Discarded pages from Enrile memoir found?

The pages stuffed inside a dirty envelope were found in a garbage dump outside Manila. Some of them were ripped, others covered with muck, totally unreadable.

But in a few of the salvaged papers important, dramatic events were recalled.

Excerpts below:

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September 1972

We were in his office at the Palace. I told him that it can be done. We can have a solid, legal justification for imposing martial law. He smiled, and gave me a pat on the shoulder.

“We need to do this,” he said. “You know that, right?”

I nodded.

“Yes, I know. We have to do it for the nation, for our people,” I said. “They have suffered enough. We have to step in to save them, to rescue our democracy.”

He didn’t say anything. Then, he smiled, a mysterious smile.

“Yes, of course, Johnny, if you say so,” he said.

I gave him a puzzled look. But he simply smiled — again.

I left the Palace troubled, with nagging doubts.

We were about to embark on the most important work a freedom-loving Filipino patriot could ever take on.

We were going to save our country. We were going to rescue our people from the clutches of the communists and the oligarchs.

But why did he just smile when I stressed to him the importance of what were about to do? What was he up to?

I couldn’t sleep that night…

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1976

I was not supposed to be at Crame that night. It was a surprise visit — and it led me to the truth.

I was grilling the commanding officer when I heard a scream.

“What was that?” I demanded.

“Ah, sir. Nothing sir, just the boys clowning around,” the officer, his face glistening with sweat, answered.

I didn’t believe him. Immediately I demanded to be taken to the room where the scream came from.

Inside, a shocking scene.

A senior intelligence officer, a known Ver protégé, and other operatives were surrounding a man. The man was naked, his legs spread apart. One of the agents was holding two metal prongs. They were using it to apply electricity to the prisoner’s private parts.

“What is the meaning of this!” I yelled. “Stop this at once! We do not tolerate torture!”

I was so angry. For that was not what our new society is about. We’re building a new social order, a new Philippines founded on the principles of freedom, democracy and human rights.

I was so troubled by what I saw.

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August 21, 1983

There had been rumors, but I could not confirm them.

Still, I knew I had to do something, though I could be putting myself in grave danger.

That day, I drove myself to the airport. I was wearing sunglasses and a fake beard. With the help of trusted allies at MIA, I was able to make my way undetected to a spot near the tarmac. From there, I saw the plane arrive.

I must stop this, I thought to myself.

I slipped my right hand inside my jacket and felt the cold steel of my Uzi submachine gun.

I hope I don’t have to use this, I thought. But I will if I have to. I can’t let this happen.

Suddenly, there was a commotion. It happened so fast. I heard the shots. I saw him fall. I was going to rush out to try to save him.

But no – no! — I was too late. I could not stop it!

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February 22, 1986

Time was running out.

I knew I finally had to make my move. It was time to take a stand, even if it meant my own death.

The cardinal thought I should wait and not do anything.

“Please, Johnny, maybe I can still talk to him,” he told me on the phone.

He was sobbing.

“Please don’t do anything that would provoke him. We still need you. The people need you.”

“You eminence, it is precisely because the people need me that I’m doing this, that I’m leading this fight to end this. I had really believed he shared my vision for a peaceful, democratic, prosperous Philippines. But it was delusion. He never shared that dream…

“Now, I have to fix this. Only I can do it.”

I paused.

“Farewell, your eminence…” I said.

The cardinal began crying again, “No Johnny, no.”

I hung up then went straight to Aguinaldo to meet with my men.

Then, it happened.

The people, they started coming. Tens of thousands of them. Hundreds of thousands.

They surrounded the camp, cheering us, calling my name, telling us that they were with us.  They made it known to the world that they supported my fight for freedom and democracy, that they were looking to me to lead them out of this nightmare.

They were my people, and I was not going to let them down.

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On a torn page, a handwritten note: “Let’s not use these. They’re a bit over the top. But I like the stuff on the ambush. Nicely done. We can probably get away with that. – MJ”

P.S. E-mail from press representative of Sen. Enrile:

“… The pages found in a garbage dump outside Manila are obviously part of a hoax. Clearly, these are not discarded chapters from the senator’s recently-published memoir. Just take that handwritten note — as everybody knows, Manong Johnny’s initials are ‘JPE,’ not ‘MJ. … ’”

Copyright 2012 Fake Philippine News

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