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Lying through his teeth (Part Two)

P/Major Rodney Raymund Baloyo IV lied so badly that it’s hard to believe any person with average intelligence would buy his story. But there’s one individual who apparently still holds to the sanctity of Baloyo’s testimony: his boss way back in November 2013, now P/Director General Oscar Albayalde.

That’s incredible.

It’s a basic principle in military leadership that a commander must be informed of everything that goes on under his watch at all times. And this dictum is taken very seriously at all levels of command in the armed forces and the national police. No subordinate will even think of doing anything without his commander’s knowledge and approval. The consequences are dire.

This is particularly true for a commander and his intelligence officer. If there is anybody in the unit that a commander trusts over and above anybody else, it’s the intelligence officer. After all, he is the eyes and ears of the commander.

Put these facts together and one reaches the inevitable conclusion that there is a far deeper bond that ties the two. Until Thursday, Albayalde continued to uphold the story of Baloyo, even after the public scolding he got from Senator Richard “Dick” Gordon. He simply refuses to abandon his subordinate. And his subordinate willingly went to jail to protect his version.

Questions. We can only raise questions.

  1. Did Albayalde know beforehand what Baloyo was planning to do, and he gave his approval?
  2. Granting that Albayalde had no knowledge, did he fail to discern the fakery in the after-action report filed by Baloyo?
  3. And after the scandal blew up, didn’t Albayalde look into the evidence of the CIDG and the PNP Regional Office 3 that led to the filing of criminal and administrative cases against Baloyo and his men?

It would seem that Albayalde deliberately ignored the evidence against Baloyo and his men. He played possum all the way. More than that, he was always protective of Baloyo. In a SunStar Pampanga story, Albayalde was quick to defend Baloyo when the latter was relieved of his post as Police Chief of San Fernando, Pampanga in January 2014. Baloyo was just due for schooling for promotion purposes, Albayalde said.

Hence, the biggest question: Is Albayalde covering up for Baloyo, just as Baloyo is covering up for Albayalde?

More than a hundred million pesos of shabu taken from the residence of Johnson Lee flooded the Central Luzon illegal drugs market in the weeks and months after the operation, forcing prices to go down.

Baloyo and his men went on a shopping spree for expensive vehicles than even Camp Crame noticed, and sent investigators headed by then CIDG chief Benjamin Magalong to conduct a probee.

Only Albayalde failed to see the truth, or so it seemed.

Is Baloyo protecting Albayalde to the extent that he was jailed for obvious lying? The Senate justice committee should pursue this angle. The nation deserves to know the truth.

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Lying through his teeth (Part One)

The longer P/Major Rodney Raymund Baloyo IV told and retold his version of what happened on November 29, 2013 inside a plush subdivision in Mexico, Pampanga, the more his credibility sank into a morass of dishonesty. He lied blatantly, and when pressed, made changes to his story, perhaps thinking he could fool the Senate committee on justice and human rights, and the entire nation. Never before have I seen such a liar.

Baloyo had nothing to back his story except his word. On the other hand, a mountain of evidence told an entirely different story. This individual doesn’t deserve to wear that uniform and badge of an officer of the Philippine National Police a minute longer. An orange uniform of a Bilibid prisoner is what suits him.

BALOYO’S VERSION:

At around 2 p.m. on November 29, 2013, a confidential informant walks into the intelligence branch of the Pampanga provincial police office. This “asset” — slang for informants — narrates to Baloyo that there is a big-time drug pusher operating in the Woodbridge Subdivision, Lake Shore View in Mexico, Pampanga. The debriefing took one hour, and Baloyo takes the asset’s story as truthful. Immediately, he organizes a team of 13 including himself and proceeds to the target. He had sent ahead two policemen to conduct surveillance and rendezvouzed with them at a gasoline station at around 4 p.m.

Baloyo was able to raise P100,000 to be used as “marked buy-bust money” in a test-buy before making an arrest. He said it was a certain policeman named Santos who gave him the money. The money consisted of 100 P1,000 bills, with each paper note signed “by the operatives” as the marking.

At around 4:30 p.m., Baloyo carried out the buy-bust and arrested a Chinese national, Ding Wen Kun. They recovered 36 kilos of shabu and P300,000 in cash. The situation became tense when two security guards arrived and challenged the police officers, who were in civilian clothing. “They were armed with shotguns which were aimed at us,” Baloyo said.

To secure his men from this threat, Baloyo said he and his men boarded their vehicles, taking with them an estimated 200 kilos of shabu and a vault believed to have contained P55 million, and drove off toward the Pampanga provincial police office.

His immediate superior, then P/Senior Superintendent Oscar Albayalde, said there was a press conference at around 5:30 p.m. in which the seized shabu and cash were laid out on a table for presentation to the public. This last detail was confirmed by retired Police General Manuel Gaerlan, who was then deputy regional director for PRO 3.

This is the core of Baloyo’s story.

THE TRUE VERSION:

There was no buy-bust. It was an unauthorized raid on the residence of Chinese national Johnson Lee. Apparently, Baloyo had been monitoring the activities of Lee in the distribution of shabu from that house. His superior, Albayalde, knew about it. (After all, the first rule is that the commander must know everything that is happening.) Baloyo was looking for an opening to pounce on Lee. The opportunity came in the morning of Nov. 29. Baloyo learned there was a large shipment of shabu. He had to move fast.

But instead of applying for a search warrant, Baloyo and his men barged into the house of Lee. The Chinese national was able to jump over the fence and ran away to ask for help. He didn’t know that the intruders to his house were policemen. Lee went to the barangay hall to report the forced entry into his house.

The barangay officials telephoned the Mexico, Pampanga PNP station to report the alleged home invasion by the armed men and the presence of Lee in their custody. Three uniformed policemen were dispatched to investigate. Lee was taken aboard the patrol car back to his residence. There, he came face to face with Baloyo and his men, now ready to haul their loot.

This gave Baloyo a bonus. Instead of just the shabu, he had the suspect in custody. But then it wasn’t a legitimate drug buy-bust that he had planned. It was a money-making enterprise. Baloyo had removed a steel safe containing P55 million from the house. He struck a deal with Lee: open the safe and he will set the Chinese national free. Lee was only too glad to comply.

Two blue guards from the private security company assigned to Woodridge Subdivision arrived at the scene to investigate. Baloyo identified himself as the intelligence officer of Pampanga provincial police office. The security guards could not do anything. Baloyo and his group left, bringing with them their stash of shabu and cash. The three policemen, thinking everything was in order, also left and headed back to the municipal police station.

It was just before noon of November 29, 2019. (To be continued)

 

Kaso laban kay Pnoy, inatras

Umatras ang Office of the Ombudsman sa kasong isinampa laban kay dating Pangulong Noynoy Aquino sa Sandiganbayan kaugnay sa Mamasapano massacre apat na taong nakaraan.

Sa isang “motion to withdraw information,” sinabi ni Ombudsman Samuel Martires na binabawi muna ng Ombudsman ang reklamo nito laban kay Aquino at dating PNP chief Alan Purisima dahil kulang ang ebidensya na kasama sa kaso.

Ano ang ibig sabihin nito? Na makakatakas si Abnoy sa pananagutan niya bilang Commander in Chief sa pagkamatay ng #SAF44 na mga police commandos?

Hindi po.

Kasi nga, noong isinampa ang kaso ni dating Ombudsman Conchita Carpio Morales bago siya nag retiro, napansin na ng mga legal experts na mahina o “weak” ang reklamo, at malamang ay mahuhulog na lang ito sa acquittal, o pag-walang sala kay Aquino.

Kinakailangan mag-conduct muli ng Preliminary Investigation ang Ombudsman upang makatanggap ng mas malakas na ebidensya.

Sinadya talaga yun ni Carpio-Morales na i-akyan ang kaso kahit kulang ang ebidensya upang maka-iwas si Aquino sa pagkabilanggo.

Kasi nga may tinatawag tayo na “double jeopardy”. Kung nakaharap na ang isang tao sa paglitis sa kaso at ma-walang sala ito o ma-acquit, hindi na siya puwede pang kasohan pa ulit sa parehong kasalanan.

Mabuti na lang at napahinto ni Ombudsman Martires ang trial kaagad-agad. Ito ang paraan upang hindi mag-apply ang “double jeopardy” rule.

Tiyak na ibabasura ang kaso ng Kapa

Hindi naman sa pinangungunahan ko ang Korte Suprema, pero tiyak na ibabasura lamang nito itong kaso na inisampa ng Rhema Int’l Livelihood Foundation, Inc. laban kay Pangunlong Rodrigo Duterte kaugnay sa pagpasara sa operasyon ng Kapa Ministry International Inc.

Una, may tinatawag tayong “immunity from suit” si Pangulong Duterte habang naka-upo ito sa puwesto. Ang ibig sabihin, hindi puwedeng kasohan ang Pangulo kahit sa anumang dahilan except for impeachable offenses. Ang kasong ito ay petition for certiorari, prohibition and mandamus at pinangalanan si Pangulong Duterte bilang respondent.

Diyan pa lang, bagsak na ang kaso.

Pangalawa, hinihiling ng Cirfund — yan ang tawag nila sa project na kumukolekta ng “donasyon” galing sa mga miyembro — na sampahan ng “impeachment case” si Pangulong Duterte.

Halatang ignorante sa batas ang mga taong ito.

Ang impeachment ay hindi pina-file sa Korte Suprema. Doon yan ginagawa sa House of Representatives. Walang jurisdiction ang Supreme Court sa usapin tungkol sa impeachment.

Talagang matigas ang ulo ng mga opisyal ng Kapa. Pinipilit pa rin nila na legal ang ginagawa nitong pag-tanggap ng pera galing sa mga miyembro.

Dapat arestuhin na yan si Apolinario. Kung naloko niya ang 5 million members ng Kapa, huwag siya mag-akala na kaya na niya suwayin ang mga batas ng Pilipinas at his Pangulong Duterte.

Ina-atake na ako ng mga Kapa fanatics

Dalawang YouTube videos pa lang ang na-ipalabas ko ng mabilis na gumanti ang mga taga-suporta ni Pastor Joel Apolinario at ng Kabos Padatoon (KAPA) Community Ministry at inatake ako sa kanilang comments sa aking Channel.

Galit na galit ang mga supporters ni Apolinario dahil sinasabi ko ang katotohanan na isang investment scam ang kanilang modus operandi sa paghingi ng “donations” galing sa mga members na may pangakong 30 porsyento na interest o tobo buwan-buwan.

Nakapagtataka kung bakit marami pa ring mga Pinoy ang nahuhulog sa ganitong mga scam. Hindi ito ang unang scam kung saan umabot sa bilyon-bilyong piso na “investments” ang nawawala at naiiwan ang mga naloko na pulubi.

Ito po ang link sa aking mga videos:

 

Kapa scam: what happened before

On a national level, the name of Pastor Joel Apolinario hardly made it to the pages of newspapers or reported on television. But his name had long been on the stage of controversy in Mindanao for quite a number of years now. In fact, I remember the name of his Kapa Community Ministry last year when Bombo Radyo reported on the arrest of its station manager and news director in General Santos in September 2018.

Apolinario had complained to the NBI that these broadcasters were extorting money from him so that the daily tirades against his activities would stop. On the part of the broadcasters, identified as Jonathan Macailing and Salvador Galano, claimed they were framed up.

It was also about that time that the Bislig City LGU in Surigao shut down the cooperative store of Kapa, which stands for Kabus Padatoon (Make the poor rich), after getting numerous complaints about its illegal activities.

Kapa had campaigned among its members not to vote for Bislig city mayor Librado Navarro who ran for the position of Vice Governor for the Province of Surigao del Sur in the recently-held local and national elections on May 13. Despite this “no-vote” campaign, Navarro won.

Who is Apolinario?Picture Joel Apolinario

This is a man who is a genuine rags-to-riches story. But it appears that his path to wealth was at the expense of small investors who fell for his promise of a 30% monthly “reward” for their “donations”.

In his youth, he struggled to make both ends meet as a fisherman and then as a construction worker. He got a job as a radio technician and from there, finding that he had a gift for eloquence, became a disc jockey.

He founded Kapa Community Ministry and operated a chain of cooperative stores in Bislig City. While he claims that Kapa is a church, it has no place of worship it could call its own.

The Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) estimates that Kapa has around 5 million members in the entire country, and its exposure could reach P50 billion on an average of P10,000 per member.

In February this year, the SEC revoked his incorporation papers on allegations of fraud and ordered Kapa to stop its operations.

Apparently, Apolinario was in no mood to heed the order.

But last week, no less than President Rodrigo Duterte ordered the closure of all Kapa offices and threatened to arrest those who persist in soliciting investments disguised as “donations”.

A day to remember: The assassination of Evelio Javier

I remember the date and the events that transpired as if these happened only yesterday.
At around 10:30 a.m. of February 11, 1986, I got a rare international call from Hongkong at my work place at the Development Bank of the Philippines. At the time, I was working as Credit Investigator at DBP and moonlighted as a journalist for Asiaweek Magazine, the regional weekly news magazine that had the same format as Time and Newsweek.
This was long before the era of cell phones, and Facebook and Twitter. News travelled rather slowly.
When I answered the phone, I recognized the voice of my editor, Zoher Abdoolkarim.
“Manuel, there’s been a murder in San Jose, Antique. Can you get a ride to go there quickly?” he said.
Zoher, in rapid fashion, told me what happened.
Former Antique Governor Evelio Javier was keeping watch over the canvassing of the electoral returns for President in the February 6, 1986 snap elections. Cory Aquino had challenged strongman Ferdinand E. Marcos, and there have been allegations of widespread cheating.
Antique province was then ruled by Marcos’s henchman, Arturo Pacificador. Javier knew that Pacificador would try to thwart the people’s will in Antique, and he kept a tight watch on the counting.
That fateful morning, Javier came down from the Capitol building in San Jose, Antique where the canvassing was being conducted to take a break. He went over to a big tree in the park to rest.
Just then, two or three armed men approached him and opened fire with M-16 armalite rifles. Javier was wounded but managed to run across the plaza in zigzag fashion to elude the bullets fired at him. He entered a store and hid inside the toilet.
His assassins, however, simply followed him. Once they got inside the store and learned where Javier had hidden, they fired their weapons at point-blank range. Javier was killed in an instant, his body peppered with bullets.
The gunmen then casually fled aboard a waiting vehicle.
I didn’t hesitate to accept the assignment. I knew history was being made. I filed a leave of absence for the day and negotiated with a taxi to drive me to San Jose, Antique.
I always brought my camera bag with me every day, and I had 3 rolls of transparency film (for slides) ready for exactly situations like this.
I don’t remember now how much the taxi driver charged.
I arrived in San Jose around 2 p.m. The atmosphere in the municipality was tense. PC soldiers were all over the place, and people looked anxiously from windows and doors.
I was told Javier’s cadaver had been brought to the Angel Salazar Memorial General Hospital, so I asked the taxi driver to take me there. Outside the hospital, I saw former Antique Governor Enrique Zaldivar and other political allies of the slain leader.
Zaldivar pointed over to the morgue. “That’s where he is now,” he said.
Without delay, I entered the morgue with my camera ready. To my surprise, the international correspondents were already swarming all over the place — Time Magazine, Newsweek Magazine, the U.S. television net works. I had to elbow my way inside to be able to take pictures of Javier’s bullet-riddled body.
I then talked with eyewitness to get their recollection of what happened.
A few minutes later, the taxi driver approached me, his face filled with dread.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He told me a PC Major had put a handcuff on the steering wheel to disable the taxi. The PC Major apparently learned that a journalist was his passenger. So I went over to talk with the PC Major, who was the assistant provincial commander.
He asked me what I was doing there. Of course, I was there to cover the assassination of Javier. I presented to him my Asiaweek ID card. He wanted to detain me.
I wasn’t intimidated.
I told him that my arrest would become a secondary international event to the murder itself. “Sir, you will have to answer for this,” I warned him. I pointed to the international media nearby. “This will surely feast on this story,” I calmly said.
I must have seemed to be full of confidence that the PC Major relented. All right, he said, you can leave.
I didn’t waste a second in leaving. The tension had escalated. We were out of there by 6 p.m. If I remember right, my colleague Herbert Vego hitched a ride with me on the way back to Iloilo.
That night, I almost didn’t sleep as I furiously wrote the story on a portable typewriter (yes we had no laptops then). At 4 a.m. I went to the airport to send the 3 rolls of transparencies to Tony Lopez, Manila Bureau Chief of Asiaweek, through PAL cargo.
A picture showing Javier lying on the morgue table, blood pooling around hiim, and my story made it to the Asiaweek edition a few days later.
Now, 33 years later, I look back to this incident with a wish that such political violence will no longer happen again.
Javier had given his life to protect the sanctity of the ballot, and truly, he deserves to be honored on this day.