[Philippine corruption] Diary of a Dictator -- Ferdinand Imelda The Last Days of Camelot #7/234

The young Harvard-trained attorney moved immediately into the cabinet. Always Enrile was particularly solicitous for the president’s safety, whispering warnings when he detected the slightest hints of conspiracy against him.

It was to Johnny Ponce that Marcos first confided his most intimate and daring political dream, a secret plan spelled out in documents locked away in the president’s bedroom safe: a presidential coup d’etat.

“Sir — ?” There was relief in the aide’s intercom voice. Enrile finally was on the line. Marcos seized the phone.

“Secretary Enrile? Where are you? You have to do it now — Yeah — Yeah — The one we discussed this noon. We cannot postpone it any longer. Another day of delay may be too late.”

The president paused. He had started the day alone with his diary, writing in the dark hours of early morning about his own dishonesty. He had lied to political allies from Ilocos Norte, his home province. He had lied to the American ambassador. He had told them all that he had no immediate intention to take the action that, in fact, he now was ordering. Of course, there would be no apologies. Not in his diary. Not to allies or ambassadors. His was a divine and patriotic mission. And God’s will be done, even if it required a few tactical lies for security’s sake.

On the telephone Marcos resumed in English, then Ilocano: “Make it look good. Maybe it would be better if somebody got hurt or killed—” Mijares could not hear the defense secretary’s reply. An involuntary shiver welled up from deep within him.

“Okay, Johnny, go ahead. And be sure the story catches the ‘Big News’ and ‘Newswatch’— and call me as soon as it is over.”

Tibo was confused. For all of his insider access, he had no knowledge about what Marcos and Enrile were saying. Whatever was going to make the news shows that night was going to be news to Tibo… just like it would be for the rest of the country.

By now, evening shadows reached across Malacanang’s lush gardens and the dark Pasig River flowing just below the palace veranda.