Not guilty
The year 1977. The ultimate aim of this tyranny was to transform our citizenry into a spineless, gelatinous mass. “I will not participate,” said Ninoy Aquino at his trial before the Military Commission. Furthermore, he said, “I submit that his Military Commission is not competent to try me, because mine is a political trial.”
As Ninoy would later write, “I have a pending petition of habeas corpus filed by my mother with the Supreme Court. I do not want to prejudice the case. I shall present evidence and witnesses for my defense after the Supreme Court shall have designated the proper court to hear my case. My petition questions the capacity of this Military Commission to render a fair and impartial judgment in view of the uniqueness of my case.”
The appeal of not guilty was written by Ninoy in 1977. Years back, Ferdinand Marcos wrote his not guilty plea also to prove his innocence for the murder of Nalundasan.
From “Testament from a Prison Cell” by Ninoy:
“Ferdinand Marcos’s father, Mariano Marcos, ran for a seat in the National Assembly. His opponent was Julio Nalundasan, the political lieutenant of President Quezon. Mariano Marcos lost that election. Three days after the election, Nalundasan, while brushing his teeth, was shot and killed in his house in Batac, Ilocos Norte. A gun was missing in the UP Armory, and the evidence pointed to young Ferdinand Marcos, a law student and a cadet officer in the University of the Philippines.
“The Court of First Instance of Ilocos Norte tried him, his father, and his two uncles on charges of murder. After a fair trial, they were pronounced guilty. They appealed to the Supreme Court. The Marcoses claimed that the charge was political persecution by President Quezon. An independent Supreme Court reversed the Court of First Instance and acquitted Mr. Marcos. That is why Mr. Marcos keeps on saying without a free judiciary and without the Bill of Rights, he would no be nowhere, where he is today.
“Gentlemen, all the guarantees extended to Marcos as an accused and to which he ascribes his acquittal, are precisely the guarantees he has denied me now. He has placed all the agencies of the government, including the entire judiciary under his direct control, by issuing General Order No. 1. The Bill of Rights today is nothing more than a scrap of paper. And by bringing these I cannot even appeal my case to a crippled Supreme Court. If President Quezon had declared martial law in 1939, thrown Mr. Marcos in jail, and ordered the filing of a murder charge with a military tribunal of his own creation, would there be any doubt in your minds that he would surely have been convicted, and could never have been congressman, senator, and then president of the Philippines? Unlike Mr. Marcos, I am not just the son of a remote political adversary. I am a political rival of your Commander in Chief. How, in the name of reason, can I expect justice and impartiality in your hands, you who happen to be his direct subordinates?”
The trial of People of the Philippines vs. Benigno S. Aquino, Jr. et al, was tedious. The hearings were a farce and irritating, the arrogance of Gen. Jose Syjuco was hell. On Nov. 25, 1977 at 9:30 p.m., Ninoy had been incarcerated for five years. Our families — the Aquinos and Cojuangcos — gathered for another day in the gallery of the tribunal hall in Fort Bonifacio.
Ninoy, emaciated and gaunt, was escorted to his seat before the presiding military officers. His black T-shirt accentuated his weight loss; he also wore white trousers and white bush jacket. He rose to answer a charge and looked very bothered but prepared to defend himself. The prosecution had already finished its presentation of witnesses. Ninoy refused to recognize the court and was escorted back to his cell.
It was now afternoon. There was still no word from the military tribunal. Ninoy was kept out of the afternoon hearings, leaving him totally unrepresented. We stayed the entire day, waiting. Ninoy suspected the commission had already decided on his case. Evening came and still no word. Ninoy changed into a charcoal-gray suit that he ordered specifically for the conviction and sentencing.
Ninoy questioned, “Why did Military Commission No. 2 deny our request to allow the Supreme Court to decide our pending petitions, to defer the hearings, for a few days? Why did the Military Defense Counsel who diligently defended PC Lt. Victor Corpus and Bernabe Buscayno and myself until July 22, 1977, suddenly abandon us and never raised a protest while our rights were shamefully violated during the last crucial thirteen hours?”
Just before midnight, Ninoy said, “I have always mistrusted military commissions. At the turn of the century, my own grandfather, Gen. Servillano Aquino, was convicted and sentenced to death by musketry by an American military tribunal for alleged war crimes during the dying days of the Filipino-American War.”
It was around 9 p.m. when the Commission reached a decision. We returned to the courtroom. Ninoy was brought in. Right after, Buscayno and Victor Corpus followed. Both were made to stand on each side of Ninoy. Buscayno on Ninoy’s right and Corpus on his left.
Brigadier General Syjuco and the rest of the tribunal entered the room, then took their seats. Without any preliminary statement or the reading of the charges, Syjuco handed down the verdict on Ninoy Aquino and his co-dependants.
“Guilty,” Syjuco announced, “Death by msuketry.”
Someone from the Aquino clan let out a grasp and a slight cry. The hearing was adjourned as abruptly as it commenced. We were stunned and enraged. “No tears,” were the words Lupita reminded us. We were looking at each other and were about to cry. We shed tears. Cory and her children approached Ninoy to embrace him before he was taken back to his cell. We went to the garden where I found Lola Aurora praying. In whispers, we condemned the actions orchestrated by Marcos and Brigadier General Jose Syjuco at 10:25 p.m. on Nov. 25, 1977.
In his cell, Ninoy composed his plea to the Supreme Court, part of which read:
“Your Honors:
“I am writing you this letter alone in my lonely cell. I have been sentenced to die by firing squad because I refused to participate in a proceeding, which I consider a conscienceless mockery of justice.
“I have been deprived of my freedom and the company of my loved ones for 1,890 days. I want to cry but I have no more tears to shed, my eyes have run dry… I am innocent of the charges leveled against me…”
In spite of this sad turn of events, it was a different Ninoy we visited the next morning in Fort Bonifacio.
He was literally bouncing towards us, carrying his dog Mako. The first thing he told us was that he had a dream. “Kung babarilin nga ako ay huwag lang ako matamaan sa mukha.” (I hope I don’t get hit in the face.) Ninoy was always cheerful, hiding his grief when he was with us. It was a way of lifting our spirits. The trials were emotionally draining, I heard my father-in-law say, “Kawawa naman si Cory.”
Cory published Ninoy’s Testament From a Prison Cell from 1975 to 1977 in 1984. My children and I smuggled out the manuscript, page by page.
Here’s what Ninoy wrote:
“My duty, as I see it, is to tell our people that we must not only dream of a good and just society. We must resolve to make this dream come true…
“Hopefully, with the end of these proceedings, the woman who is the hope and light of my life’s dark night will be delivered from her anxiety and anguish. She has stood by me with an unshakeable faith, unruffled and undeterred by the endless humiliation, the abandonment of friends, and the heavy burdens of having to be a teacher, father, mother and provider of my children. She has been the healing oasis in the desert of my prison.
“I wish I had more than one life to give, for even if I had a hundred lives, I would never be able to repay the love and affection bestowed upon me by our great people – to whom, when I was desperate, I confided my despair; and with whom, when I was hopeful, I shared my hopes.”
“I end with the brave and noble refrain of our National Anthem:
“Aming ligaya na pag may mang-aapi.
“Ang mamatay ng dahil sa iyo.”
