Ninoy’s murder is too often being revisited, but may never be solved

I was tempted to headline this column, "Plaridel Forever" but discarded the idea because the above title was, well, more topical.

On the other hand, I was not going to refer to Plaridel, Bulacan – which is the hometown of my wife (she hails from Bintog there) and, of course, forever deserves respect, too. On my front door there should hang a sign reading: a husband is only a husband, but She is The Speaker of the House. (Even in JDV’s home in Dasma, you know who’s The Speaker.)

The "Plaridel" our journalists’ association will be honoring on August 30 (a Monday, just over a week from now) is the hero or our revolutionary Propaganda Movement – the journalist, writer and editor, Marcelo H. del Pilar.

The nom de plume, the revolutionary pen name under which M.H. del Pilar wrote – recognize the name of the famous street? – was "PLARIDEL".

That’s what he was known as everywhere during that turbulent, patriotic period, "Plaridel" – hence, the Bulacan town named in his honor.

Yes, we also have a senior journalists’ organization by that name. When they hear of it, most people are surprised that we have an association of veteran journalists, editors, publishers and media practitioners (registered with the Securities & Exchange Commission at that) called the Samahang Plaridel. We even have a Clubhouse, now being renovated on T.M. Kalaw, fronting the Luneta, which hopefully will be inaugurated soon.

What will we be commemorating on August 30? The 154th birth anniversary of a man who was one of our nation’s greats, a patriot like Jose Rizal, although not as famous – perhaps because he wasn’t as romantic and picaresque, adventurous and globe-trotting, and didn’t go out in a dramatic blaze of gunfire.

As a writer, Del Pilar – who was born in 1850 in Cupang, San Nicolas, Bulacan – wrote better Tagalog than our hero Rizal (whose Spanish in turn was superb). This is why his admirers say he was more "gifted with the common touch", writing his propaganda pamphlets in everyday Tagalog, and mixing with the masa to deliver discourses in the plazas, cockpits, and corner tiendas later called sari-sari stores of his native province.

The irony of it was that, when the Spanish Friars and colonial government ordered his arrest for his nationalistic and seditious writings in 1880, Del Pilar was forced to flee – for asylum – to Spain. It was in Spain that he and Graciano Lopez-Jaena, the firebrand from Iloilo, started publishing La Solidaridad which became the organ of the reform movement, and the forerunner of our revolutionary struggle.

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If Rizal came from the Ateneo, M.H. "Plaridel" del Pilar graduated from the University of Sto. Tomas (UST), finishing law in 1880. (Rizal was a doctor, trained in Opthalmology in Heidelberg, Germany – for which he sometimes was called in his native Laguna, Doktor Aleman.)

It’s not generally known that both were skilled in fencing. Far from being a sobersided fellow, Del Pilar loved to sing, taking part in serenades, and played the violin during fiestas like the Flores de Mayo.

In contrast to charming Rizal’s "playboy" image, on the other hand, Del Pilar married his cousin Marciana in 1878. They had seven children.

"Plaridel" established the Diariong Tagalog (Tagalog Daily) in 1882 to publish observations and criticisms, castigating or offering cheeky solutions for the running of the Spanish colonial government in the Philippines. With Pedro Serrano-Laktaw, he also published titles like Dasalan at Tuksuhan and Pasyong Dapat Ipa-alab ng Puso ng Taong Bayan. These contained essays both prayerful and mischievous, as well as what ought to be upheld by Filipinos.

As Renato Constantino commented in his book, The Philippines; a Past Revisited, Del Pilar’s "parodies of the Our Father, the Hail Mary, the Apostle’s Creed, the Ten Commandments and the catechism published in pamphlets which simulated the format and size of the novenas were highly effective propaganda."

The Friars who ruled the land, somewhat like a few of our meddlesome bishops today, obviously were not amused by Plaridel’s irreverence. In any event, "Plaridel" was fated not to come home from exile to our country. On July 4, 1896, he died of tuberculosis in Barcelona, Spain.

It’s sad that so many of our greats died of T.B., the wasting disease of the past, which shouldn’t be underestimated even today – among them the Stormy Petrel from Baler, our President Manuel L. Quezon, who died in wartime exile in the United States.

As Chairman of the Samahang Plaridel, founded by journalists with "at least 20 years of practising journalism", I’m taking advantage of this column to inform our membership that we will be celebrating Del Pilar’s birthday on August 30 with a reception at the Ilustrado Restaurant in Intramuros.

In order "to raise awareness of the life and achievements of Del Pilar" – the ‘patron saint’ of today’s journalists – we will also be launching a "design contest" for a proposed statue of Del Pilar. Lest you think we’re a bunch of old foggies (okay, so I’m one), the bulk of our membership are journalists with five years of experience, not our top-heavy 20-year veterans.

Yet, here’s the leadership line-up of our "Young Once" press club, which is what the Samahang Plaridel is: my Vice Chairmen are Neal H. Cruz (of the Inquirer) and Publisher/Columnist Adrian E. Cristobal, one of our journalism icons. The President is Rolando G. Estabilio, a distinguished former journalist, MOPC Director and currently Vice President of Philippine Airlines. Our Executive Vice President is former Press Secretary Rod Reyes. Our Vice Presidents are Philippine Daily Inquirer Publisher Isagani M. Yambot, Manila Daily Bulletin Editor-in-Chief emeritus Benjamin F. Rodriguez, and Editor Julius F. Fortuna. Our Secretary is Diosdado M. Beltran, Treasurer Alejandro G. Liu, and Auditor L. Maralit.

Our Directors include Manila Standard Editor-in-Chief Jullie Yap Daza, Manila Daily Bulletin Editor-in-Chief Crispulo Icban Jr., and the immortal Carmen Guerrero Nakpil who needs no introduction.

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Nobody can quarrel with the idea that "in the interest of justice," we must go on trying to discover who was the mastermind of the assassination of our hero, Ninoy Aquino Jr., on August 21, 1983, and the murder as well of his "alleged" killer, obviously a patsy, Rolando Galman.

On the other hand, hasn’t the trail – after 21 years – already gone cold?

In this light, I’m leery of anything the "sworn statements" just collected by the Public Attorney’s Office (PAO) from the 14 soldiers who remain in jail (and are still alive) after being convicted a score of years ago for Ninoy’s slay.

Why are they suddenly disposed, after observing omerta for so many years, to sing like canaries? Or at least one of them – namely, former Master/Sergeant Pablo Martinez.

Martinez is ostensibly "talking" as an act of repentance or something because he’s reputedly a Born Again Christian. However, wasn’t that the same song sung by the government’s supposed witness against Senator Panfilo "Ping" Lacson, "military agent" Ador Mawanay, who accused Lacson of a plenitude of transgressions, and even tried to accuse Senators Loren Legarda and, remember, Raul Roco, of having illicitly obtained from him (Ador) thousands of cellphones? Mawanay claimed to be under the spiritual supervision of his confessor, a well-known Jesuit priest, who backed up his spiritual conversion fully. Afterwards, Mawanay flipflopped and confessed he had been lying – pressured by his masters upstairs to indulge in outright prevarication.

In the case of "Born Again" Sgt. Martinez, he has reportedly "alleged" he believes the mastermind to have been Danding Cojuangco. Believe me, as the former cellmate of Ninoy in military prison, and his brod and devotee, nobody is more eager than myself to identify his true killer – the gunman is still "at large", you better believe it – and above that the mastermind of the dirty deed. But how could a mere sergeant like Martinez have access to the deepest secrets of the assassination plot? The thought of somebody like former Governor, now top businessman Danding Cojuangco – after all these years – being pinpointed by convict Martinez as the brains of this evil murder is patently ridiculous.

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Incidentally, our friend, the Japanese journalist who accompanied Ninoy on his fateful journey home to meet his fatal bullet at the airport, Kiyoshi Wakamiya, is in town. I met him on Friday last week at the InterContinental Hotel. "Waka" remains Ninoy’s most fervent disciple. He wrote a book about Ninoy’s bravery and his eyewitness account of the journey home, and Ninoy’s last moments, which became a best-seller in Japan.

It’s not a surprise, incidentally, that photographs are now surfacing which were taken by our military jailers by "hidden cameras" during our incarceration in the maximum security compound of Fort Bonifacio.

We knew we were being photographed.

Five days after we were arrested, dragged to Camp Crame, then transferred to Fort Bonifacio, the sister of President Marcos – the late Ilocos Norte Governor Elizabeth Marcos-Keon (one of our personal best friends, since she had been an Attaché in our Embassy in Rome when my wife Precious was studying in Italy) got special permission to visit me. Being the sister of the Dictator, naturally, the military superintendent let her in for a one-on-one with me.

Ninoy humorously kidded me when they took me out of our cubicle for the meeting with Elizabeth. "Ayan, Brod. Maybe Macoy is going to offer you a deal!" (That brave Ninoy never lost his sense of humor, and was always trying to cheer us up, although he knew he was Enemy Number One of martial law.)

When I got to the guarded visiting room, Elizabeth sternly said: "Max, I’ve been trying to convince Andy (which is what FM was called in the family) to release you. But how can I do that? When I asked him the other day, he had replied: ‘How can I let Max go? He’s vowing to get even with me!’ He said you had declared to Aquino: ‘If I get out of here, I’ll get even with that sonofabitch!’ "

I wasn’t entirely surprised. We had, for the past few days, suspected we were being bugged. And indeed, I had uttered those words which Marcos had quoted verbatim.

So, when I got back to our quonset hut (yep, our "prison" was a converted quonset-hut office of the ISAFP), I informed Ninoy. "Sanamagan, Brod – the entire place is bugged. Macoy just quoted to Elizabeth something I’d said, word for word!"

At this, Ninoy launched an eloquent tirade, calling Marcos all sorts of vile and insulting names. "Ang sarap!" he exclaimed. "It’s even better than delivering a privilege speech in the Senate. I can now insult Marcos, direct from here to the Palace!"

Nap Rama (now Publisher of The Manila Bulletin, and aside from me the only living survivor of our Ten Most Wanted prisoners with Ninoy in maximum security jail) suggested that since we were being bugged, we ought to adopt code words. For example, we should say that Marcos’s regime was bulok or no-good by using the term, "fantastic". He would go around condemning Macoy and his totalitarian government as fantastic.

You know, I look around today, and find a lot of "fantastic" things still going on in our government.