JANUARY 15, 2001 VOL. 157 NO. 2

John Stanmeyer for TIME. Rallies calling for the removal of President Joseph Estrada from office are becoming commonplace outside the impeachment trial.

Deadly Politics
Bombshell testimony rocks President Estrada's impeachment trial, while Manila recovers from a spate of brutal blasts. Is there a connection?
By ANTHONY SPAETH

ALSO
Photo Essay: Manila Rocked by Deadly Bombings
At least 22 people died and more than 124 were injured after five bombs ripped through the capital on Dec. 30. What's going on?

If politics is viewed as a game, an impeachment is an Olympiad. Filipinos happen to have an Olympic appetite for politics-as-entertainment, but last week they discovered that trying to remove a President from office is no mere spectator sport.

The fourth week of the impeachment trial of President Joseph Estrada on charges of corruption and violation of the constitution produced explosive testimony accusing him of trying to cover up millions of dollars of unreported assets—even after the trial had begun. At the same time, residents of Manila were picking up the pieces following the simultaneous detonation by cell phone of five deadly bombs shortly before New Year, which killed 18 and injured at least 80. The million-dollar question: Were the bombs and the trial connected? And if they were, as many suspect, has Estrada's impeachment pitched the Philippines into the kind of political chaos the nation experienced in the 1970s and '80s?

ALSO IN TIME COVER: The Truth About Tiananmen A stunning new book gives a revealing account of the power struggle in Beijing that led to the massacre • Sourcing: Orville Schell analyzes the evidence THE PHILIPPINES: Turmoil and Tragedy Damning testimony rocks Estrada's presidency as Manila struggles to recover from a series of deadly bomb blasts AUTOMOBILES: Burning Rubber Head honcho Carlos Ghosn hopes to keep Nissan on the high road with the rejuvenated Z car • Design Central: Shaping the future of Nissan TECHNOLOGY: War Games Sega's Dreamcast has been a disappointment—and with Sony's Playstation2 taking over game land, that means trouble TRAVEL WATCH Live Like a King in the Castles of Rajasthan

Estrada is certainly slipping into the danger zone. His accusers last week included Luis Singson, the provincial governor who initially blew the whistle on the President's alleged involvement in illegal gambling syndicates. Singson produced a canceled personal check for $160,000 that was allegedly deposited in Estrada's wife's bank account. But even more damaging testimony came from Clarissa Ocampo, a senior vice president at Equitable PCI Bank, who had earlier told the Senate she saw Estrada sign a bank document—using a pseudonym (Jose Velarde)—transferring $9.8 million to a friend's company. Last week, Ocampo described another stunning deal. On Dec. 13, 12 days after the Senate trial began, Ocampo says she drew up papers to cover up ownership of the Jose Velarde account, which prosecutors say contains $24 million. Then she and two friends of Estrada got together to switch names on the account—and did the paperwork in the office of Estelito Mendoza, who happens to be lead counsel of Estrada's defense team. On hearing Ocampo's testimony, Mendoza seemed startled. He later insisted he hadn't been in the room when the paperwork was processed, which Ocampo confirmed, and that he had merely been lending office space to old friends.

The fallout from the Dec. 30 bombings sowed anguish throughout the country, and not just among those who lost relatives, narrowly escaped death or, as was the case with one resident of Manila's expensive DasmariNas Village, found a human leg on her roof. (The victim was Roberto Gutierrez, a member of the Makati police bomb squad, who was blown to pieces trying to defuse a device left beside one of Manila's heaviest thoroughfares.) The police say the bombs were all of the same design and detonated by cell phone. The most lethal, responsible for nine deaths, was placed on a Light Railway Transit system train. "The train was approaching when I heard the explosion," says Mari Vicpaglan, a ticket clerk at the Blumentritt station. "I was getting a ticket for a ride when, without warning, I heard the explosion. I knew at once it was fatal. When the smoke cleared, the most gory and bloody sight caught my eye. I felt like puking," says Alfie Averia, a freelance writer. Afterward, the platforms were littered with holiday gifts, lunch bags and body parts, including a child's leg. "This is the work of animals," thundered Manila Mayor Lito Atienza, "people without souls. They have no compunction killing innocent civilians."

But who did it? Police last week arrested 17 people in a predominantly Muslim section of Manila, and the government filed murder charges against the top seven leaders of the separatist Moro Islamic Liberation Front. Another suspect group is the terror-prone Abu Sayyaf, which was behind the mass kidnappings of foreigners in Mindanao last year. But neither group has shown the sophistication displayed in the Dec. 30 bombings; one device was planted in a secure area of Manila's international airport. And three days before the explosions, two Abu Sayyaf leaders were arrested in Manila. Their mission: they were trying to sell to cnn a tape recording of one of their few remaining hostages, U.S. citizen Jeffrey Schilling. The pair also was busted for having a small quantity of methamphetamines, a street drug.

A more disturbing theory is that a segment of the Philippine military, loyal or disloyal to its commander in chief, was responsible. "Only a member of the military, or retired military, or at least someone with access to military-style training could have masterminded and carried out the bombings," concludes Jerry Barrican, a former spokesman for Estrada. Disloyal soldiers might have been trying to force Estrada from office, or to lay the groundwork for a coup d'état. The contrary theory is that Estrada loyalists planted the bombs to afford him an excuse to declare martial law and avoid removal from office. That theory has a historical precedent: in 1971, former President Ferdinand Marcos declared martial law while fighting an uphill re-election campaign, after bombings rocked Manila. One was outside the residence of his Defense Secretary, Juan Ponce Enrile, and 15 years afterward Enrile admitted the bombing had been a setup. "The similarity cannot be swept under the rug," says Homobono Adaza, a former assemblyman and governor of Cagayan province. Estrada's team denied any such notion. Last week, Ernesto Maceda, who functions as Estrada's spokesman for the impeachment trial, reportedly told a Manila radio station that the President didn't have the "intellectual capacity" to devise such a plot.

Having his intelligence questioned by his own spokesman summed up a bad week for Estrada. When top policemen and the armed forces chief rushed to the presidential palace shortly after the bombs went off around noon, Estrada had just woken up. He held a small family party for New Year's Eve, foregoing the traditional soirEe at the fancy Manila Hotel. Then he quit a cabinet panel that makes economic policy, hoping to insulate the Philippine economy from his troubles. He conceded he was "beaten up hard" last week—and with the stock market and currency hitting new lows, a whole lot of Filipinos must feel exactly the same way.

Reported by Nelly Sindayen/Manila

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