THE GOVERNOR has denied any involvement in Gamo's murder not just once or twice, but many times. He has probably denied as often (maybe even more) the allegation that he is a major operator of jueteng, the illegal numbers game. But the jueteng-lord tag has haunted him for years now, and it antedates all the other allegations that have been hurled against him, such as those accusing him of graft, corruption, and yes, masterminding murders.

	'MONUMENTAL' FEAT. When asked if there is any one thing they can consider as their governor's achievement, Batangueños point to the refurbished provincial capitol.

Practically every Batangueño has heard talk about Sanchez being a big jueteng operator. And while many of them are also quick to point out that no one has yet presented proof that he is or was one, many of them also say that was about the only thing they knew about him when he ran for governor in 2004 (he had vied for the post earlier, in 1995, but lost). Which is why there are those who say they were surprised when he won.

"I didn't vote for him in 2004 because of the talk he had jueteng links," says one retiree who has lived and worked in Batangas for decades. "I don't think that has been proven yet, but that is what we knew and know about him."

"We thought (former Justice Secretary Hernando) Perez had a good chance because he was close to the president," says another Batangueño, who also says all he knew about Sanchez was that he allegedly had jueteng links. "But I guess Sanchez also had the backing of the president."

Perez ran as the administration's candidate. But Sanchez ran under the Liberal Party, which was then allied with the ruling coalition.

It was actually opposition bet and former Nasugbu mayor Rosario 'Charito' Apacible who was the race's early frontrunner, garnering a lead of 50,000 votes over Sanchez three days after the May 10 polls. At the time, only the election results from the towns of Rosario and Padre Garcia, as well as Batangas City, were still to be counted. When Sanchez was declared winner on May 15, 2004, beating her by 35,000 votes, Apacible thought she smelled something foul. She filed an election protest, but she has since withdrawn it.

About a year after the elections, Konseho ng Mamamayan Laban sa Jueteng at mga Ilegal na Pasugalan (Komalaban), a nongovernmental organization that wants to wipe out jueteng and other illegal gambling operations, urged Congress to investigate the game's operations in Batangas, saying that the province's top officials, including the governor, were involved.

Provincial Administrator Ronaldo Geron shot back that Komalaban was probably working for the government-owned Philippine Amusement and Gaming Corporation (Pagcor), which is the only entity allowed to run gambling operations in the Philippines. But he also remembered to deny that Sanchez had anything to do with jueteng. Geron said the governor was even able to stop the jueteng operation in Bauan town. Geron challenged Komalaban to check every town, saying that if it did so, it would find that jueteng had been stopped.

A month later, Sanchez was summoned to the Senate, which was then conducting an inquiry into jueteng. Sanchez was unable to show up because, he said, he was scheduled to be in Japan for business during the inquiry. He thus failed to hear his name mentioned 11 times by witnesses at the inquiry, all of whom claimed he was a jueteng lord. But in a September 2005 Newsbreak article, Sanchez again denied having anything to do with jueteng, which he said was actually being controlled by the mayors.

Komalaban says that in 2005, the total jueteng bets in Batangas averaged P70,000 to P150,000 a day. Minus the 35-percent regular "payroll" for some police officers and media practitioners, whoever the jueteng lord is could rake in between P2.5 million or P7.9 million a month, the group says.

Lingayen-Dagupan Archbishop Oscar Cruz, who is known for his nationwide anti-jueteng crusade, says that up to 2005 to 2006, reports from Batangas "point to Governor Sanchez as the jueteng operator (there). But even before then, reports pointing to Sanchez go as far back as 2001."

He says he has no knowledge about the years prior to 2001. He adds, however, "From 2006 to 2007, it is said that Governor Sanchez is no (longer) the jueteng operator in Batangas. (But) reports say there are other persons who are allegedly operating in his name. We don't know if he knows this or not. They said he allows them to operate, that he gives them the go-signal." This means, he says, Sanchez may "not (be) operating as directly as before."

The Barako Bared SAY the word barako and immediately three meanings come to mind: the strong-flavored and robust brew of the liberica coffee; the sex-driven adult male boar ready for breeding; and that certain brand of Batangueño, the rough and tough Filipino male from the province of Batangas. All three possess virility, strength, fearlessness — yes, even the coffee, whose flavor practically leaps up from the cup and straight onto one's tongue. All three carry within the pride of the Batangueños, who claim these qualities exclusively as their own. It is the human barako, however, who is obviously the most fascinating, because he is at once simple and complex. In a province known to produce the export-quality balisong (fan knife), where every Batangueño is expected to be armed and efficient in the uses of the weapon made only in Batangas, the barako prefers the gun to protect himself and his loved ones. In the old days, before the permit to carry guns was heavily enforced, the barako would never leave home without his .45 sticking out of the waistband of his pants, pulling his karsonsilyo or undershorts down. He must be prepared, even with his undershorts down, to fight back if someone throws a challenge, a balisong, or even a bullet (through a gun barrel of course) at him. This also means that he should be a good shot, a sharp shooter if necessary, because to stay alive and keep his image as a barako or strongman, he would need to keep shooting until his enemy falls or runs away. A true barako also fights his enemy (or enemies) in the open, and face to face. In the book Batangas Forged in Fire, which features the province's most prominent families, among other things, a blueblood, Teodoro Kalaw (husband of former senator Eva Estrada-Kalaw) is photographed standing straight in the barako pose, ready to fire the revolver on his right hand, even as he totes his coat on his left arm. Such was the way of the elite barako: classy, but still deadly. Barakos are also found in the pages of the nation's history, such as the known man of action, Gen. Miguel Malvar, the last military leader to surrender to the Americans. Even a Batangueno who couldn't walk showed kabarakuhan (bravery) in his own way. Although disabled by poliomyelitis, Apolinario Mabini was a man of thought who rose to supremacy as the brains behind the revolution and the first Philippine Republic. Yet despite the show of virility and the stance of masculinity, the feared strongman known for his kills will often soften or tone down when faced with the woman who captured his heart. A barako is not rude toward the woman he loves. He is in fact gentle toward her and will do everything in his power to make his special woman feel important, even if it means carrying her books or pink, flowery handbag in public and ignoring the hoots of hecklers in the streets, although he is sure to confront them later when she is not around. The barako is also loyal to his family. Although conflicts may arise between barako brothers and fathers, they all unite and fight for each other when trouble from outside forces threaten their family's pride, honor, and existence. In many instances, the barako will ignore tempting offers of dubious fortune in order to make sure his family's name remains untarnished. Indeed, the real barako would rather be poor than live with shame, just as he would rather die fighting than live in fear. And fight the barakos did during World War II, ambushing and killing many Japanese soldiers. In retaliation, the Japanese massacred the city's population, taking the lives of 18,000 of its 25,000 residents. Lipa City was also razed to the ground, with only five houses out of hundreds of old mansions left standing afterward. It was probably a sight that could have made anyone cry, but most probably not a barako, who is the sort of male who believes he is never ever supposed to shed a single tear, even during the wake of his own father, even in the face of their own death. The tears from the known strongmen, therefore, could mean only two things: One is that they are crocodile tears, designed to invoke pity. The other is that they belong to a fake barako. Barakos can be bullheaded. After the peacetime elections of 1949, a group of barakos from wealthy families took to hills at the defeat of their presidential bet, Jose P. Laurel, whom they believed was cheated. Backed by formidable gun power, they were ready to fight the government head on. Only the messengers sent by their fellow blueblood barakos who wanted peace were able to stop the planned bloodbath. Some towns and cities in the province have more barakos than the others. Among them is the town of San Juan, in the easternmost part of Batangas, that also known for its coconut wine or lambanog. Batangas City also once had a prominent barako, who by his skill and probably, by luck, was able to live long enough to run for public office and win. This barako made sure the city enjoyed peace and order. When he died, Batangueños praised him for his leadership. Now it is his nephew who sits behind his former desk. Youngsters who aspire to be barakos or want political clout someday are known as barakitos. These young ones are often seen with the barakos, who take them under their wing as alagang barako (novice barakos). Already quite rowdy, barakitos oftentimes get bolder during election season. At present, however, Batangueños themselves believe there are only a few barakos left walking the streets of the province. The decrease in the barako population could probably be due to the fact that in their obsession to be supremo de barakos, most of them have killed each other (matira ang matibay or only the bravest remains standing); in worst cases, the killing could have included members of each other's family (ubusan ng lahi). Many barakos, after all, have failed to realize the difference between pride and foolishness. — Mei Magsino