Kian's future
I just spent an entire day grieving for a boy I don't know. A complete stranger I would probably never meet even if I stayed in Metro Manila for the rest of my life.
This was Kian Lloyd delos Santos, 17, who tends to his father's store. A grade 11 student. A boy who, in whatever version you believe in, is now dead, shot by policemen.
How and why he died are now being debated by police and virtual space, but his death is still a fact. And the CCTV at the scene does not seem to bear out the police version.
The version witnesses tell, combined with the CCTV, is heartbreaking. He was hustled by cops to an alley and beaten up. He begs them to stop, saying he still has school exams the next day. When nothing was found after he is frisked, he was dragged out, and given a gun. The weeping boy asks them what to do with the gun, they tell him, fire it, and then run.
How can anyone not feel that squeeze in the guts when hearing that? Does this not suddenly make one feel old and helpless? So helpless, I could only weep.
Even if Kian is a stranger to me or you, we still cannot let this be. We cannot turn away and continue our lives. It doesn't matter if he is not our friend, relative, or enemy. Even if he was a drug user, Kian was still a human being with a future ahead of him, who deserved to take every breath allotted to him by fate.
Now, more than ever, we need to take stock of the direction we are heading. How did we get here and where will this "new normal" take us?
In the world I grew up in I listened to stories of cops as good guys, they protected civilians and ran after the robbers and murderers.
I remember in high school, I went home late from play rehearsals in Makati. My ride dropped me off in Quiapo where I would take a jeepney to old Santa Mesa. Two cops noticed me walking by and asked where I was going. In all innocence, I cheerfully answered I was going home. They told me to get in their police car, and I did and they drove me home. From Quiapo to Santa Mesa in the government-issued vehicle using taxpayer's gas. End of story.
Was I scared that I could be ransomed or held hostage? Not at all. All I felt then was, oh wow, a free lift! And now, I am where I am because two cops felt a teenager shouldn't be walking alone in Quiapo near midnight.
Would I feel the same today if a cruiser pulled over beside me and the cop inside asked me to get in? Never mind. What happened to me then should have happened to Kian. Cops should be fighting for him, protecting him, making sure he gets past 17, takes his school exam, graduates, and becomes a productive citizen.
That is the ideal country we should aim for. A future where a boy can safely play video games, shoot hoops, or go home late from a school play. Not one where he is dragged, punched, terrorized, and shot dead.
In the past, cops played by the rules, ran after criminals, arrested them, and jailed them. End of story.
How did the narrative suddenly change? It's now accost, accuse, and then shoot. End of story.
That's how Kian's life ended. As well as for a few more kids out there named Oman and Rowena. Sons and daughters, nephews and nieces.
We live in a future that should have been Kian's. We should take this privilege, this opportunity, to fashion a world where all the other Kians are assured their future. A future that, oh damn it, we already had in the past.
This shouldn't be the end of Kian's story.
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