Slip of the Pen

A Letter from the Son of One of the Prosecutors in the “Alabang Bribery Case” (Save Our Honest Prosecutors!)

(Note: Portions of this letter appeared in the Jan. 5 issue of The Philippine Star, in Mr. Jarius Bondoc’s column at page 11. It’s a reaction to the Jan. 2 column of the same writer. It can also be found online at: http://thecorsarius.multiply.com/journal/item/42/My_Letter_to_The_Philippine_Star )

Dear Sir Jarius Bondoc,

May you have a blessed 2009! Please let me introduce myself. My name is Phillip Kimpo Jr., 23, a writer, poet, and blogger. I am a member of the LIRA Filipino poetry group and of UMPIL (Writers Union of the Philippines).

If my name sounds familiar, maybe it is, albeit for the wrong reason. I am the only child of Senior State Prosecutor Phillip I. Kimpo, one of the prosecutors falsely and unfairly involved in the alleged Php50-M DOJ bribery attempt.

First, a disclaimer: I am not writing on behalf of my father. I believe that he would discourage me from writing this if he knew. He would not let me get involved in matters of his work. I am writing this as a son who deeply cares for his one remaining parent, a son who has lived a simple and sometimes difficult life because his father maintains to this very day an honest lifestyle. (I even like to call him “honest to a fault.”)

I have always regarded you as a journalist and columnist of high integrity. Thus, it came as a painful shock to read your January 2 column in The Philippine Star.

Being a writer myself, I know that it is perfectly right to express one’s opinion, especially in one’s own newspaper space. But it was very disheartening to read your own take on the matter:

“As it turned out in the case of the ‘Alabang Boys,’ the narcs were dedicated to duty. But not the prosecutors on whom they relied for the requisite criminal proceedings…The PDEA found out that P50 million changed hands for the three suspects to get out of jail before Christmas…It is likely that the prosecutors did mess up the case.”

You wrote of the changing of cash as if it were historical fact, not mere allegation. As far as I know by keeping tabs on the news, PDEA has yet to present proof of the alleged bribery attempt.

On the other hand, there was strong evidence for the case’s dismissal, as stated in the investigating prosecutor’s resolution. Quoting Inquirer’s own January 2 news article:

“The resolution dismissed the case because of the illegal warrantless arrests and warrantless searches on the vehicles of the three suspects.

The resolution also noted the excessive use of force against the respondents, pointing to several grave improprieties of the PDEA agents such as the mauling of Brodette while his hand were tied and the shooting of the right front tire of a Honda Accord. It also pointed to seven other bullet holes.

In their sworn statements, the respondents complained to the DoJ that one of the PDEA agents said that if the operation happened outside the posh subdivision in Alabang, they would not be alive.

“Kung sa labas ito nangyari at walang witness, tigok na sila (If it happened outside [the subdivision], and there were no witnesses, they would have been dead),” the PDEA agent was quoted as saying.

The resolution particularly noted that Joseph was “under the control of the PDEA agents without the presence of any counsel when information against respondent Tecson was extracted from him.”"

For the record: my father NEVER received any bribe money for the “Alabang Boys” case. In fact, he has NEVER received any bribe money in his entire career. If he did, we would now be wallowing in wealth instead of driving an old car and renting an apartment unit. Kahit tingnan pa nila ang laman ng mga bank account namin, wala silang makikita. We have nothing to hide. Even my dad’s fellow public servants at the DOJ know of his incorruptible character.

While we haven’t exactly lived a hand-to-mouth existence, we have followed a modest life all these years. It is very heart-wrenching to see all our sacrifices tarnished by false allegations. I never imagined that one day, I would be a writing a letter such as this.

At the risk of getting soppy, there was a time in my childhood days when our apartment unit was the only one along the street that was lit by candles. (Unpaid electricity bills.) There was a time when we had to settle for Maggi-and-egg dinners, on loan from the nearby sari-sari store. Nililista lang, walang pambayad e. There was a time when my only entertainment were books and radyo-nobelas, because we had no money to fix or replace our broken TV. (Of course, these problems do not compare to the poverty experienced by millions of Filipinos, but these are problems you wouldn’t expect to find in the homes of people of high position.)

If my dad wanted to give me a more comfortable life through unethical deeds, he would’ve already done it back then. But he stuck to his principles, principles I dearly believe in and espouse through my literary works.

Our financial situation only took a turn for the better when I became a scholar in the Philippine Science High School, which was followed by UP Diliman. The free tuition took a lot of the burden off the shoulders of my father. Even in UP, I worked as a Student Assistant, carrying computers despite my asthma, so I can chip in my meager Php 2,500 monthly salary to our finances.

I am currently working at home as a freelance Internet writer while finishing my first book. Now, because I’m able to help with the bills, the belts around our waists aren’t as tight as before…which is another reason why my father does not need extra money obtained deeply against his values. Who needs millions when you can have a peaceful, guilt-free life?

We rent an apartment unit in Galas, Quezon City, and this is the only home I’ve known in my whole life. Our car is an old, dented, second-hand Mitsubishi Lancer whose headlights are nearly falling off their sockets and whose paint is cracked and flaking. We have stuck with this car because we don’t have the luxury to buy a new one, and also because why would we? It’s not a necessity to have a great car. Our old Lancer, while a tad embarrassing to ride in, suits our needs just fine. We don’t feel the pressure to have a shiny model to park side by side with other government officials’ more grandiose cars.

(If you have doubts about this tale of mine, I will gladly meet you so I can ‘tour’ you around our apartment unit and show you our car. My contact details are at this letter’s end. My main website is also there; my life is kind of an open book in my online journals.)

To be honest, I am not expecting a response from you — after all, who am I to elicit a reply from one of the country’s top columnists? Still, I am hoping that my letter will somehow urge you to take a second look at your views upon the matter, and that you will share this with your many readers. Yes, people, there are honest prosecutors in the Philippines. Hopefully, your column will be a medium with which to spread that message.

Sir, you too are a son like me, so you understand my pain and my personal intentions. As a journalist, you have championed the truth for years probably longer than my young lifetime. We are both writers. I was a campus journalist. I also believe in the truth, and I pray that it will come out soon so that my dad and I can go back to living a simple — and quiet — life.

Thank you very much for your time. May God bless you.

Kindly yours,

Phillip Kimpo Jr.
http://phillip.kimpo.ph

Earlier this month, the second issue of the new premier literary journal Bulawan Online launched. I was fortunate enough to have had one of my Filipino poems published.

Palanca Hall of Famer and distinguished poet Roberto T. Añonuevo wrote the commentary for my poem Talà (Star) as well as for Charles Tuvilla’s work, Sa Unang Ulan ng Mayo (The First Rain of May).

The article (titled Estetika at Pagtanaw hinggil sa Dalawang Lungsod) is in Filipino. An excerpt:

Maaaring tanawin ang lungsod sa iba’t ibang paraan, at isa sa rito ang pagtatanghal sa punto de bista ng isang tagalungsod na dumadama sa loob ng lungsod at tumatanaw papalabas ng sakop nito at tanging siya lamang makababatid. O kaya’y tingnan ang lungsod mula sa labas nito, nang sa gayon ay mabatid ang kabuuan ng lungsod na hindi mababatid ng tao na nasa loob nito at ang sipat ay limitado. Ang ganitong pagtanaw hinggil sa lungsod ang ipinamamalas ng mga tulang “Sa Unang Ulan ng Mayo” ni Charles Tuvilla at “Talà” ni Phillip Kimpo Jr.

Sir Bobby’s essay first appeared on his blog Alimbukad; my surprise to my poem’s inclusion was well-documented on my Multiply blog.

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Subtitled: This Year’s Birthday Post


You’re aboard your car or some public transport, and you’re on your way to somewhere fearsome, something momentous.

You know the drill.

Your chest feels like it’s getting drilled. You gulp down inordinate amounts of saliva, and it feels as if a swarm of pupae hitched a ride down into your stomach where they would metamorphose into the proverbial butterflies. You try to distract your edgy self by staring at the world whizzing past the window, but your mind always recoils and fixates on one question. Will I fail the exams? Will Tito survive the operation? Will I impress the boss? Will She accept my flowers?

I’m not spared from these oh-God-let’s-just-get-this-over-with days. The nervous days in my life are as rife as the nerve endings of my body. How-I-Can-Change-the-Philippines elocution contests, ABS-CBN tapings, puppy love Valentine’s Days, thesis presentations, writers’ workshops.

And I’ve always got the most adrenalin-inducing, aorta-pumping start to this kind of days.

The moment I step out of our quinquagenarian apartment (read: fifty years, I just wanted you to hear the hoof beats in that word), I already feel like a soon-to-be-tested warrior. The swirling dust of Cordillera Street is the dust of the battlefield, and the overhead sun coaxes the sweat from my tense skin. (Of course, this poetic image is washed down when it’s the stormy season, but hey, the sleek curtain of raindrops more than makes up for it theatrically.) The noise and the blur of vehicles in front of me add to the atmosphere, making me hear war drums and making me see charging knights and scurrying squires.

I then flag down my stallion (or should I say, pony?) – one of the hundreds of tricycles plying Galas. “Boss, Quezon Av,” I thunder.

With that command, my warhorse (quinquagenarian-quinquagenarian-quinquagenarian) kicks into action, sometimes with a proud BROOOOOOM!, and sometimes with a meek brukdukdukdukdukduk. Especially when the stallion’s quite robust, I cling to the seat or the metal frame in the same way I would cling to my mount’s reins, and I imagine myself carrying a waxed, glinting lance into battle. Unfortunately, the lance is but my dirty shoulder bag.

A few gallops and I pass by Doña Aurora Elementary School, and the sight of the children adds to my anxiety. Not because I fear their being collateral damage in the battle I’m going to, but because they resurrect a lot of nervous moments from my having-to-wear-a-uniform years, such as my flag ceremony role of reciting the Panatang Makabayan (Patriotic Oath) from memory in grade school and my ‘fabulous pretty boy moment’ as the Helen-snatching Paris in the annual Iliad play in PSHS. Remembering past nervous moments in a current nervous moment is akin to beating your brain like an egg.

To make matters worse for my nerves, right across Doña Aurora is our parish church, and like a dutiful crusader I make the Sign of the Cross. I say my prayers, ask for His blessing, ask for Jesus’ guidance, and ask for the Holy Spirit to give me courage. In truth, like a dutiful crusader willing to charge headfirst into death, I’m just making peace with my God while struggling to make peace with my guts.

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Last Tuesday was the most electric event I’ve ever been to.

January 8, 2008 marked the kick-off for the University of the Philippines’ Centennial Celebration. The event wasn’t grand — it was spectacular. One week has passed and I’m still euphoric, especially when browsing through my and other people’s photos and videos.

The following is my longest ever photo-essayish post at 36 pics. My inept photgraphy skills don’t do justice to the sights we witnessed. You had to be there to savor it. As always, click to enlarge the pictures.

My dear high school friend Minik met up with Ia and me at Sarah’s (of all places!) before proceeding to the Oblation plaza. Minik was taking a well-deserved home vacation after working the past months in Singapore.

Approaching the Oblation plaza, at around 4 P.M. The towering trees lining up the Academic Oval have always been a source of inspiration for me.

At this point, the excitement was very palpable in the air. Many people were chatting with voices slightly shaking in excitement, and laughs were in abundance. The UP Ang Galing Mo song blared through the loudspeakers, and the drums thundering to the tune of UP’s cherished school cheers spiked UP pride in everyone’s veins.

The UP Oblation. Too-much-information-ahead warning: I was just able to take this shot because I had to go to the loo in Quezon Hall.

My day shot of Quezon Hall. You can spot the Centennial Cauldron in the midst of the crowd; the flame would be lit up a few hours later.

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Yesterday was the closing day of the world’s largest floating book fair docked at Manila’s South Harbor — the MV Doulos. Having heard that this could be possibly the last time that Manila welcomes the Doulos (the ship is already a whopping 93 years old and will be retired in 2010), me and my friends set aside last Friday, January 21, as our “Recto-Doulos field trip day”.

Recto-Doulos? For the uninitiated, C.M. Recto Avenue is one of Manila’s main thoroughfares and a regular haunt of bargain book hunters. So Friday, in essence, was our “book buying field trip”. The ‘outing’ was a nice reward for ourselves for hurdling the LIRA Fellows’ Night, as well as a self-gift for Christmas.

Pau in white, yours truly with the new (and quite ungainly) short hair in black, Ia in blue, and JC in dark green. Thanks to Pau’s mom for the shot.

The book hunters were made up of my co-LIRA Fellows, JC and Pau (who brought along her very affable mom), Ia, and yours truly. Unfortunately, Kel wasn’t able to come. (Huy, na-miss ka namin! Hehe.)

We were lucky to arrive (around lunchtime) at a queue-free book fair. This drew a collective sigh of relief from us — we’ve seen some Doulos-at-Manila pics showing long lines snaking through the South Harbor.

We got a free ride by offering our unmatched greeting and ushering talents. Just kidding. No, seriously.

As can be expected, the ship’s crew/volunteers were mostly non-Filipino; when we were paying our Php 10 entrance fees, I blurted out “Dalawa po,” not realizing that a Caucasian was manning the booth.

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I still have a hangover from last Tuesday’s ‘celebration’. It was a celebration, all right — a fête to a dozen or so young poets who survived six months of one badass poetry clinic. (I mean that in a good way.) The night bore witness to free-flowing poetry, applause, Kodak moments, and of course, booze.

To say that I heaved a sigh of relief after the event would be an understatement; sigh is too small a word. Its Tagalog counterpart, buntong-hininga is more apt — a microcosm of rising expectations, of a build-up toward the climax, of keeping your breath in, then suddenly, a release.

Enough words. Enjoy these pictures of the LIRA Fellows’ Night 2007, courtesy of Fellows JC Sola and Karla Cachola, and the person most-referenced to in my blogs (hehe), Ia. It goes without saying: click to enlarge.

From left to right: Ia, batch president Pau Hernando, Christine Magpile practicing on the piano, and yours truly testing the mic. (And posing for a photo op as well.)

Conspiracy Bar’s hallowed stage, ready for another night of verses.

JC, Pau, and I preparing for the program. The small, in-your-face stage helped ease some of the jitters.
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The journey that began half a year ago is ending on a night of metaphors and imagery.

Awww.

To translate the original invitation in Tagalog:

The members and this year’s fellows of the Linangan sa Imahen, Retorika at Anyo (LIRA) invite everyone to the celebration of its 22nd anniversary on December 11, 2007 in Conspiracy Bar, Visayas Avenue, Quezon City. LIRA is an organization of poets fervent in writing in the Filipino language.

The celebration will feature the launch of the SIDHAY literary folio of the LIRA Fellows Batch 2007. This collection includes several of the poems written by each Fellow after the lectures and workshops which started last June 2006. Let yourself be swept away by the verses of: Christa De La Cruz, Guia De Leon, Rogerick Fontanilla Fernandez, Pau Hernando, Kel Juan, Phillip Kimpo Jr., Christine Magpile, Alev Maniago, John Montoya, Por Requinto, and JC Sola.

A preview of the folio:

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Update 11/17/07: Airing will be on November 18 at 7 P.M.

Update: The airing has been postponed to November 18. And even that date is tentative. Sorry for this belated notice; their own notice to me was also belated.

If you have the time, catch me later on At Your Pleasure, Nancy hosted by Nancy Castiglione, airing at around 2-3 pm (basta hapon daw e) on the new Makisig Network (channel 76/82 at SkyCable/ HomeCable, ch. 84 if you have an analog box installed).

I think the weird lighting wreaked havoc on our faces. The two sides of my face don’t match. Heh.

The episode is about toys, and I will be sharing my experiences in amassing airplane collector’s models. It will mark the first time in over a decade that I’ll appear on TV. (For some reason, I don’t miss those days as a ‘budding child actor’. I guess I prefer staying at home and writing/reading books/playing video games. And blogging.)

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Some tidbits from the episode’s taping, which was held last October 30 (a few days after our Youthlinks radio guesting):
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Earlier this day, I got the chance to guest in a radio show along with two of my LIRA co-fellows, Pau Hernando and Guia de Leon. Nothing grand an event — there are thousands of people hosting a radio show around the globe at this very second, for example — but still a notable experience. Well, every first-time experience should be.

We came into the PIA Building expecting to zip in for around 15 minutes, promote our upcoming LIRA Fellows’ Night (more on that later), rattle off a few poems, and zip out. Instead, we found ourselves being the ‘main guests’ (is there such a term?) for today’s Youthlinks program at DZSR (918 Khz; the online streaming version can be found here). We stayed for the show’s full hour-long duration.

We felt at ease with the show’s great staff, which includes co-hosts Allan Elman, Rommel Brillantes, and Jacky Chan (yes that’s his first name; I failed to catch his surname). After talking a bit about our personal backgrounds, the LIRA fellowship process, and workshop details, each of us three was given the time to read two poems. I chose two “battle tested” (pinalihan, or dumaan sa palihan in LIRA-speak) works, namely Talà (”Star”) and Fast Food.

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(For S.)

Countless are the women likened to the stars. Stars who are adored, stars who tingle and tickle the being, stars who are courted, stars who become lovers and better halves. Ah, such bitter pairings! A beautiful star is aloof, without a care in the world, isolated by a dark vastness oft-minisculed as a greatest ocean to cross or a highest mountain to climb, and if and when I conquer the cold void between me and the star after a journey that took forever, I will just be swiftly and mercilessly consumed by the blinding and unsurpassed heat of her fire without her even blinking. In the company of a star, two indeed become one and only one.

You, you are not a woman comparable nor should be compared to a star. You are dust, as I am who came from dust and will return to dust. You and I are mere specks in the cosmos, but in our world that is only ours, we are valuable and are valued the same. There is no darkness nor oceans nor mountains in between us. Together, we are free to tumble in the grass, to slide down the waterfall, to dance to the tune of the wind. Together, we are two yet we are one.

But you are dust unlike I, dust of the earth. You — and you might not realize this — you are dust of the stars. I know this because when we are together, you make our surroundings scintillate like a firefly does in a moonless night, and a ring of gentle fire — fire that does not consume life but nurtures it — caresses and embraces our joined bodies.


Happy 22nd birthday, Ia! More October 24 goodness at last year’s She, I. This was translated from the original in Tagalog.