A history of crime in the Philippines

You may have received a scam e-mail from a friend, whose account has been hacked, saying that he is currently on a trip to London, that he was held up and needs some money to tide him over until he returns home. Once I decided to reply to the scammer and told him that I had sent some cash, US$1,000, and that he could claim this from the Philippine Embassy in London. I told the scammer that all he had to do was present my e-mail to an embassy employee and look for Dr. Jose Rizal or Mr. Andres Bonifacio, who will hand the money over. The scammer replied that he had absolutely no money to get to the embassy and preferred that I wire the money to a Western Union account in London! I wish the British police would check out this Western Union account or, better yet, entrap these people when they come to withdraw the money.

The above scam is a newer version of the old one involving a supposed high-ranking government official who needs your bank account information so he can transfer his millions to your account and give you a hefty commission. I don’t know if any Filipino has been gullible enough to fall for this scam, but it seems that the showman P.T. Barnum was right when he said that “there’s a sucker born every minute.” Or maybe we should turn the quote around to “there’s a crook born every minute.” All the different scams and modus operandi in the Philippines can make up an entire book, and the terms used will keep linguists and lexicographers busy because we have gone beyond generic terms for robbery and robbers (magnanakaw) to various ways of robbery: snatching,  hablot,  bukas  kotse, akyat  bahay, Ativan gang, budol-budol, dugo-dugo, salisi, kidnap, carnap, holdap, hulidap, etc. Having all these in one book will make for engaging and, for some, life-saving reading.

As a historian, I’m interested in finding out the kinds of crimes committed in the past and how far back I can go. Police blotters are the main primary source for this kind of research but having gone through one or two, I have come to the conclusion that police blotters are harder to decipher than doctors’ prescriptions. It is easier for me to read 16th-century Spanish manuscripts on the Philippines than a 21st-century police blotter or security guard logbook. I have been told that the Supreme Court Reports going all the way back to the early 1900s are a mine of detailed information on various crimes and can keep me busy for years. I wish we had a crime museum in Manila similar to the Police Museum in Bangkok that displays gruesome crime-scene photographs, actual murder implements, and the preserved body of a notorious criminal. It is definitely not a museum for the faint of heart or queasy stomach.

Reading the letters of Filipino heroes of the late 19th century, we find stray references to crime, often robbery or swindling. There are references to bandits or  tulisanes, too, but what about thwarted crimes? In December 1893, while Jose Rizal was in exile in Dapitan, he received a visitor named Pablo Mercado, who claimed to be a distant relative. Rizal felt something was amiss but played along and even allowed the man to spend a night in his home. We do not know much about Pablo Mercado or what he had set out to do. Was it robbery? Was it assassination? Was it a way to get incriminating information on Rizal? Pablo Mercado was arrested in Dapitan on the instance of Rizal and, under interrogation, he said he was hired by the Recollects.

We have this much from a letter Rizal wrote to his brother-in-law:

“With regard to Pablo Mercado, I tell you that he came here presenting himself as a courteous friend in order to get from my letters, writings, etc.; but I found him out soon, and if I did not throw him out of the house brusquely, it was because I always want to be nice and polite to everyone. Nevertheless, as it was raining, I let him sleep here, sending him away very early the next day. I was going to let him alone in contempt but as the rascal went around saying secretly that he was my cousin or brother-in-law, I reported him to the Commander who had him arrested.

“It was revealed in his declaration that he was sent by the Recollects who gave him 72 pesos and promised him more if he succeeded in wresting from me letters for certain persons in Manila. The rascal told me that he was a cousin of one Mr. Litonjua, son of Luis Chiquito, according to him, and brother-in-law of Marciano Ramirez. He wanted me to write to these gentlemen. He brought along besides a picture of mine, saying that it was given to him by one Mr. [Estanislao] Legazpi of Tondo or San Nicolás, I don’t remember exactly. It seems that he belongs to a good family of Cagayan de Misamis. Be careful of him; he is a tall boy, somewhat thickset, slightly squint-eyed, dark, slender, broad shoulders, and of impudent manners. He smokes much, spits more, and has thin lips.”

Pablo Mercado was obviously an assumed name. But who was he? What did he really want? This may be a footnote in Rizal’s life, but would make an interesting sidebar in the yet unwritten and detailed History of Crime in the Philippines.

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Comments are welcome at aocampo@ateneo.edu