Someone killed my father tonight, shooting him point blank and murdering him in cold blood.
I am crying, out of grief, but also for justice. Please pray for my father. He was a good man, excellent in all aspects. He said his prayers every day, upon waking and before going to bed.
I just arrived from the scene of the crime, writing out my feelings in an attempt to rationalize them. I don’t understand any of them, but I just had to let this out. I just finished screaming my head off at some irresponsible journalists who turned their cameras on me for the next pity party cover story, instead of documenting the cold hard facts unfolding in front of them. My uncle, my dad’s brother, arrived and told me not to lose my cool. I couldn’t help it, I’m sorry.
My dad was shot while getting gas, in the brand new pick-up truck he worked for so hard and for so long to get. He was shot, if I’m not mistaken, three to four times, in the head.
I ran across the crime scene tape. I needed to see him. I saw him, holes in his head the size of five peso coins. His eyes were closed, his head on his chest as if he nodded off during the chick flicks or cartoon films we drag him to. But, he was covered in blood. His face was peaceful, but he was bathed in blood; a blood bath of his own blood.
I know it might seem irresponsible of me to be blogging at a time like this, but it’s taking me all rationality and sanity to even sit down and write like this. This is how I am maintaining what little composure I have left. If I lost my sanity and self-control, I’d be writhing on the floor in disbelief and agony.
I hear my mom screaming. “Binaril si Joel!”, over and over again, repeating reality as if to confirm it. She can’t believe it; I can’t either. She’s calling all their friends, the closest, and letting them know the news. Every time she tells someone new, she doesn’t sound any more convinced.
My feet are numb.
My entire body is numb. I’m not crying yet. The fact that I’m never going to have another conversation about books or the stupidity of people with my dad has not sunken in yet.
All I ask now, to whoever reads this, is that you please pray for my father. Pray for his soul, pray for justice on his behalf. Because, right now, we have no idea where to start.
