JPE was my idol. My security blanket. I would not be so bold as to call him my friend, though at one point I would have dared to think so, that day he came to our house, sat down in the living room and asked for a glass of water; that was all.

Five, six minutes later he was gone. The following day, our next-door neighbor wanted to know what that was all about. I didn’t know what to tell him.

The first time I held a conversation with JPE, it was at the National Press Club, where he would be presiding over a press conference. I knew I had to be there, was in fact one of the first to raise my hand to ask a question, and JPE gave me the go signal. I was in my maternity dress (which makes it easy now to recall that this incident happened in late 1974).

My question to the Secretary of National Defense was, “Was it all right for a colonel in Camp Crame to detain me for six hours just because I had written a story about how soldiers were asking the Miss Universe contestants to pose for pictures with their wives?”

Then and there SND Juan Ponce Enrile issued an order, that from now on no member of media may be “invited” for questioning unless the order was signed by the SND himself.

On another occasion, I was “invited” by three lady senators to appear before their ethics committee after I quoted a male columnist’s report describing how the ladies had seemingly enjoyed themselves at a party. At the appointed hour the next day, I showed up, a bundle of nerves, and then Senator Juan Ponce Enrile arrived — unexpectedly — and took the chair beside mine (like a defense counsel?). Without explanation, the chairman of the committee wrapped up the meeting, and the three ladies stood up and left.

The last time I saw JPE, it was at his daughter Katrina’s birthday party. As she walked me to the gate, she said her birthday wish was, “More years for my dad.”

At 101, when JPE left us on Nov. 13, 2025, he left a space that no one can ever fill, never.