When the Waves Are Gone (Kapag Wala Nang Mga Alon)

When you go to the Cold Case Division,

you immediately see

a very big cabinet full of accumulated papers

containing forensic evidence and public information.

It became a high-profile case

because the media and the public had a strong interest in it.

Anyway,

here's the story.

So you have a couple.

College sweethearts.

Very young. Very alive.

Both smart.

They're doing well in school.

But they also go to parties like you do.

And they're about your age.

But these two, just like you,

have a very distinct passion.

They're both into horse racing.

They're frequently seen at San Lazaro,

their favourite racetrack.

So one night,

they hit the big time.

They win a big prize. A very big one.

Naturally,

when you hit the jackpot, you celebrate.

It's fun.

There's a party, with a disco, and they're with their friends.

They even go to a hotel

and plan to go to Hong Kong.

They had plans of doing business,

and getting married.

That's the trail of evidence for that night.

But by dawn,

it rained really hard.

The two went out of the hotel and took a cab.

Into the taxi and out of the hotel premises.

But when the taxi passed the gate, a Jeep was blocking the way.

A Jeep.

A Jeep...

Like the car brand.

The expensive brand.

Not our local jeepneys.

It's the last time they were ever seen.

Even the taxi driver

was nowhere to be found.

So there were a lot of investigations,

speculations and theories.

The public butted in, the media...

It can't be helped, especially...

because public safety is at stake.

And because the people involved

are two very young

and very promising individuals.

What is this?

Anyone?

Nobody?

Yes?

A serial number, sir.

A serial number.

Number.

Numbers and letters.

But eventually, they're not just numbers and letters.

During the course of my own investigation, I saw this.

I remembered it.

It was written on a piece of paper found inside the taxi.

It seemed written in haste.

Until...

it was proven

it was the handwriting

of the girl

on the paper.

So,

after more than a year into the case,

I gave up.

I said I couldn't do it.

Goodbye.

I had to pursue another assignment.

Time to move on.

Then one day,

there was a problem with my car

and I had it checked by a mechanic in a repair shop.

While I was there, waiting to hear about my car,

I was looking around the area,

checking out the place.

And then I saw something.

A car.

Burnt.

I just stared at it.

Until...

I saw it.

ABC543E.

Written at one end of the car.

Case closed.

Pure luck.

Hello?

Where are you?

The usual.

I'm following a lead.

But I can see the whole picture now.

I figured it out.

This case,

I can close it, finally.

You'll see.

Okay, good.

Take care, okay? We miss you.

The children are waiting to read books with you.

How are the kids?

They're already asleep.

I just finished reading them a book

but of course, they want you to do it.

But how? You're seldom here, lately.

Hermes?

Hermes, hello? Hermes?

Next time. Tell the kids. Next time.

Okay.

How's Tacloban City?

Is it nice there?

It's just like Manila.

Lots of J.P. Rizal streets.

You've got the nerve to crack a joke. You've been there for weeks.

I'm not kidding.

I already solved eight cases

involving J.P Rizal streets in the whole country, right?

When are you coming back?

I don't know.

But I'll be home in a bit.

I'll hang up now.

I might lose my lead.

Okay, take care. I miss you.

Hermes, I'm sorry.

Strip.

If you don't,

we'll have to finish it here, once and for all.

Damn it, strip!

My friend, I beg you, please...

- I'll count to three. - My friend, sorry.

Sorry...

One.

Two.

Woman.

Open your mouth.

- I'm sorry, Hermes. - Open your mouth!

- I'm sorry. - Quick.

The kids...

Open that mouth!

I'm really sorry.

Fuck you.

Fuck you.

Fuck you.

Fucking bitch.

Fuck you.

Fuck you, fucking bitch.

Whore.

Fuck you.

Fuck you, bitch.

I'm a drug pusher. Don't do like me.

Sir Remy, coffee?

Thanks.

Raf?

Sir.

I will retire.

I will be quitting.

Can't stand this any longer.

I never experienced anything like this.

This is a holocaust.

Domeng!

Hey, Hermes!

Why aren't you eating?

Do you have a jacket with you?

Why?

I'm cold, suddenly.

I'll get going.

Hey.

The great Raffy Lerma.

It's the reverse.

It should be the great Lieutenant Hermes Papauran.

- Nauseating, man. - Come inside.

It makes me sick.

Lieutenant, if you vomit, make sure to clean up, okay?

You're not going to shoot me, right?

Want me to shoot you?

Beer?

I saw adobo for snack?

Gin.

But save that for later. No snack for me.

You're hardcore. Gin?

Not sure I have any in stock but I can go and buy some.

No need.

I won't drink anyway.

You won't drink?

I have fever.

It's not going down.

My skin is itchy.

Really? How long has it been?

Since I saw your "Pieta" photo in the Inquirer .

It's all over my body.

That's bad!

Have you seen a doctor?

Not yet.

I remember,