The Philippine Star Updated November 26, 2010 12:00 AM
This would have been the last supper. Had the Supreme Court decided to acquit Hubert Webb on Nov. 23 instead of deferring deliberations until January, that is. But after several anxious, sleepless nights leading up to last Tuesday, not much will change for Hubert, who has already been incarcerated 15 years for a crime — if you examine all the evidence — he could not have possibly committed.
It is a Sunday, and like many normal families, the Webbs have always made it a point to eat together after Mass. Ever since Hubert was locked away the meals have been brought to him, and they have since broken bread together each week inside a wooden shed at the New Bilibid Prison in Muntinlupa. Today, we feast on grilled fish, roast beef, lasagna, chicken tinola and ribs, the dishes laid out on a long table covered in Christmas cloth. I am a guest at this table, and it actually feels like Thanksgiving, with family members shuffling seats to make space for new arrivals, passing around and piling on the food, and catching up on each other’s lives.
And there is much to be thankful for: good, home-cooked food delivered by an incredibly supportive and loyal family. There’s Fritz, the eldest son and main spokesperson for the family, who is ailing from sore eyes which he covers up with a rad pair of shades he scored in Berlin; Pinky, the ABS-CBN news anchor; their older sister Mabeth, Basement Salon owner; the parents, former Senator Freddie Webb and Beth; Fritz’ son Noah; the artist and family friend Nikki Luna, and a handful of lawyers. And then there’s Hubert, now 42, dressed in a blue shirt instead of the regulation orange. A smile still lights his eyes as he shows off a new tattoo of a dragon that he quips will be his souvenir from this place.
Blanketing itself like a storm cloud around the light banter and basketball chatter however is always The Case. The case that has run and ruined many lives, the “wall that you keep hitting but doesn’t fall down,” as Hubert put it. Jessica Alfaro. DNA testing. Judge Tolentino. The media. Lauro Vizconde. Nearly two decades of battling an insurmountable amount of biased reporting and bloodlust from the public, and not one but two Carlo J. Caparas movies. This is what they constantly have to deal with; these are the issues that are indelibly embedded in their psyches. And at the bottom of it all is simply injustice. But beneath that still, hope.
“I am getting out,” Hubert says, drawing on a patience honed from having to face endless tomorrows. “I just don’t know when. But I have faith in people.” He professes to still believe in the system that screwed him and five of his co-accused over. “We went through the whole process, took all the embarrassment. Other people who have problems, they go into hiding. We tried to show we believe in the system. If I end up paying the price then so be it, if it makes the next generation more aware.”
Webb of Men: Hubert, Mike, Sen. Freddie, Jason and Fritz in Bilibid
It so happens that the next generation is actively becoming more aware. The Facebook group “Justice for Hubert Webb” now numbers 2,310 members, and kids who were too young when the Vizconde massacre happened in 1991 are now online and Webb-savvy, piecing together all the available information, from the court decisions to the passport stamps to the Disneyland videos that together create an overwhelmingly clear picture that Hubert was in the States during the murders. Now that anger has dissipated from the public consciousness, young people are baffled over how the testimony from a dodgy so-called star witness could trump documentary evidence authenticated by the FBI and US Dept of State. Young people are outraged that the wheels of justice could take such an insidious turn and convict an innocent man, consequently letting the real perpetrators roam free. Add to that the mysteriously missing semen sample. The SC’s deferral could be viewed as a delaying tactic; then again, more time also means more public support for the Free Hubert Webb movement. It would be sweetly ironic if the social network revolution that bypassed an imprisoned Hubert should be the catalyst for his release.
Age of innocence: A younger, freer Webb
It was not to be the last supper, however, and the frustrated Webbs will continue to rally and pray and have Sunday lunch together. Hubert, for all his time in Bilibid, has trained himself to look at his blessings. “I feel more sorry for the people who have no money and can’t afford a decent lawyer,” Hubert says, indicating the orange-shirted inmates milling around openly. “I see what I have and I don’t take it for granted. When we were kids my siblings and I used to fight a lot, really fight. You can see how we are now, it’s different. It’s things like these that test your family, but then you know your family is solid.”
“Do you feel, after 15 years, that your life was—” I start to ask, but he finishes my question for me.
“Wasted?” he says. “I believe I learned all that I can in 10 years here. It’s like getting a doctor’s degree! Now it’s just getting redundant, I don’t think there’s anything more I can learn.” He’s seen and heard and realized a lot about people. How in the outside world, they can be all tough with their weapons, but inside and on level ground, they’re rendered harmless. How it’s the people who wield power in high positions who are the scariest ones. Hubert has accrued a lot of wisdom and exercises it as one of the longest-running jurors of his brigada, called Sigue Sigue Sputnik (this makes you imagine the orange-shirted individuals practicing new wave dance routines during their downtime).
A wasted life: Fifteen years…and counting.
Speaking of prison routine, I inquire about the curious practice of the inmates who materialize with umbrellas, quietly escorting visitors from the entrance and back. I didn’t know whether to tip them or to run away. This is a maximum-security facility after all. “They don’t mean anything by it,” Hubert assures. “Nobody here will talk to you or be rude to you. There are instant consequences.” Bilibid, while not physically shaped like a panopticon, regulates itself like one in the Foucauldian sense that society is controlled through visibility. “We discipline ourselves. There’s a system here. Outside, you can get away with anything if they don’t know you. Here it’s so small and there’s always so many people, you can’t get away with anyone not seeing you.”
California dreams: Many have testified that Hubert
Hubert is keen to take away and teach to others the other lessons he’s learned here. He’s clear about what he wants to do once he’s out, and that is to advocate family planning. “You’ve got eight kids in a tiny place, with parents doing whatever they can to feed them,” he points out. “If they only had one or two, the kids would have a fighting chance in life.” That’s another way of looking at the population/reproductive health issue, from behind bars: more people means less jobs and more crime.
Hubert holds no real anger — maybe just irritation whenever Alfaro’s name is mentioned — but he doesn’t even want to talk about the case anymore. “They got 15 years from me,” he says, not with resignation, but with the acceptance of one who has chosen to stay and fight. “Honestly, we’ll see each other at one point in the afterlife. All things will be revealed. That’s how I look at it.”
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Information from Nikki Luna via Facebook
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