A guy was being interviewed in a police station along West Avenue. The interviewee was in his late teens, he was wearing a black and white checkered polo and a pair of jeans, accentuated with a pair leather white shoes. There was weariness in his eyes, the kind of weariness you see in the anxious and sleep deprived.
The other scenes in the police station were a blur. Different voices from both complainants and the officers came undecipherable to his senses. The noise although unwavering sounded minute because of his mind’s restlessness.
With all the chaos happening around him, a voice stood out asking, “Oh, ano nangyari sayo?” while a figure wearing a blue uniform with a name plate bearing the word “Senilo” materialized before his eyes. The officer in front of him opened a thick binded notebook which seemed more like a record book. A new page for us was folded, the cop started scribbling characters, numbers and letters which seemed like a date and the incident, respectively.
While he was silent.
The officer asked again, “Ano nangyari sainyo?”
There was perplexity in his actions, his voice was calm and straightforward as he answered, “Nahold up po kami…” He was about to go home at that time. The night was still young, it still must be safe to ride the jeep he thought, and that’s what he exactly did. He rode quite an empty jeepney with only four passengers. As they travelled to the latter part of North Avenue, a group of six men wearing jerseys joined the unwary passengers. The group was quite unruly, they were obviously not the type of people fond of baths as manifested by their skin color and smell. One of them was holding a cigarette with his lips while puffing the smoke to the passengers' faces.
Something was wrong. Something was definitely wrong, his senses had been telling him. There was fear but he was too hesitant to act upon it. And he surely took the toll for his actions, his instincts never failed him.
“Akin na mga cellphone nyo!”, one of members of the group shouted while aiming a balisong to the guy. “Asan yung cellphone mo! Putangina! Papatayin kita pag di mo binigay”, the hold upper shouted again while searching for the phone of the guy from his pockets. He was in a state of shock – there was no movement in the jeepney around half a minute, the noisy jeepney suddenly became still, it all seemed so surreal.
It was like a trick or treat activity sans the candies and the costumes. And it really was, give out your phone and no one gets to be tricked, or you could get hurt while still keeping the treat. It was a trick or treat that would not accept “patawad po” as amn answer. So much for Halloween.
A familiar voice penetrated his senses again. It was the police officer asking him to sign the paper to make a blotter.
And there it was, a signature appeared in the paper above the name of Drei Santos.