“I already submitted the case against him.” I heard my father say over the phone.  He was being asked to delay the filing of the case by no less than the Chief of the Supreme Court. I had a pretty good idea why.

The case involved a congressman who was being accused of smuggling guns from Los Angeles to Manila.  Apparently, the airport was in the jurisdiction of Pasay City. Too bad for him, the case fell on the lap of the newly appointed city prosecutor, my father.

He wasted no time.  He was up very early and came home late. He even flew to Los Angeles to gather evidence.

At home, we were told to be careful. There were anonymous phone calls that meant to intimidate our family.  Little did they know that nothing could scare us. We were already used to it growing up with our father. He was always after the bad guys.

Six months later, newspaper headlines all over the country wrote about history in the making. Nicanor de Guzman, the first incumbent congressman to be sent to jail, by no less than my father. No power, no money, no intimidation could stop it.

Cory’s Phone Call

it was President Cory Aquino who congratulated my father first. There was this hilarious story told by my niece, Joanne, who answered the phone one afternoon. It was President Cory Aquino who asked to speak with my father. When my niece told her that he was not home, Cory asked to speak with my mother.

“Lola!” Joanne knocked on the door of the bathroom.

“Lintik na!” (translated, thunder and lightning!), replied my mother behind that door of the bathroom. It was her expression when she did not want to be bothered. Most especially when she was in the bathroom, multitasking – taking a shower, hand washing her clothes and cleaning the bathroom.

When they finally met during my father’s oath taking as the Deputy Ombudsman for the Military,  Cory referred to the funny incident over the phone when she overhead our mother yelling that she did not want to be disturbed.

However, President Cory Aquino was not sure about my father before the Nicanor de Guzman case. The reason was that our 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.

Being the nephew of Justice Corazon Agrava did not help.  She came up with her own report that was different from that of the rest of the commission, almost siding with President Marcos.

My father signed off on the other report submitted by the other members of the commission that implicated General Ver.

Daring and Honest First

My aunt, Felina Saguil, who proudly professed to be the first flight stewardess of the Philippines told me that my father could have made himself rich if he chose to.

She told me this story of how she tried her best to convince my father to accept a million pesos in exchange for a favor.  He was an assistant director of the National Bureau of Investigation. He had the power to let go a Chinese passenger who was caught smuggling opium into the country. Our father flatly refused her.

It was also during his time in the NBI where he 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 soldier who corrupted high government officials under President Diosdado Macapagal  to build a very wealthy empire in the Philippines.

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 Francisco A. Villa

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.

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.