Our paths crossed, for the last time, at San Francisco's International Airport. The family and I were heading for our Bangkok flight gate. We bumped into former Senator Benigno Aquino, striding toward his Boston plane.

The years have now blurred most of our chat that day. We laughed recalling my securing a "carrier pigeon" - a sympathetic Air India manager - to sneak his article, smuggled from a Fort Bonifacio prison cell, under martial law censor noses, to Bangkok Post editor Theh Chongkadikhij.

February 1973, the Post ran "The Aquino Papers." This three-part series proved the first direct challenge to the dictatorship. "I will not accept President Marcos's offer of an amnesty because I do not believe I've committed any crime," Aquino wrote. And I cannot support his New Society because I believe firmly that he violated our Constitution and broke our laws." (That may be relevant to a Joseph Estrada sweating out the anti-graft court's decision on plunder accusations).

Press Information minister Francisco Tatad cabled a furious 8,000 word reply. Reprisals followed. Aquino and cell-mate Senator Jose Diokno were hustled into solitary confinement - and almost starved to death - in Fort Magsaysay, Nueva Ecija.

For 43 days, Corazon Aquino and family were turned away by prison guards. Carmen Diokno and children received the same harsh treatment. "It was only when Cory asked Deputy Defense Minister Carmelo Barbero why that she learned it was 'punishment' for the Post series, Miriam Grace Go reported.

The airport PA called for us to board, cutting our chat short. As we parted, my then 13-year old son, Francis, groused: "Why didn't you introduce me? That's the next Philippine president."

That was not to be.

Twenty-four years ago, this Tuesday, the 52-year old Aquino returned to Manila on board a China Airlines flight from Taipei. While military agents "guarded" him, a single bullet tore into his jaw, on the service gangway.

"The Nation" reporter reached my United Nations office to ask for reaction. All I mumbled then was: "Marcos claims he heads a 'command society.' Since he has all powers, he also has all the responsibility." And as a numb afterthought, I added: "Manila will be renamed Aquino International Airport. Mark my words."

Marcos' censored press suppressed the arrival statement that Aquino never got to read. The two-page speech is part of history in a country where over half of youngsters now barely know Aquino, surveys say.

"I have returned of my own free will to join the ranks of those struggling to recover our rights and freedoms through non-violence," Aquino planned to say, "I seek no confrontation . . . Aquino knew that the dictator suffered then from failing kidneys and lupus. A direct appeal to the isolated Marcos could help usher in peaceful change - and cap looming violence.

Return would provoke a brutal regime, many warned Ninoy. He saw the danger. "If they kill me, they're out in two years," he predicted. That forecast fell short of People Power Revolt by four years. Was Ninoy's adamance stupidity? Or principled stubbornness?

The Duke of Norfolk also badgered the imprisoned Thomas More to heed Henry VIII's demand for consent to his divorce. "Think Master More," the Duke urged. Indignatio principis mors est. ("The prince's anger is death)." To which More calmly replied: "Is that all my Lord? In good faith then, there's no difference between your Grace and me - but that I shall die today, and you tomorrow."

Under the dictatorship's thumb, Military Commission No. 2 found Aquino "guilty" of subversion. They sentenced him to "death by musketry." Censorship ensured that few heard what Aquino said after the sentence.

Aquino said he could not be tried by a military tribunal when civilian courts functioned. Could the commission recall the names of military judges who tried Andres Bonifacio?

They could not. Aquino ticked off the names. "Today, nobody remembers the names of those judges. But we meet in a fort that is named in honor of the very man they sentenced to death."

And so it came to pass in Aquino's case.

Ninoy's funeral saw two million mourners line the streets. Thousands were glued to Radio Veritas, the only station that dared to cover the rites. It took 12 hours for Aquino's hearse to reach Manila Memorial Park, after a Santo Domingo requiem mass.

"No umbrellas," people chanted as rain fell. "Only Imelda uses an umbrella!" - a jeer at cronies who'd hold a parasol over the First Lady.

Crowds forcibly lowered the giant Philippine flag to half-mast when Aquino's coffin passed Rizal Park. Who could foresee that was a forerunner of People Power four years on. The blood of martyrs is the seed of heroes.

The nation marks his death, as we will on Tuesday. Places are named after him. So is the Manila International Airport. His features grace our currency. And his family never demanded a Libingan Ng Mga Bayani plot. In contrast, the Marcoses have wheedled, unsuccessfully so far, for such a plot.

Now a 37-year old Northwest Airlines pilot, Francis never got to meet Ninoy. But the old questions fester: Who were the mastermind(s) in Aquino's assassination? Why have they managed to escape accounting. Do people care? And who remembers the judges of Military Commission No. 2?

Indeed, the "struggle of man against power," as Czech novelist Milan Kundera once said," is the struggle of memory against forgetting.

(E-mail: juan_mercado@boholchronicle.com)