The Journalists' Memorial at the Newseum in Washington, DC. Photo from newseum.org
When I visited the Newseum in Washington, DC last year I made sure to find and photograph the names of two friends who are included in the list of slain journalists displayed at the Journalists Memorial. The memorial itself is an awesome — if sorrowful — structure: a huge wall of glass etched with the names of fallen journalists from all over the world, it is a fitting tribute to those who literally gave their lives in order to inform the people. That it is made of glass shows how fragile freedom of expression is, and how necessary it is to be continually vigilant against forces that seek to shatter it. When I came upon the wall, I scanned the list to find the names of photojournalist Gene Boyd Lumawag and radio commentator Ferdie “Batman” Lintuan, two friends who were shot dead in 2004 and 2007, respectively.
Gene Boyd at work. Photo from cpj.org
I had known Gene Boyd (or Geneboyd — I’m never sure if it’s one word or two) since he was a scrappy teenager, hanging around with Tatay during coverages. As he grew older he began holding a camera, and pretty soon he became a photojournalist just like his old man. I kinda lost track of him for a few years as I settled into the work of being a desk-bound editor, but I regularly saw his pictures on the news service MindaNews. He had a good eye and could always find angles that other photogs normally missed. And he loved sunsets — oh how he loved them. In fact, he was taking sunset photos on November 12, 2004 in Jolo. Sulu when he was gunned down by still unidentified men.
Gene Boyd's last sunset photo, taken in Jolo, Sulu minutes before he was shot dead.
To mark the fifth anniversary of Gene Boyd’s killing, his father Rene — whom everyone calls Tatay because that was what Gene Boyd called him — is mounting an exhibit lifted from his body of work spanning more than 25 years as a photojournalist. The exhibit, titled “Remember when…” and which runs from November 12 to 19 at the Event Center of SM City Davao, is a tribute not just to Gene Boyd but also to other journalists killed in the line of duty. Tatay Rene’s website has a few exhibit photos online, and they show one of the most important qualities a photojournalist must have: a knack for being at the right place at the right time. It is not about the camera, or the technique, or the post-production process; it is being able to observe the world and deciding what is important. Both Tatay Rene and Gene Boyd had that quality; unfortunately for Gene Boyd, his quest for the perfect sunset — which one gets only by being at the right place at the right time — cost him his very life.
Ferdie "Batman" Lintuan (left) during the Davao Sportswriters Association (DSA) Christmas party on December 11, 2007 -- several days before his killing. At right is one of the DSA's founders, Ramon Maxey. Photo from davaosportswriters.blogspot.com
As for Batman (short for “Batang Mandaya”), the last time I saw him was at a coffee shop where he approached me and poured his heart out. His wife had just died, and he was finding it difficult to cope. I listened intently, finding it interesting that the man I had looked up to as a journalist was now coming to me for some help. I don’t know what words I offered, but I do remember that we ended that meeting with a prayer. I lost contact with him after that, until that fateful Christmas eve in 2007 when word came out that he had been shot dead inside his car.
Ferdie was one of the first journalists who befriended me when I was new in the profession back in 1994. I had been assigned to interview a businessman, and when I arrived he and his cameraman (he was with a TV station at the time) were already there. At the end of the interview the businessman pressed his intercom and summoned his secretary, who came in with some snacks. Ferdie and the cameraman immediately stood up and said they were leaving, refusing to even touch the food and drinks. Batman then winked at me, and I took that as a signal to also stand up and leave. The businessman then hurriedly reached into his desk and took out some white envelopes which he tried to hand to us, but Batman and Dave were already at the door, and I was right behind them.
Batman was my first concrete example of how a journalist should behave, and what kind of code we must follow if we are to be trustworthy and reliable as journalists. For him the Journalists’ Code of Ethics was not just a piece of paper or a bunch of words: it was something to live by, and as a senior journalist he certainly showed us younger ones that it can be done.
Gene Boyd's name (second to last) etched on the Journalists Memorial. Unfortunately, I cannot find my picture of Batman's name.
I felt a lump in my throat as I found Gene Boyd’s and Batman’s names at the Newseum memorial. There, etched in glass and backlit by a warm autumn sun washing down on Washington, DC, were the names of two of my friends, gunned down at the prime of their lives and careers. While they are just statistics to the government, to their families and friends they were real people who left us grieving for them. We can only hope for justice, and we can only have faith that somehow, somewhere, their killers will get what is due them.
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