He was caught in an wodden house under the fire of armed men at Crossing 125, la Esperanza, Tulunan. No way out just windows to look outside while men of the group of commander Bucay, who called themselves ‘brothers’, were burning his Honda motorcycle. It would have been better to call the police then rather to go there personally. But he said “I’ll go” and to say “I’ll go” in a time like that was like saying that you accept the risk of dusty roads, sweating, to be a foreigner, new words to learn, flip-flops at your feet, boiled rice, spies, armalites, soldiers, rebels, drunken people and paramilitary forces. He did not remain in the house with the wounded man he wanted to help. He came out at sunset and his solitary spirit was a good adversary. Good indeed if we are still remembering him until today.