Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Lest We Forget, The Hope Brewing Hard.

On this very moment, today, exactly 6 years ago — someone had left us forever in a tragic way. Here, is the story:

Six years ago, it’s 1am, April 26th, 2010.

After watching an exciting football game at a mamak in Shah Alam, Aminulrasyid Amzah and Muhamad Azamuddin Omar paid their bill and got into their car. Aminulrasyid unlocks the door to his sister’s Proton Iswara Aeroback, slides into the driver’s seat, and starts the engine.

But there’s one problem — Aminulrasyid and Azamuddin are both 14 years old.

Very carefully, Aminulrasyid guides the car out of its parking space — his mother and sister would go ballistic if they find out he took the car out without their knowledge.

But still he was inexperienced, and there was a shrrrk as his car scraped against another car on the way out. Shaken, Aminulrasyid’s only thought was to head home, where he could safely figure out what to do next.

Perhaps due to his inexperience, his shaken state, or perhaps even both; Aminulrasyid also scraped against a motorbike on the drive home. The motorcyclist had friends. He panicked. The motorbikes started chasing the Proton Iswara that just hit their friend.

And Aminulrasyid did the only thing he could think of — he sped up. He drove as fast as he could, and when the motorbikes gave up after one of their own friends hit a car during the chase, someone else took notice of the white Proton speeding down the streets of Shah Alam.

Constable Mohd Hafizd Mohd Yusoff was on regular patrol with his partner Corporal Jenain Subi when Aminulrasyid’s car zoomed past them. They quickly sprung into action, flipping on the police siren in an attempt to figure out what was going on.

Only Aminulrasyid didn’t stop. The two policemen gave chase.

Back in the Iswara, Muhammad Azamuddin couldn’t believe how their night out was turning into a vehicular nightmare. He asked Aminulrasyid to stop. It was the cops. You have to stop for the cops.

But Aminulrasyid, who had been quiet all this time, told his friend was that he was more afraid of his mother than the police.

All he could think of was to go home and explain everything to his mother. And that was when they heard the pop-pop-pop of bullets piercing their car, followed by a louder pop as the tyres blew out from the gunfire.

Back in the patrol car, Constable Hafizd was focused on tailing the Iswara. It zoomed right by a few red lights, but thankfully the roads are empty.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Corporal Jenain preparing his H&K MP5 submachine gun. Corporal Jenain sticks the gun and the upper left side of his body out the passenger window, using his right hand to balance himself; his right knee rested on the seat. He lets out a series of shots.

The Iswara slows down from the bust tires, but it’s still moving. Corporal Jenain fires again. After the second round of shots, the Iswara skids and crashes into a wall.

It’s 2am. Aminulrasyid is in the driver’s seat.

He’s slumped over Muhammad Azamuddin’s lap, dead from a bullet wound to the back of his head; his foot still on the accelerator pedal.

Muhammad Azamuddin climbs out of the passenger window and falls into a drain, four other police officers arrive and assault him, but he manages to escape and make his way to the nearby police quarters where he lives — his parents are police officers.

Unfortunately, this is a completely true story.

Unfortunately, too, day by day, we seemed forgotten this story. Not everyone, though, but still it looked faded. I mean, forgotten in terms of we never learnt a thing. Or at least, it seems so.

We let the crooks go away easily, you know, after everything they did — making fun of human being dignity, disrespectful towards laws and the justice system.

There’re flaws, everywhere.

This such sad story regrettably speaking, obviously seem no end. The justice threw away, as if the so-called justice system we have here, were moulded as an escape door for the crooks.

Do they even plea their guilty and apologized publicly for the damages they have done, especially towards the family of the victim?

Lest we forget, those atrocities they blatantly tried to hide behind their power — casting out insult accusations, fabricating lies, distorting the truth, spread the falsehood.

Lest we forget.

For the past six years, those questions still mingling around, unanswered. The only we knew, is sadness and resentful brewing hard, boiled day to day, waiting to burst. Then, only then, they might learn something, or actually, we learnt something.

That the power belongs to us, the people. That the justice, is ought for us. Till for that, we are not sure. We have no answer. We only have a little of hope.

Yes, hope. For that, thank you, Aminulrasyid, for your demise will not be in vain. It broiled something — we called it hope.

Credit: Thanks to CILISOS for permission to republish the story of how the late Aminulrasyid being shot on that night. It feels surreal, yet so real and moving me to tears. Its on the first part of this article. Please, visit HERE to read the full write-up from CILISOS. 

And also, this would be my last writing about the late Aminulrasyid. We will cherish his memory, by fighting hard and fighting harder.