Do you know how to play the game? Was it worth it? (extremely graphic)

This is going to be my most graphic post about my father and what he went through just to do what was right, not only for love of God and country, but also for love of himself. His act was not to protect his worldy being, but his spirit, his conscience, which according to him, was worth more and transcended all that the material world had to offer.

When my dad was killed there were some comments about how my dad just did not know how to play the game. Their premise was that government in general was dirty, and that my dad, should have known when and when not to "play the game". Especially when his life was put at stake.

As a backgrounder, my Dad did not accept a bribe from a drug lord whom he sentenced to death. On June 10, 2004, according to eye-witness accounts, as he left his Court, barely 5 meters away, his car was blocked off by an armed group of thugs. Both in front and in the back while the assailant went up to my dad's driver's side where he was driving and shot my father 10 times in the head. He survived for a bit longer, but that story can be better told by clicking here.

This reminds me of one of the most common topics of discussion between my father and I; "Was it worth it?"

I used to ask him, was it really worth it NOT to accept the money? The world will surely still go round despite a few of his lapses, and it will work out later. What if all this other-world talk meant nothing because there was nothing after this life? What if after all this we just died and nothing of us was left except the dust of our disintegrated body? If such were so, everything he had done would be fruitless and he'd be leaving the people he loved behind.

My dad would simply answer, "If this is the only world we have, then I might as well make it good".

It's another Halloween again without my dad. I can't help but remember him after what he went through, after what we, as a family had to go through. The mental images are hard to erase. The shot up car, him all bloody and dying with several gun shots all over him. He was shot at least ten times in the head. They wanted to make sure he was dead. They sent groups of people after one man. It was their third try, but they had to take him out for good. The doctor once told me that it was post traumatic stress and these things are extremely difficult to just blank out. Maybe that how soldiers who see their close friends die feel.

Having had a Forensic Medicine class recently aggravated the memory. Being forced (for academic purposes) to view autopsies of other people who have been shot (Ninoy Aquino and other notables), I was reminded of the same pictures I had seen of my own father. I imagined the sticks they had to stick through his head to figure out the trajectory of the bullets and the cause of death.

I've unearthed some very old pictures from my dad's case.

Obviously I won't show you the pictures of my dad, but I can show you pictures of the vehicle he was in. Let it speak for itself of the pain we all had to go through, that day when his car was blocked off by gunmen and he was shot in cold blood. The keys I remember he used to carry around to lock the evidence room went missing, and the drugs from the case supposedly disappeared. All because he did not play the game.

I would like to end this post with some hope. To all those who feel this government does nothing, take heart that not all government officials are crooked. There are many I have met who want to do what is right. They risk their life, and because of the nature of being a public official, the lives and happiness of their family as well.

This is for all those in public service who have tried and continue to make a difference. From the cops in the field to the government desk jockeys, truth is on your side, and you will live on in every life you have touched.


RIP +++
Judge Voltaire Antonio Ylagan Rosales
May 30, 1956 - June 10, 2004