Justice Inverted

Chapter One: Old Letters

I dearly loved my tita and was devastated at her passing. As a bit of an amateur historian, after she passed away, I went over her belongings. In a spare room at the back of her house where she kept things from her youth, I stumbled onto a box of letters dated to the late 1940s. She held correspondence with a certain someone whose story I recount to you today.

I can guarantee the truth of what I am summarizing here, but cannot guarantee that I'll get everything right. I have decided not to present these letters unabridged because they are of a rambling and incoherent nature towards the end when everything has been explained and at the beginning when everything is ambiguous and vague, I have had to interpret and make guesses as to what is happening.

I have also changed the names of the people involved to hide their identities and out of respect for the dead. The story is a gruesome one.

I will make clear what might be inaccurate in my reading. Without further delay.

This one reads as a sort of confession to my tita, a love confession to her. It is signed by a character I will name as Rudy for the rest of this retelling.

Dear Rafaela

I want to see you again after our chance meeting at the diner. You have been all I could think about since then. I could scarcely walk two steps without thinking about your voice when it tells me such beautiful things.

You always come to the diner tired and hungry. I want to treat you to a good time. I really mean it. I see you come here looking so sad all the time. Though you can't tell me everything that's bothering you, I can brighten your night. If of course, you accept my offer.

I want to take you to the cinema to see a film on Saturday, La Bete. I know how you adore horror films.

--Rudy

The original letter was found in crumpled paper and torn a few times at the side, indications of revisions and much had been crossed out with a pen.

It was hard to imagine how this Rudy could bear to send a letter in such poor condition to Rita, despite his apparent love for her.

This letter is also the oldest one in date, appearing at the bottom of the letterbox, and making reference to a film that came out before the date of the others.

It seemed strange that this Rudy would send letters to my Tita after just having met her.

The next letter is dated perhaps two years after the fact. It comes not from Rudy but a certain John.

It reads as a confession of a different kind.

Dear Rafaela

You don't know me. I have just sent this to you to inform you that Rudy is gone. Forget all about him.

He died of gunshot wounds at the warehouse where the attack happened two years ago. Members of a syndicate killed him. Though his body has never been found at the site, I know for a fact that he is dead.

The matter was about the transport of Japanese Gold recovered from a cave in Mindanao. Rudy and his friends volunteered to carry and drive the crates of gold, ignorant of what was inside.

A syndicate had wanted the gold and killed the group.

The portion after that was written in larger capital letters to be clear.

So forget about him.

But if you still cannot forget him.

Speak to Madame Estrella. At her shop.

--John

Who is this John? Madame Estrella, that name seemed familiar. There was a small shop I would pass by here in Manila that bore an old hand-painted sign reading "Madame Estrella, Fortunes". I wondered if there was any connection at all.

I looked at a few more letters which were just from family and friends, notably written after a certain time until I came upon a short letter written by someone who was using a pseudonym in dark red ink with a dark red stain in the center:

Dear Rafaela De Los Santos

Come quickly. I know that you know something about the gold. I have Rudy in my hands. If you don't believe me, check the package I sent together with this message. You'll find an interesting surprise. Please come to the address written below and be quick about it. I want you here as soon as possible. So does Rudy.

--The Man from Kasanaan

This letter was dated after the preceding one. How could Rudy be alive? There were other questions as well. Kasanaan was the name for a type of Hell believed in by Filipinos in the old times. I almost fell out of my chair when I saw that dark red stain on the paper. Blood, from the looks of it. I couldn't believe it that my Tita had been through such a life before.

She occasionally told me some stories of her encounters with gangsters, but never got close to telling me anything like this. It's been a lifetime since she first got this message--it's probably over by now. Still, I felt the urge to investigate this problem to the best of my ability.

I asked my parents if they knew anything more about this "Man from Kasanaan" and was unexpectedly disappointed with their empty response. I suspected that this Rudy had something to do with this and sought to look through more letters.

I found another one from this man from Kasanaan. It simply read as follows, without any changes.

I'll Fucking Kill You

Tita got mixed into some serious business when she was younger. I shuddered to think about how she got herself out of it. I decided to find that shop that I often passed by on the way to countless different errands.

I decided to make time on a Saturday for this. I told my parents that I was visiting a friend's place and did for perhaps ten minutes before getting to my business. After taking the living anchovy ride that is the LRT, passing hawkers selling bootleg merchandise at the marketplace, crossing the street. I ended up in an alley, snuggled between an abandoned pizza place and a still-functioning laundry shop was Madame Estrella's.