Cold-blooded murder

Sixteen years and four months. That’s how long it has taken the death of Philippine Navy Ensign Philip Pestaño to be recognized for what it has been all this time, except to the suspiciously blinkered eyes of his superiors and peers in the Navy: a case not of suicide, as the official and much-peddled version went, but of cold-blooded murder. The 24-year-old Pestaño, ruled Ombudsman Conchita Carpio-Morales recently, was the victim of foul play. Compounding the heinous act, an elaborate cover-up was then committed by up to 10 Navy officers to disguise the true circumstances of his death. That conclusion has now led the anti-graft body to overturn the earlier decision by former Ombudsman Merceditas Gutierrez dismissing the case for being based on circumstantial evidence, and to file murder charges against the 10 officers before the Sandiganbayan.

Justice at last? Not yet. This has been a long time coming, especially for Pestaño’s parents, Felipe and Evelyn, who have waged a lonely, bone-wearying battle all these years to seek justice for their son. Never for a minute did they believe that Pestaño took his own life. The handwriting on the alleged suicide note found beside their son’s body was not Pestaño’s, for one—a finding affirmed by forensic experts. Two, they had, in fact, been warned to dissuade their son from re-boarding his ship after shore leave. Pestaño, the cargo master of BRP Bacolod City, had discovered an explosive secret: the vessel was being used to ferry illegal lumber. Reports also mentioned sacks of shabu worth millions, and arms to be sold to Abu Sayyaf rebels. The young Navy officer refused to sign off on the undeclared cargo, a principled stand that infuriated people up and down the chain of command who benefited from the illicit trade.

On Sept. 27, 1995, his body was found in his stateroom, dead with a gunshot wound in the head. It was suicide, said the Navy. Pestaño’s parents cried murder and official whitewash, and filed charges against Navy officials, only for Gutierrez to sit on the case, then eventually dismiss it for alleged lack of evidence. Even after a Senate investigation committee reexamined the facts and ruled that Pestaño did not, in fact, commit suicide, Gutierrez’s judicial inaction had the effect of giving up the case for good. The conspiratorial circle behind Pestaño’s murder was off the hook, free to enjoy unblemished careers in the country’s naval corps.

Morales’ much-welcome decision to revisit the crime and exact accountability from its perpetrators thus goes a long way toward righting the grievous injustice committed against Pestaño. It’s only the first step, and conviction remains a long way off, but the official recognition of a sordid crime committed by military officers against a fellow officer heroically standing up for truth, honor and integrity in an organization said to be pledged to those virtues offers a glimmer of hope that some form of restitution, punishment and perhaps closure will grace this case—not only for Pestaño’s kin, but also for a military establishment whose conduct here has been one monumental stain on its character.

The Navy now reports that only six of the 10 accused Navy men are in active service: Cmdr. Reynaldo Lopez, Hospital Man 2 Welmenio Aquino, Lt. Cmdr. Luidegar Casis, Lt. Cmdr. Alfrederick Alba, Machinery Repairman 2 Sandy Miranda and Lt. Cmdr. Joselito Colico. The other accused—Capt. Ricardo Ordoñez, Lt. Cmdr. Ruben Roque and Petty Officer 2nd Class Mil Igcasan Leonor—are said to be retired, while Petty Officer 1st Class Carlito Amoroso was honorably discharged in 1999. The most the Office of the Ombudsman can levy against those already beyond dismissal for grave misconduct is the alternative penalty of a fine equivalent to the officers’ one-year salary—in the scheme of things, a niggardly slap on their wrists.

But Morales’ ruling, with its tough, exacting reappraisal of the facts of the case, stirs expectation that, this time, Pestaño’s dastardly murder will find resolution and recompense in court, and all those complicit in his death will finally be made to pay for their crime. If the ombudsman can prosecute the case to its successful conclusion, not only would she vindicate President Aquino’s move to place her in Gutierrez’s stead, she would also give the nation reason to believe that, inch by inch, along with the prosecution of former President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, former Comelec Chair Benjamin Abalos and a slew of erring AFP generals, justice is on the move and on the mend, in a country that has long been deprived of it.