The Bolos men, father and sons, were told they were scheduled to die. The warning came in the night. Someone had seen the kill list, and saw the names of the three men.
“I have two sons,” said Reynaldo Bolos. “Milton Ace, the one they killed, was 29. Christian, the one they’re going to kill, is 36.”
The Bolos men, father and sons, were told they were scheduled to die. The warning came in the night. Someone had seen the kill list, and saw the names of the three men. It was no surprise to Christian, who had been hiding from the men in masks and bonnets. Neighbors told him he was being hunted.
But Christian was slippery, so Milton died first, at half past one in the afternoon on December 6, a day after the warning. Three shots to the temple, one more between the eyes. Reynaldo had seen the two men on a motorcycle, heard the gunshots, and ran back to see his son’s dead on a folding chair, bleeding into the yellow canvas. Reynaldo ran, fast as he could, past his son’s body, past the village hall, screaming, help, help, they killed my son.
He chased after the killers, but he was old and the motorcycle went fast. He ran back to wrap his arms around his boy, held him so tightly he was covered in Milton’s blood.