IN MANILA

INMATES and guards at the national penitentiary in Metro Manila will sorely miss Romeo Jalosjos. The burly former congressman, convicted of raping an 11-year-old girl, was released late last week after serving 13 years of a double life sentence.

As prisoner N98P-0748, Jalosjos used his wealth and influence - he comes from a powerful political family in the southern Philippines - to live a privileged VIP lifestyle and improve conditions in the New Bilibid Prison (NBP). Around 12,000 prisoners are held in sprawling NBP, parts of it look more like a barrio than a correctional facility. 

Jalosjos, 69, built a tennis court for the prison (presumably getting first dibs on the court), as well as other structures, including his private quarters. He opened a bakery and coffee shop, had walkways paved and built a mini-park.

That largesse, as the Philippine Daily Inquirer suggested in a recent editorial, "fundamentally served to provide for his own convenience".

For ordinary Filipinos, Jalosjos' five-star life behind bars was a glaring example of the chasm here between extreme wealth and poverty; his good deeds inside just another form of patronage from a member of the political elite.

SOURCE: AFP

SOURCE: AFP

A cash-strapped prison system made it possible for Jalosjos and a sprinkling of other well-heeled inmates to spend their money to make life easier. 

A friend of mine visited NBP earlier this year as a guest of his Lamb of God Foundation. He was shown Jalosjos' three-room bungalow right next to the tennis court. In a spacious, well-furnished living room was a large-screen TV with cable service.

On his release, Jalosjos held a news conference in the arcadian grounds of a luxury resort and wellness centre that he had built next to the prison. 

It reminded me of the Colombian drug lord who was famously allowed to build his own mansion in the prison grounds while serving his sentence. 

And what a contrast to the cell, described as the size of a walk-in closet, that awaited billionaire Wall Street swindler Bernie Madoff in after a judge in New York revoked his bail earlier this month. 

Scandalised lawmakers and advocacy groups periodically protested over Jalosjos' pampered conditions, drawing pledges from officials to have him treated like an ordinary inmate. And he did, I think, briefly share a cell with a convicted gang leader.

There was a similar clamour over the gilded-cage conditions of former Philippine president Joseph Estrada's detention during his long plunder trial. He got a presidential pardon last year, shortly after being convicted and sentenced to life in jail. 

Jalosjos, of course, was not the only wealthy prisoner in NBP who tried to make life in the slammer more bearable. A sprinkling of other celebrity inmates, most of them there for murder, also lived in comfort there. 

The prison authorities are said to turn a blind eye to inmates with means (and not just rich) building their own cabanas to relieve miserable overcrowding in the prison blocks. But most of these are just small nipa huts. 

Jalosjos' early release under a clemency order signed by President Gloria Arroyo last year was as controversial as his life of privilege in prison.

Concerned groups said it sent a poor signal on the government's resolve to crack down on the trafficking of children for sex. Jalosjos' victim had been pimped by her stepfather.

Others saw it as a classic case of a political debt paid after Jalosjos rallied support for Mrs Arroyo in the 2004 election in his Zamboanga del Norte bailiwick.

Officials insisted that Jalosjos' release was based solely on his good behaviour, time served and in consideration of his age; all qualifying him for early release.

He is now seeking a full pardon to be able to resume his political career.

Inmates and guards at the national penitentiary in Metro Manila will sorely miss Romeo Jalosjos. The burly former congressman, convicted of raping an 11-year-old girl, was released late last week after serving 13 years of a double life sentence.

As prisoner N98P-0748, Jalosjos used his wealth and influence - he comes from a powerful political family in the southern Philippines - to live a priveleged VIP lifestyle and improve conditions in the New Bilibid Prison (NBP). Around 12,000 prisoners are held in sprawling NBP, parts of it look more like a bario than a correctional facility. 

Jalosjos, 69, built a tennis court for the prison (presumably getting first dibs on the court), as well as other structures, including his private quarters. He opened a bakery and coffee shop, had walkways paved and built a mini-park.

That largessse, as the Philippine Daily Inquirer suggested in a recent editorial, "fundamentally served to provide for his own convenience."

For ordinary Filipinos, Jalosjos' five-star life behind bars was a glaring example of the chasm here between extreme wealth and poverty; his good deeds inside just another form of patronage from a member of the political elite.

A cash-strapped prison system made it possible for Jalosjos and a sprinkling of other well-heeled inmates to spend their money to make life easier. 

A friend of mine visited NBP earlier this year as a guest of his Lamb of God Foundation. He was shown Jalosjos' three-room bungalow right next to the tennis court. In a spacious, well-furnished living room was a large-screen TV with cable service.

On his release, Jalosjos held a news conference in the arcadian grounds of a luxury resort and wellness centre that he had built right next to the prison. 

It reminded me of the Colombian drug lord who was famously allowed to build his own mansion in the prison grounds while serving his sentence. 

And what a contrast to the cells, described them as the size of a walk-in closet, that awaited billionaire Wall Street swindler Bernie Madoff in after a judge in New York revoked his bail earlier this month. 

Scandalised lawmakers and advocacy groups periodically protested over Jalosjos' pampered conditions, drawing pledges from officials to have him treated like an ordinary inmate. And he did, I think, briefly share a cell with a convicted gang leader.

There was a similar clamour over the gilded-cage conditions of former Philippine president Joseph Estrada's detention during his long plunder trial. He got a presidential pardon last year, shortly after being convicted and sentenced to life in jail. 

Jalosjos, of course, was not the only wealthy prisoner in NBP who tried to make life in the slammer more bearable. A sprinkling of other celebrity inmates, most of them there for murder, also lived in comfort there. 

The prison authorities are said to turn a blind eye to inmates with means (and not just rich) building their own cabanas to relieve miserable overcrowding in the prison blocks. But most of these are just small nipa huts. 

Jalosjos' early release under a clemency order signed by President Gloria Arroyo last year was as controversial as his life of privilege in prison.

Concerned groups said it sent a poor signal on the government's resolve to crack down on the trafficking of children for sex. Jalosjos' victim had been pimped by her stepfather.

Others saw it as a classic case of a political debt paid after Jalosjos rallied support for Mrs Arroyo in the 2004 election in his Zamboanga del Norte bailiwick.

Officials insisted that Jalosjos' release was based solely on his good behaviour, time served and in consideration of his age; all qualifying him for earely release.

He is now seeking a full pardon to be able to resume his poliitcal career.