By Anjo Bagaoisan
Arnaldo Dela Cruz’s eldest daughter cursed and shrieked when she looked at the dead man lying on the road to her house and recognized him as her father.
She was on her way home at 4 a.m. and passed through the line of twine used to mark out the crime scene. With bystanders and media men watching, she wondered aloud who the body beside a fallen motorcycle was.
When she saw the face, she exclaimed: “P*******, si Tatay!”
Shaking and crying, she walked back, this time around the twine on her way to the other side. The rest of her family was already there. They already knew.
She appealed to the police officers: “Ba’t ayaw niyo itakbo sa ospital, kuya? (Why don’t you bring him to the hospital?)”
No one replied.
Gloria, her mother, met her with an opened umbrella. It had begun to drizzle. Even she could not calm her.
The daughter told Gloria: “Ma-re-revive pa yan! Kaysa hayaan niyong nakahiga diyan! (He could be revived instead of letting him lie there)”
“Sino’ng bumaril diyan (Who killed him)?” she said after squatting on a garage ramp.
No one knew the answer.