Four times a year we visited him at Fort Bonifacio. The Aquinos and Cojuangcos were made to place a whiteboard over our chest with our names. Snap! They photographed each of us. Then we were taken by a Sarao jeep to where Ninoy was detained. We sat on the stairs of a multi-purpose auditorium while a camera recorded our movements and a microphone’s long pole hovered, monitoring our conversations obnoxiously. There, we waited for Ninoy to come out of his room, whose windows were nailed with boards to keep him ignorant of the time of day.
In plain clothes, they spied in buses for derogatory remarks against Marcos, curtailing freedom of speech, detaining those who uttered less than adoring remarks about their commander-in-chief. They had Ninoy’s driver Teodie eat Ninoy’s picture.
Now who would want to befriend a man in uniform? Not me.
The anti-Marcos rallies came and we were stoned, shot at and water-hosed. To make friends with those policemen, Never! I feared them, too.
Cory came to power and we befriended bemedalled men we initially doubted. I went to the National Defense College of the Philippines for my second master’s degree and, guess what? My classmate (now general) Romeo Peña’s introductory statement was "I water-hosed you in Makati." My other classmate Commodore Ed Tolentino said, "I monitored you in Tawi-Tawi." It didn’t take long to realize my classmates were of flesh, blood and laughter. Not stone, and steel nor heartless. I have since become a sincere friend to uniformed men and their wives. One wife for each only. I even belong to PMA Class ’83 through Col. Alex Ignacio. In fact, I am a reserve army officer.
All that introduction to say, that in time, I have changed, forgiven but never forgotten.
Men who serve and protect like Col. Nick Bartolome who instill discipline in drivers who disobey Crame’s parking regulations. Offenders have to write 1,000 times: "Hindi ko na uulitin ito." Elementary but effective. Ask my driver. Then there’s Col. Louie Ticman whose van was bumped by Pete Cura’s vehicle. Unfazed, he patiently made traffic flow and the investigation objective. Of course, Col. Doroteo Reyes III stopped jueteng with me during my governorship and instilled discipline in hardheaded cops. Lt. Servando M. Hizon was twice wounded in Sulu in an encounter against Muslim separatists. Everyone I’ve mentioned here are coincidentally PMAers. Except Flor Fianza who directed operations to save the gains of EDSA 2 on May 1, 2001.
This avowed duty extends not only to citizens, but to the constitution. A constitution that guarantees freedom of expression, however tawdry that expression may be. As is the case with the film Red Diaries.
While the PNP is not against the legitimate exercise of free speech, its own right to protect its image must be heard.
For far too long, our boys in blue have suffered the stigma of Martial Law torturers. While most of the senior officers who supervised the repression have since retired or themselves been executed in the name of vendettas and revolutionary justice, the public it seems, chooses to remember the uniformed man in the Metrocom’s iron-fisted image.
So it is with the present-day PNP hierarchy that it has done its best, to rid the force of scalawags and rogues. While incidents of brutality are reported, it is no longer operational policy. And though uniformed criminals continue to prey on the public, a more disciplined and dedicated core of officers are on the hunt for them. Ping Lacson is hunted down by ISAFP’s Victor Corpuz laying aside a Mistah for our Republic, recognizing a "black commander" in faded blue. And in a reversal of roles, Victor Corpuz is now looking into Ping Lacson’s alleged nefarious activities.
Red manages to do that. It also manages to transform an actress who, unable to break Jolina’s hold on sugar ’n’ spice roles, decides to fling her bra, spread her legs and go soft-porn.
Hmm, haven’t we seen this before? Just like 99 percent of local films, the storylines remain the same. Only the characters change.
Producers should focus the camera on themselves. Let the public see how they lure actors barely out of pubescence to shed away their clothes and their honor.
Go ahead, shoot a scene with cops raping a woman. While they’re at it, why not pounce on the producers and directors who shout instructions like, "Sige, umire ka pa! Konti pang bukaka!"
For comparison, the future policeman has the same dreams as the future priest in Red. Their purpose includes identical values: service to others, self-discipline, integrity – above all, both are other-oriented. Both institutions strengthen these values and the end result is wrapped in a uniform to signify those values.
When they go to the real world, they face the temptations their respective uniforms attract. The policeman is targeted by forces that tempt towards ill-gotten wealth and abuse of his power. The priest is tempted to sins of the flesh and loss of the very values that his religious habit symbolizes. Some from both groups will fall. But the fallen priest attracts the prayers of his peers to redeem himself. The corrupted cop receives the undying condemnation of his comrades. The priest is in the business of redemption and hope. The fraternity of the uniform is less forgiving, they are in the business of fighting for us.
Their life is not about bondage and machismo but unions of man and wife striving to have a Christ-centered home, supporting their children through school with less, than more, in earnings. It’s about big boys, who can’t cry "help" or "mom" when they’re bleeding from stab or bullet wounds because their guns are "vintage forgotten" and they’ve entered a den of death in the line of duty.
It’s about the hurt the husbands suffers from all these self-expressions: "Masakit nga pero hindi ba kami puwedeng magsalita sa depensa namin? " or "dumudugo na kami," as they strive to defend their reputation and credentials as fathers, sons, brothers, husbands, even before politicians that need cleansing. It’s about men and women officers who want to bequeath a legacy of honesty, bravery and reform in their expression of choice and faith in their calling.
For all their shortcomings, our police are serving and protecting. We’ve taken long to correct the ills of martial law, striving for good governance through EDSA 1 and 2. What have we achieved? When will the change ever come or even begin?