Wall

His surname literally translates to “wall.” He was Vince Dingding. His name has certainly become a buzzword these days. The narrative is rather familiar: a graduate of the University of the Philippines who chose a different path after college. It is the kind of path less taken and, to some, a waste of taxpayers’ money. What many fail to see, however, is that beyond the labels was a human being whose life was taken away in an alleged gunfight with authorities. That human being was also a son, a lover, and a friend.

I have known Vince since he was a freshman at UP Cebu. He was taking up Computer Science, but most of his time was devoted to student activism, fighting for students’ rights and causes he believed mattered. At the time, I worked with the school publication and led several events in the university. Vince was alongside me in many instances, helping me produce digital assets until our professional interactions slowly grew into a steady relationship of trust and familiarity. I became an older sister figure to a younger brother trying to understand the world around him. He had many plans in mind, including a budding relationship with a woman who shared the same aspirations and convictions. I watched them both closely as they grew older and gradually realized that the world was far from perfect.

While we may judge or disagree with his actions and his own definition of service to the nation, none of it warrants death. The circumstances surrounding his story feel more repetitive than believable. We have heard this narrative too many times before: an alleged encounter, a supposed firefight, and lives abruptly cut short before they are ever given the chance to stand in court and answer the accusations against them. Instead of arrest and due process, bullets rained down.

At this point, his friends, family, and human rights groups are trapped in a painful loophole while trying to give him a decent burial. There is intimidation surrounding his remains, an overwhelming presence of armed force that brings fear, uncertainty, and silence to those grieving. It raises questions about the necessity of such actions and the message they intend to send.

I carry so many questions and doubts about the story being told and about what the public so easily chooses to believe. The ridicule online has been immense, reducing a human life into mockery and even comparisons to canned goods. There is little to no respect for the life he lived or for the impact he left on people around him, regardless of affiliation or ideology. I remember him once saying that surviving the path he chose would already be considered lucky. It was as if he somehow knew what awaited him, even if he did not deserve such an ending. First, it was my student. Now, it is a friend. I wonder how many more bullets will pierce through the lives of human beings I hold dear. No one truly deserves to become another statistic in a country already stained with too much bloodshed.