Whoever said “Lighting does not strike the same place twice” is a liar—or at least did not know what he was talking about.
I don’t answer phone calls on my mobile from unknown numbers. But on the morning of December 29, 2013, I pressed the answer button to a call from an unregistered number. Immediately I understood why my instinct told me to just answer. I forgot I was 7.5 months pregnant. I woke my husband, hopped down the stairs to tell my mother-in-law what the phone call I just received was about, took a minute shower and found myself on my way to Ospital ng Makati (Osmak).
I didn’t know what to expect when I get there. The caller just told me to hurry to Osmak because my brother got involved in a shooting incident. In my head I was debating whether to tell our mom. Of course she had to know. I called her and told her. The other line went silent.
We arrived at Osmak. Only one person at a time was allowed to enter the Emergency Room. My husband went in first. He went out a few minutes later to tell us my brother was still in the x-ray room. Oh my God, okay, he’s alive. I felt some relief. When the guard told us that my brother was back in the E.R., I went in right away and found him on the first bed on the left. I saw a hole off-center of his chest and a tube inserted in him protruding on his right side. I later found out that the exit wound of his chest shot was on his right back hip. I pretended I wasn’t scared and went to his side.
“Ate, sorry…” were his first words to me. I knew they were very loaded two words. I’m sorry for causing this trouble especially that you’re pregnant. I’m sorry I’ve caused you frustrations that you discussed with me just recently. I’m sorry this happened… But I immediately hushed him and caressed his forehead, saying, “Wala kang ibang iisipin kung hindi magpagaling…”
My brother Jason reached for my hand, which I realized was firmly clutched on the side of his bed. He held it tightly with his, and his thumb caressed the outside of my hand. I held tightly back.
I listened as the doctors discussed. “Clear naman na yung lungs. Clear din yung stomach. Walang fluid.” I got relieved a little more. My brother was going to live.
“Ate, ilipat nyo ko. Kanina pa ako dito. Wala naman silang ginagawa.” He was in obvious severe pain and discomfort. I immediately worked to process his transfer. As I walked here and there talking to so many people, I caught Jason’s sad gaze following me. I gave him an assuring look that things were getting fixed for his transfer. After some hiccups, to cut the story short, my brother was ready to be transported to the Lung Center close to 3 hours later.
Because we’ve been asked several times why the Lung Center, I’ll answer it now. Our cousin who is a very good doctor suggested the Lung Center since Jason’s initial serious injury was his lungs.
I was not allowed to accompany Jason in the ambulance because of my condition, and they preferred someone younger than our mom, so it was my husband who rode with Jason in the ambulance. My husband took the chance to ask my brother what happened. Jason told him that after he rear-ended another vehicle, “Nagso-sorry na nga ako pero binatuk-batukan pa din ako… May baril…”. He only was able to say little aside from this because my husband said the bumps in the road aggravated Jason’s pain.
When we got to the Lung Center, Jason was again put under x-ray and ultrasound. The initial results were good. In fact, for a brief time, we thought he miraculously did not have to go under surgery at all. My mom got a hospital room where my brother was supposed to be admitted. After a few hours, they repeated the ultrasound because they noticed Jason’s stomach was getting bloated. It was confirmed that his stomach was beginning to accumulate fluid and he had to be opened up. A late manifestation of the real injury, we were told.
Despite being discouraged by the doctors and nurses to go to the ER because of the radiation and whatever contamination I may get, I still insisted to talk to Jason. “J, kailangan ng operation. Best option yun para makita na nila lahat ng tinamaan sa loob at maayos nila agad. Isipin mo na lang manganganak ka din. Cesarean nga lang. Expect mo lang may tahi pag gising mo pero patutulugin ka naman e.” I tried to sound light.
He was brought to the elevator to go up the Operation Room. We were supposed to ride in the same elevator but we couldn’t fit so I just said, “O, pano, kita kits na lang pagkatapos ha…” and I remember him giving us a wave and a slight smile. And the elevator door closed.
We headed for the hospital room to wait. We were told operation took long, around 4-6 hours. Jason’s took 8-9. Family members were called outside the Operating Room at past midnight where the head surgeon explained that they repaired this and that, that they opened the full stomach area and then needed to cut up to the heart area, that they seemed to have repaired everything well, but there was a lot of bleeding because the major vein that transported blood to the leg was badly damaged, and that they’re going to close up Jason in a while and everything was up to Jason’s body from there. The doctor added that Jason’s advantage was he’s young and seemed healthy.
It was an emotional roller coaster from there.
I went home and I slept. Or at least tried to. I found myself waking and as if gasping for air after being underwater for too long every several minutes.
As soon as it looked officially like daytime outside, I went back to the Lung Center. Finally we were told Jason was awake and could be visited at the Surgical Intensive Care Unit (SICU) Viewing Room No.3.
Only one person at a time was allowed to go at Jason’s bedside, while the rest can view him behind a glass window. My other brother Al went in first.
Jason had all sorts of things attached to him. He had tubes in his nose; a big orange ventilator tube in his mouth, which I was told, was to make his breathing automatic so his body could concentrate on just recovering, and several other tubes that were protruding from under his blanket. Several complicated-looking machines surrounded him. He was on “Q-15”, which when explained to us meant his vitals were checked every 15 minutes.
I could cry at that sight but decided Jason did not need that. I forced a smile and gently knocked on the glass window to call Jason’s attention. Jason gave us a thumb up. He also flexed his arm muscle. My brother Al later told us that he told Jason that it’s a good thing he’s macho and went to the gym a lot that he’s recovering well that’s why Jason jokingly flexed his arm.
As I was about to go in beside Jason next, the nurse told us it’s better to let Jason rest first. So I just opened the door, peeped my head and shouted a litlle, “J, babalik ako! Pahinga ka muna!” and then I threw a flying kiss. He made another thumb up.
We visited Jason a couple of times that day at the SICU. Sometimes we were let in. Sometimes we were asked to just return because Jason was resting. He would send word by writing on a small white board to make Ate Rea, our long househelp, to go to him to massage him or help clean up, or my mom to caress his forehead. We sent in an ipod with speakers with spiritual songs to help Jason ease a bit especially since he told the nurses he couldn’t sleep because of the loud humming of the machines and the lights being always turned brightly on.
I volunteered to buy blood, platelettes, liquid food, or anything else Jason needed. It gave me some relief in being able to actively do something that could contribute to his recovery.
Throughout the day, we got a sequence of bad and good news. We’d be told that “so far, so good,” and then “blood pressure is going down,” and then “blood pressure is normalizing,” and then “he’s not producing enough urine,” etc.
As if the day’s events were insufficiently exhausting, we were told by the hospital security that the fiscal of Mandaluyong with a group of men were seeking entry in the hospital to inquest my brother and to make him undergo paraffin test. Obviously, because the hospital securities knew Jason’s condition, it was impracticable to let them in. The fiscal insisted they could proceed with the inquest even in Jason’s “absence”.
When Al handed me a photocopy of the papers of the supposed inquest proceeding that took place, I was all too surprised that the violations were the same for all four involved were merely Illegal Possession and Discharge of Firearm. Basic law knowledge would tell you that “discharge of firearms” is a felony attributed to a person who fires a gun for the purpose of scaring another person, and should be charged when no higher felony is found. I don’t know about the situation of the others involved but I’m sure my brother was shot in the chest and fighting for his life. At the very least, the crime should at least have been serious physical injuries, if not (attempted) homicide/murder at that point in time. But we had to focus on our brother’s recovery at that time.
Immediately I was brought back to 2009 when my father was assassinated in front of the church in our hometown. While we were still mourning at his wake, I had to go to the assistant prosecutor’s office in Lucena City to swear in as the complainant in the inquest proceeding. I will never forget being told by the fiscal that, “I hope you know that it’s my rest day.” It was a Sunday. I thought to myself whether I should be sorry that my father was murdered on her rest day. I was a law student then and remember swearing I will not be like her.
The day was ending and I realized I wasn’t able to go to Jason’s bedside yet, and was limited to the viewing area. Tomorrow, I’ll make sure to talk to him, I told myself.
That night one of Jason’s doctors came to explain to us Jason’s condition. He told us that Jason would need to undergo dialysis but to even be able to do that, he would need to have a steady normal blood pressure for several hours.
I went home and got some semblance of sleep. I was up even before my phone rang. Al called to tell me Jason was going to be transported to National Kidney and Transplant Institute for dialysis. I hurried back to the Lung Center convincing myself that it’s a good thing. That meant he had sustained good blood pressure and that he’s ready for dialysis.
It was New Year’s eve.
When I got to the Lung Center, my family was rejoicing because they were just told that a dialysis was not needed anymore. Jason’s vitals were building up.
By afternoon, we were told the worse case scenario had occurred. Jason developed a complication called Disseminated Intrvascular Coagulation (DIC), which meant that his blood would not clot and that this was causing excessive bleeding. I knew it was a nearly fatal condition but we tried to remain positive in our prayers.
I visited Jason inside the SICU but he was sleeping. I noticed his eyes were slightly open but that his iris were not moving at all as I usually see people sleeping with eyes partly open would. I asked the nurse if Jason could hear me. She said Jason’s under sedation but I could try to talk to him. I held his hand and squeezed several times but he din’t seem to be responding. I nonetheless began talking. “J, si ate ‘to. Alam ko sanay ka na laging may happening. I’m sure medyo bored ka na at hindi ka din komportable pero kami hindi maiinip maghintay na gumaling ka. Basta magpagaling ka ha. Marami ka pang ituturo kay Teya (my daughter). Tapos di ba sabi ko sa’yo ninong ka ni baby? Malapit na ko manganak. Malapit ka na mag-ninong. Yung mga recent na inisan natin alam mong frustrations lang dahil mahal na mahal ka ni ate. Love na love kita. Love na love ka namin. Magpahinga ka… Magpagaling ka…”
When Jason carried Teya for the first time (top leftmost photo) & for the last time (rightmost). Most recent photo taken on Christmas Day 2013 at Wright Park, Baguio City.
Then I turned to the nurse and said, “Miss, malapit na matapos visiting hours. Paki bilin naman sa next shift na batiin ng happy new year si Jason mamaya…,” and she nicely said “New year naman, ma’am. Dalaw ka ulit mamaya, Papapasukin ka naman.” I smiled, thanked her, and left.
I went home to be with my daughter while waiting for the food that I was bringing to Lung Center get prepared. For the first time in many days, I was able to see and put my daughter to sleep again. My husband and I drove to the Lung Center before midnight. We brought some food for the nurses at the floor’s nurses’ station and at the SICU. I went in to greet Jason a happy new year and told him we love him and we’re going to celebrate a little but that next time he should join us already. We had a very simple media noche of lasagna, wings, pizza and some pritson that my in-laws brought home from a dinner they had just came from.
We went home and I think I was able to sleep. The first call I received for 2014 was from my Kuya Bernard, telling me Jason was being resuscitated. I felt my world stop for a few seconds.
Later I was outside the SICU Viewing Room 3 and I remember breaking down to my husband saying, “Bakit ganun? Masamang tao ba kami sa pamilya? Hindi naman kami masamang tao, di ba? Mabait naman si Jason ah… Bakit pangalawang beses na nangyari samin to?” My husband hugged me and said, “Di ba yung mababait nga ang unang kinukuha ng Diyos?”
I immediately composed myself remembering my mother would be there any time then. In a few minutes, my whole family was there with some close relatives and chosen friends. Moments later, we were being asked if we still want the doctors to continue resuscitating because blood was oozing from his chest surgery but that Jason can already be declared brain dead.
It was time to let go. Jason needed us to let go. I approached mom and said, “Mom, hindi na si Jason yan. Body na lang yan. Yung totoong Jason nagpa-party na sa heaven kasama ni dad.”
The doctors asked for a few minutes to remove all the tubes from Jason’s body first. In a few minutes, we were allowed to see him. I immediately went to his bedside and stroked his forehead and kissed it for as many times as I can, repeatingly saying, “I love you, J…”
When my mom was ready to enter, it broke my heart to see her go through this again. I was certain it must hurt for a mother a million times more. I heard her say, “J, ima-massage kita, anak…“ I had to leave the room and give our mom her time.
I was again brought back to 2009. Was it not that just over 4 years ago that I woke with our youngest Jason seated by my bedside, crying and unable to tell me why he was just sobbing? That somebody else had to tell me the news that our father was shot several times? Was it not that this “baby boy” matured the most among us siblings because of what happened? And now it’s him who’s gone? Was it not enough that just over 4 years ago I was standing on a pool of blood at my father’s death bed that now I was standing at our youngest brother’s death bed yet again? Is it really possible to have two violent deaths in one family???
We were then preparing for funeral arrangements.
In anticipation of the case that the family would file against the person/s who killed our brother, we decided it best that Dra.Raquel Fortun was the one to perform the autopsy. She wasn’t available until the next day so Jason’s body was not ready for viewing until past midnight of January 3rd. Family and friends from Quezon province already travelled to Manila the night of January 1st but we had to explain to them the family’s decision and choice of who will perform the autopsy.
Jason’s friends were already texting what time they could visit on January 2nd and they arrived even before Jason’s body got there at Matthew chapel of St.Peter’s Funeral Homes Commonwealth. At around 12:30AM of January 3rd, the Matthew chapel was overflowing with people who could not wait to pay their final respects for our dear brother.
The next 4 days of wake in Manila were bittersweet. The outpour of love of family and friends, special mention to his barkada, was overwhelming. But while most families were allowed the “luxury” to grieve for the loss of a loved one, we had to simultaneously complete hospital records, help in gathering for evidence and witnesses, make important calls and meetings, appear in media for interviews, file charges—all in preparation for the longer battle ahead: the quest for justice.
Jason’s remains were transported to our home in Candelaria, Quezon on January 7th. Again, we were touched by the outpour of love of family, friends and those who meant like family to us, some of whom really gave their time and service without need for any acknowledgement from us. Many took time to make known to us what a kind and sweet boy our dear Jason was to them.
Outpour of love on Jason's final night.
On January 9th, Jason’s body received final blessings and was carried by his barkada to the funeral car. We walked over an hour for his interment. I was asked countless times if I was sure I could walk the streets that long being almost 8 months pregnant. For me, it wasn’t even a consideration not to. This is my gesture of love for my baby brother. I walked all the way behind him.
Jason being carried by his non-blood brothers.
Back in 2009, it was our dad’s body that we were saying goodbye to. As dad was being put in his tomb, Jason was repeatedly saying, “Daddy ko ‘yan… Daddy ko ‘yan e…”
Jason's Christian baptism.
I have to admit there’s a lot of confusion. Did God want my family to be some sort of “expert” in losing a loved one to violence? Did we fail to learn a lesson He was trying to teach us the first time around? Is this an inter-generational curse? Did Fate commit some error in chronology taking our youngest first? Did God take Jason because He knew Jason was ready, being closest to God among all of us?
Our youngest Jason, our baby.
To this day, the events that transpired still seem surreal. Will we really not see Jason anymoreever? Will I really never get a call from him that drove me to nuts sometimes because he was somakulit? Was he not just 27 years old whose future should have been well ahead of him? But he was just beginning to dream…
What if Jason didn’t go out that night and was sick at home instead or had engine trouble? What if he left a minute earlier or later? What if he bumped another vehicle instead of that Honda Civic? What if he was brought to a better hospital at first instance? What if he was given the chance to survive?
October 2013. Jason's 27th birthday & his last.
Are we just really left with memories and pictures of his silly laughters, “emo”/ deep guy moments, and adventuresome energy? I’d never get to see how he would look when he’s 30, 40, 50! Would the perpetrators still do the same if they knew that behind that metro-fashionable outfit is really a simple guy who wanted to give everybody a chance to be good and happy people, who was after cheap thrills in life as long as they were done with family and friends, who had a big heart that wanted growth in life and spirit not only for himself but for those around him, who was not just a someone to few but loved by so many because of who he was to them?
Simplest things caused Jason's biggest smiles.
To be candid, I am not sure what I feel or what I should be feeling. My youngest brother is dead, and somebody killed him. What should a sister feel about that?
Jason with Dad, our advance parties in heaven.
But I also know that the act cannot go unpunished. More than 4 years after our father was killed, all we have behind bars to this day is the gunman who would not budge to point to the mastermind/s. Even assuming that we know who the mastermind/s is/are, we cannot directly link them to our father’s killing.
This time, it’s a different story. We are certain of the people involved. Theoretically, justice should not be as elusive for Jason’s case as it was for our father’s. We just need the justice system to function as it was meant to work.
Many say that if you do not get justice here on earth, you are sure to get it in heaven. Is it too much for me to say I want both? I want to witness and experience justice here on earth while we’re still alive. I want those involved to be behind bars for a long time because what they did was wrong and they have to pay for it. Forgiveness, after all, does not mean forgetting.
I am about to give birth this month, or early next month at the latest. Really, I should be resting. As I listen to my body, it’s telling me I am exhausted. But the love for my brother whose life they took so abruptly, so wrongly, fuels me to do something—I need to act! It cannot be just like that.
I am thankful beyond words to those people who’ve shown us so much love and support. As I write this I remember some that I have missed to even thank. Please know that my family is truly grateful and you give us additional strength knowing we are not in this alone.
I know it is still a long road ahead. There will be many hurdles to overcome. There will be more tears to shed. In this enduring quest for justice, all we can really hold on to is not Hate, but Hope… Faith. Faith that He listens to prayers and that many will pray for and with us…
Emralino Family.
Ate with malambing Bunso.
Jason stood in as one of my "parents" in my mba&law graduation.
Written by Bizchum
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