delivered to us, and we based our judgments on what was available. And what was available was only what people would buy.
I remember first believing Hubert Webb and his co-accused were guilty. This broke my heart because Jason Webb was a popular UAAP basketball player at the time. The first instance of doubt entered my mind when I read that star witness Jessica Alfaro was flouting NBI rules, partying even on supposed witness protection, and hooking up with one of the NBI agents. But then, Hubert and his co-accused were found guilty, and that was that.
Some months ago, I saw "Dalawang Mukha Ng Hustisya" on Cheche Lazaro Presents. It told the stories of the Webb family and the Vizconde family and how they were coping with the aftermath of the Vizconde Massacre. It was a jolt back into that fearful decade as much as it was a re-framing of a hazy picture of a powerful, abusive Webb family. Freddie, the father, was a senator then. Now, he was clearly a father faithfully fighting for a truth he believed in.
Some weeks ago, I happened upon the Justice for Hubert Webb page on Facebook. I decided to read up on the links that were posted there and soon found myself unconvinced that Hubert was indeed guilty beyond reasonable doubt. We want to get the truth out, said Fritz Webb and a family friend who managed the page.
It was an information campaign to help gather public sympathy for Hubert, and the public that had stayed silent when he was sentenced to prison responded. Traditional media couldn't drown out social media this time.
Times have changed, and how.
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