Remorse
THE day the front page carried the story of Claudio Teehankee Jr.’s release was the day I heard about Maureen Hultman, heard about her from an incredulous friend who was astounded by the fact I did not know the story. I was 6 years old when Maureen Hultman was shot along Mahogany St. in Dasmariñas Village. I’ve been along that street once, I must have been 18, 19, and it was long past midnight and I was holding a boy’s hand. I imagine Hultman felt safe too that July night in 1991.
You know the story—you’ve been 16. Fluffing your hair for the party, sitting on the passenger seat, dancing and worrying about curfews and midnight and getting home on time. Getting driven back at three in the morning, worried and exhilarated all at once. Leaving the friend with the car at the corner of the road, just in case one of the parents are awake enough to hear the engine. Being walked home by another boy, maybe to make the night last a little longer.
The story ended a few minutes later for Maureen Hultman, because a man with a gun decided he wanted to tell it differently.
According to G.R. Nos. 111206-08, People of the Philippines vs. Claudio Teehankee Jr., “Leino and Maureen started walking on the sidewalk along Mahogany Street. When they reached the corner of Caballero and Mahogany Streets, a light-colored Mitsubishi box-type Lancer car, driven by accused Claudio Teehankee Jr., came up from behind them and stopped on the middle of the road. Accused alighted from his car, approached them, and asked: ‘Who are you? (Show me your) I.D.’ Leino thought accused only wanted to check their identities. He reached into his pocket, took out his plastic wallet, and handed to accused his Asian Development Bank (ADB) I.D. Accused did not bother to look at his I.D. as he just grabbed Leino’s wallet and pocketed it.”
Roland John Chapman, the friend who was sitting in the car, saw the incident and asked what was going on. “He stepped down on the sidewalk and asked accused: ‘Why are you bothering us?’ Accused pushed Chapman, dug into his shirt, pulled out a gun and fired at him. Chapman felt his upper body, staggered for a moment, and asked: ‘Why did you shoot me?’ Chapman crumpled on the sidewalk. Leino knelt beside Chapman to assist him but accused ordered him to get up and leave Chapman alone.”
Leino was made to sit down on the sidewalk. Maureen began screaming for help. Began running. Was caught. Sat on the sidewalk beside Leino. Teehankee stood before them. Turned his back on them. Turned to face them. Shot Leino. He was hit on the jaw. Heard another shot. Turned his head, saw Maureen fall. Struggled to his knees, called for help.
The charges against Teehankee were changed several times. Initially, he was charged with murder for the killing of Roland Chapman and two frustrated murder charges for the shooting and wounding of Jussi Leino and Maureen Hultman. When Hultman died on Oct. 17, 1991, during the course of the trial, the information for frustrated murder against accused was amended to murder.
I can’t tell you what she looked like before that night, all the photos on the newspaper show her in the hospital, mother and father standing beside her. I am told that she was beautiful, and that she was happy, and that she was 16 years old. I am also told that her death—that of a 16-year-old innocent—rocked the country, raised issues about the death penalty, and made it impossible for the powerful Teehankee family to wrest Claudio out of justice’s grip. It was Chief Justice Teehankee who swore into office President Corazon Aquino after the ouster of President Ferdinand Marcos during the 1986 People Power Revolution. It is Claudio’s older brother Manuel who is now the Philippine representative to the World Trade Organization in Geneva.
Many stories have been written about Maureen Hultman in the last few days. The midnight release of Claudio Teehankee Jr. from the New Bilibid Prison on Oct. 3, Friday shocked the nation, including Maureen’s Sweden-based parents. Last Wednesday, days before Maureen’s 17th death anniversary, Teehankee left the prison complex at 7 p.m., eluding the media. According to prison chaplain Msgr. Robert Olaguer, Teehankee escaped aided by unidentified men who removed decorative blocks near the ceiling of the room where he had been staying.
The secretary of justice claims there is no reason to be offended by Teehankee’s release, one that came with the benefit of presidential pardon. Raul Gonzalez claims that all processes have been followed to the letter. He calls the Hultman family hypocritical, for protesting the suddenness of the decision, made without informing them or the lead prosecutor of the case. Gonzalez admitted it was Ambassador Teehankee who personally went to his office to remind him of the brother in jail, and to appeal to the secretary to let him go.
There is a reason why the right to executive clemency exists. It is because there must be a final arbiter, in situations when even the courts have failed, or men have changed, or a man stands remorseful before an executioner. That power is granted to the highest official in the land—meant to be the noblest and most honorable. That power, in the hands of anyone less than honest, is one that can easily be used as currency for goodwill, to those who have something to offer.
I am aware it is within the President’s rights to pardon, it is, after all, another sort of justice. And yet justice cannot be called just by selective application. Never mind the two-hundred-or-so others who were pardoned with Teehankee, what matters is that Teehankee was pardoned, over and above 4,000 inmates whom Monsignor Olaguer reported to be far more worthy of pardon than Teehankee. Olaguer says that he and his staff have been sending letters almost every day to the President to appeal for her consideration regarding the thousands of applications for clemency. None have been answered.
I do not know how successful Teehankee’s rehabilitation was, I only know that the Board of Pardons and Parole failed to provide any documents showing the inmate’s “good behavior” and “degree of remorse” when it sought a Makati court’s recommendation for executive clemency in 2004. I am willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. I’m not willing to go that far for this administration.
You know the story. It’s been told many times in this country. Lives snuffed, justice withheld, remorseless arrogance from the powers-that-be. Once, Maureen Hultman changed that story, made it possible to believe that sometimes, justice can be served. Somebody else decided to change her story.
