crash and burn

a phrase usually sang out loud by those people whose hearts were broken.

i could not fathom, though, how painful it is to really crash and burn; i am talking about the phrase minus the metaphor, i am talking about talking about the phrase, pictured literally.

few hours after i cried over the car accident scene from CHARLIE ST. CLOUD, i woke up to be notified that the same incident happened to my beau’s sister. i wished it was exactly the same, but it was not. it was not the usual car accident i see in the movies.

i thought about her screaming, gasping for air which was nearly out of her reach. sweat, blood and tears; none of which she cared about wiping through her handkerchief. i thought about the man who miraculously saved himself from the tragic event, while she awaits for all the pain to end, in that car where her body burnt, her legs cut in two.

her family never knew the man. as the PHILIPPINE STAR correspondent put it, “her relationship with the man cannot be ascertained.” the news’ tagline branded him as a businessman residing in BUROT, TARLAC, but few days later we came to know that his real name was hidden somewhere in someone’s attaché case, we came to know that he was not residing in BUROT, we came to know that he is a filthy rich man, with three construction companies under his tutelage, a filthy rich man who can afford to have sports cars viewed as toys boys eagerly want to collect.

a filthy rich man. i want to keep myself from writing about the technicalities, about the details of this incident which could be a collaboration of crime causing the death of a 21-year old woman whose daughter was earnestly awaiting her return. my attention being called due to me talking about this maybe farfetched, but if not, i could not care less.

the family was restless. they were driving to and fro; from the house towards the police station, from the police station towards the morgue, from the morgue towards the scene where the incident occurred, and so forth. the driver of the car, FRM (filthy rich man) cannot be spoken to because he’s gotten himself a lawyer to back him up, he’s gotten himself a lawyer even before the family learned about the accident. he had the right to remain silent, and he had multi-million dollars, too.

three days after it all happened, we’ve heard different versions of the story. we’ve observed the PEOPLE IN CHARGE doing everything they can to DELAY EVERYTHING THEY OUGHT TO BE DOING. but with the family’s persistence, the body which has been sitting in the morgue for three days, was finally sent home, the identity finally confirmed through dental records.

i have learned that nothing beats persistence, not fame, not money. the PEOPLE IN CHARGE were all appalled as they knew that the family sought help from a close friend, from someone working for MALACANANG. they were all flabbergasted when the family was able to coordinate with the Forensic Expert, the only one in the Philippines. what took a week for others to have him work on a case, it took only one phone call from the family, and persistence, persistence, lots of it.

we do not know why FRM’s real name was then hidden, we do not know why my friend’s body turned into what seems to be strips of black burnt wood but her phone and key and some valuables still good as we last saw them, we do not know why we have in all of us an intuition that SOME people were paid to obstruct justice, we do not know the real story. we do not know it, NOT YET.

some cases i have heard about, cases which had victims crying out of injustice, made me think before that justice is ONE BIG PIE good enough for us to share with everyone, but is first served to those who has gotten authority out of wealth or fame (or both) or what have you, with which leftovers are given to the less fortunate. and when there is greed, not even a midget of justice are given to those who does not have “IT.”

this is not one of those cases. the family will make it certain that justice will be served, sumptuously hot, fresh from the oven.

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