Yesterday was the death anniversary of Ruby Jade Ruba, who was shot and killed by robbers for nothing more than her cellphone, just a few more days before she was to have graduated from a nursing course at one of the local universities.
The death was painful not only to her relatives and friends but also to a society made up of many other students and their parents who have had to endure a lot of sacrifices and face a lot of challenges just to pursue this great human quest for an education.
It was painful because Ruby Jade was so near the completion of her goal. It was painful because her parents were so near the prospect of relief from their great burden. It was painful because the end came so suddenly and so senselessly.
But what makes it so painful most of all is the fact that, today, a year later, this grieving society of ours is nowhere near seeing justice done over the case. The killers may be in jail, but the verdict is still out.
And until then, until their guilt is truly and formally established, they remain to be suspects in a crime whose main fact has long been painfully and irreparably acknowledged — that Ruby Jade is dead.
For as long as the verdict is out and guilt has not been formally established, the suspects can enjoy the comfort and the luxury, no matter how fleeting, of the thought that perhaps, just perhaps, they might escape with their lives.
Hope always springs eternal, or so they say. And because these suspects are very much alive, they can go on hoping that despite the dastardly crime they have committed, they just might make it away from the clutches of justice.
And while they can hope, their victim has long been consigned to the hopelessness of death. There is no bringing back Ruby Jade back to life, regardless of the outcome of the case of her killers. That is the great tragedy.