23 - no mea culpa

Being the eldest of four Santiago children, James was quick to carry the burden for all of their’ sins. That, of course, included his youngest brother Mateo, who was more trouble than everyone else combined.

Lately, the conversations between James and Eiselle had cemented James’ opinion on the whole Yellow Mosque mess. Now, it was just a matter of time until James confronted Mat.

James woke early on Saturday and stirred about the house, cleaning up and fixing breakfast. The smell of frying eggs wafted through the house, rousing both Eiselle and Mrs. Santiago from sleep. It was not very long until they joined him at the kitchen table.

“This is some surprise,” said Mrs. Santiago, “what are you cooking for us today?”

“Nothing much, just eggs and fish and sticky rice.”

“No coffee?” asked Eiselle.

“The packets and filters are right there. You can brew some for all of us.”

Eiselle clucked her tongue loudly against the roof of her mouth as she proceeded to make coffee. James simply ignored her antics and carried on with breakfast and conversation.

“Hey Ma, have you seen Mat?”

“I think he’s at the summer house.”

“What is he doing there?”

“You know he and his friends use it as a hanging out spot.”

“I think I’ll go over there after we finish breakfast. I need to have a word with him face-to-face.”

“Oh, Jay,” interrupted Eiselle, “let it go.”

“Let what go?” asked Mrs. Santiago.

“It’s about Jay’s attitude lately. It’s all wrong.”

“His attitude is not wrong,” spat Eiselle, “somebody needs to speak out against the Bangsamoro.”

Eiselle poured a cup of coffee and transported it to her mother. Mrs. Santiago settled back into her chair, her gnarled fingers wrapped tightly around the small Styrofoam cup.

“Ah…the Bangsamoro. That’s it? You children worry too much.”

“But ma…”

“No buts. You worry too much.”

Mrs. Santiago preferred to remain ignorant of all the goings-on of Mat and his friends. Instead, she chose to believe he had not changed his ways since he was an innocent little boy. For both her head and heart, maybe it was better that way.

Even thought the coffee was still scalding hot, Mrs. Santiago drew the cup to her lips and took a long, slow sip.

“How can you say, that’s it?” asked Eiselle, “the Bangsamoro don’t have any more right than the rest of us.”

“The funny thing is,” replied mother, “we’re all Bangsamoro.”

“Mother! How dare you say such evil things? We are not Bangsamoro!”

“Just where do you think you’re from? As far back as I can remember, all your relatives are from Mindanao and the Moors were here almost 500 years ago. What do you know about 500 years ago?”

Eiselle cleared her throat and sat there for a moment until her mother spoke again.

“Just like we’re all Spanish, Japanese, and Chinese, too. We are like barrio dogs – a proud and rugged mix of this and that – the best of all things combined.”

“I am not Bangsamoro.”

“How does anyone know? You can only tell us apart by the words we speak.”

Jay quickly and quietly finished his breakfast. Then, he washed the dishes and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” asked Eiselle.

“To the summer house.”

“There’s no need for that.”

“Oh, Eiselle,” he sighed, ‘Just butt out, this is between me and Mat.”

Eiselle did not respond immediately, but as soon as Jay left, she sent a text to her little brother.

“Where are you?”

“S.C.”

“James is on his way to the house.”

“Why?”

“He wants to talk to you about the Yellow Mosque.”

“Of course he does. I can’t wait to see him.”

“What are you going to do?”

Eiselle waited impatiently for Mat’s reply, but the longer she waited without hearing from Mat, the more she worried. She knew, deep down, Mat was eager to have it out with his know-it-all brother. She also knew no good could come of this.

Jay made a beeline for South Cotabato, eager to arrive before Eiselle could stir the pot. However, Eiselle had already interfered like only she could; her texts only made a bad situation between the brothers worse. Mat and his friends were eager to put James in his place.

“He’s got some nerve telling me off,” said Mat.

“Well, we’ll set him right,” added Gabe. His arms tensed from his shoulders to his fists. His cheeks grew flushed.

As Jay’s Jeep pulled up out front, the entire group went outside to greet him.

“Hey, little brother,” he said, “how are you doing?”

Mat stopped at the curb and folded his arms across his chest. His friends stood beside him, forming a line that stretched across the front landing. Jay cautiously circled around the front of the Jeep and approached them.

“What do you want?” Mat snarled.

“Yeah,” said Mat, “you can talk.”

“How about we take a little ride?”

“Whatever you have to say, you can say it right here.”

“Oh, come on, Mat. This is just between you and me.”

Mat just shook his head and said nothing. Jay’s gaze moved back and forth as he looked the guys up and down. They looked like an informal lynch mob.

“Alright, forget it. I just wanted to talk to you one-on-one.”

As James hopped back into his Jeepney, Mat’s friend Gabe walked towards him and leaned through the passenger seat door.

“What did you want with him?” he asked.

“I wanted to ask him about the Yellow Mosque.”

“Well, what about it?”

“I just don’t think he should be involved with that sort of stuff.”

“You should quit poking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” said Gabe as he reached a hand across the seat and grabbed at Jay’s face. Jay quickly pulled away and turned on the Jeep. Gabe leaned over the seat as James forced the Jeepney into reverse. As he peeled backwards, Gabe’s body flailed about and tumbled out of the Jeep. James nearly ran him over as he sped off. James checked his rearview mirror. Mat and his friends were gathered around Gabe, who had already risen to his feet. They shook their fists and shouted at James. James averted his gaze to the road ahead of him and quickly returned home.

“Local authorities in South Cotabato are tying up loose ends in this week’s Yellow Mosque shooting. Although there has only been one arrest, police are looking to leads from public tips. If you have any information, please inform your local authorities as soon as possible. There are rewards for any and all information leading to further arrests…”

The report had crackled across the radio waves for the last week as police collected hundreds, if not thousands of leads. Most found their way back to Mat Santiago and his friends. As the police kept a steady eye on the summer house, they were waiting for something solid and tangible to make their move.

Jay’s thoughts drifted as he wondered what might’ve happened had he stopped to confront Gabe. He was so lost in thought that he failed to notice the motorcycle beeping behind him.

“Pull over, sir! Please pull over!”

It was a motorcycle patrolman.

Jay eased the Jeepney to the side of the road and turned off the engine. He waited patiently as the patrolman sat on his motorcycle and called into the station. Moments later, a patrol car pulled in front of the Jeepney along with another behind him. Then, the patrolman approached the Jeepney.

“Hello, sir. How are you this afternoon?”

“Uh…fine. What’s wrong, officer?”

“I’m responding to a bulletin from headquarters. I’ve been ordered to take you in for questioning regading the Yellow Mosque.”

“Oh…that,” nodded James, “I figured it was something I had done.”

“Well, if you’d like to follow the patrol car into headquarters, we can talk there.”

“That’d be no problem at all, officer.”

The police cars, Jeepney, and patrol bike pulled out onto the roadway in unison. The police car led them through a series of slow turns until all four vehicles arrived at South Cotabato police headquarters. The station looked lifeless to James as he went with the officers into the private entrance.

“Would you like some coffee?”

“Do you have water?”

“Sure thing,” said the officer. He returned with a small cup of ice water and set it on the table next to James. Then, the officer disappeared again. James quickly finished the water and ate every piece of ice as he sat alone in the small room. About an hour later, two men in plain clothes joined him.

“How are you doing today, James?”

“Fine, I guess.”

“Do you know why we brought you in?”

“To interrogate me about Mat?”

“I wouldn’t call it an interrogation, sir. We’re just talking, gathering information.”

“About Mat…”

“Among other things…we want to know what you know.”

I really don’t know anything.”

“But you’ve been around him and his friends – and you drive a Jeep. You’ve had to heard things.”

“I’d say it’s mostly rumors.”

“About Mat?”

James shrugged.

“We already know about his involvement with the Yellow Mosque shooting. Officers have already secured the premises in South Cotabato. Now, we’re trying to figure out what else he and his friends have been doing lately.”

“I don’t know much about him at all. I just know he’s hanging out with the wrong bunch.”

“You’re his brother and we’ve spotted you numerous times at the house in South Cotabato. We need you to tell us everything you know.”

The interrogation team detained James long into the afternoon, running down the details of his relationship with Mat’s gang of four. By the time James was released, it was early in the evening.

He returned to Gensan to find his mother and sister preparing for Saturday Evening Mass.

“Have you been at the summer house all this time?”

James shook his head.

“Then, where were you?” asked Eiselle.

“I was at the police station.”

“Heaven’s sakes!” exclaimed mother, “What were you doing there?”

“I was talking to the police about the Yellow Mosque shooting.”

“Did you snitch on Mat?” spat Eiselle.

“Of course not.”

“Snitch for what?” asked mother.

“Don’t worry about it, ma,” said Eiselle reassuringly. Still, it was not enough for Mrs. Santiago, who continued to prod her children.  Eiselle remained silent and finished getting ready for Mass. Meanwhile, James prepared for bed.

You’re not going with us?”

“Sis, I’m beat.”

“If you don’t do right by your family, you’re doing wrong.”

“I didn’t snitch. They already knew about Mat and his friends.”

“How could they know?”

James shrugged as he headed to bed. Eiselle followed him, stopping in the doorway.

“”How could they know? Who would’ve said anything?”

“I don’t know Eiselle. There have been rumors about that group for a long time. They’ve been linked to the mosque bombings, too.”

“Psht,” spat Eiselle, “Mat’s friends are not that kind of people. They’re good Catholics.”

James peeled off his shirt and crossed the room.

“Good night, Eiselle.”

He gently shut the door in her face and went to bed. Eiselle’s face crinkled as her temper simmered. She stood there for just a moment more. Then, she went out to the living room and lit a cigarette.

“It’s time to go,” said mother.

“Let me finish this ciggie first.”

“If you’re going to do that, can you please take it outside?”

Eiselle stomped out the door and Mrs. Santiago followed along and waited patiently beside the car. Then, she rode silently beside her daughter. Eiselle’s long, thin fingers were wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. Mrs. Santiago figured it was better to stay silent; at least for now.

The looks and whispers from the people at church made Mrs. Santiago uncomfortable. Her anxiety hinted at the news to come. Somehow, some way, those whispered rumors filtered through the aisles and found their way to Mrs. Santiago herself. A fair-weather friend of Mrs. Santiago sidled up to Eiselle and leaned in for a whisper.

“What do you think about Mateo’s arrest?”

Eiselle shot the woman a puzzled look.

“You haven’t heard? He was arrested for the Yellow Mosque shooting.”

“He what?”

“Eiselle,” stammered Mrs. Santiago, “Eiselle, let’s go to the summer house…now.”

“Yes, ma.”

All eyes were on the two women as they bustled through the pew to the aisle, interrupting the sermon. Mrs. Santiago bowed her head while Eiselle held her own high, defiant and forthright.

“I’m so embarrassed.”

“What do you have to be embarrassed about? These people don’t know us.”

“I was so embarrassed.”

“You pay them no attention, ma. They are stupid people and they’ll just bring you down. You are better than them.”

Long before the Santiago women made their escape from the church set, the South Cotabato police were tasked with watching the summer house.

Four unmarked cars marked a loose perimeter around the Santiago place. Two cars, with two passengers each, sat directly across the street while a third car sat in the alley behind the house. The fourth car sat around the corner, just out of view.

There was quite a commitment of cars, tricycles, and motorbikes involved as drivers and vehicles were juggled several times hourly, keeping fresh sets of eyes on the summer place. When one car left, another car quickly arrived and took its place.

Sometimes, there would just be one car in view, while the car around the corner was brought in a short time later.

Behind the house, the single lookout car sat catty-corner to the backyard. From the comfort of the driver’s seat, the driver had a complete view of the back door and all escape routes through the alley. A patrolman on foot often accompanied the officers in the spotter car; his motorcycle sat at the end of the block as he paced back and forth through the alley. He’d stop to bum a cigarette from a local as he took position at one corner. He’d slowly smoke it while he surveyed everyone and everything around him. To the locals, he looked more like a shifty drug dealer than a beat cop.

By the time Saturday morning rolled around, there were five cars, a tricycle, and the motorbike surrounding the summer house. They were getting ready to make arrests when James arrived in his Jeepney. Now, emotions ran high.

“We’ve got the brother out front,” called one officer over the radio.

“Wait one,” said another, “let’s see what happens.”

As Mat and his friends confronted James on the street, the policemen instinctively grabbed at their holsters. Nobody moved, but everyone switched off the safeties on their revolvers.

“Not yet,” said the lead officer.

His partner glanced at him expectantly as Gabe stepped towards James.

“Not yet,” he said again.

The Jeepney peeled backwards and quickly drove off.

“Officer Chiu, the Jeepney is headed towards Santa Ana Road. We need you to tail it.”

The patrolman on foot ran to his motorbike and kicked it off the stand. He sped down the alley behind the house and arrived at the intersection just as the Jeepney sped past. He made the turn and made the tail.

“I’ve got him,” he called.

“Just stay on him and don’t let him get away. We’re going to make our move as soon as you’re clear.”

“Unit C, get into position.”

The two officers in the alley got out of their cars and secured the area behind the house.

“Unit B, give us a two beat after we get out of our car. Be ready for anything.”

The stakeout had lasted two full days as police monitored every movement into and out of the house. They had noted the foot traffic, faces familiar and strange, and compiled a list. Continually, there were eight names that appeared at the summer place. That included Mat, his gang of four, and his three siblings.

Two officers emerged from Unit A and headed towards the guys as they gathered in the street around Gabe. While the boys had their attention on Gabe, the officers drew their revolvers.

“Everybody stay right where you are,” the captain stated plainly.

Immediately, Tony and Mat bolted towards the back alley. An officer popped his head over a hedge, his pistol pointed directly at Mat’s head.

“Stop right there!”

Mat’s shoes skittered along the gravel as he slid to a stop He held his hands high above his head. Tony, on the other hand, pushed past the officer and continued towards the back alley. He immediately collided with the other. The officer quickly wrestled Tony to the ground and placed a knee squarely in Tony’s back and pulled a heavy zip-tie from its holster. He quickly hog-tied Tony’s hands behind his back and pulled the boy upright. They walked through the side alley and into the front yard. Mat and his friends were all there, hog-tied and face down in the street. In moments, a police van arrived and quickly carted the boys away. As soon as the dust settled, it was as if nothing had happened at all.

They were carted to the same police station as Mat. As the boys entered the back entrance, they all noticed the uniquely painted design of James’ Jeepney.

“That fucking bastard!” spat Tony.

“You need to do something about your brother,” added Gabe.

Mat did not reply. He knew there were more important things to worry about right now. There was also no reason to stir the attention of the police. He could always deal with James later.

“James! James!” shouted Eiselle as she shook her brother from sleep.

“What do you want?”

“What did you do? Mat’s in jail.”

“What? How?”

“I don’t know. I suppose it has something to do with you and your little talk with the police.”

“I told you, I didn’t do anything.”

“James?” interrupted Mrs. Santiago, “what’s going on with Mat?”

 “Oh mom, the South Cota police are investigating Mat and his friends about the Mosque shooting.”

“What could they possibly want with those nice boys?”

“Those nice boys you’re talking about…” said James.

“No, James, don’t…” interrupted Eiselle.

“Mom,” James continued, “the police think they’re involved with the Catholic activist groups around campus.”

“That just cannot be.”

“Mom, Mat was the one who shot the Cleric at the Yellow Mosque.”

A high, breathy gasp came from Mrs. Santiago as she reacted to the news. Yes, it was somewhat shocking to hear, but it wasn’t beyond belief. She knew, in her heart of hearts, that it was true. The signs had always been there. James held her in a tightly in his arms as she wheezed and coughed. The thought was utterly sickening.

“What do we do now?”

“I don’t know, ma. I just don’t know.”

“I think I want to lay in my bed. This is all too exhausting.”

James and Eiselle escorted their mother to her bedroom and tucked her in, just as she had done for them thousands of times. Both children planted kisses upon her cheeks, just as she’d done to soothe their pains.

“Ma,” said Eiselle, “do you want a cup of tea?”

“Maybe a little later. I will lay down now.”

Eiselle turned on the radio and instinctively tuned it into MindaNews.

“No, I don’t want that right now.”

“Okay, ma, whatever you want.”

Eiselle pulled the blanket over her mother’s shoulders and kissed her again. She let out a hopeful smile. Mrs. Santiago reached out and patted her daughter on the forearm.

“I’ll be alright. I just need some rest.”

Eiselle left the bedroom door wide open so she could hear her mother’s call. She went into the kitchen. James was there, frying some pork chops..

“I’m making some pork-fried rice. You want some?”

“Yeah,” said Eiselle quietly.

Eiselle prepared a teapot and set it on the stove as James worked diligently.

“I guess it is all in God’s hands now,” said Eiselle. Meanwhile, James focused all his attention on dinner as the last light of day disappeared from the streets of General Santos City. The Muslim Call to Prayer echoed in the distance as brother and sister sat themselves at the kitchen table for a late dinner. Eiselle did not speak again until she said good night to her eldest brother. James, however, did not reply. For him, there was simply nothing to say at all.

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