Let me start by going straight to the end of the interview: by the time we were over, I was feeling a little overwhelmed by the enormity of the problems we face as a nation. A feeling of pessimism crept up on me, the sense that no mater what we do — and no matter how much we  say that every little bit counts — we mere mortals can’t really effect change because those who have the money and the power will do all they can to thwart us.

But life must go on, and when we stood up after the interview I regained my sense that the future is worth fighting for and that, as Romans 8:28 promises, in all things God works for the good of those who love him. We were put here on earth for a purpose, and while it may seem that the ungodly are winning now, their end is actually destruction (see Philippians 3:19 and Psalm 73).

My colleague and I talked for about an hour, and I’d like to share some of the things we discussed. Here, in no particular order — and as much as I can remember — were the things she asked and how I answered. The following is heavily paraphrased, however, since I cannot reconstruct the entire conversation from memory:

1. What did you feel when I learned about the Maguindanao massacre

I was angry, and I was downhearted. I didn’t know any of the victims on a personal level, but I already knew at the time that some of them were journalists. It wasn’t until a few days later that we learned that the number of journalists in the massacre was 30 — with one missing — which was more than half the number of the victims. I immediately knew, without having to verify, that that was the single worst attack on journalists in history anywhere in the world, and I knew that any doubt about the Philippines being the most dangerous place for journalists was erased that day.

2. Are you now concerned about your safety?

Up to that time we journalists had thought that while our job was dangerous, we could at least count on our being observers as a shield against violence. Even the journalists who had been assassinated over the years were more or less  targeted for something specific they had done or reported on. But the 30 reporters who were with the convoy on their way to Sharif Aguak were only covering an event, something  all journalists do on a regular basis. To our knowledge they weren’t shot because of anything they had written about or reported on: they were killed simply because they were there, and so that, as one witness said, they could not report on what happened.

Whether we like it or not, and whether we believe it or not, a precedent has already been set. That is why it is so important to resolve this case and punish the guilty. If this goes unsolved, then other people would be further emboldened and continue to attack journalists. They know they won’t get punished. That is what the word impunity means, and that is why we rile against it.

3. Are you concerned for your safety even here in Davao City?

I think the events of the past weeks have dispelled the illusion that journalists are safe here in Davao City. The massacre was one incident; add to that the discovery that cocaine was being smuggled through our ports under the noses of the authority and all notion that we are protected goes up in smoke. We are not as secure as we had believed. Armed groups can easily come and stage attacks. Remember that we have a very long shoreline, and it’s very easy to smuggle in anything through them. The authorities have always denied this, but last week’s drug bust in the Maersk compound tells us that they’re not on top of the situation. They’re not on top of anything.

4. You’re originally from Manila, and you still have family there. What did they tell you when they learned of the Maguindanao massacre?

They were concerned for us, of course. Last week I went to General Santos City with my wife and daughter just to visit since I was on leave from work, and when my sisters learned about it from my Facebook status they asked immediately what I was going to do there. I had to assure them that I was just taking a break and our trip had nothing to do with the fact that many of the victims of the massacre were from GenSan.

5. Are you considering moving out of Davao City?

No! I still believe Davao City is the best place in the country in which to raise a family. There are many problems here, and like I said, the illusion of absolute safety has been dispelled for me, but it is still much safe here than in Manila. Here you know which places to avoid, but in Manila your next-door neighbor can be your murderer. And over there you can be shot dead over a simple traffic altercation.

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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.Random Posts:

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