Philippine Free Press, 6/1/96 - Dad testifying before a Senate hearing accusing Omb. Disierto of impropriety

Honesty: the best of all the lost arts.
- Mark Twain, Notebook, 1902

In a country like the Philippines where government service is more of a means to power and wealth, honesty has become a lost art.  And one of the few “artists” in this field is our father, Overall Deputy Ombudsman Francisco A. Villa as he was known to the Filipino public. He is now in his 80’s, at home most of the time, trying his best to fight the loss of his memories.  His life is worth revisiting as one would do for a great man. After all, he was consistent in taking the higher road in his career as a civil servant.  Thus, here I am writing his story on his birthday as I recall it to be.

I go back to 1993 when I was living in New York City. I remember meeting a Filipino gentleman on a  bus one day.  He was visiting the city and he happened to be an assistant to a certain congressman back home. At that time, our family was eagerly awaiting news about the possible appointment of my father as the Ombudsman of the Philippines by the newly elected President Ramos. (My father was the acting Ombudsman then, designated by President Cory Aquino before she left office.) When the gentleman found out who my father was, he told me what he and most of the people back home already knew then – that he was not the choice because he was not a “team player’, meaning he could not be swayed to go with the flow of whoever was in power then.

Well, I thought to myself, that is exactly what the Office of the Ombudsman is supposed to be -an independent body created by a group of older and wiser men known as the constitutional assembly, to act as the watchdog against graft and corruption in our government.  Well, the rest is history as to what became of this office after that.  In a blog entitled Ombudsman: Protector of (Some) People? in the website of the Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism, the office was described as an ineffective agency as to its intended role in the government.

You will all agree with me now that it was history repeating itself when President Ramos made his choice for the post, ignoring altogether the credentials of my father and picking instead Aniano Disierto, a former military lawyer who served under the Marcos regime. I still remember my father’s voice over the phone when he broke the news to me.  I never heard him so distraught.  He was always the cheerful father who told us to “keep on punching” whenever we were faced with challenges of our own. What he told me broke my heart, not only because of what it did to him. But more so because it destroyed my hopes about our government that I thought had so much promise after Ninoy and the people power.

Little did I know that my father knew exactly why President Ramos did not pick him.  Everybody knew why.  There was even a Senate hearing that questioned the decision, emphasizing the impeccable credentials of my father compared to that of his choice, who only had the military court as his experience.  It turned out that  my father had been working on a case with very damning evidence against you know who (I would rather not mention the name because I am not sure if I can, considering the legal consequences.)  If only they let my father do his job, there would not have been a need for a second people power.

Cory’s Choice

Family photo with Cory Aquino when Dad was sworn in as Overall Deputy Ombudsman

President Cory Aquino believed that my father was the right person for the job.  However, this was not the case in the beginning when Cory took office. The reason is that my father was part of the Agrava Fact Finding Commission that stopped short of finding the Marcoses responsible for her husband’s death. He was the deputy general counsel and at the same time the nephew of Justice Corazon Agrava who came up with her own report that was different from that of the rest of the commission, almost siding with President Marcos or so it seemed. (My father signed off on the report together with the rest of the commission that implicated GeneralVer.)

What changed Cory’s mind about my father was his sterling performance as Pasay City prosecutor.  He was at his best when he successfully prosecuted one very influential member of the Congress, Nicanor de Guzman and sent him to jail for gun smuggling.   This was amidst pressure from all directions. I remember being in my father’s office that day he was working on the case.  He received a call from one officer of the Supreme Court asking him to hold off on the case.  I heard my father say  “I already filed it”. Simple as that. Then in six months, my father clinched the case. I believe it was the first time that a congressman was sent to jail.  It was all over the news.  It was a victory won for the Filipino people by my father.

Incidentally, Cory was also being hounded by this scandal. People were accusing her brother of being a close associate of Mr. de Guzman.  So when my father won the case, it was Cory who congratulated him first. There was this hilarious story told by my niece, Joanne, who answered Cory’s call one afternoon.  Cory asked to speak with my mother because my father was not home.   We were used to our Mom spending hours inside the bathroom, multitasking. Taking a bath for her also meant hand-washing her clothes and cleaning the bathroom.  So when my niece knocked on her bathroom door, my Mom yelled back and asked not to be bothered.  When they finally met during my father’s oath taking as the Deputy Ombudsman for the Military,  Cory used this story as the icebreaker.

Daring and Honest First

My mother told me that my father was a natural.  She never saw him study when he was in law school. He always played basketball with his buddies, his study notes crumpled in his back pocket. How he earned his law degree was beyond her.

It was during his time in the NBI where he first exhibited courage, going against powerful and dangerous men. Trained by the FBI and Scotland Yard, he led the arrest of Harry Stonehill, a celebrated American goon who corrupted high government officials to build a very wealthy empire in the Philippines.

It was also during this time when his integrity was put to the test.  My Tita Feling, who professed to be the first flight stewardess of the Philippines told me this story.  One Chinese guy who happened to be her friend was caught bringing in some opium to the country. Knowing that my father had the NBI connections, she offered to broker a deal to help her Chinese friend.  My father flatly refused her.

My father thrived on challenges. In 1969, he was plucked from his post as Manila’s city prosecutor and appointed chief of police of Pasay City by Mayor Claudio.  He wanted my father to clean up the city which was notoriously becoming a city of thugs. Little did he know that my father was bound to do more than thugs. True to his form, he waged a relentless war against the casinos along Roxas Boulevard, arresting some very powerful politicians whom he caught red handed during one of his raids. He was like that heroic character in the movie, “Walking Tall’. I remember staying up every night praying for my father to come home safe.

My father’s enemies did everything they could to silence him. When they could not bribe him, they threatened him. My sisters and I saw a visitor come to the house with a brief case one day.  We later found out that the brief case was full of cash, which my father refused, of course.  Next day, we found ourselves escorted to school by a police car after my mother received anonymous threatening calls.

My father’s career in the government was interrupted when Marcos declared martial law. It was one of the hardest times for us as a family. My father was picked up and briefly detained by the military for having been associated with the former Senator Sergio Osmena. They took his gun, but not his honor. My father refused to be a part of the Marcos government, at all cost.

Overall Deputy Ombudsman

In a short newspaper article at the Philippine Daily Inquirer, it was written “Overall Deputy Ombudsman Francisco A. Villa will complete his term of office on March 17, capping almost 35 years of government service.”

While we thank the author of this article for the recognition he gave to some of our father’s accomplishments in public service, we believe that it fell short.  I see a real picture of a man who set himself apart from men who continue to ride along the bandwagon of corruption in our government today.

I wrote this blog in the hope that it be followed by several more like it to tell a complete story about the exemplary life and career of a simple, honest man who always had clarity in his mind and heart about what he believed in. It is also my intention to encourage the rest of my brood to contribute stories that they remember about our father. Not only to give due honor to the man, but to allow his story to be told to the public who deserves to know what defines a true civil servant.

By Cordi Villa, Dec. 10, 2008, Toronto

Paquito

Paquito, as he was called by his family and close friends, was born on December 11, 1924 to Dr. Pedro Villa and Angela Agrava. Although short, the source of this story about our father growing up comes from his sister Lilia Villa O’Toole, who lived in a suburb of Boston.  It was early winter in 1995 in New York City when I received a call from our father in Manila.  He told me that Aunt Lily, his sister had been missing from her home in Bridgewater, Massachusetts. He sounded really worried which was understandable since she was his only living sister. His two brothers, Uncle Bobby and Uncle Ben, had both passed away a long time ago. His younger sister, Aunt Cynthia, recently lost her battle to leukemia.

I immediately made a few calls to some of the police precincts surrounding Bridgewater. By some stroke of luck, the officer who answered my call knew Lily Villa O’ Toole. It turned out that her husband, Uncle Edward, who was suffering from Alzheimer’s disease often wandered away from their home. Each time this happened, Aunt Lily would call the police to report him missing. The police officer then gave me the hospital address where my Aunt Lily was brought to when she fell ill at her home, alone. So off to Boston I drove.

It was my first time to meet her. Actually, it was her first time to meet one of us, meaning the children of our father. It was a long time ago, even before most of us were born, when she left Manila to marry her American husband in Massachusetts. And she never went back to Manila, even to visit. I only saw her in pictures and knew her only through her letters to us when we were younger. It was just so bad that it was only because she was missing that I thought of visiting her.

It was bittersweet meeting her in that nursing home in Brockton, Massachusetts. It was sad because Aunt Lily was not well, and sweet because I was given a chance to meet the woman we knew growing up, as the aunt who sent us presents from America. And I was now meeting her for the first time.  She would tell me stories about our father, stories that I was hearing for the first time.

Angela Agrava, His Mother

The story goes back to the time when our grandmother married Dr. Pedro Villa. The Agravas, who were as aristocratic as the Spaniards who occupied our country for the longest time, did not approve of her choice. This was because he was not of the same class and lacked the physical features of a Spaniard. At that time, Spanish mestizas, as they were called, were considered superior and thus belonged to the upper class of society. As a result, she was cut off from any inheritance from the family. She was only given a small amount of money that she used to open a small pharmacy in Tondo, Manila. Aunt Lily did not elaborate on this story, except to say that the pharmacy did not flourish as a business enterprise. Instead they ended up giving out medicine to the poor considering that Tondo was already an impoverished place at that time.

Dr. Pedro Villa, His Father

Dr. Pedro Villa was the first Filipino officially designated city veterinarian of Manila from 1938 to 1954. He was in charge of meat inspection.  In one of his inspections, he rejected a batch of meat that belonged to some powerful people. In retaliation, they accused him of accepting bribes. He was then stripped of his position even before he was found guilty in the court of law.  His reputation was ruined by stories written in the newspaper. However by some stroke of luck, President Ramon Magsaysay got a handle on this story and conducted his own investigation. He found out that our grandfather was innocent of all charges.

His First Day in School

The young Paquito was asked to introduce himself in front of his class, just like everybody else during the first day of school. He told them that he was born on December 7 and that he was 11 years old. After school, he was asked by his mother about his first day in school. He told her what he said about his age and birthday. His mother then noticed his mistake and corrected him. He was born December 11 and was 7 years old at that time. His mother then asked him to correct himself in front of class the next day. However, he was so worried that his classmates would think he lied so he decided not to say anything. Aunt Lily told this story to point out our father’s concern about his credibility at an early age.

A Guerilla in Bulacan

When I was growing up, I noticed some thick scars on my father’s chest. Every time we asked him about it, he would joke about it. He said that he was wounded trying to escape from the Japanese soldiers when he was imprisoned inside the Intramuros. We knew he was joking. However, little did we know that there was a real story behind these scars.

The family moved to Bulacan during the Japanese occupation. While living in Bulacan, our father joined the guerillas who fought side by side the Americans against the Japanese. One day, the Japanese got hold of some information about our father being a guerilla and that his group had guns hidden somewhere. He ended up being chased by some bayonet-wielding Japanese soldiers ready to kill him. In true James Bond fashion, he ran for his life and dived into the river, but not before he could dump all the firearms that they had. He then swam to safety to the other end. They never saw him again until the end of the Japanese occupation.