Theft of Rizal manuscripts: Case closed?
On Dec. 8, 1961, as the International Congress on Rizal was coming to a close, news broke out that the original manuscripts of the “Noli me tangere,” “El Filibusterismo,” and “Mi último adiós” were missing from the National Library.
Whoever took them knew their worth as these were the only ones taken from among many other valuable Rizaliana items on display in glass cases.
Alejandro R. Roces, the hero of the story, was appointed secretary of education by then President Diosdado Macapagal a few weeks after the theft, and it is from his eyes that the narrative of this sensational case unfolded.
I wish I interviewed Roces about it in detail but when I asked, he referred me to Nick Joaquin’s reportage from the time.
Newspaper coverage on the case should inspire a movie. A ransom note received in the National Library consisted of letters cut up from various newspapers and magazines and pasted on bond paper. This was later proven to be a prank.
Numerous phone calls were also received at the National Library mostly from pranksters, but Roces instructed that these be referred to him, both at the Department of Education (DepEd) and even at home.
To cut a long story short, the man who took the manuscripts sent “proof of life” to the library by mail, this consisted of the empty frame that had once held the “Mi último adiós.” Endorsed to Roces, this person who hid under the name “Rizal,” demanded P3 million ransom for the manuscripts.
To establish goodwill, Roces asked to meet face to face at the Luneta grandstand, then being spruced up for the visit of Japanese Crown Prince (now emperor-emeritus) Akihito and then Crown Princess Michiko.
On Feb. 2, 1962, Roces wore a dark suit and a red tie. He drove the car with the plate number 6 himself, no police escort, not even undercover police disguised as park sweepers. He waited on a park bench and was approached by a man who introduced himself as the person he spoke to on the phone. Roces asked: “How do I know you have the manuscripts? We have received many phone calls from people who claim that they are in possession of the manuscripts.“
To prove possession, the man pulled out a small piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Roces. It was the “Mi último adiós.” Roces hid his excitement and pretending to examine it said: “How do I know this is genuine? I’ll have to take it with me for verification.”
Roces then placed the manuscript in his pocket with no objection from the man who blurted out: “Just return it when we next meet.”
Not wanting to make promises he couldn’t keep, Roces explained: “I won’t be able to [return it to you]. Once the government gets hold of this manuscript, they will never agree to its return. The first person I will show this to will be the President himself. Why don’t you let me keep this? Anyway, you have the two thick novels. This is just a small piece.”
They shook hands and Roces sped off to Malacañang. He interrupted the president’s press conference and stole the show by presenting the “Mi último adiós” to the president and telling newsmen that he recovered the manuscript “gratis et amore.” Original asking price for the return of the manuscripts was P3 million, negotiated down to P1.4 million, then P1 million, and by the time the “Mi último adiós” was returned, ransom was down to P100,000. Still high, considering insured value was only P36,000. Then, as now, government will not pay ransom for anything or anyone, to discourage a repeat in the future. One of the sources I read, said the ransom went all the way down to P10,000. Another source said that ransom was paid, not by DepEd but through a fund collected from Malacañang, an insurance firm, and a private donor. When I asked Roces, he would neither confirm nor deny payment of ransom.
Toward the end of February 1962, three people were arrested in connection with the theft: Eleuterio Ayson, 56 years old from Novaliches, employee of the Jose Rizal National Centennial Commission; Nilo Cabrido, 47 years old from Pasay, temporary JRNCC employee, April-May 1961; and Romeo Calopez, 24 years old from Pasay.
When Cabrido appeared in newspaper photos, there was plaster on his mouth. When Cabrido implicated Calopez in the crime, the latter responded by hitting him on the lips. Calopez and Ayson were later released for lack of evidence implicating them to the crime. Only Cabrido was found guilty and sentenced to prison for two to eight years.
Cabrido’s lawyers claimed his confession was obtained under duress and was inadmissible in court. From here the trail turns cold. We do not know what happened to Cabrido afterwards. With the return of the stolen Rizal manuscripts, the case was considered closed, but is it? Was this a perfect crime? Was Cabrido the mastermind or just the fall guy? Were there other people involved? In this case, the questions are more relevant than the answers.
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