The first thing everyone saw upon boarding the plane was a sign to deposit
firearms with the flight steward. This was followed by an intercom announcement
when all were seated. Passengers obliged without question. It was standard
practice. The year was the late fifties.
Butuan was known then to be the fastest guns in the east. Tough and rugged
loggers from the mountains came down during weekends for good time. They
practically owned the town. Money flowed like water and city's wickedness in
bars and nightclubs was on its heyday. Even Fausto's flock of low-flying
pigeons had its fair share. It was a city of sin. Rowdiness and disturbances
were common.
But surprisingly, none ever got killed from shootout or gunplay. They only had
these things up in the lawless bundocks. They tamed mildly their wild while in
the city, but quite hectic though manageable to keep the town relatively
peaceful. Suffice to say that despite being called the land of the brave
etceteras, we at the department believed that Butuan was still a good place to
reside. They were confidently in control to keep the city safe. Butuanons in
general did behave well while in the city.
Devoid from technological gadgetry, police work relied heavily on human
ingenuity. We however had the most invaluable ally at hand. The community was
with us all the way. We couldn't have gained an inch against crime without the
support of the citizenry. Butuanons loved the city and they would do anything
to protect it. It was the only home sweet home.
In a very special way, Butuan then was unique compared to other places. The
pleasant closeness in kinship and friendship amongst city dwellers was beyond
compare. It was a town where people shared the same laughter and sorrow.
Butuanon clustered together and shared anyone's problem as neighbors. There was
a compassionate attachment amongst the warm and cordial people with much
concerned about morals and virtues. It was indeed a decent place to live.
There was a rule of thumb the town Casanovas keenly observed back then. Unless
marriage was the intention, never ever fool around with Butuanon women. It
wasn't healthy to ignore this taboo. I was born and raised locally but by
genealogy, I am not a Butuanon. Therefore, like others, I definitely set limits
within honorable behavior my romantic relationship with beauties of Butuanon
parentage. An Ilocano friend ignored this criterion and consequently spent some
time in Muntinglupa. Butuanon truly did stick together when faced with a
dilemma affecting families and community.
All these are now history.
Yes, it maybe is a thing of the past where traces of Butuan's distinctive
character are already gone. But contrary to common assertion, I still believe
that behind the facade of present day appearances, a little part of yesterday's
goodness is still faintly breathing an air of life. We know how we badly need
it now. Our city is constantly assaulted by the viciousness of crime and no one
seems to care.
Come therefore and as Butuanon by heart with roots from glorious past redeem
our beloved city of endearment from torment and malice caused by the insolent
and the dishonest. The city has suffered long enough and lately has gone too
far forgiving. The butchered mutilated body of Jemarie Varron stands to
illustrate the unabated felonious acts and crookedness our city endures. As
then and could be now, nothing is more telling to forestall the onslaught of
the innocent than a collective concern from citizens toward this unsubdued
criminality. It has to stop. Wherever or whatever, we must do something to
deter.
Looking at present condition, no one can better put it to rest but by the old
fashion way. We have so much at stake. We are losing our pride and belonging as
Butuanon. It already has gone to 'scary level.' Anxiety is inevitably devouring
our soundness and is beginning to fracture our sense of confidence towards
safety and wellness.
In dying her hands were raised in begging gesture from further hurt. This
graphic merciless torture of Jemarie will be in vain when society fails to
translate the extended meaning as portrayed. It accordingly applies to the
innocent and the vulnerable. This menace is spreading and already has claimed
number of victims. It is time for the people of Butuan to rise in anger to
require the governance of the city to come up with definitive action to
terminate this maniacal aggression of the immoral and the corrupt.
Those who are sworn to protect are deficient on their watch. It looks dismally
gloomy that either from fear or favor, public servants that are decreed to
secure order and calm fall short to employ commitment to the city now besieges
in crime.
We can no longer look the other way and ignore that our city is burning.
Leaving it to usual process is unavailing. Halfway glimpses and whispers in
timidity just don't cut anymore. What is desired is active involvement in the
exercise of rights to remain undisturbed. Butuan deserves the highest level of
law enforcement. If this can not be at hand because of local ineptitude or
naivete, it is then fitting to go up the hierarchy of justice to seek for
abiding alternative in safeguarding citizens from harm and fear.
This we demand!
