MANILA, Philippines—The room that served as Claudio Teehankee Jr.’s “halfway house” in the New Bilibid Prison (NBP) is furnished with a 42-inch LCD television set, a queen-size bed and a refrigerator.
Members of the media were allowed on Thursday into the vinyl-tiled room owned by former Zamboanga del Norte Rep. Romeo Jalosjos, a convicted child rapist who had become fast friends with Teehankee.
The room, one of Jalosjos’ “developments” in the NBP complex, shielded the convicted murderer from the media until Wednesday night, when he quietly slipped out, walked through a candle workshop and hopped onto a motorbike that whisked him away.
Jalosjos’ caretaker, who regularly cleans the room, allowed members of the media to check out what looked like a bachelor pad in which the TV set hooked to cable service stood out. (A popular appliance store in Alabang sells a similar TV set for about P150,000.)
The Philippine Daily Inquirer noted an electric stove and a personal refrigerator, as well as the queen-size bed and its soft mattress.
There is also a small bathroom covered with white ceramic tiles and equipped with a hot-and-cold shower hooked to a water pump to maintain constant pressure. (Some residents at the NBP complex said they had had problems with water supply.)
Hole in the wall
Against a wooden hanging cabinet is a wall with pre-cast floral-patterned concrete blocks near the ceiling.
About four freshly cemented blocks seemed to have been just reinstalled.
Dust and particles of the decorative blocks were still on the floor facing the wall.
This was apparently where Teehankee, assisted by persons unknown, bore a hole in the wall, slipped out through the hole and into a candle workshop owned by the Pag-asa sa Paglaya multipurpose cooperative.
The workshop, made of galvanized iron sheets, has about four partitions where workers heat and mold wax to make candles.
It closes at around 5 p.m., a helper said.
Slice of luxury
Wealthy convicts have managed to bring a slice of their luxurious lifestyle to the national penitentiary.
The room in which Teehankee holed up to evade the media, for example, is just one of Jalosjos’ “assets” in the NBP complex.
As he served his sentence, the wealthy former lawmaker financed the development of certain areas in the maximum security compound and built merchandise stalls, a coffee shop and bakery, and even a tennis court.
He also had the walkways paved, equipped the gymnasium with audio equipment worth P4 million, and built a mini-park.
An “International Park” located in the center of the maximum security compound has food stalls, a small lumber shop, an electronics repair shop and nipa huts (called “kubol”) for inmates.
The tennis court is adjacent to Jalosjos’ snug kubol, which served as his prison quarters before he was granted “living-out” privileges in June 2007, when President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo commuted his two life terms.
Party animal
Last year, which was the last time the Inquirer looked, Jalosjos’ kubol was nowhere near the typical shabby and cramped prison cell occupied by less fortunate inmates.
It was surrounded by a wooden fence decked with plants and shrubberies.
On special occasions, he would host lavish feasts in the kubol, with several round tables set up for his guests.
When the Inquirer dropped in at Jalosjos’ birthday party in November 2005, an all-male a capella group was there to serenade his guests.
A catered lunch was set on a table draped in a blue-and-white cover. About eight tables were arranged outside the kubol.
His pet dog had full run of the place. (Pets are prohibited in the prison complex.)
According to sources, University of the Philippines fratmen convicted of the hazing murder of student Dennis Venturina occupied Jalosjos’ quarters when he left the maximum security compound.
Even murder convict and former Occidental Mindoro Rep. Jose Villarosa enjoyed a comfortable stay in the NBP complex before he was pardoned by Ms Arroyo.
Villarosa was allowed to build a livelihood center and a five-foot-deep “pond” next to his quarters.
NBP insiders initially referred to the pond as a “swimming pool,” which, they said, was later converted into a tank for soaking capiz shells for Villarosa’s export business.
Tolerated practice
A kubol may also be a private room in a prison cell.
“Inmates who pay for the construction of a kubol get to occupy a portion of the detention area,” an insider said.
The cost of a kubol ranges from P10,000 to as much as P30,000, and the NBP has “tolerated” the construction of such special lodgings for years, according to the insider.
In the maximum security compound alone, at least 6,000 kubol were constructed “with the permission of the NBP superintendent,” the source said.
Asked if NBP officials received payment from prisoners who wanted to own a kubol, he said: “They don’t usually ask for money. They allow the construction inside the complex as long as [the prisoners] pay for the materials.”
Sometimes, prison guards delay the entry of construction materials into the NBP complex. “That’s the time when you have to pay the prison guards,” the insider said.
He also said inmates had to pay 20 percent of the cost of the kubol to the so-called “mayor” (or leader of a detention cell). With reports from Jocelyn R. Uy and Marlon Ramos