Back in the 1990s, there was this surge of “true crime” movies that portrayed the men and women of the law — lawyers, investigators, police officers, judges, and even priests — as almost-superheroes. The heroes would start raiding drug dens and rescuing hostages with guns a-blazing, the trials would last five minutes, and justice would be served. Yet the Vizconde Massacre showed a side of law enforcement that we’re all too familiar with, and it’s not the swift and speedy justice found in movie scripts.
It’s one of mishandled evidence, bungled investigations, questionable testimonies, and sustained suffering. It wasn’t justice; rather, it was vindication. It wasn’t a thumbs-up for the criminal justice system; rather, it was a black eye. On the one hand, you have a man who was imprisoned for close to 15 years, only to have his conviction overturned. On the other hand, you have a man who sought justice for his family’s murder, and is still being denied that answer 15 years later.
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Justices, lawyers and officials all take pains pointing out that the acquittal of Hubert Webb et al didn’t mean a verdict of guilty or innocent. In recapping the events that led to the acquittal, it is clear that the investigation failed from the very start. The scene of the crime was not secured, the evidence was lost, and the testimonies were not carefully corroborated and substantiated.
This is not to say that Lauro Vizconde was denied justice: rather, justice was delayed (and continues to be delayed) for him. What makes the outcome of the Vizconde Massacre trial is that it was slow: through the course of more than 15 years, Vizconde and Webb were victims of the same denial of the right to a fair and speedy trial, mostly because of the bumbling and stumbling of the criminal justice system.
Delayed justice may be justice, but the fact that vindication was delayed for Hubert Webb — and judgment remains elusive for Lauro Vizconde — indicts the institutions of law and order in the process. Even the mea culpa of Juan Ponce Enrile, in saying that “human justice is not exact justice,” should highlight the magnitude of the ineptitude of the bureau in charge of investigating the case. Courts may only be able to appreciate evidence on the basis of evidence, and the only way we can come to exact justice is to have exact evidence.
People love to distribute blame, but in this case, that falls squarely on the shoulders of the criminal justice system. One, for taking too long to proceed with the trial. Two, for being unable to protect the evidence adequately. Three, for committing the insufferable fault of delaying justice enough for the accused and the accusers to suffer.
The Vizconde Massacre is a good case of “justice delayed is justice not done,” that perhaps directors and scriptwriters would have been better off in portraying the criminal justice system as a comedy. Whether or not justice is seen through in the end remains to be seen, but the Vizconde Massacre is a case of every participant being just another victim of the slippery grip of the long arm of the law in what it’s supposed to do.